Dr. Thorndyke Omnibus Vol 3

by R. Austin Freeman

  As the foreman concluded the coroner turned to Thorndyke with a slightly puzzled smile. "Of course, Doctor," said he, "you have considered those facts that the foreman has summarized so admirably. What do you say to his conclusion?"

  "I must still contest it," replied Thorndyke. “The foreman's summary of the evidence, masterly as it was, furnishes no answer to the objection—based on established chemical facts—that the condition of the remains when found is irreconcilable with the alleged circumstances of the burial."

  The coroner raised his eyebrows and pursed up his lips.

  "I appreciate your point, Doctor,” said he. "But we are on the horns of a dilemma. We are between the Devil of observed fact and the Deep Sea of scientific demonstration. Can you suggest any way out of the difficulty?"

  "I think,” said Thorndyke, "that if you were to call Mr. Bundy, he might be able to help you out of your dilemma."

  "Mr. Bundy!" exclaimed the coroner. "I didn't know he was concerned in the case. Can you give us any information, Mr. Bundy?"

  "Yes," replied Bundy, looking somewhat shy and nervous. "I think I could throw a little light on the case."

  "I wish to goodness you had said so before. However, better late than never. We will take your evidence at once."

  On this Thorndyke returned to his seat at the table and Bundy took his place, standing by the chair which Thorndyke had resigned.

  "Let me see, Mr. Bundy," said the coroner, "your Christian name is—"

  "The witness has not been sworn," interrupted Thorndyke.

  The coroner smiled. "We are in the hands of the regular practitioners," he chuckled. "We must mind our p's and q's. Still you are quite right, Doctor. The name is part of the evidence."

  The witness was accordingly sworn, and the coroner then proceeded, smilingly: "Now, Mr. Bundy, be very careful. You are making a sworn statement, remember. What is your Christian name?"

  "Angelina," was the astounding reply.

  "Angelina!" bawled Pilley. "It can't be. Why, it's a woman's name."

  "We must presume that the witness knows his own name," said the coroner, writing it down. "Angelina Bundy."

  "No, Sir," said the witness. "Angelina Frood."

  The coroner suddenly stiffened with the upraised pen poised in the air; and so everyone in the room, including myself, underwent an instantaneous arrest of movement as if we had been turned into stone; and I noticed that the process of petrifaction had caught us all with our mouths open. But whereas the fixed faces on which I looked, expressed amazement qualified by incredulity, my own astonishment was coupled with conviction. Astounding as the statement was, the moment that it was made I knew that it was true. In spite of the discrepancies of appearance, I realized in a flash of enlightenment, the nature of that subtle influence that had drawn me to Bundy with a tenderness hardly congruous with mere male friendship. Outwardly I had been deceived, but my sub-conscious self had recognized Angelina all the time.

  The interval of breathless silence, during which the witness calmly surveyed the court through his—or rather her—eyeglass, was at length broken by the coroner, who asked gravely: "This is not a joke? You affirm seriously that you are Angelina Frood?”

  "Yes; I am Angelina Frood," was the reply.

  Here Mr. Pilley recovered himself and demanded excitedly: "Do we understand this gentleman to say that he is the deceased?”

  "Well," replied the coroner, "he is obviously not deceased, and he states that he is not a gentleman. He has declared that he is a lady."

  "But," protested Pilley, "he says that she—at least she says that he—"

  "You are getting mixed, Pilley," interrupted the foreman. "This appears to be a woman masquerading as a man and playing practical jokes on a coroner's jury. I suggest, sir, that we ought to have evidence of identity."

  "I agree with you, emphatically," said the coroner.

  "The identification is indispensable. Is there anyone present who can swear to the identity of this-er-person! Mr. Japp, for instance?"

  "I'd rather you didn't bring Mr. Japp into it," said Angelina, hastily. "It isn't really necessary. If you will allow me to run home and change my clothes, Mrs. Gillow and Dr. Strangeways will be able to identify me. And I can bring some photographs to show the jury."

  "That seems quite a good suggestion," said the coroner.

  "Don't you think so, gentlemen?"

  "It is a very proper suggestion," said the foreman, severely. "Let her go away and clothe herself decently. How long will she be gone?"

  "I shall be back in less than half an hour,'" said Angelina; and on this understanding she was given permission to retire. I watched her with a tumult of mixed emotions as she took up her hat, gloves, and stick, and strolled jauntily towards the door. There she paused for an instant and shot at me a single, swift, whimsical glance through her monocle. Then she went out; and with her disappeared for ever the familiar figure of Peter Bundy.

  XVIII. The Uncontrite Penitent

  As the door closed on Angelina, a buzz of excited talk broke out. The astonished jurymen put their heads together and eagerly discussed the new turn of events, while the coroner sat with a deeply cogitative expression, evidently thinking hard and casting an occasional speculative glance in Thorndyke's direction. Meanwhile Cobbledick edged up to my side and presented his views in a soft undertone.

  "This is a facer, Doctor, isn't it? Regular do. My word! Just think of the artfulness of that young woman, toting us round and helping us to find the things that she had just popped down for us to find. I call it a masterpiece. "He chuckled admiringly, and added in a lower tone, "I hope she hasn't got herself into any kind of mess."

  I looked at Cobbledick with renewed appreciation. I had always liked the sergeant. He was a capable man and a kindly one; and now he was showing a largeness of soul that won my respect and my gratitude, too. A small man would have been furious with Angelina, but Cobbledick took her performances in a proper sporting spirit. He was only amused and admiring. Not for nothing had Nature imprinted on his face that benevolent smile.

  Presently Mr. Pilley, who seemed to have a special gift for the expression of erroneous opinions, addressed himself to the coroner.

  "Well, Mr. Chairman," he said cheerfully, "I suppose we can consider the inquest practically over."

  "Over!" exclaimed the astonished coroner.

  "Yes. We were inquiring into the death of Angelina Frood. But if Mrs. Frood is alive after all, why, there's an end to the matter."

  "What about the body in the mortuary?" demanded the foreman.

  "Oh, ah," said Pilley. "I had forgotten about that." He looked owlishly at the coroner and then exclaimed:

  "But that is the body of Mrs. Frood!"

  "It can't be if Mrs. Frood is alive," the coroner reminded him.

  "But it must be," persisted Pilley. "It has been identified as her, and it had her clothes and ring on. Mr. Bundy must have been pulling our legs.”

  "There is certainly something very mysterious about that body," said the coroner. "It was dressed in Mrs. Frood's clothes, as Mr. Pilley points out, and it appears that Mrs. Frood must be in some way connected with it."

  "There's no doubt about that," agreed the foreman.

  "She must know who that dead person is and how the body came to be in the place where it was found, and she will have to give an account of it."

  "Yes," said the coroner. "But it is a mysterious affair. I wonder if Dr. Thorndyke could enlighten us. He seems to know more about the matter than anybody else."

  But Thorndyke was not to be drawn into any statement.

  "It would be merely a conjecture on my part," he said. "Presumably Mrs. Frood knows how the remains got into the wall, and I must leave her to give the necessary explanations."

  "I don't see what explanations she can give," said the foreman. "It looks like a clear case of wilful murder. And it is against her."

  To this view the coroner gave a guarded assent; and indeed it was the obvious vie
w. There was the body, in Angelina's clothing, and everything pointed clearly to Angelina's complicity in the crime, if there had really been a crime committed. And what other explanation was possible?

  As I reflected on the foreman's ominous words, I was sensible of a growing alarm. What if Angelina had been, as it were, snatched from the grave only to be placed in the dock on a charge of murder? That she could possibly be guilty of a crime did not enter my mind. But there was evidently some sort of criminal entanglement from which she might find it hard to escape. The appearances were sinister in the extreme; her simulated disappearance, her disguise, her suspicious silence during the inquiry; to any eye but mine they were conclusive evidence of her guilt. And the more I thought about it, the more deadly did the sum of that evidence appear, until, as the time ran on, I became positively sick with terror.

  The opening of a door and a sudden murmur of surprise caused me to turn; and there was Angelina herself. But not quite the Angelina that I remembered. Gone were the pallid complexion, the weary, dark-circled eyes, the down-cast mouth, the sad and pensive countenance, the dark, strong eye-brows. Rosy-cheeked, smiling, confident, and looking strangely tall and imposing, she stepped composedly over to the head of the table, and stood there gazing with calm self-possession, and the trace of a smile at the stupefied jurymen.

  “Your name is—?" said the coroner, gazing at her in astonishment.

  "Angelina Frood," was the quiet reply; and the voice was Bundy's voice.

  Here Pilley rose, bubbling with excitement. "This isn't the same person!" he exclaimed. "Why, he was a little man, and she's a tall woman. And his hair was short, and just look at hers! You .can't grow a head of hair like that in twenty minutes."

  "No," Angelina agreed, suavely. "I wish you could."

  "The objection is not relevant, Mr. Pilley," said the coroner, suppressing a smile. "We are not concerned with the identity of Mr. Bundy but with that of Angelina Frood. Can anyone identify this lady?”

  "I can," said I. "I swear that she is .Angelina Frood."

  "And Mrs. Gillow?”

  Mrs. Gillow could and did identify her late lodger, and furthermore, burst into tears and filled the court-room with "yoops" of hysterical joy. When she had been pacified and gently restrained by the coroner's officer from an attempt to embrace the witness, the coroner proceeded:

  "Now, Mrs. Frood, the jury require certain explanations from you, in regard to the body of a woman which is at present lying in the mortuary and which was found buried in the city wall with certain articles of clothing and jewellery which have been identified as your property. Did you know that that body had been buried in the wall?”

  "Yes," replied Angelina.

  "Do you know how it came to be in the wall?"

  “Yes. I put it there."

  "You put it there!" roared Pilley, amidst a chorus of exclamations from the jurymen. The coroner held up his hand to enjoin silence and asked, as he gazed in astonishment at Angelina.

  "Can you tell us who this deceased person was?"

  "I'm afraid I can't," Angelina replied, apologetically. "I don't think her name was known."

  "But—er—" the astounded coroner inquired, "how did she come by her death?"

  "I'm afraid I can't tell you that either," replied Angelina. "The fact is, I never asked."

  "You never asked!" the coroner repeated, in a tone of bewilderment. "But—er—are we to understand that in short, did you or did you not cause the death of this person by your own act? Of course," he added hastily, "you are not bound to answer that question."

  Angelina smiled at him engagingly. "I will answer with pleasure. I did not cause the death of this person."

  "Then are we to understand that she was already dead when you found her'"

  "I didn't find her. I bought her; at a shop in Great St. Andrew-street. I gave four pounds, fourteen and three-pence for her, including two and three-pence to Carter Paterson's. I've brought the bill with me."

  She produced the bill from her pocket and handed it to the coroner, who read it with a portentous frown and a perceptible twitching at the corners of his mouth.

  "I will read this document to you, gentlemen," he said in a slightly unsteady voice. "It is dated the 19th of April, and reads: 'Bought of Oscar Hammerstein, Dealer in Human and Comparative Osteology, Great St. Andrew-street, London, W. C., one complete set superfine human osteology, disarticulated and unbleached (female), as selected by purchaser, four pounds eight shillings and sixpence. Replacing and cementing missing teeth, one shilling and sixpence. Packing case, two shillings. Carriage, two and three pence. Total, four pounds, fourteen and three-pence. Received with thanks, O. Hammerstein.' Perhaps you would like to see the bill, yourselves, gentlemen."

  He passed it to the foreman, taking a quick glance out of the corners of his eyes at the bland and impassive Angelina, and the jury studied it in a deep silence, which was broken only by a soft, gurgling sound, from somewhere behind me, which, I discovered, on looking round, to proceed from Sergeant Cobbledick, whose crimsoned face was partly hidden by a large handkerchief and whose shoulders moved convulsively.

  Presently the coroner addressed Thorndyke. "In continuation of your evidence, Doctor, does Mrs. Frood's explanation agree with any conclusions that you had arrived at from your inspection of the remains?"

  "It agrees with them completely," Thorndyke replied with a grim smile.

  The coroner entered the answer in the depositions, and then turned once more to Angelina.

  "With regard to the objects that were found with the skeleton; did you put them there?"

  "Yes. I put in the metal things and a few pieces of scorched rag to give a realistic effect—on account of the lime, you know."

  "And the articles that were recovered from the river, too, I suppose?"

  "Yes, I put them down—with proper precautions, of course."

  "What do you mean by proper precautions?"

  "Well, I couldn't afford to waste any of the things, so I used to keep a lookout with a telescope, and then, when I saw a likely person coming along, I put one of the things down where it could be seen."

  "And were they always seen?"

  "No. Some people are very unobservant. In that case I picked it up when the coast was clear and saved it for another time."

  The coroner chuckled. "It was all very ingenious and complete. But now, Mrs. Frood, we have to ask you what was the object of these extraordinary proceedings. It was not a joke, I presume?”

  "Oh, not at all," replied Angelina. "It was a perfectly serious affair. You have heard what sort of husband I had. I couldn't possibly live with him. I made several attempts to get away and live by myself, but he always followed me and found me out. So I determined to disappear altogether."

  "You could have applied for a separation," said the coroner.

  "I shouldn't have got it," replied Angelina, "and even if I had, of what use would it have been? I should have been bound to him for life. I couldn't have married anyone else. My whole life would have been spoilt. So I decided to disappear completely and for good, and start life afresh in a new place and under a new name. And in order that there should be no mistake about it, I thought I would leave the—er—the material for a coroner's inquest and a will directing that a suitable monument should be put up over my grave. Then, if I had ever married again, there would have been no danger of a charge of bigamy. If anyone had made any such suggestion, I could have referred them to the registrar of deaths and to the tombstone of Angelina Frood in Rochester churchyard.”

  "And as to a birth certificate under your new name?" the coroner asked with a twinkle of his eye.

  Angelina smiled a prim little smile. "I think that could have been managed," she said.

  "Well," said the coroner, "it was an ingenious scheme. But apparently Dr. Thorndyke knew who Mr. Bundy was. How do you suppose he discovered your identity?”

  "That is just what I should like to know," she replied.

  "So should I,
" said the coroner, with a broad smile; "but, of course, it isn't my affair or that of the jury. We are concerned with this skeleton that you have planted on us. I suppose you can give us no idea as to where it came from originally?”

  "The dealer said it had been found in a barrow—not a wheel-barrow, you know; an ancient burial-place. Of course, I don't know whether he was speaking the truth."

  "What do you think, Dr. Thorndyke?" the coroner asked.

  "I think it is an ancient skeleton, though very well preserved. Some of the teeth—the original ones—show more wear than one expects to find in a modern skull. But I only made a cursory inspection."

  "I think the evidence is sufficient for our purpose," said the coroner; "and that really concludes the case, so we need not detain you any longer, Mrs. Frood. I don't know exactly what your legal position is; whether you have committed any legal offence. If you have, it is not our business; and I think I am expressing the sentiments of the jury if I say that I hope that the authorities will not make it their business. No one has been injured, and no action seems to be called for."

  With these sentiments the jury concurred warmly, as also did Sergeant Cobbledick, who was heard, very audibly and regardless of the proprieties, to murmur "Hear, hear." We waited to learn the nature of the verdict, and when this had been pronounced (to the effect that the skeleton was that of an unknown woman, concerning the circumstances of whose death no evidence was available), the court rose and we prepared to depart.