The Dead Witness: A Connoisseur's Collection of Victorian Detective Stories

by Michael Sims

  “The whole of the next day, I lounged about the sanded tap room and smoked my pipe and drank my beer in silent gloominess. The landlord asked me a few questions, but when his curiosity was satisfied he left me to myself. I pretended to be a runaway game-keeper, hiding from my master’s anger for selling his game without permission. The story satisfied the host, but I saw nothing of any stranger, nor did I hear any of the old faces called by the name I wished to hear. One of the visitors was an ill-looking thick-set fellow, and kept up a continual whispering with the landlord—I made sure that he was my man, when, to my great regret, I heard him hailed by the name of George.

  “I was standing inside the bar, chattering with the landlord, and settling for my pipes and my beer, when a good-looking, fresh-colored, smiling-faced young fellow danced into the bar and was immediately saluted by the host, ‘Hello, Joe, where have you been these two days?’

  “ ‘Heavy business on hand, my buck—occupies all my time, but pays well. So give up a mug of your best, and d—the expense.’

  “I had no doubt but this was my man. I entered into conversation with him, in my assumed manner, and my knowledge of the Somersetshire dialect materially assisted my disguise. Joe was evidently a sharp-witted fellow who knew exactly what he was about. All my endeavors to draw him into talking of his own avocations completely failed; he would laugh, drink, and chatter, but not a word relative to the business that occupied his time could I induce him to utter.

  “ ‘Who’s going to the hop in Saint John Street?’ said the lively Joe. ‘I mean to have eighteen-pennyworth of shake-a-leg there tonight, and have it directly too, for I must be back at my place at daybreak.’

  “This was enough for me. I walked with Joe to the vicinity of the dancing-rooms when, pleading a prior engagement, I quitted him and returned home. My disguise was soon completely altered; my red wig and whiskers, drab hat, and shooting dress were exchanged for a suit of black, with a small French cloak of dark cloth, and plain black hat. Thus attired, I watched the entrance of the humble ball-room, fearing that my man might leave it at an early period, for I knew not how far he had to journey to his place in the country, where he was compelled to be by the break of day.

  “I walked the pavement of Saint John Street for six long hours, and was obliged to make myself known to the watchman to prevent his interference, for he doubted the honesty of my intentions. Just before the dawn of day, my friend Joe, who seemed determined to have enough dancing for his money, appeared in the street with a lady on each arm. I had to keep him in sight till he had escorted the damsels to their domiciles; when, buttoning up his coat and pressing his hat down over his brows, he walked forward with a determined pace. I followed him at a convenient distance. I felt that he was in my power—that I was on the point of tracing the mystery of the girl’s disappearance, and ascertaining the place of her detention.

  “Joe walked rapidly towards Shoreditch Church. I was within a hundred feet of him when the early Cambridge coach dashed down the Kingsland Road. Joe seized the guard’s hold at the side of the back boot, placed his feet upon the hind spring, and in one moment was on the top of the coach, and trundling away from me at the rate of twelve miles an hour.

  “I was beaten. It was impossible for me to overtake the coach. I thought of hiring a hack, but the rapid progress of the stage defied all idea of overtaking it. I returned dispirited to my home.

  “My courage rose with the conception of fresh schemes. In the course of the day, I called on a friend, a stage coachman, and telling him some of the particulars of my object, asked him to introduce me to the driver of the Cambridge coach. I met him on his return to town the next day and, by the help of my friend, overcame his repugnance to talk with strangers respecting the affairs of his passengers. I learnt, at last, that Joe never travelled more than half-a-dozen miles, but Elliott, the coachman, was unable to say who he was or where he went to. My plan was soon arranged, and Elliott was bribed to assist me.

  “The next morning by daybreak, I was sitting on the top of the Cambridge coach, well wrapped-up in a large white top coat, with a shawl tied over my mouth. I got on the coach at the inn yard, and as we neared the church looked out anxiously for my friend Joe; but he was not to be seen, nor could I discern anything of him for six or seven miles along the road. The first stage was performed, and while the horses were being changed, Elliott, the coachman, pointed out a strange, ill-looking man in a close light waistcoat with white sleeves, white breeches, yarn stockings, and high-low shoes. That fellow,’ said Elliott, ‘is always in company with the man you have been inquiring about. I have seen them frequently together come from over that style; he is now waiting for Joe, I’ll bet a pound.’

  “I alighted and bargained with the landlord of the small roadside inn for the use of the front bedroom, upstairs. I took my post and, as the stage departed, began my watch. Joe did not appear till late in the afternoon—his friend eagerly seized him by the arm and began to relate something with great anxiety of look and energy of action. They moved off over the style. I glided out of the house and followed them. A footpath wound through an extensive meadow, and the men were rapidly nearing the farthest end. I hastened my pace and gained the centre of the field ere they were aware of my approach. I observed a telegraphic signal pass between them, and they instantly stopped their expedition and, turning back upon their path, sauntered slowly towards me. I kept on; we met—their eyes were searchingly bent upon me, but I maintained an easy gait and undisturbed countenance and continued my walk for some minutes after they were past. As I climbed the farthest style, I observed them watching me from the other end of the field. I saw no more of Joe or his friend for the rest of that day and the whole of the next.

  “I was much annoyed at my disappointment and resolved not to be again out-witted. Every possible inquiry that could be made without exciting the curiosity of the neighborhood was instituted, but I was unable to obtain the smallest information, either of the abducted lady or of Joe’s individuality. His friend was known as a vagabond of the first class—a discharged ostler, with a character that marked him ready for the perpetration of every crime.

  “I was hunting in the dark. I had nothing but surmises to go upon, excepting the declaration of the huckster, that a man named Joe was the means of Miss Lobenstein’s absence, but I was not sure that I was in pursuit of that identical Joe. The mystery attending the object of my suspicion gave an appearance of probability to my supposition, but it seemed as if I was not to proceed beyond the limits of uncertainty. I resolved, after waiting till the evening of the next day, to return to the tap room of the Blue Lion and the impenetrability of my gamekeeper’s disguise.

  “Tying my rough coat up in my shawl, I clapped the bundle under my arm and walked quietly along the road. As I passed through some twists on the sidewalk, a post-chaise was coming through the adjoining toll-gate. A scuffle, accompanied with high oaths, in the interior of the chaise attracted my attention; a hand was dashed through the carriage-window and cries for help were loudly vociferated. I ran towards the chaise and ordered the postillion to stop; a coarse voice desired him to drive on; the command was repeated with violent imprecations and the horses, severely lashed, bounded rapidly away. I was sufficiently near to catch hold of the back of the springs as the vehicle moved; the motion was violent, but I kept my grasp. The backboard of the chaise, where the footman should stand, had been covered with a double row of iron spikes to prevent the intrusion of idle boys; but, determined not to lose sight of the ruffians who were thus violating the peace of the realm, I pressed my bundle hard upon the spikes and, jumping nimbly up, found myself in a firm and pleasant seat.

  “The carriage rolled speedily along. I determined, at the very first halting place, to summon assistance and desire an explanation of the outcries and demands for help. If, as there seemed but little doubt, some act of lawless violence was being perpetrated. I resolved to arrest the principals upon the spot. While cogitating on the probabilities of the re
sult, I received a tremendous cut across the face from the thong of a heavy leather whip, jerked with considerable violence from the window of the post-chaise. A second well-directed blow drove me from my seat, and I fell into the road, severely lacerated and almost blind.

  “I rolled upon the dusty ground and writhed in excessive agony. A thick wale crossed each cheek, and one of my eyes had been terrifically hit. It was yet early night, and the public nature of the road soon afforded me assistance. A young man passed me, driving a gig towards London; I hailed him and requested his services. A slight detail of the cause in which I had received my injuries induced him to turn round and receive me in the vacant seat. The promise of half-a-guinea tempted him to drive rapidly after the chaise, and in a few minutes we heard the sound of wheels. The young man cheered his horse to greater progress, but we were unable to pass the vehicle in advance, and it was not till we both drew up to the door of the roadside inn where I had previously stopped that we discovered that we had been in pursuit of a mail-coach instead of a post-chaise.

  “The waiter declared that ‘nothin’ of a four-veel natur, ’cept a vaggin and a nearse’ had passed within the previous half-hour. Placing my gig friend over some brandy and water, I sought the recesses of the kitchen that I might procure some cooling liquid to bathe my face with. While busily employed at the yard pump, the sound of voices from an adjoining stable arrested my attention. The dim light of a lantern fell upon the figure of the ostler whom I had seen in company with mysterious Joe. I advanced lightly, in hopes of hearing the conversation. When I reached the door, I was startled by the sudden approach of someone from the other side of the yard, and compelled to hide behind the door. A stable helper popped his head into the building, and said, ‘See here, Billet, vot I found sticking on the spikes of the chay you’ve left in the lane.’

  “My luckless bundle was produced and speedily untied. Directly Billy, for so was the suspicious ostler named, saw my rough, white greatcoat, he exclaimed, with considerable energy, ‘I’m blessed if ve haint been looked arter. I seed this ere toggery a valking arter Joe and me in the meadow yonder. Ve thought it suspectable, so ve mizzled back. And I’m jiggered if the owner vornt sitting behind our conweyance ven Joe hit him a vollop or two vith your vip to knock him off. Tommy, my tulip, I’ll go back vi’ you tonight, and vait a vhile till the vind changes.’

  “It was evident then that Joe was connected with the abduction of the day—another convincing proof that he was the active agent in Miss Lobenstein’s affair. With respect to my friend the ostler, I determined to try the effects of a little coercion, but concluded that it would be better to let him reach some distance from his usual jaunts to prevent alarming his co-mate Joe.

  “In about an hour the post-chaise was driven to the door, and the ostler, much the worse for his potations, was placed within the body of the vehicle. I was soon after them, in company with the young man in the gig, and we kept the chaise in sight till it had entered the still and deserted streets of the city. It was nearly midnight; the drunken ostler desired the scarcely sober postillion to put him out at the door of a tavern. I walked up to the astonished couple and, arresting them on a charge of felony, slipped a pair of small but powerful spring handcuffs over the ostler’s wrists.

  “I conducted him, helpless and amazed, to an adjacent watch-house and, mentioning my name and office, desired his safe custody till I could demand his body. The postillion, who was guarded by my gig friend, became much alarmed and volunteered any information that I might desire. He confessed that he had been employed that afternoon by one Joseph Mills to carry a lunatic priest to the Franciscan Monastery at Enfield Chase, from whence it was asserted that he had made his escape. The existence of a religious establishment in that neighborhood was entirely unknown to me, and I questioned the postillion respecting the number of its inmates and the name of the superior, but he professed to know nothing beyond the locality of the building, and declared that he had never been inside the yard gate. He admitted that Joseph Mills had employed him several times upon the same business; and that, rather more than a fortnight ago, Billy, the ostler, had desired him to bring up a post-chaise from his master’s yard at a minute’s notice, and that a young lady was lifted, in a senseless state, into the chaise and driven down to the building at Enfield as rapidly as the horses could be made to go.

  “I took down his directions respecting the house, and at daybreak this morning I reconnoitered the front and back of the building. If I am any judge, that house is not devoted to monastic purposes alone; but you will see it tomorrow, I trust, for I wish you to accompany me as early in the morning as we can start after procuring the warrants for a general search into the secrets of this most mysterious monastery.”

  It was nearly noon the next day before we were enabled to complete our necessary arrangements. L—, Mr. Wilson, the attorney, Mr. R—, a police magistrate of some distinction, and the reader’s humble servant stepped into a private carriage, while a police officer, well-armed, sat with the driver. The magistrate had been interested in the details necessary for the procuration of the warrant and had invited himself to the development of the mystery. An hour’s ride brought us to the entrance of a green lane that wound its mazy length between hedges of prickly holly and withered hawthorn trees. After traversing this lane for nearly two miles, we turned again to the left, by L—’s direction, and entered a narrow pass between a high brick wall and a huge bank, surmounted by a row of high and gloomy trees. The wall formed the boundary of the monastery grounds and, at a certain place, where an ascent in the narrow road favored the purpose, we were desired by L— to mount the roof of the coach and, by looking over the wall, to inspect the back front of the building. Massive bars of iron were fastened across every window of the house; in some places, the frames and glass were entirely removed, and the gratings were fixed in the naked brick-work; or the apertures were fitted with thick boarding, excepting a small place at the top for the admission of the smallest possible quantity of light and air. The windows of a range of out houses, which extended down one side of the extensive yard, were also securely barred; and a small square stone building stood in the middle of the garden, which immediately adjoined the yard. Two sides of this singular construction were visible from our coach top, yet neither door nor window were to be discerned.

  One of our party pointed out a pale and wild-looking face glaring at us from one of the grated windows of the house. “Let us away,” said L—. “We are observed, and a further gratification of our curiosity may prevent a successful issue to my scheme.”

  “This looks more like a prison than a monastery or convent,” said the magistrate.

  “I fear that we shall find it worse than either,” replied L—.

  In a few minutes the carriage stopped at the gate of the building, the front of which exhibited but few points for the attachment of suspicion. The windows were shaded by blinds and curtains, but free from gratings or bars. The palings that enclosed a small fore court were of massive oak and, being mounted on a dwarf wall, effectually prevented the intrusion of un-invited guests. The gates were securely closed, but the handle of a small bell invited attention, and a lusty pull by the driver gave notice of our presence.

  L—, who had quitted the vehicle by the off door, requested the magistrate to keep out of sight, and with his brother officer retired behind the coach. Our course of proceeding had been well-arranged; when the door of the house was opened, I put my head from the carriage window and requested to see the superior of the convent. The attendant, a short, ill-looking follow in a fustian coat and gaiters, desired to know my business with him. “It is of great secrecy and importance,” I replied; “I cannot leave the carriage because I have somebody here that requires my strictest attention. Give your master this card, and he will know exactly who I am, and what I require.”

  Our scheme succeeded. The fellow left his post and, unfastening the paling gate, advanced to the edge of the footpath, and put his hand in at the win
dow of the carriage for my card. L— and the officer glided from their concealment and secured possession of the outer gate and the door of the house before the fellow had time to give the alarm. The driver, who had pretended to busy himself with the horses, immediately opened the carriage door, and in a few seconds the whole of our party were mustered in the entrance hall. The man who had answered the bell, when he recovered his surprise, rushed to the door, and attempted to force his way to the interior of the house. The police officer stopped him, and an angry altercation ensued—he placed his finger in his mouth and gave a loud and lengthy whistle. L—, who was busily engaged in searching for the fastenings of an iron screen that crossed the width of the hall, observed the noise and turning round to his mate said quietly, “If he’s troublesome, Tommy, give him a pair of gloves.” In two minutes, the fellow was sitting helpless on the ground, securely handcuffed.

  “Confound him,” said L—, “he must have come out through this grating; there is no other entrance to the hall, and yet I cannot discover the door-way, and I am afraid that his signal has made it worse, for I heard the click of spring work directly after he gave his whistle.”

  “This grating is a common appendage to a convent or religious house,” said Mr. Wilson. “Perhaps we are giving ourselves unnecessary trouble—let us ring the bell again, and we may obtain admission without the use of force.”