“What rendered the whole case doubly mysterious was that Messrs Mills and Co. seemed to take the matter with complete indifference. They refused to be interviewed, or to give any information about the Artemis at all, and seemed callously willing to await events.
“The public was furious; the newspapers stormed; everyone felt that the Artemis should be stopped at any cost at her next port of call, and not allowed to continue her perilous journey.
“And yet the days went by; the public read with horror at Lloyd’s that the Artemis had called at Malta, at Port Said, at Aden, and was now well on her way to the Far East. Feeling ran so high throughout England, that, if the mysterious stranger had been discovered by the police, no protection from them would have saved him from being lynched.
“As for Captain Markham, public opinion reserved its final judgment. A cloud hung over him, of that there was no doubt; many said openly that he had sold the secret plans of Port Arthur, either to the Japanese or to the Nihilists, either through fear or intimidation, if not through greed.
“Then the inevitable climax came: a certain Mr Carleton constituted himself the spokesman of the general public; he met Captain Markham one day at one of the clubs in London. There were hot words between them; Mr Carleton did not mince matters; he openly accused Captain Markham of that which public opinion had already whispered, and finally, completely losing his temper, he struck the Captain in the face, calling him every opprobrious name he could think of.
“But for the timely interference of friends, there would have been murder committed then and there; as it was, Captain Markham was induced by his own friends to bring a criminal charge of slander and of assault against Mr Carleton, as the only means of making the whole story public, and possibly vindicating his character.”
3
“A criminal action for slander and assault is always an interesting one,” continued the man in the corner, after a while, “as it always argues an unusual amount of personal animosity on the part of the plaintiff.
“In this case, of course, public interest was roused to its highest pitch. Practically, though Captain Markham was the prosecutor, he would stand before his fellow-citizens after this action either as an innocent man, or as one of the most dastardly scoundrels this nation has ever known.
“The case for the Captain was briefly stated by his counsel. For the defence Sir Arthur Inglewood, on behalf of Mr Carleton, pleaded justification. With wonderful eloquence Sir Arthur related the whole story of the secret plan of Port Arthur confided to the honour of Captain Markham, and which involved the safety of the British ship and the lives of a whole British crew.
“The first witnesses called for the defence were Mrs Bowden and her daughter, Meggie. Both related the story I have already told you. When they came to the point of having seen the jewel case open on the table during that interview between Captain Markham and the mysterious stranger, there was a regular murmur of indignation throughout the whole crowd, so much so, that the judge threatened to clear the court, for Sir Arthur argued this to be a proof that Captain Markham had been a willing accomplice in the theft of the secret plans, and had merely played the comedy of being assaulted, bound, and gagged.
“But there was more to come.
“It appears that on the morning of 2nd December – that is to say, before going to Portsmouth – Captain Markham, directly after breakfast, and while his wife was up in her own room, received a message, which seemed greatly to disturb him. It was Jane Mason, the parlour-maid at the Markhams’ town house, who told the story.
“A letter bearing no stamp had been dropped into the letterbox; she had taken it to her master, who, on reading it, became greatly agitated; he tore up the letter, stuffed it into his pocket, and presently took up his hat and rushed out of the house.
“‘When the master was gone,’ continued Jane, ‘I found a scrap of paper, which had fallen out of his pocket.’
“This scrap of paper Jane Mason had carefully put away. She was a shrewd girl, and scented some mystery. It was now produced in court, and the few fragmentary words were read out by Sir Arthur Inglewood, amidst boundless excitement:
“‘… if you lend a hand… Port Arthur safely… hold my tongue…’
“And at the end there were four letters in large capitals, ‘STOW’.
“In view of all the evidence taken, there was momentous significance to be attached to those few words, of which only the last four letters seemed mysterious, but these probably were part of the confederate’s signature, who had – no one doubted it now – some hold upon Captain Markham, and had by a process of blackmail induced him to send the Artemis to her doom.
“After that, according to a statement made by the head clerk of Messrs Mills and Co., Captain Markham came round to the office, begging that someone else should be sent to meet Captain Jutland at Portsmouth. ‘This,’ explained the head clerk, who had been subpoenaed for the defence, ‘was quite impossible at this eleventh hour, and in the absence of the heads of the firm, I had, on Mr Mills’ behalf, to hold Captain Markham to his promise.’
“This closed the case for the defence, and, in view of the lateness of the hour, counsel’s speeches were reserved for the following day. There was not a doubt in anybody’s mind that Captain Markham was guilty, and but for the presence of a large body of police, I assure you he would have been torn to pieces by the crowd.”
The man in the corner paused in his narrative and blinked at me over his bone-rimmed spectacles, like some lean and frowzy tom-cat eager for a fight.
“Well?” I said eagerly.
“Well, surely you remember what happened the following day?” he replied, with a dry chuckle. “Personally, I don’t think that there ever was quite so much sensation in any English court of law.
“It was crowded, of course, when counsel for the plaintiff rose to speak. He made, however, only a short statement, briefly and to the point; but this statement caused everyone to look at his neighbour, wondering if he were awake or dreaming.
“Counsel began by saying that Messrs Mills and Co., in view of the obvious conspiracy that had existed against the Artemis, had decided, in conjunction with Captain Markham himself, to say nothing about the safety of the ship until she was in port; but now counsel had much pleasure in informing the court and public that the Artemis had safely arrived at Port Arthur, had landed her guns, and was on her way home again by now. A cablegram via St Petersburg had been received by Messrs Mills and Co. from Captain Jutland that very morning.
“That cablegram was read by counsel in court, and was received with loud and prolonged cheering which could not be suppressed.
“With heroic fortitude – explained counsel – Captain Markham had borne the gross suspicions against his integrity, only hoping that news of the safety of the Artemis would reach England in time to allow him to vindicate his character. But until Captain Jutland was safe in port, he had sworn to hold his tongue, and to bear insult and violence, sooner than once more jeopardize the safety of the British ship by openly avowing that she carried the plans of the important port with her.
“Well, you know the rest. The parties, at the suggestion of the judge, arranged the case amicably, and, Captain Markham being fully satisfied, Mr Carleton was nominally ordered to come up for trial when called upon.
“Captain Markham was the hero of the hour; but presently, after the first excitement had subsided, sensible people began to ponder. Everyone, of course, appreciated the fact that Messrs Mills and Co., prompted by the highest authorities, had insisted on not jeopardizing the safety of the Artemis by shouting on the housetops that she was carrying the plans of Port Arthur on board. Hostilities in the Far East were on the point of breaking out, and I need not insist, I think, on the obvious fact that silence in such matters and at such a time was absolutely imperative.
“But what sensible people wanted to know was, what part had Captain Markham played in all this?
“In the evening of that memorable 2nd December
, he was sitting amicably by the fire with the mysterious stranger, who was evidently blackmailing him, and with the jewel case, which contained the plans of Port Arthur, open between them. What, then, had caused Captain Markham to change his attitude? What dispelled the fear of the stranger? Was he really assaulted? Was the jewel case really stolen?
“Captain Jutland, of the Artemis, has explained that he was only on shore for one hour at Portsmouth on the memorable morning of 3rd December, namely, between 10.30 and 11.30 a.m. On landing at the Hard from his gig, he was met by a gentleman whom he did not know, and who, without a word of comment, handed him some papers, which proved to be plans of Port Arthur.
“Now, at that very hour Captain Markham was lying helpless in his bedroom, and the question now is, who abstracted the plans from the jewel case, and then mysteriously handed them to Captain Jutland? Why was it not done openly? Why? – why? and, above all, by whom? –”
4
“Indeed, why?” I retorted, for he had paused, and was peering at me through his bone-rimmed spectacles. “You must have a theory,” I added, as I quietly handed him a beautiful bit of string across the table.
“Of course I have a theory,” he replied placidly; “nay, more, the only explanation of those mysterious events. But for this I must refer you to the scrap of paper found by Jane Mason, and containing the four fragmentary sentences which have puzzled everyone, and which Captain Markham always refused to explain.
“Do you remember,” he went on, as he began feverishly to construct knot upon knot on that piece of string, “the wreck of the Ridstow some twenty years ago? She was a pleasure boat belonging to Mr Eyres, the great millionaire financier, and was supposed to have been wrecked in the South Seas, with nearly all hands. Five of her crew, however, were picked up by HMS Pomona, on a bit of rocky island to which they had managed to swim.
“I looked up the files of the newspapers relating to the rescue of these five shipwrecked mariners, who told a most pitiable tale of the loss of the yacht and their subsequent escape to, and sufferings on, the island. Fire had broken out in the hull of the Ridstow, and all her crew were drowned, with the exception of three sailors, a Russian friend, or rather secretary, of Mr Eyres, and a young petty officer named Markham.
“You see, the letters ‘STOW’ had given me the clue. Clearly Markham, on receiving the message in the morning of 2nd December, was frightened, and when we analyse the fragments of that message and try to reconstruct the missing fragments, do we not get something like this:
“‘If you lend a hand in allowing the Artemis to reach Port Arthur safely, and to land her cargo there, I will no longer hold my tongue about the events which occurred on board the RidSTOW.’
“Clearly the mysterious stranger had a great hold over Captain Markham, for every scrap of evidence, if you think it over, points to his having been frightened. Did he not beg the clerk to find someone else to meet Captain Jutland in Portsmouth? He did not wish to lend a hand in allowing the Artemis to reach Port Arthur safely.
“We must, therefore, take it that on board the Ridstow some such tragedy was enacted as, alas! is not of unfrequent occurrence. The tragedy of a mutiny, a wholesale murder, the robbery of the rich financier, the burning of the yacht. Markham, then barely twenty, was no doubt an unwilling, perhaps passive, accomplice; one can trace the hand of a cunning, daring Russian in the whole of this mysterious tragedy.
“Since then, Markham, through twenty years’ faithful service of his country, had tried to redeem the passive crime of his early years. But then came the crisis: the cunning leader of that bygone tragedy no doubt kept a strong hand over his weaker accomplices.
“What happened to the other three we do not know, but we have seen how terrified Markham is of him, how he dare not resist him, and when the mysterious Russian – some Nihilist, no doubt, at war with his own government – wishes to deal his country a terrible blow by possessing himself of the plan of her most important harbour, so that he might sell it to her enemies, Markham dare not say him nay.
“But mark what happens. Captain Markham terrorized, confronted with a past crime, threatened with exposure, is as wax in the hands of his unscrupulous tormentor. But beside him there is the saving presence of his wife.”
“His wife?” I gasped.
“Yes, the woman! Did you think this was a crime without the inevitable woman? I sought her, and found her in Captain Markham’s wife. To save her husband both from falling a victim to his implacable accomplice, and from committing another even more heinous crime, she suggests the comedy which was so cleverly enacted in the morning of 3rd December.
“When the landlady and her daughter saw the jewel case open on the table the evening before, Markham was playing the first act of the comedy invented by his wife. She had the plan safely in her own keeping by then. He pretended to agree to the Russian’s demands, but showed him that he had not then the plan in his possession, promising, however, to deliver it up on the morrow.
“Then in the morning, Mrs Markham helps to gag and strap her husband down; he pretends to lie unconscious, and she goes out, carrying the jewel case. Her brother, Mr Paulton, of course, helps them both; without him it would have been more difficult; as it is, he takes charge of the jewel case, abstracts the plan and papers, and finally meets Captain Jutland at the Hard, and hands him over the plan of Port Arthur.
“Thus through the wits of a clever and devoted woman, not only are the Artemis and her British crew saved, but Captain Markham is effectually rid of the blackmailer, who otherwise would have poisoned his life, and probably out of revenge at being foiled, have ruined his victim altogether.
“To my mind, that was the neatest thing in the whole plan. The general public believed that Captain Markham (who obviously at the instigation of his wife had confided in Messrs Mills and Co.) held his tongue as to the safety of the Artemis merely out of heroism, in order not to run her into any further danger. Now, I maintain that this was the master-stroke of that clever woman’s plan.
“By holding his tongue, by letting the public fear for the safety of the British crew and British ship, public feeling was stirred to such a pitch of excitement that the Russian now would never dare show himself. Not only – by denouncing Captain Markham now – would he never be even listened to for a moment, but, if he came forward at all, if he even showed himself, he would stand before the British public self-convicted as the man who had tried through the criminal process of blackmail to terrorize an Englishman into sending a British ship and thirty British sailors to certain annihilation.
“No; I think we may take it for granted that the Russian will not dare to show his face in England again.”
And the funny creature was gone before I could say another word.
IX
The Disappearance of Count Collini
1
He was very argumentative that morning; whatever I said he invariably contradicted flatly and at once, and we both had finally succeeded in losing our temper.
The man in the corner was riding one of his favourite hobbyhorses.
“It is impossible for any person to completely disappear in a civilized country,” he said emphatically, “provided that person has either friends or enemies of means and substance, who are interested in finding his or her whereabouts.”
“Impossible is a sweeping word,” I rejoined.
“None too big for the argument,” he concluded, as he surveyed with evident pride and pleasure a gigantic and complicated knot, which his bony fingers had just fashioned.
“I think that, nevertheless, you should not use it,” I said placidly. “It is not impossible, though it may be very difficult to disappear without leaving the slightest clue or trace behind you.”
“Prove it,” he said, with a snap of his thin lips.
“I can, quite easily.”
“Now I know what is going on in your mind,” said the uncanny creature; “you are thinking of that case last autumn.”
“Well, I was,
” I admitted. “And you cannot deny that Count Collini has disappeared as effectually as if the sea had swallowed him up – many people think it did.”
“Many idiots, you mean,” he rejoined dryly. “Yes, I knew you would quote that case. It certainly was a curious one; all the more so, perhaps, as there was no inquest, no sensational police-court proceedings, nothing dramatic, in fact, save that strange and wonderful disappearance.
“I don’t know if you call to mind the whole plot of that weird drama. There was Thomas Checkfield, a retired biscuit-baker of Reading, who died leaving a comfortable fortune, mostly invested in freehold property, and amounting to about £80,000, to his only child, Alice.
“At the time of her father’s death Alice Checkfield was just eighteen, and at school in Switzerland, where she had spent most of her life. Old Checkfield had been a widower ever since the birth of his daughter, and seems to have led a very lonely and eccentric life, leaving the girl at school abroad for years, only going very occasionally to see her, and seemingly having but little affection for her.
“The girl herself had not been home in England since she was eight years old, and even when old Checkfield was dying he would not allow the girl to be apprised of his impending death, and to be brought home to a house of loneliness and mourning.
“‘What’s the good of upsetting a young girl, not eighteen,’ he said to his friend, Mr Turnour, ‘by letting her see all the sad paraphernalia of death? She hasn’t seen much of her old father anyway, and will soon get over her loss, with young company round her, to help her bear up.’
The Case of Miss Elliott Page 14