CHAPTER XII.
I RECEIVE A VISITOR.
The adjourned inquest was resumed on the day appointed in the big roomat the Star and Garter at Kew, and the public, eager as ever forsensational details, overflowed through the bar and out into thestreet, until the police were compelled to disperse the crowd. Theevening papers had worked up all kinds of theories, some worthy ofattention, others ridiculous; hence the excitement and interest hadbecome intense.
The extraordinary nature of the wound which caused Mr. Courtenay'sdeath was the chief element of mystery. Our medical evidence hadproduced a sensation, for we had been agreed that to inflict such awound with any instrument which could pass through the exteriororifice was an absolute impossibility. Sir Bernard and myself werestill both bewildered. In the consulting room at Harley Street we haddiscussed it a dozen times, but could arrive at no definite conclusionas to how such a terrible wound could possibly have been caused.
I noticed a change in Sir Bernard. He seemed mopish, thoughtful, andsomewhat despondent. Usually he was a busy, bustling man, whose mannerwith his patients was rather brusque, and who, unlike the majority ofmy own profession, went to the point at once. There is no professionin which one is compelled to exercise so much affected patience andcourtesy as in the profession of medicine. Patients will bore you todeath with long and tedious histories of all their ailments since thedays when they chewed a gutta-percha teething-ring, and to appearimpatient is to court a reputation for flippancy and want ofattention. Great men may hold up their hands and cry "Enough!" Butsmall men must sit with pencil poised, apparently intenselyinterested, and listen through until the patient has exhausted hislong-winded recollections of all his ills.
Contrary to his usual custom, Sir Bernard did not now return to Hoveeach evening, but remained at Harley Street--dining alone off a chopor a steak, and going out afterwards, probably to his club. His changeof manner surprised me. I noticed in him distinct signs of nervousdisorder; and on several afternoons he sent round to me at theHospital, saying that he could not see his patients, and asking me torun back to Harley Street and take his place.
On the evening before the adjourned inquest I remarked to him that hedid not appear very well, and his reply, in a strained, despondingvoice, was:
"Poor Courtenay has gone. He was my best friend."
Yes, it was as I expected, he was sorrowing over his friend.
When we had re-assembled at the Star and Garter, he entered quietlyand took a seat beside me just before the commencement of theproceedings.
The Coroner, having read over all the depositions taken on the firstoccasion, asked the police if they had any further evidence to offer,whereupon the local inspector of the T Division answered with an airof mystery:
"We have nothing, sir, which we can make public. Active inquiries arestill in progress."
"No further medical evidence?" asked the coroner.
I turned towards Sir Bernard inquiringly, and as I did so my eyecaught a face hidden by a black veil, seated among the public at thefar side of the room. It was Ethelwynn herself--come there to watchthe proceedings and hear with her own ears whether the police hadobtained traces of the assassin!
Her anxious countenance shone through her veil haggard and white; hereyes were fixed upon the Coroner. She hung breathlessly upon his everyword.
"We have no further evidence," replied the inspector.
There was a pause. The public who were there in search of somesolution of the bewildering mystery which had been published in everypaper through the land, were disappointed. They had expected at leastto hear some expert evidence--which, if not always reliable, is alwaysinteresting. But there seemed an inclination on the part of the policeto maintain a silence which increased rather than lessened themystery.
"Well, gentlemen," exclaimed Dr. Diplock, turning at last to thetwelve local tradesmen who formed the jury, "you have heard theevidence in this curious case, and your duty is to decide in whatmanner the deceased came by his death, whether by accidental means, orby foul play. I think in the circumstances you will have very littledifficulty in deciding. The case is a mysterious one--a verymysterious one. The deceased was a gentleman of means who wassuffering from a malignant disease, and that disease must have provedfatal within a short time. Now this fact appears to have been wellknown to himself, to the members of his household, and probably tomost of his friends. Nevertheless, he was found dead in circumstanceswhich point most strongly to wilful murder. If he was actuallymurdered, the assassin, whoever he was, had some very strong incentivein killing him at once, because he might well have waited another fewmonths for the fatal termination of the disease. That fact, however,is not for you to consider, gentlemen. You are here for the solepurpose of deciding whether or not this case is one of murder. If, inyour opinion it is, then it becomes your duty to return a verdict tothat effect and leave it to the police to discover the assassin. Tocomment at length on the many mysterious circumstances surrounding thetragedy is, I think, needless. The depositions I have just read aresufficiently full and explanatory, especially the evidence of SirBernard Eyton and of Doctor Boyd, both of whom, besides beingwell-known in the profession, were personal friends of the deceased.In considering your verdict I would further beg of you not to heed anytheories you may have read in the newspapers, but adjudge the matterfrom a fair and impartial standpoint, and give your verdict as youhonestly believe the truth to be."
The dead silence which had prevailed during the Coroner's address wasat once broken by the uneasy moving of the crowd. I glanced across atEthelwynn, and saw her sitting immovable, breathless, statuesque.
She watched the foreman of the jury whispering to two or three of hiscolleagues in the immediate vicinity. The twelve tradesmen consultedtogether in an undertone, while the reporters at the table conversedaudibly. They, too, were disappointed at being unable to obtain anysensational "copy."
"If you wish to retire in order to consider your verdict, gentlemen,you are quite at liberty to do so," remarked the coroner.
"That is unnecessary," replied the foreman. "We are agreedunanimously."
"Upon what?"
"Our verdict is that the deceased was wilfully murdered by some personor persons unknown."
"Very well, gentlemen. Of course in my position I am not permitted togive you advice, but I think that you could have arrived at no otherverdict. The police will use every endeavour to discover the identityof the assassin."
I glanced at Ethelwynn, and at that instant she turned her head, andher eyes met mine. She started quickly, her face blanched to the lips;then she rose unsteadily, and with the crowd went slowly out.
Ambler Jevons, who had been seated at the opposite side of the room,got up and rushed away; therefore I had no chance to get a word withhim. He had glanced at me significantly, and I knew well what passedthrough his mind. Like myself, he was thinking of that strange letterwe had found among the dead man's effects and had agreed to destroy.
About nine o'clock that same night I had left Sir Bernard's and wasstrolling slowly round to my rooms, when my friend's cheery voicesounded behind me. He was on his way to have a smoke with me as usual,he explained. So we entered together, and after I had turned up thelight and brought out the drinks he flung himself into his habitualchair, and stretching himself wearily said--
"The affair becomes more mysterious hourly."
"How?" I inquired quickly.
"I've been down to Kew this afternoon," was his rather ambiguousresponse. "I had to go to my office directly after the inquest, but Ireturned at once."
"And what have you discovered? Anything fresh?"
"Yes," he responded slowly. "A fresh fact or two--facts that stillincrease the mystery."
"What are they? Tell me," I urged.
"No, Ralph, old chap. When I am certain of their true importance I'llexplain them to you. At present I desire to pursue my own methodsuntil I arrive at some clear conclusion."
This disinclination to tell me the truth was
annoying. He had alwaysbeen quite frank and open, explaining all his theories, and showing tome any weak points in the circumstantial evidence. Yet suddenly, as itseemed to me, he had become filled with a strange mistrust. Why, Icould not conceive.
"But surely you can tell me the nature of your discoveries?" I said."There need be no secrets between us in this affair."
"No, Ralph. But I'm superstitious enough to believe that ill-luckfollows a premature exposure of one's plans," he said.
His excuse was a lame one--a very lame one. I smiled--in order to showhim that I read through such a transparent attempt to mislead me.
"I might have refused to show you that letter of Ethelwynn's," Iprotested. "Yet our interests being mutual I handed it to you."
"And it is well that you did."
"Why?"
"Because knowledge of it has changed the whole course of myinquiries."
"Changed them from one direction to another?"
He nodded.
"And you are now prosecuting them in the direction of Ethelwynn?"
"No," he answered. "Not exactly."
I looked at his face, and saw upon it an expression of profoundmysteriousness. His dark, well-marked countenance was a complex onealways, but at that moment I was utterly unable to discern whether hespoke the truth, or whether he only wished to mislead my suspicionsinto a different channel. That he was the acme of shrewdness, that hispowers of deduction were extraordinary, and that his patience inunravelling a secret was almost beyond comprehension I knew well. Eventhose great trackers of criminals, Shaw and Maddox, of New ScotlandYard, held him in respect, and admired his acute intelligence andmarvellous power of perception.
Yet his attempt to evade a question which so closely concerned my ownpeace of mind and future happiness tried my patience. If he had reallydiscovered some fresh facts I considered it but right that I should beacquainted with them.
"Has your opinion changed as to the identity of the person whocommitted the crime?" I asked him, rather abruptly.
"Not in the least," he responded, slowly lighting his foul pipe. "Howcan it, in the face of the letter we burnt?"
"Then you think that jealousy was the cause of the tragedy? Thatshe----"
"No, not jealousy," he interrupted, speaking quite calmly. "The factsI have discovered go to show that the motive was not jealousy."
"Hatred, then?"
"No, not hatred."
"Then what?"
"That's just where I fail to form a theory," he answered, after abrief silence, during which he watched the blue smoke curl upward tothe sombre ceiling of my room. "In a few days I hope to discover themotive."
"You will let me assist you?" I urged, eagerly. "I am at your disposalat any hour."
"No," he answered, decisively. "You are prejudiced, Ralph. Youunfortunately still love that woman."
A sigh escaped me. What he said was, alas! too true. I had adored herthrough those happy months prior to the tragedy. She had come into mylonely bachelor life as the one ray of sunlight that gave me hope andhappiness, and I had lived for her alone. Because of her I had strivento rise in the profession, and had laboured hard so that in a littlewhile I might be in a position to marry and buy that quiet countrypractice that was my ideal existence. And even now, with my idolbroken by the knowledge of her previous engagement to the man nowdead, I confess that I nevertheless still entertained a strongaffection for her. The memory of a past love is often more sweet thanthe love itself--and to men it is so very often fatal.
I had risen to pour out some whiskey for my companion when, of asudden, my man opened the door and announced:
"There's a lady to see you, sir."
"A lady?" we both exclaimed, with one voice.
"Yes, sir," and he handed me a card.
I glanced at it. My visitor was the very last person I desired to meetat that moment, for she was none other than Ethelwynn herself.
"I'll go, old chap," Jevons cried, springing to his feet, and draininghis glass at a single draught. "She mustn't meet me here. Good-byetill to-morrow. Remember, betray no sign to her that you know thetruth. It's certainly a curious affair, as it now stands; but dependupon it that there's more complication and mystery in it than we haveyet suspected."
The Seven Secrets Page 13