The Seven Secrets

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  MR. LANE'S ROMANCE.

  The Seven Secrets, each distinct from each other and yet connected;each one in itself a complete enigma, formed a problem of which evenAmbler Jevons himself could not discover the solution.

  Contrary to his usual methods, he allowed me to accompany him invarious directions, making curious inquiries that had apparentlynothing to connect them with the mystery of the death of Mr. and Mrs.Courtenay.

  In reply to a wire I had sent to Ethelwynn came a message saying thather mother was entirely prostrated, therefore she could not at presentleave her. This, when shown to Ambler, caused him to purse his lipsand raise his shoulders with that gesture of suspicion which was apeculiarity of his. Was it possible that he actually suspected her?

  The name of Slade seemed ever in Jevons' mind. Indeed, most of hisinquiries were regarding some person of that name.

  One evening, after dining together, he took me in a cab across theCity to the Three Nuns Hotel, at Aldgate--where, in the saloon bar, wesat drinking. Before setting out he had urged me to put on a shabbysuit of clothes and a soft hat, so that in the East End we should notattract attention as "swells." As for his own personal appearance, itwas certainly not that of the spruce city man. He was an adept atdisguises, and on this occasion wore a reefer jacket, a peaked cap,and a dark violet scarf in lieu of collar, thus presenting the aspectof a seafarer ashore. He smoked a pipe of the most approved nauticaltype, and as we sat together in the saloon he told me sea stories, inorder that a group of men sitting near might overhear.

  That he had some object in all this was quite certain, but what it wasI could not gather.

  Suddenly, after an hour, a little under-sized old man of dirty andneglected appearance, who had been drinking at the bar, shuffled up tous, and whispered something to Ambler that I did not catch. The words,nevertheless, caused my companion to start, and, disregarding thefresh whiskey and soda he had just ordered, he rose and walked out--anexample which I followed.

  "Lanky sent me, sir," the old man said, addressing Ambler, when wewere out in the street. "He couldn't come hisself. 'E said you'd liketo know the news."

  "Of course, I was waiting for it," replied my companion, alert andeager.

  "Well," he said, "I suppose I'd better tell yer the truth at once,sir."

  "Certainly. What is it?"

  "Well, Lanky's dead."

  "Dead?" cried Ambler. "Impossible. I was waiting for him."

  "I know. This morning in the Borough Market he told me to come 'ereand find you, because he wasn't able to come. 'E had a previousengagement. Lanky's engagements were always interestin'," he added,with a grim smile.

  "Well, go on," said Ambler, eagerly. "What followed?"

  "'E told me to go down to Tait Street and see 'im at eight o'clock, as'e had a message for you. I went, and when I got there I found 'imlying on the floor of his room stone dead."

  "You went to the police, of course?"

  "No, I didn't; I came here to see you instead. I believe the poorbloke's been murdered. 'E was a good un, too--poor Lanky Lane!"

  "What!" I exclaimed. "Is that man Lane dead?"

  "It seems so," Jevons responded. "If he is, then there we have furthermystery."

  "If you doubt it, sir, come with me down to Shadwell," the old mansaid in his cockney drawl. "Nobody knows about it yet. I ought to havetold the p'lice, but I know you're better at mysterious affairs thanthe silly coppers in Leman Street."

  Jevons' fame as an investigator of crime had spread even to that classknown as the submerged tenth. How fashions change! A year or two agoit was the mode in Society to go "slumming." To-day only socialreformers and missionaries make excursions to the homes of the lowerclass in East London. A society woman would not to-day dare admit thatshe had been further east than Leadenhall Street.

  "Let's go and see what has really happened," Ambler said to me. "IfLane is dead, then it proves that his enemy is yours."

  "I can't see that. How?" I asked.

  "You will see later. For the moment we must occupy ourselves with hisdeath, and ascertain whether it is owing to natural causes or to foulplay. He was a heavy drinker, and it may have been that."

  "No," declared the little old man, "Lanky wasn't drunk to-day--thatI'll swear. I saw 'im in Commercial Road at seven, talkin' to a fellerwot's in love wiv 'is sister."

  "Then how do you account for this discovery of yours?" asked mycompanion.

  "I can't account for it, guv'nor. I simply found 'im lying on thefloor, and it give me a shock, I can tell yer. 'E was as cold as ice."

  "Let's go and see ourselves," Ambler said: so together we hurriedthrough the Whitechapel High Street, at that hour busy with itscostermonger market, and along Commercial Road East, arriving at lastin the dirty, insalubrious thoroughfare, a veritable hive of thelowest class of humanity, Tait Street, Shadwell.

  Up the dark stairs of one of the dirtiest of the dwellings ourconductor guided us, lighting our steps with wax vestas, struck uponthe wall, and on gaining the third floor of the evil-smelling place hepushed open a door, and we found ourselves in an unlit room.

  "Don't move, gentlemen," the old man urged. "You may fall over 'im.'E's right there, just where you're standin'. I'll light the lamp."

  Then he struck another match, and by its fickle light we saw the bodyof Lane, the street-hawker, lying full length only a yard from us,just as our conductor had described.

  The cheap and smelling paraffin lamp being lit, I took a hasty glancearound the poor man's home. There was but little furniture save thebed, a chair or two, and a rickety table. Upon the latter was one ofthose flat bottles known as a "quartern." Our first attention,however, was to the prostrate man. A single glance was sufficient toshow that he was dead. His eyes were closed, his hands clenched, andhis body was bent as though he had expired in a final paroxysm ofagony. The teeth, too, were hard set, and there were certain featuresabout his appearance that caused me to entertain grave suspicion fromthe first. His thin, consumptive face, now blanched, was strangelydrawn, as though the muscles had suddenly contracted, and there was anabsence of that composure one generally expects to find in the facesof those who die naturally.

  As a medical man I very soon noted sufficient appearances to tell methat death had been due either to suicide or foul play. The formerseemed to me the most likely.

  "Well?" asked Ambler, rising from his knees when I had concluded theexamination of the dead man's skinny, ill-nourished body. "What's youropinion, Ralph?"

  "He's taken poison," I declared.

  "Poison? You believe he's been poisoned."

  "It may have been wilful murder, or he may have taken it voluntarily,"I answered. "But it is most evident that the symptoms are those ofpoisoning."

  Ambler gave vent to a low grunt, half of satisfaction, half ofsuspicion. I knew that grunt well. When on the verge of any discoveryhe always emitted that guttural sound.

  "We'd better inform the police," I remarked. "That's all we can do.The poor fellow is dead."

  "Dead! Yes, we know that. But we must find out who killed him."

  "Well," I said, "I think at present, Ambler, we've quite sufficient onour hands without attempting to solve any further problems. The poorman may have been in despair and have taken poison wilfully."

  "In despair!" echoed the old man. "No fear. Lanky was happy enough. 'Ewasn't the sort of fellow to hurry hisself out o' the world. He likedlife too jolly well. Besides, he 'ad a tidy bit o' money in theSavin's Bank. 'E was well orf once, wer' Lanky. Excuse me forinterruptin'."

  "Well, if he didn't commit suicide," I remarked, "then, according toall appearances, poison was administered to him wilfully."

  "That appears to be the most feasible theory," Ambler said. "Here wehave still a further mystery."

  Of course, the post-mortem appearances of poisoning, except in a fewinstances, are not very characteristic. As every medical man is aware,poison, if administered with a criminal intent, is generally in such adose
as to take immediate effect--although this is by no meansnecessary, as there are numerous substances which accumulate in thesystem, and when given in small and repeated quantities ultimatelyprove fatal--notably, antimony. The diagnosis of the effects ofirritant poisons is not so difficult as it is in the case of narcoticsor other neurotics, where the symptoms are very similar to thoseproduced by apoplexy, epilepsy, tetanus, convulsions, or other formsof disease of the brain. Besides, one of the most difficult facts wehave to contend with in such cases is that poison may be found in thebody, and yet a question may arise as to its having been the cause ofdeath.