From the roulette table my attention wandered to the other occupants of the room and occasionally to Gillum and Madame, who walked slowly to and fro at the end of the room conversing earnestly. Nor was I the only observer. Several of the card-players cast a glance from time to time at the pair, and the three occupants of the table from which Madame had risen made no secret of their interest. Two of these I could not see very well but M. Foucault sat facing me; and never have I seen a more evil expression than that which his countenance bore as he watched them. He was not a pleasant-looking man at the best, and a slight squint did not improve matters; but now his aspect was positively villainous.
Not that his manifest anger was without provocation, for Madame's oglings and her caressing manner towards Gillum, regardless of the company, would have been offensive to the most tolerant of husbands. She might have been Gillum's lover—and not a very reticent lover at that. It is true that Gillum took it all very coolly with no sign of responsive demonstrations; but I felt that he was being more than indiscreet. Obviously, in his association with this woman, who seemed of set purpose to exasperate her husband, he was taking the risk of serious trouble.
Presently, to my relief they strolled over to Foucault's table and while Madame resumed her seat, Gillum drew up a spare chair and sat down facing her husband. Apparently the lady was giving some sort of explanation for she spoke volubly, leaning across the table to avoid raising her voice, while the others leaned forward to listen, and Foucault appeared to be gazing simultaneously at his wife and Gillum—an optical illusion, of course, due to his "swivel eye."
The discussion did not last long, and it was evidently quite an amicable affair, for when Gillum stood up, he shook hands with them all, including the grim-faced Foucault, before turning away to rejoin me; and I noted the leave-taking with considerable satisfaction, for it was getting alarmingly late and I began to feel that I had had enough of this not very thrilling form of entertainment.
"Yes," Gillum agreed, when I ventured on a hint to that effect, "time's getting on and you've to be at the bank as fresh as a lark to-morrow morning. But we must have one little flutter before we go. What shall it be? Shall we try an experiment with the doubling plan that we were discussing at dinner?"
Without waiting for an answer he laid a pound note on the red beside the ten-shilling note that the elderly lady had just put down. I watched with unexpected in as the revolving wheel was checked and the little white ball clattered round the dial, and was sensibly disappointed when it settled at last in compartment 21. For 21 happened unfortunately to be black. But Gillum was as indifferent as the old lady, and while Mr. Goldfarb raked in the bank's winning's and paid out to the players who had won, he calmly selected two fresh notes from his bulging wallet.
Once more the wheel was spun, the ball was thrown out on to the revolving surface, then the croupier chanted "Rien ne va plus" and checked the wheel, Gillum laid down his two notes, and a dozen pairs of eyes anxiously followed the travels of the dancing ball. At length it dropped into compartment 32—black again; and Gillum sorted out four pound notes from his wallet.
So it went on for a while. Regardless of the law of probability, the ball persisted in dropping into black compartments, and at each failure Gillum doubled his stake. I watched the proceedings with ridiculous anxiety. At the fourth losing coup when the croupier raked in eight of Gillum's pound notes, I noted mentally that my friend was already fifteen pounds out of pocket. If he lost the next coup, that fifteen would become thirty-one. It was positively harrowing to a thrifty man like myself; accustomed to keep a rigid account of every shilling that I spent.
However, he did not lose this time. My anxious eye following the ball, saw it eventually settle in compartment four which was red; and the croupier's rake, instead of sweeping away Gillum's sixteen pounds, added to them another sixteen.
"There, you see," said Gillum; "I am one pound to the good; and that is all I should have gained if I had gone on till doomsday. But I am a gainer to the extent that I have got back what I had lost."
He began to pick up the notes, counting them as he did so. Among them there had been four ten-shilling notes, but now there were only three; the explanation of which was that the old lady, when she had gathered up her two notes, had quietly added to them one of Gillum's. I saw her do it, and so did he; and he now ventured, with the utmost delicacy, to point out the little inadvertency. The lady gazed at him stonily, and I think was about to contest the matter, but at this moment a shout from the farther end of the room, followed by a crash and the sound of shattering glass, effectually diverted our attention.
I looked round quickly and saw two men, each grasping the other by the hair and both yelling like Bedlamites, one accusing the other—in Italian—of being a cheat and the other retorting—in French—that his accuser was a liar. A table and two chairs had been capsized, and very soon, as the combatants gyrated wildly and clawed at each other, more tables were capsized. Then the occupants of those tables joined in the fray with suitable vocal accompaniments and in a moment pandemonium reigned in the previously quiet room. As Foucault and his two friends sprang up and charged into the midst of the mêlée, the door burst open and Cassidy rushed in like an angry bull.
"We'd better clear out of this," said Gillum. "If they keep up this hullabaloo they'll bring the police up." As I agreed heartily, he grabbed up his winnings (but I observed that there were now only two ten-shilling notes) and we retrieved our hats from under the chairs and stole out as well as we could through the little crowd of spectators from the restaurant-room who had gathered round the door to look on at the battle. With the aid of my pocket lamp we made the perilous passage of the stairs—not forgetting the loose tread—and at last emerged safely into the street.
"My word!" exclaimed Gillum, as we crossed the road the more completely to sever our connection with the club, "how those dagoes do yell when they have a bit of a scrap. Just listen to them."
There was not much need to listen for the uproar was such that windows were opening and various night-birds were appearing from the doors of adjacent houses. Evidently, it was desirable for us to get out of the neighbourhood as quickly as possible; which we did, walking briskly but with no outward sign of undue hurry until we were safely out in Wardour Street, where we turned to the left and headed for Leicester square. Here we had the good fortune to encounter a prowling, nocturnal taxi, the driver of which Gillum hailed by voice and gesture. As the vehicle drew up to the kerb he turned to me and asked: "Whereabouts do you hang out, Mortimer?"
"I live at Highbury," I replied.
"Yes, but that's a trifle vague. What's the exact address?" I gave him my full postal address which he communicated to the driver. "And," he added, "you can drop me at Clifford's Inn Passage, opposite the Inner Temple Gate. Will that do for the whole journey?"
"That" appeared to be a ten-shilling note and the driver replied that "it would do very well, thank you, sir"; whereupon we got in and the cab trundled away towards the Strand. I made some ineffectual efforts to refund my share of the payment, but Gillum declared that the calculation was beyond his arithmetic and suggested that we should work it out on some more suitable occasion. We were still arguing the point when the cab stopped in the shadow of St. Dunstan's Church and Gillum got out.
"Well, good night, Mortimer," said he, "or good morning, to be more exact. I hope you have had a pleasant and instructive evening. You have certainly had a full one what with corpses, illegal gambling, and the battle of the dagoes."
He shut the door and waved his hand, and the taxi resumed its journey, turning up Fetter Lane and later heading for Gray's Inn Road. Now that I was alone, I felt a strong disposition to go to sleep; but by an effort I managed to keep awake and watch the familiar landmarks as they slipped by until, in a surprisingly short time, the taxi drew up at the gate of the eligible suburban residence which enshrined the two rooms that served me as a home. The driver actually got out to open the door for me—poss
ibly suspecting some temporary disability, or perhaps as a demonstration of his satisfaction with the fare. At any rate, he gave me a cheerful "good night" and I inserted my latch-key with ease and precision as the clock of a neighbouring church was striking two.
IV. ABEL WEBB, DECEASED
The events of the evening which I had spent with Gillum gave me a good deal to think about. There was no longer any mystery as to what he did with the large sums that he drew from the bank. He just gambled them away. As to how much it was possible for an inveterate gambler like Gillum to drop in any one transaction, I could form no guess. Apparently there was no limit excepting the total amount that the gambler possessed. I had heard and read of players who had lost thousands in a single game, but it had always seemed to me incredible. Now, however, judging by what I had seen, and still more by what Gillum had said, I felt that nothing could overstate the monstrous truth.
The reflection was a sad and depressing one. It made me quite unhappy. For Gillum was no longer a mere customer. He had become an acquaintance, almost a friend, and I had found him a pleasant, likeable man, and apparently a man of good intelligence apart from his insane hobby. It really distressed me to think of a man with his brilliant opportunities frittering away the means of achievement in this puerile sport. And then, what of the future? If his source of supply was a permanent one he might go on indefinitely, simply flinging away his income as fast as he received it. But suppose it were not a stable, continuing income. Suppose it should dwindle or cease? What then? It was pretty certain that this relatively wealthy man would very soon be reduced to actual poverty.
But the mystery of Gillum's expenditure was not completely solved. Apart from the big drafts in cash at irregular intervals there were those regular, periodic drafts which I had regarded with such suspicion. Had our evening's experiences thrown any light on them? I could not say positively that they had. And yet there was at least a suggestion. The whole atmosphere of that sordid gaming house with its deeply shady frequenters: the sinister-looking proprietor—manifestly hostile to Gillum—the painted Jezebel, his wife, the ruffian Cassidy, obviously a paid bully, and finally, Gillum's long and mysterious conference with Madame; if these did not actually offer a suggestion of blackmail, they did at least suggest the very conditions in which blackmail is apt to occur.
From Gillum and his affairs my thoughts turned at intervals to the dead man who had been the means of our introduction. I had read a brief notice of the discovery in the morning paper and had expected to receive on the same day a summons to attend the inquest. Actually, I did not receive it until the evening of the second day, when I found it awaiting me at my lodgings, requiring my attendance on the following day at two o'clock in the afternoon. Accordingly, on my arrival at the office in the morning, I showed it to our manager, and, having received his authority to absent myself from the bank, duly presented myself at the time and place appointed.
The body had been identified as that of a man named Abel Webb, and that was all that was said about him in the first place. Further particulars were left to transpire in the evidence.
There is no need for me to describe the proceedings in detail apart from the essentials. The coroner opened with a concise statement of the matter which formed the subject of the inquiry, the jury were then conducted to the mortuary to view the body, and when they had returned and taken their places the coroner proceeded to deal with the evidence.
"I think," said he, "that we had better begin by calling Mr. Mortimer. His evidence is of no great importance but it comes first in the order of time."
My name was accordingly called, and when I had given the necessary particulars concerning myself, the coroner said: "Now, Mr. Mortimer, just tell us how you came to be connected with the subject of this inquiry. We can ask any necessary questions later."
Thus directed, I gave a plain and rather bald account of my discovery of the body and the circumstances leading thereto, to which the jury listened with eager interest; naturally enough, since the coroner's statement had given but the barest indication of the nature of the case.
"We understand," said the coroner, "that you did not recognise deceased as a person whom you had ever seen before?"
"That is so," I replied. "The man was a stranger to me."
"Would it have been possible for anyone passing along the alley as you did to fail to notice the body?"
"Yes," I replied, "and not only possible but rather probable. It was dark in the alley and still darker in the church porch. I am not sure that I should have seen the body myself but for the fact that I had found the hat and was on the look-out for the owner. Moreover, I was walking very slowly at the moment when I saw the body."
"You think, then, that a person walking at an ordinary pace and not closely observing his surroundings, might have passed the porch without seeing the body?"
"I think it extremely likely," I answered. "In fact, while I was waiting for the constable, a man did actually pass through without noticing the body. He was certainly in a great hurry, but I think if he had not been, he still might not have noticed anything."
"That," said the coroner, addressing the jury, "is, of course, only an opinion, but it agrees with the facts to which the witness has deposed; and the point may be of some importance. Does anything further occur to you, Mr. Mortimer, or do you think that you have told us all that you have to tell?"
"I think I have told you all I know about the matter," I replied; whereupon the coroner, having invited the jury to ask any questions that they wished to ask and receiving no response, the depositions were read and signed and the next witness called.
Constable Walter Allen of the City Police, having completed the preliminaries, deposed as follows: "I was on duty in Cornhill on the evening of Monday the ninth of September. At eight-two p.m. on that evening I was accosted by the last witness, Mr. Robert Mortimer, who informed me that he had seen the dead body of a man lying in the passage leading from St. Michael's Alley to the churchyard. I went with him at once to the place mentioned and there saw the body of deceased in the church porch. The body was partly sitting and partly lying. It was seated on the lowest of the three steps and was leaning back in the corner against the church door. I examined the body sufficiently to assure myself that the man was really dead and then I went away and telephoned to the station in Old Jewry, reporting the discovery and returned to the passage to wait until I was relieved."
"You have heard what the last witness said about the darkness of the passage," said the coroner. "Do you agree that it would have been possible for anyone to pass through the passage without noticing the body?"
"Yes," the constable replied, "I do. It was growing dark out in the street, and in the passage, which is a sort of tunnel, the light was very dim; and in the porch, which is about eight feet deep, it was practically dark. A person might easily have passed through the covered passage without seeing the body in the porch."
This completed the constable's evidence, and as he retired, the name of Inspector Pryor was called; whereupon that officer came forward, and having been sworn, proceeded to give his testimony with professional conciseness and precision. Taking up the thread of the constable's story, he confirmed the description of the body and its position in the porch and agreed that it might have been lying there unnoticed for some time—perhaps as long as half an hour—before it was discovered.
"Were you able," the coroner asked, "to form any opinion as to how deceased met with his death?"
"Yes. When the body had been put on the stretcher, I examined the place where it had been lying and there I found the pieces of a broken hypodermic syringe and some drops of liquid on the stone step. The fragments of the syringe gave off a smell rather like bitter almonds and so did the liquid, which I took up with a piece of clean blotting-paper. The fragments of the syringe are in this box but the blotting-paper was handed to the medical officer."
He handed a small cardboard box to the coroner who opened it, peered in, sniffed at it,
and passed it on to the jury. Then he asked: "Were there any finger-prints on the fragments of the syringe?"
"Only a few smears that were quite undecipherable. I examined the button of the plunger very carefully, but even there I could find nothing but a smear."
"You were able to ascertain the identity of deceased?"
"Yes, there were a number of letters in his pocket addressed to Abel Webb, Esq. which enabled us to make the necessary enquiries."
"Besides the syringe, did you find anything on the spot that could throw light on this mysterious affair? Any signs of a struggle, for instance?"
"Nothing whatever," was the reply. "But as to a struggle, seeing that the floor of the passage is paved and that of the porch tiled, there would hardly be any traces even if a struggle had occurred."
"No," said the coroner, "I suppose there would not." He reflected for a few moments, and then, as there was apparently nothing more to be got out of the Inspector, he intimated that the examination was concluded; and when the depositions had been read and signed, the officer retired.
"I think," said the coroner, "that, as I see that Dr. Ripley is present, we had better take the medical evidence next so as not to detain the doctor unnecessarily."
The new witness, a small, very alert-looking gentleman, having been sworn and having stated his name and professional qualifications, looked enquiringly at the coroner; who, after a brief glance at his notes, opened the examination.
"Perhaps, Doctor," said he, "it would save time if you were to give us your evidence in the form of a statement. You saw the body, I think, shortly after the discovery."
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