The questions now concerned themselves with what I may call the second stage; my relations with Gannet up to the time of the disappearance, including the quarrel in the studio which I had overheard. This evidently produced a deep impression and evoked a number of searching questions from the coroner and from one or two of the jury. Then came the disappearance itself, and as I told the story of my search of the house and my discoveries in the studio, the profound silence in the court and the intent looks of the jury testified to the eager interest of the listeners. When I had finished the account of my doings in the studio, the coroner (who I suspected had been primed by Blandy) asked:
"What about the sample of bone-ash that you took away with you? Did you make any further examination of it?"
"Yes. I examined it under the microscope and confirmed my belief that it was incinerated bone; and I also made a chemical test to ascertain whether it contained any arsenic."
"Had you any expectation that it would contain arsenic?"
"I thought it just possible that it might contain traces of arsenic. It was the previous poisoning incident that suggested the examination."
"Did you, in fact, find any arsenic?"
"Yes. To my surprise, I discovered a considerable quantity. I don't know how much, as I did not attempt to estimate it, but I could see that there was a comparatively large amount."
"And what conclusion did you reach from this fact?"
"I concluded that deceased, whoever he was, had died from the effects of a very large dose of arsenic."
"Is that still your opinion?"
"I am rather doubtful. There may have been some source of error which is not known to me, but the arsenic was certainly there. Really, its significance is a matter for an expert, which I am not."
This, substantially, brought my evidence to an end. I was followed by Sir Joseph Armadale, the eminent medico-legal authority, acting for the Home Office. As he took his place near the coroner, he produced and laid on the table a shallow, glass-topped box. In reply to the coroner's question, he deposed:
"I have examined a quantity of fragments of incinerated bone submitted to me by the Commissioner of Police. Most of them were too small to have any recognizable character, but some were large enough to identify as parts of particular bones. These I found, in every case, to be human bones."
"Would you say that all these fragments are the remains of a human being?"
"That, of course, is an inference, but it is a reasonable inference. All I can say is that every fragment that I was able to recognize as part of a particular bone was part of a human bone. It is reasonable to infer that the unrecognisable fragments were also human. I have picked out all the fragments that were identifiable and put them in this box, which I submit for your inspection."
Here the box was passed round and examined by the jury, and while the inspection was proceeding, the coroner addressed the witness.
"You have heard Dr. Oldfield's evidence as to the arsenic that he found in the ashes. Have you any comments to make on his discovery?"
"Yes. The matter was mentioned to me by Inspector Blandy and I accordingly made an analysis to check Dr. Oldfield's findings. He is perfectly correct. The ashes contain a considerable quantity of arsenic. From two ounces of the ash I recovered nearly a tenth of a grain."
"And do you agree that the presence of that arsenic is evidence that deceased died from arsenic poisoning?"
"No. I do not associate the arsenic with the body of deceased at all. The quantity is impossibly large. As a matter of fact, I do not believe that, if deceased had been poisoned even by a very large dose of arsenic, any trace of the poison would have been discoverable in the ashes. Arsenic is a volatile substance which changes into a vapour at a comparatively low temperature—about 300 degrees Fahrenheit. But these bones had been exposed for hours to a very high temperature—over 2000° Fahrenheit. I should say that the whole of the arsenic would have been driven off in vapour. At any rate, the quantity which was found in the ashes was quite impossible as a residue. The arsenic must have got into the ashes in some way after they had become ashes."
"Can you suggest any way in which it could have got into the ashes?"
"I can only make a guess. Inspector Blandy has informed me that he found a jar of arsenic in the studio among the materials for making glazes or enamels. So it appears that arsenic was one of the materials used, in which case it would have been possible for it to have got mixed with the ashes either in the grinding apparatus or in the bin. But that is only a speculative suggestion. There may be other possibilities."
"Yes," the coroner agreed. "But it doesn't matter much. The important point is that the arsenic was not derived from the body of deceased, and you are clear on that?"
"Perfectly clear," replied Sir Joseph; and that completed his evidence.
The next witness was Mr. Albert Hawley, who described himself as a dental surgeon and deposed that he had attended Mr. Peter Gannet professionally and had made for him a partial upper denture which included the four incisors. The coroner then handed to him a small stoppered tube which I could see contained a tooth, remarking:
"I think you have seen that before, but you had better examine it."
"Yes," the witness replied as he withdrew the stopper and shook the tooth out into the palm of his hand. "It was shown to me by Inspector Blandy. It is a porcelain tooth—a right upper lateral incisor—which has been broken into several fragments and very skilfully mended. It is of the type known as Du Trey's."
"Does it resemble any of the teeth in the denture which you made for Peter Gannet?"
"Yes. I used Du Trey's teeth in that denture, so this is exactly like the right upper lateral incisor in that denture."
"You can't say, I suppose, whether this tooth actually came from that denture?"
"No. The teeth are all alike when they come from the makers, and if I have to make any small alterations in adjusting the bite, no record is kept. But nothing seems to have been done to this tooth."
"If it were suggested to you that this tooth came from Gannet's denture, would you have any reason to doubt the correctness of that suggestion?"
"None whatever. It is exactly like a tooth in his denture and it may actually be that tooth. Only I cannot say positively that it is."
"Thank you," said the coroner. "That is all that we could expect of you, and I think we need not trouble you any further."
Mr. Hawley was succeeded by Inspector Blandy who gave his evidence with the ease and conciseness of the professional witness. His description of the researches in the studio and the discovery of the fragments of the tooth were listened to by the jury with the closest interest, though in the matter of sensation I had rather "stolen his thunder." But the turning out of Boles's cupboard was a new feature and several points of interest arose from it. The discovery, for instance, of a two-pound jar of arsenic, three-quarters full, was one of them.
"You had already learned of Dr. Oldfield's analysis?"
"Yes. He showed me the tube with the arsenic deposit in it, but I saw at once that there must be some mistake. It was too good to be true. There was too much arsenic for a cremated body."
"Did you gather what the arsenic was used for?"
"No. The cupboard contained a number of chemicals, apparently used for preparing enamels and fluxes, and I presumed that the arsenic was used for the same purpose."
The discovery of the finger-prints raised some other interesting questions, particularly as to their identity, concerning which the coroner asked:
"Can you say whose finger-prints those were?"
"Not positively. But there were quite a lot of them on various objects, on bottles and jars, and some on tool-handles, and they were all from the same person; and as the cupboard was Boles's cupboard and the tools and bottles were his, it is fair to assume that the finger-prints were his."
"Yes," the coroner agreed, "that seems a reasonable assumption. But I don't see the importance of it, unless the finger-prin
ts are known to the police. Is it expedient to ask whether they are?"
"I don't want to go into particulars," said Blandy, "but I may say that these finger-prints are known to the police and that their owner is wanted for a very serious crime against the person; a crime involving extreme violence. That is their only bearing on this case. If they are Boles's finger-prints, then Boles is known to be a violent criminal; and there seems to be evidence in this case that a violent crime has been committed."
"Have you had an opportunity of interviewing Mr. Boles?" the coroner asked.
The Inspector smiled, grimly. "No," he replied. "Mr. Boles disappeared just about the time when the body was burned, and so far, he has managed to keep out of sight. Apparently he doesn't desire an interview."
That was the substance of the Inspector's evidence, and, as he was disposed to be evasive and reticent, the coroner discreetly refrained from pressing him. Accordingly, when the depositions had been read and signed, he was allowed to retire to his seat and the name of Letitia Gannet was called. As she advanced to the table, where a chair was placed for her, I watched her with some uneasiness; for though I felt sure that she knew nothing that she had not already disclosed, the atmosphere of the court was not favourable. It was easy to see that the jury regarded her with some suspicion, and that Blandy's habitually benevolent expression but thinly disguised a watchful attention which was not entirely friendly.
As I had expected, the coroner began with an attempt to get more light on the incident of the arsenic poisoning, and Mrs. Gannet recounted the history of the affair in so far as it was known to her.
"Of what persons did your household consist at that time?" the coroner asked.
"Of my husband, myself and one maid. Perhaps I should include Mr. Boles as he worked in the studio with my husband and usually took his meals with us and was at the house a good deal."
"Who prepared your husband's food?"
"I did while he was ill. The maid did most of the other cooking."
"And the barley water? Who prepared that?"
"Usually I did; but sometimes Mr. Boles made it."
"And who took the food and drink to your husband's room?"
"I usually took it up to him myself, but sometimes I sent the maid up with it and occasionally Mr. Boles took it up."
"Is the maid still with you?"
"No. As soon as I heard from my husband that there had been arsenic in his food, I sent the girl away with a month's wages in lieu of notice."
"Why did you do that? Did you suspect her of having put the arsenic in the food?"
"No, not in the least, but I thought it best to be on the safe side."
"Did you form any opinion as to who might have put it in?"
"No, there was nobody whom I could suspect. At first I thought that there must have been some mistake, but when Dr. Oldfield explained to me that no mistake was possible, I supposed that the arsenic must have got in by accident; and I think so still."
The next questions were concerned with the relations existing between Gannet and Boles and the time and circumstances of the break-up of their friendship.
"As to the cause of this sudden change from friendship to enmity—did you ever learn from either of the men what the trouble was?"
"Neither of them would admit that there was any trouble, though I saw that there must be. But I could never guess what it was."
"Did it ever occur to you that your husband might be jealous on account of your intimacy with Mr. Boles?"
"Never, and I am sure he was not. Mr. Boles and I were relatives—second cousins—and had known each other since we were children. We were always the best of friends, but there was never anything between us that could have occasioned jealousy on my husband's part, and he knew it. He never made the least objection to our friendship."
"You spoke of Mr. Boles as working with your husband in the studio. What, precisely, does that mean? Was Mr. Boles a potter?"
"No. He sometimes helped my husband, particularly in firing the kiln; but his own work, for the last year or two, was the making of certain kinds of jewellery and enamels."
"You say 'for the last year or two'—what was his previous occupation?"
"He was originally a dental mechanic; but when my husband took the studio, as it contained a jeweler's and enameler's plant, Mr. Boles came there and began to make jewellery."
Here I caught the eye of Inspector Blandy, and a certain fluttering of the eyelid recalled his observations on Mr. Boles's "neo-primitive" jewelry. But a dental mechanic is not quite the same as a plumber's apprentice.
The inquiry now proceeded to the circumstances of Peter Gannet's disappearance and the dates of the various events.
"Can you remember exactly when you last saw Mr. Boles?"
"I think it was on Tuesday, the 21st of April; about a week before I went away. He came to the studio and had lunch with us, and then he told us that he was going to spend a week or ten days at Burnham in Essex. I never saw or heard from him after that."
"You say that you went away. Can we have particulars as to when and where you went?"
"I left home on the 29th of April to stay for a fortnight at Westcliff-on-Sea with an old servant, Mrs. Hardy, who has a house there and lets rooms to visitors in the season. I returned home on Thursday, the 14th of May."
"Between those two dates, were you continuously at Westcliff, or did you go to any other places?"
To this she replied in the same terms that she had used in her answers to Blandy, which I have already recorded. Here again I suspected that the coroner had received some help from the Inspector for he inquired minutely into the witness's doings from day to day while she was staying at Westcliff.
"In effect," said he, "you slept at Westcliff, but you frequently spent whole days elsewhere. During that fortnight, did you ever come to London?"
"No."
"If you had wished to spend a day in London, could you have done so without your landlady being aware of it?"
"I suppose so. There is a very good train service. But I never did."
"And what about Burnham? That is not so very far from Westcliff. Did you ever go there during your stay?"
"No. I never went farther than Southend."
"During that fortnight, did you ever write to your husband?"
"Yes, twice. The first letter was sent a day or two after my arrival at Westcliff and he replied to it a couple of days later. The second letter I wrote a few days before my return, telling him when he might expect me home. I received no answer to that, and when I got home I found it in the letter box."
"Can you give us the exact dates of those letters? You see that they are important as they give, approximately, the time of the disappearance. Can you remember the date of your husband's reply to your first letter? Or perhaps you have the letter itself."
"I have not. It was only a short note, and when I had read it I tore it up. My first letter was written and posted, I am nearly sure, on Monday, the 4th of May. I think his reply reached me by the first post on Friday, the 8th, so it would have been sent off on Thursday, the 7th. My second letter, I remember quite clearly, was written and posted on Sunday, the 10th of May, so it would have been delivered at our house early on Monday, the 11th."
"That is the one that you found in the letter box. Is it still in existence?"
"No. Unfortunately, I destroyed it. I took it from the letter box and opened it to make sure that it was my letter, and then, when I had glanced at it, I threw it on the fire that I had just lit. But I am quite sure about the date."
"It is a pity you destroyed the letter," said the coroner, "but no doubt your memory as to the date is reliable. Now we come to the incidents connected with the disappearance. Just give us an account of all that happened from the time when you arrived home."
In reply to this, Mrs. Gannet told the story of her alarming discovery in much the same words as she had used in telling it to me, but in greater detail, including her visit to me and our joint ex
amination of the premises. Her statement was amplified by various questions from the coroner, but her answers to them conveyed nothing new to me with one or two exceptions. For instance, the coroner asked: "You looked at the hall stand and noticed that your husband's hats and stick were there. Did you notice another walking-stick?"
"I saw that there was another stick in the stand."
"Did you recognize it as belonging to any particular person?"
"No, I had never seen it before."
"Did you form any opinion as to whose stick it was?"
"I felt sure that it did not belong to my husband. It was not the kind of stick that he would have used; and as there was only one other person who was likely to be the owner—Mr. Boles—I assumed that it was his."
"Did you take it out and examine it?"
"No, I was not interested in it. I was trying to find out what had become of my husband."
"But you assumed that it was Mr. Boles's stick. Did it not occur to you as rather strange that he should have left his stick in your stand?"
"No. I suppose that he had gone out of the studio by the wicket and had forgotten about his stick. He was sometimes inclined to be forgetful. But I really did not think much about it."
"Was that stick in the stand when you went away from home?"
"No. I am sure it was not."
"You have mentioned that you called at Mr. Boles's flat. Why did you do that?"
"For two reasons. I had written to him telling him when I should be home and asking him to come and have tea with us. As he had not answered my letter and did not come to the house, I thought that something unusual must have happened. But especially I wanted to find out whether he knew anything about my husband."
"When you found that he was not at his flat, did you suppose that he was still at Burnham?"
"No, because I learned that he had returned about a week previously at night and had slept at the flat and had the next day gone away again."
"Did you know, or could you guess, where he had gone?"
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