It was a queer episode, trivial enough to a casual observer and over in less than a minute; apparently unobserved, too, excepting that the judge cast one quick, inquisitive glance during the scraping operation. But its triviality was not quite convincing to me, and I continued to keep an eye on Mr. Snuper notwithstanding that he was now once more the open-mouthed listener, and I noticed that he seemed to be imperceptibly creeping along the bench towards its farther end. He had just reached his goal when Mr. Lorimer’s speech came to an end, and, as the counsel sat down and preparations were being made for the reading of the affidavits, I saw him rise, and, having anxiously consulted the ancestral turnip, steal away quietly towards the swing door and vanish without a sound. So whatever his purpose might have been in attending at the hearing, it had apparently been achieved.
The first of the affidavits to be read was that of Thomas Pedley, and, as it set forth all the material facts, I did not quite see why Thorndyke had asked for his attendance for cross-examination. Nor did my colleague elicit any new facts of importance. His purpose was evidently to stress the significance of those facts that had been stated, and this he did most effectually.
"You have said, Mr. Pedley," he began, "that you were somewhat intimately acquainted with Mrs. Schiller for about five months. During that time, did you learn much about her as to her past history, her former places of abode, her friends and her relatives?"
"No," replied Pedley. "She never referred to her past at all, and she never mentioned any friends or relatives except her husband, and she only referred to him on one or two occasions, and then very slightly."
"Would you be able to recognize her handwriting?"
"No. I have never seen any writing of hers."
"But the signature on her pictures?"
"She did not sign her pictures. She used a conventional mark somewhat like a flower."
"Did you ever see a portrait of her husband or of herself?"
"I never saw a portrait of her husband, and the only portrait of herself that I ever saw was one that she drew for reduction to put into a locket that she was to give to Mr. Vanderpuye."
"Was Mr. Vanderpuye satisfied with her portrait?"
"No. He begged her either to let me paint her portrait or to ask Mr. Polton to take her photograph. But she refused absolutely. She insisted on painting the portrait herself, and did so."
"Was her portrait a good likeness?"
"It was not a likeness at all. It bore no resemblance to her."
"Do you recognize this?" Thorndyke asked, handing a mounted photograph to the usher, who passed it to the witness.
"Yes," Pedley replied with a faint grin. "It is a photograph of Mrs. Schiller’s portrait of herself."
"And do you recognize this locket?"
As he spoke, Thorndyke produced from the suitcase Polton’s mysterious wooden slide, on which Vanderpuye’s locket had been fixed by a clip, opened to show the miniature and the hair, and provided with a pair of lenses, one over the portrait and the other (a coddington) over the hair.
"Yes," replied Pedley as the usher handed it to him, "it is Mr. Vanderpuye’s locket, and it contains Mrs. Schiller’s portrait of herself and a specimen of her hair."
Here the locket and the photograph were passed up to the judge, who looked first at the photograph and smiled broadly and then peered through the lens at the miniature and compared it with the photograph.
"Yes," he remarked, "one can readily believe that this is not a good likeness, unless the testatrix was a very unusual-looking woman." Before returning the "exhibit" he applied his eye to the other lens and examined the hair. Then he turned sharply towards Pedley and asked:
"Was there anything at all peculiar about Mrs. Schiller’s hair?"
"Yes, my Lord," was the reply, "but I can’t say exactly what it was. There seemed to be something unusual in its texture."
"Ha," said the judge, "so it appeared to me. However—"
Here he handed the locket to the usher, and, as the latter conveyed it to Mr. Lorimer, he seemed to reflect on the circumstance as if it had suggested some idea to him. Lorimer, on the other hand, was not interested at all, bestowing only an impatient glance at the two exhibits and pushing them along the desk to Thorndyke, who passed them on to me. Naturally, remembering Pedley’s description of Lotta’s hair, I examined it with keen interest, but the light was not good enough, and the magnification not sufficient to show much detail. All that I could make out was a faintly speckled appearance quite unlike that of normal human hair. Reluctantly I returned the exhibits to Thorndyke, who, when he had put them back into the suitcase, resumed his cross-examination.
"Apart from this drawing of Mrs. Schiller’s, have you ever seen any portrait of her?"
"No portrait drawn from life. I once drew a portrait of her from memory."
"Is this the portrait that you drew?" asked Thorndyke, handing to the usher Pedley’s own note-book, fixed open with a rubber band, and a photograph.
Pedley looked at them with a shy grin and replied:
"Yes. The original drawing is in the book, and this is a photograph of it."
"Is the portrait a good likeness?"
"I should say that it is a fairly good likeness. I think it would be recognizable by anyone who knew her."
The book and the photograph were passed up to the judge, who inspected them with apparent interest, and from him they were conveyed to Lorimer, who glanced at them almost contemptuously and pushed them along to Thorndyke. Evidently the learned counsel regarded my colleague’s proceedings as a regrettable waste of time, and he made no secret of his relief when Thorndyke sat down, indicating that his cross-examination was finished.
As Lorimer made no sign of re-examining the witness, and it was now within a few minutes of the luncheon hour, the judge announced the adjournment; whereupon we all stood up; his Lordship whisked out by the private door, Polton hurried forward to seize the suitcase, and the occupants of the court trooped out by the swing door. We followed almost immediately, and, issuing into the Strand, set a course for our chambers by way of Devereux Court.
XV. MR. LORIMER OBJECTS
As we approached the end of Crown Office Row I observed with interest, but no surprise, a rustic-looking person who appeared to be making a leisurely survey of the old houses in King’s Bench Walk. Needless to say it was Mr. Snuper, apparently unconscious of our existence until Thorndyke, with the nearest approach to eagerness of which he was capable, accosted him. Then he turned with a start of surprise and he and my colleague drifted down the Walk together, apparently in earnest conversation. I slowed down my own progress to keep an eye on them, for I was devoured by curiosity as to Snuper’s proceedings in court. But there was little to see and less to hear, for neither of them was addicted to shouting, and they were near the garden end of the Walk before any visible action took place. Then I thought I saw Snuper hand something to Thorndyke, but I could not see what it was, and, as it disappeared instantly into my friend’s pocket, I judged that it was lost to me, at least for the time being; whereupon I abandoned my spying and hurried indoors in quest of lunch.
As the table had been laid by Polton’s deputy, who was in the act of bringing in the food, I sat down to wait for Thorndyke’s arrival; but when he looked in a few minutes later, it was only to beg me to proceed with the meal in his absence.
"I have a little job to do in the laboratory," he explained. "It will only take me a minute or two, but there is no need for you to wait."
Accordingly, as we had to be back in court punctually, I lifted the cover and fell to; but in less than five minutes Thorndyke joined me; and, looking at him critically, I seemed to detect, under his habitual impassiveness, an expression of satisfaction and even of elation, suggesting that the "little job" had turned out a success. Which led to speculations on my part as to the nature of that little job, and in particular, whether it had any connection with Mr. Snuper’s activities. But, of course, I asked no questions, and, equally of course,
Thorndyke volunteered no information.
When the hearing was resumed after lunch, Mr. Lorimer rose to request that Miss Linda Dalton’s evidence might be taken next, to enable her to catch a train; and, as the judge raised no objection, she took her place in the witness-box and her affidavit was read. Most of it was concerned with her claim under the will, but it finished up with the statement that she had last seen Lotta Schiller early in June 1930, and that since then she had received no communication from her nor had any knowledge of her until she heard of the disappearance.
When the reading was finished, Thorndyke rose to cross-examine.
"Do you happen to remember what kind of dress the testatrix was wearing when you last saw her?"
Miss Dalton smiled. "I do, indeed," she replied. "It was a very ugly dress and I thought it rather eccentric. The bodice and skirt were a sort of dull violet and there was a broad turn-down collar of a deep orange and sleeves of the same colour. It was a dress that one could not forget."
"Did the testatrix play any musical instrument?"
"Yes. She played the violin."
"Did she spend much time practising?"
"Latterly, she did. My sister Barbara used to make a little income by playing in a small orchestra—at a cinema, I think—and she got Lotta an engagement at the same place, and they used to practise together; and, of course, she was playing for some hours every day in the orchestra."
"You will, of course, remember her appearance quite well. Will you look at this portrait and tell me whether you consider it a good likeness?" As he spoke he handed to the usher a photograph which I saw was the reproduction of Pedley’s drawing.
Miss Dalton looked at it rather blankly.
"Is this supposed to be a portrait of Lotta?" she asked; "because I don’t think it can be. I can’t discover the faintest resemblance to her."
Glancing at Lorimer, I thought I detected a faint smile on his face. The judge, on the other hand, looked surprised and keenly interested; and, when the photograph was passed up to him, he examined it closely, turned it over to examine the back, on which a number had been pencilled, and made a note.
Meanwhile, Thorndyke had produced a small portfolio which was handed to the witness.
"In that portfolio," said Thorndyke, "are half a dozen photographs. Will you look through them and see whether any of them resemble Lotta Schiller?"
Miss Dalton glanced quickly at the first two which came to hand but at the third she paused. Then she took it out and said:
"This is a portrait of Lotta Schiller; a very odd one, but an excellent likeness. And so is this other one," she added, taking it out and holding it up.
"You feel no doubt that those two photographs are portraits of Lotta Schiller?"
"None whatever. They are both unmistakable."
The two portraits were now passed up to the judge, who examined them with intense interest and compared them minutely with Pedley’s drawing. When he had looked at the backs and made his notes, he passed them down but still seemed to reflect with a rather puzzled air, and when they reached me I could understand his surprise, for the discrepancy between the drawing and the photograph seemed incredible in the case of a competent artist like Pedley. However, there was no time to consider the point, for Thorndyke had finished his cross-examination, and, a minute later Miss Dalton left the box, and, with a wave of the hand to Mr. Schiller, tripped out of the court.
The next witness was Mrs. Mitchens, whose affidavit set forth concisely the facts known to her relating to the case from the 16th of July 1930, when Lotta engaged the rooms, to the time of her disappearance, including the finding of Emma Robey’s body. When the reading was finished, Thorndyke rose and led off with the question:
"Would you recognize Mrs. Schiller’s handwriting if you saw it?"
"No," was the reply. "I have never seen her hand writing; she had no occasion to write to me—at least she never did write, and, as she always paid her rent in cash, there were no cheques."
"Did she ever play any musical instrument?"
"No, never; but she had a violin. I didn’t know it until after she had left, but then, as I was going through her things to store them, I found it under the bed."
"When you were going through her things, did you come across a dress with a violet bodice and skirt and orange-coloured sleeves and a broad collar of the same colour?"
"No indeed, sir; and I don’t think Mrs. Schiller would have worn such a dress. Her costumes were usually rather quiet and tasteful. But I only found one or two dresses and I am sure there was nothing of that kind among them."
"When Mrs. Schiller engaged your rooms, did she give you any references?"
"No. She paid a month’s rent in advance—in cash."
Here Thorndyke again produced the portfolio, and, when it had been handed to the witness, said:
"I want you to look through those portraits and see if you can find any that you think is like Mrs. Schiller."
Mrs. Mitchens turned over the first two portraits and then, as she came to the third, she picked it out, and, holding it up triumphantly, announced:
"That is Mrs. Schiller."
The judge, who had been watching eagerly, now held out his hand for the identified portrait; and when it was passed up to him, he looked at it with intense interest, and, leaning out towards the witness, said:
"Now, Mrs. Mitchens, are you perfectly sure that this portrait is really like Mrs. Schiller?"
"I am perfectly sure, my Lord," she replied. "It’s a speaking likeness."
On this his Lordship scribbled a note and then asked to have the portfolio handed up to him. When this had been done, he picked out two photographs and passed them down to the witness.
"Did you look at these two portraits?" he asked.
"Yes, my Lord," she replied, "but they are not Mrs. Schiller. They are not the least bit like her."
The judge noted down the answer and then, having passed the portfolio back, nodded to Thorndyke, who now put his final question.
"Did Mrs. Schiller ever receive visitors?"
"Only Mr. Pedley and Mr. Vanderpuye. I never saw anybody else."
On this, Thorndyke sat down, and when Mrs. Mitchens had been released from the box, the name of the next witness—Mrs. Bigham—was called, and a very unprepossessing woman advanced with something of a swagger. The evidence contained in her affidavit was of some importance in regard to the disappearance, but when it came to cross-examination, Thorndyke confined himself to the question of identification. Producing the inevitable portfolio, and passing it to her, he asked:
"You say that you knew Mrs. Schiller well by sight; do you think you would be able to recognize a portrait of her?"
"I am quite sure I should. I’ve got a rare memory for faces."
"Then will you look at the portraits in that portfolio and tell me whether any of them appears to be a portrait of Mrs. Schiller?"
Mrs. Bigham opened the portfolio with a judicial air, and, pursing up her lips, glared critically at the top photograph and thrust it over with the remark, "That ain’t her," and passed on to the next, which she dealt with in the same fashion, and so on with the others until she came to the fifth; at which she gazed intently for an instant and then, picking it out and holding it aloft with the face towards us, exclaimed, "That’s her."
I recognized it as the reproduction of Pedley’s drawing, and so did the judge, who listened with rapt attention for the next question.
"You are quite sure that that portrait is really like Mrs. Schiller?"
"Lord, yes," was the reply. "It’s her spit image. I reckernized it at the first glance."
"There are two others that I want you to look at very carefully. They are numbered three and four."
The witness turned over the photographs and selecting two, held them up for our and the judge’s inspection. They were the portraits that had been identified by Miss Dalton.
"If you mean them," said Mrs. Bigham, "I can tell you that they ain’t Mrs. S
chiller. Nothink like her."
"You are quite sure of that?"
"Positive. They ain’t no more like her than what I am." With this answer Thorndyke appeared to be satisfied, for he asked no further questions; and, when he had sat down and Mrs. Bigham had—somewhat reluctantly, I thought—vacated the box, I waited with some interest for the next item; and when it came, it was not altogether unexpected. For some time past I had noticed signs of restiveness on the part of the learned counsel for the applicant; and I was not surprised. For I had an uneasy feeling that Thorndyke had been taking some slight liberties with the legal proprieties. That was evidently Mr. Lorimer’s view, and he now gave expression to it.
"I am unwilling, my Lord," he began, "to occasion delay in the hearing, but there seems to have been a departure from customary procedure on the part of the opposition to which I feel bound to object. My learned friend appears to be raising an entirely new issue, of which we have had no notice, and supporting it by the production of documents—to wit, photographs—the existence of which has not been disclosed to us."
"Yes," the judge agreed with a smile; "the learned counsel does certainly seem to have sprung a little surprise on us."
Here he cast a somewhat quizzical glance at Thorndyke, who thereupon rose to reply.
"I shall not deny, my Lord, that some apology seems to be due to my learned friend, but I would submit that the raising of a new issue is only apparent. There are really two issues in this case; one is whether the person known as Lotta Schiller, who disappeared in Epping Forest is, or is not, presumably dead; the other is whether that person was the testatrix. We have all assumed that Lotta Schiller of Jacob Street and Lotta Schiller, the testatrix, were one and the same person. There seemed to be no reason to question the identity. Nevertheless, I considered it desirable, ex abundantia cautelae, to test the correctness of our assumption; with the surprising result that there now seems to be some doubt whether we are not dealing with two different persons."
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