The Soul Stealer

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER VII

  ENGLAND'S GREAT SENSATION

  In the course of a week or so London, and shortly afterwards the wholeof England, realized that a new and absorbing sensation was dawning.

  Perhaps there is nothing which more excites the popular mind than thesudden disappearance of anybody from whatever class of society.

  It began to be realized, whispered and hinted at in the newspapers thata young and rising barrister of good family, named Mr. Guy Rathbone, ofthe Inner Temple, had suddenly vanished. It was but a year or two beforethat the whole of the country had been thrilled by the sad case of MissHickman. The event and the excitement it had raised at the time werestill fresh in the public mind; and when it began to be rumoured thatsomething even more sensational than that had taken place, the Pressbegan to be on the alert. In ten days' time such as were known of thefacts of Mr. Guy Rathbone's apparent departure from ordinary life hadbecome the topic of the hour. The newspapers were filled with columns ofsurmises. Hour by hour, as the evening papers of London and theprovinces appeared, new theories, clues, explanations filled the leaderpages and the contents' bills. The "Rathbone Mystery," as it was called,absorbed the whole interest of the country. An announcement of war wouldhave been momentarily disregarded by the man in the street, while he yetremained unsatisfied as to the truth about the young gentleman whoseemed to have been utterly wiped out from the world of men and women,to have vanished into thin air without a trace of his movements or asingle clue as to his whereabouts.

  All that was accurately known was summed up again and again in the Pressand in general conversation, and it amounted to just this and no more.

  Mr. Guy Rathbone was in fairly prosperous circumstances; he had anincome of his own, was slowly but steadily climbing the laborious ladderof the Bar, was popular in society, and, as far as could be ascertained,had no troubles of any sort whatever.

  It was shown that Rathbone was not in debt, and practically owed nothingwhatever, except the ordinary current accounts, which he was accustomedto settle every quarter. He had a fair balance at the bank, and hissecurities, which provided him with his income, were intact. His lifehad been a singularly open one. His movements had never suggestedanything secret or disreputable. His friends were all people in goodcircumstances, and no one had ever alleged any shady acquaintancesagainst him. He was in perfect health, was constantly in the habit oftaking exercise at the German Gymnasium, still played footballoccasionally, and held a commission in the Inns of Court Volunteers. Hehad never been observed to be downcast or despondent in any way. Inshort, there was no earthly reason, at any rate upon the surface, for avoluntary withdrawal on his part from the usual routine of his life.

  The idea of suicide was frankly scouted by both friends, acquaintancesand business connections. People do not destroy themselves without areal or imaginary reason, and this young man had always been regarded asso eminently healthy-minded and sane, that no one was prepared tobelieve even that he had made away with himself in a sudden fit ofmorbidity or madness. It was shown that there had been no taint ofinsanity in his family for several generations. The theory of suicidewas clearly untenable. This was the conclusion to which journalists,police, and the new class of scientific mystery experts which has sprungup during the last few years unanimously came. Moreover, in the Londonof to-day, or even in the country, it is a most difficult thing for aman to commit suicide without the more or less immediate discovery ofhis remains.

  There was not wanting the class of people who hinted at foul play. Butthat theory was immensely narrowed by the fact that no one could havehad any motive for murdering this young man, save only a member of thecriminal classes, who did so for personal gain. It was quite true thathe might have been robbed and his body cunningly disposed of. Suchthings have happened, such things do, though very rarely, happen in theLondon of to-day. But the class of criminal who makes a practice andlivelihood of robbery with violence, of attempted or actual murder, is asmall class. Every member of it is intimately known to the police, andScotland Yard was able to discover no single suspicious movement of thisor that criminal who might reasonably be concerned in such an affair.Moreover, it was pointed out that such criminals were either invariablybrought to justice or that, at any rate, the _fact_ that some one orother unknown has committed a murder is invariably discovered within aweek or so of the occurrence.

  For fourteen days the hundreds of people engaged in trying to solve thismystery had found no single indication of foul play.

  Where, then, was Guy Rathbone? Was he alive? was he dead? Nobody wasprepared to say.

  The one strange circumstance which seemed to throw a tiny light upon themystery was this. For a fortnight or so before his disappearance, Mr.Rathbone, usually in the habit of going a good deal to dinner-parties,dances, and so on, had declined all invitations. Many people who hadinvited him to this or that function now came forward and announced thattheir invitations had been declined, as Mr. Rathbone had said he wasgoing out of town for a short time. Inquiries in the Temple showed thatMr. Rathbone had not been out of town at all. He had remained almostentirely in his chambers, and even his appearances in the Law Courts,where he had only done three days' actual work for the last week or two,had been less frequent than usual.

  Rathbone was in the habit of being attended to by a woman who came earlyin the morning, lit the fires, prepared his bath and breakfast, and thenswept the chambers. The woman generally arrived at seven and left abouttwelve, returning again for an hour about six in the evening, to make upthe fires and do anything else that might be required. Rathbone eitherlunched in the Inner Temple or in one of the Fleet Street restaurants.If not dining out, he generally took this meal at the Oxford andCambridge Club, of which he was a member.

  The waiters in the Temple Hall said that his attendance had not beenquite as regular as usual in the fortnight or so before hisdisappearance, but they certainly thought that they had seen him everyother day or so.

  The woman who looked after the chambers stated that Mr. Rathbone hadremained indoors a good deal more than usual, seeming to be engrossed inlaw books. On several occasions when she had arrived at six in theevening, she had found that he did not require his dress clothes putout, and had asked her to bring him in some sandwiches or some lightfood of that description, as he intended to work alone far into thenight.

  These slight divergencies from his ordinary habits were, every oneagreed, significant of something. But what that something was nobodyknew, and the wild suggestions made on all sides seemed to provide noreal solution.

  The last occasion upon which Mr. Rathbone had been seen by any one ableto report the occurrence was in the early morning at breakfast. Mrs.Baker, the bed-maker, had cooked the breakfast as usual, and had askedher master if he would excuse her attendance in the evening, as she hada couple of orders for the Adelphi, in return for displaying the billsof the theatre in a little shop she kept with her daughter in a streetoff Holborn.

  "My master seemed in his usual spirits," the good woman had said in aninterview with a member of the staff of the _Westminster Gazette_. "Hegave me permission at once to go to the theatre, and said that hehimself would be out that evening. There was no trace of anythingunusual in his manner. When I arrived in the morning and opened theouter doors of the chambers with my pass key, I went into the study andthe sitting-room as usual, lit two fires, turned on the bath, made a cupof tea and took it to Mr. Rathbone's bedroom. There was no answer to myknock, and when I opened the door and went in, thinking he wasover-sleeping himself, I found the bed had not been slept in. This wasvery unusual in a gentleman of Mr. Rathbone's regular habits. It wouldnot have attracted my notice in the case of some gentlemen I have beenin the habit of doing for, who were accustomed to stay out without anyintimation of the fact. But I did think it strange in the case of Mr.Guy, always a very steady gentleman. I waited about till nearly oneo'clock, and he did not return. I then went home, and did not go to thechambers again till six o'clock, when I found things in the
same stateas before, the fires burnt out, and no trace of anybody having entered.As I left the Inn I asked the porter if he had seen Mr. Rathbone, and hereplied that he had not returned. The same thing happened for the nexttwo days, when the porter communicated with the authorities of the Inn,and an inspector of police was called in."

  The interview disclosed few more facts of importance, save only one.This was that Mr. Rathbone had dressed for dinner on the night of hisdisappearance. His evening clothes were not in the wardrobe, and themorning suit he had been wearing at breakfast was neatly folded andplaced upon a chest of drawers ready for Mrs. Baker to brush it.

  This seemed to show indubitably that the barrister had no thought ofbeing absent from home that night.

  There the matter had rested at first. Meanwhile, as no new discovery wasmade, and not the slightest ray of light seemed to be forthcoming, thepublic interest was worked up to fever heat. Rathbone had few relations,though many friends. His only surviving relative appeared to be hisuncle, a brother of his mother, who was the Dean of Bexeter. Theclergyman was interviewed, and stated that he generally received aletter from his nephew every three weeks or so, but nothing in the mostrecent letter had been unusual, and that he was as much in the dark asany ordinary member of the public.

  This much was known to the man in the street. But in society, while thecomment and amazement was no less in intensity, much more was known thanthe outside world suspected.

  For some time past every one had remarked the apparent and growingintimacy between the lost man and Miss Marjorie Poole, who was engagedto the famous scientist, Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S. How farmatters had gone between the young couple was only conjectured, but atthe moment of Rathbone's disappearance it was generally believed thatMiss Poole was about to throw over Sir William for his young rival--thiswas the elegant way in which men talked in the clubs and women in theirdrawing-rooms.

  Nothing is hidden now-a-days, and the fierce light of publicity beatsupon the doings of the countess and the coster-monger alike. Thecountess may, perhaps, preserve a secret a little longer than thecoster-monger, and that is the only difference between them in thisregard.

  Accordingly, on the fifteenth or sixteenth day of the mystery, asensational morning paper published a special article detailing whatprofessed to be an entirely new light upon the situation. If statementsaffecting the private and intimate life of anybody can be called in goodtaste, the article was certainly written with a due regard toproprieties, and with an obvious attempt to avoid hurting the feelingsof any one. But, as it was pointed out in a prefatory note, the wholeaffair had passed from the regions of private life into the sphere ofnational interest, and therefore it was the duty of a journal to give tothe world all and every fact which had any bearing upon the affair,without fear or favour.

  This last article, which created a tremendous sensation, was insubstance as follows:--

  It hinted that a young lady of great charm, and moving in the highestcircles, a young lady who had been engaged for some little time to oneof the most distinguished Englishmen of the day, had lately been muchseen with the vanished man. The gossip of society had hinted that thiscould mean nothing more or less than the young lady had been mistaken inthe first disposal of her affections, and was about to make a change.

  How did this bear upon the situation?

  During the next day or two, though no names were actually printed, itbecame generally known who the principal characters in the supposedlittle drama of love really were. Everybody spoke freely of old SirFrederick Poole's distinguished daughter, of Lady Poole of CurzonStreet, and of Sir William Gouldesbrough.

  When the article first appeared everybody began to say, "Ah, now weshall have the whole thing cleared up." But as the days went on peoplebegan to realize that the new facts threw little new light upon themystery, and only provided a possible motive for Mr. Guy Rathbone'ssuicide. And then once more people were compelled to ask themselves ifMr. Rathbone really was in love with Miss Poole, and had found thateither she would have nothing to say to him, or that she was inevitablybound to Sir William Gouldesbrough in honour. Then when, how and wheredid he make away with himself?

  And to that question there was absolutely no answer.