1





THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD


THE MYSTERY OF
ANGELINA FROOD
m AUSTIN FREEMAN
Author of "The Singing Bone," "The Blue Scarab,"
"The Red Thumb Mare," etc.

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1925


Copyright, 1925,
By DR. R. AUSTIN FREEMAN
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
/ v — I '' ' ■ \
THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS
BINQHAMTON AMD NEW YORK



CONTENTS
CHAPTEB PA™
I The Doper's Wife 3
II Ke-enter "Mb. Johnson" 17
III Angelina Frood 30
IV Deals with Charity and Archaeology ... 48
V John Thorndyke 63
VI The Shadows Deepen 75
VII Mrs. Gillow Sounds the Alarm 91
VIII Sergeant Cobbledick Takes a Hand .... Ill
IX Jetsam 125
X Which Deals with Ancient Monuments and
a Blue Boar 134
XI The Man with the Mole 156
XII The Prints of a Vanished Hand 173
XIII The Discovery in Black Boy-Lane .... 192
XIV Sergeant Cobbledick is Enlightened .... 208
XV The End of the Trail 228
XVI The Inquiry and a Surprise 242
XVII Thorndyke Puts Down His Piece 264
XVIII The Uncontrite Penitent 279
XIX Explanations 293





PART I





THE MYSTERY OF
ANGELINA FROOD
CHAPTER I
THE DOPER'S WIPE
IT takes a good deal to surprise a really seasoned medi-
cal practitioner, and still more to arouse in him an
abiding curiosity. But at the time when I took
charge of Dr. Pumphrey's practice in Osnaburgh-street,
Regent's Park, I was far from being a seasoned practitioner,
having, in fact, been qualified little more than a year, in
which short period I had not yet developed the professional
immunity from either of the above mental states. Hence
the singular experience which I am about to relate not only
made a deep impression on me at the time, but remained
with me for long after as a matter of curious speculation.
It was close upon midnight, indeed an adjacent church
clock had already struck the third quarter, when I laid
aside my book and yawned profoundly, without prejudice
to the author who had kept me so long from my bed. Then
I rose and stretched myself, and was in the act of knock-
ing the long-extinct ashes out of my pipe when the bell
rang. As the servants had gone to bed, I went out to the
door, congratulating myself on having stayed up beyond
my usual bedtime, but wishing the visitor at the devil all
the same. The opening of the door gave me a view of a
wet street with a drizzle of rain falling, a large closed


4 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
car by the kerb, and a tallish man on the doorstep, ap- 4
parently about to renew his attack on the bell.
"Dr. Pumphrey?" he asked; and by that token I
gathered that he was a stranger.
"No," I answered; "he is out of town, but I am looking
after his practice."
"Very well," he said, somewhat brusquely. "I want
you to come and see a lady who has been suddenly taken
ill. She has had a rather severe shock."
"Do you mean a mental or a physical shock?" I asked.
"Well, I should say mental," he replied, but so incon-
clusively that I pressed him for more definite particulars. I
"Has she sustained any injuries?" I inquired.
'' No,'' he answered, but still indecisively. "No; that is,
so far as I know. I think not."
"No wound, for instance?"
"No," he replied, promptly and very definitely; from
which I was disposed to suspect that there was an injury
of some other kind. But it was of no use guessing. I
hurried back into the surgery, and, having snatched up the
emergency bag and my stethoscope, rejoined my visitor,
who forthwith hustled me into the car. The door slammed,
and the vehicle moved of? with the silent, easy motion of
a powerful engine.
We started towards Marylebone-road and swept round
into Albany-street, but after that I lost my bearings: for
the fine rain had settled on the windows so that it was
difficult to see through them, and I was not very familiar
with the neighbourhood. It seemed quite a short journey,
but a big car is very deceptive as to distance. At any
rate, it occupied but a few minutes, and during that time
my companion and I exchanged hardly a word. As the
car slowed down I asked:


THE DOPER'S WIFE
5
"What is this lady's name?"
"Her name," he replied, in a somewhat hesitating man-
ner, "is—she is a Mrs. Johnson."
The manner of the reply suggested a not very intimate
acquaintance, which seemed odd under the circumstances,
and I reflected on it rapidly as I got out of the car and
followed my conductor. We seemed to be in a quiet by-
street of the better class, but it was very dark, and I had
but a glimpse as I stepped from the car to the gate of
the house. Of the latter, all that I was able to note was
that it appeared to be of a decent, rather old-fashioned
type, standing behind a small front garden, that the win-
dows were fitted with jalousie shutters, and that the
number on the door was 43.
As we ascended the steps the door opened, and a woman
was dimly discernible behind it. A lighted candle was
on the hall table, and this my conductor picked up, re-
questing me to follow him up the stairs. When we ar-
rived at the first floor landing, he halted and indicated a
door which was slightly ajar.
"That is the room," said he; and with that he turned
and retired down the stairs.
I stood for a few moments on the dark landing, deeply
impressed by the oddity of the whole affair, and sensible
of a growing suspicion, which was not lessened when, by
the thin line of light from within the room, I observed on
the door-jamb one or two bruises as if the door had been
forced from without. However, this was none of my busi-
ness, and thus reflecting, I was about to knock at the door
when four fingers appeared round the edge of it and drew
it further open, and a man's head became visible in the
opening.
The fingers and the head were alike such as instantly


6 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
to rivet the attention of a doctor. The former were of the
kind known as "clubbed fingers," fingers with bulbous
ends, of which the nails curved over like nut-shells. The
head, in form like a great William pear, presented a long,
coffin-shaped face with high cheek-bones, deep-set eyes with
narrow, slanting eye-slits, and a lofty, square forehead sur-
mounted by a most singular mop* of mouse-coloured hair
which stood straight up like the fur of a mole.
"I am the doctor," said I, having taken in these particu-
lars in an instantaneous glance, and having further noted
that the man's eyes were reddened and wet. He made
no reply, but drew the door open and retired, whereupon
I entered the room, closing the door behind me, and thereby
becoming aware that there was something amiss with the
latch.
The room was a bed-room, and on the bed lay a woman,
fully clothed, and apparently in evening dress, though
the upper part of her person was concealed by a cloak
which was drawn up to her chin. She was a young woman
—about twenty-eight, I judged—comely, and, in fact,
rather handsome, but deadly pale. She was not, however,
unconscious, for she looked at me listlessly, though with a
certain attention. In some slight embarrassment, I ap-
proached the bed, and, as the man had subsided into a
chair in a corner of the room, I addressed myself to the
patient.
"Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I am sorry to see you
looking so ill. What is the matter? I understand that
you have had some kind of shock.''
As I addressed her, I seemed to detect a faint expression
of surprise, but she replied at once, in a weak voice that
was little more than a whisper: "Yes. I have had rather


THE DOPER'S WIFE 7
an upset. That is all. They need not really have troubled
you."
"Well, you don't look very flourishing," said I, taking
the wrist that was uncovered by her mantle, "and your
hand is as cold as a fish.''
I felt her pulse, checking it by my watch, and meanwhile
looking her over critically. And not her alone. For on
the wall opposite me was a mirror in which, by a little
judicious adjustment of position, I was able to observe the
other occupant of the room while keeping my back towards
him; and what I observed was that he was sitting with his
elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands.
"Might one inquire," I asked, as I put away my
watch, "what kind of shock it is that you are suffering
from?"
The faintest trace of a smile stole across her pale face as
she answered: "That isn't really a medical question,
. Doctor, is it?"
"Perhaps it isn't," I replied, though, of course, it was.
But I thought it best to waive the question, as there seemed
to be some reservation; and, noting this latter fact, I again
considered her attentively. Whatever her condition was,
and whatever it might be due to, I had to form my opinion
unassisted, for I could see that no information would be
furnished; and the question that I had to settle was
whether her state was purely mental, or whether it was
complicated by any kind of physical injury. The waxen
pallor of her face made me uneasy, and I found it difficult
to interpret the expression of the set features. Some
strong emotion had left its traces; but whether that emo-
tion was grief, horror, or fear, or whether the expression
denoted bodily pain, I could not determine. She had


8 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA PROOD
closed her eyes, and her face was like a death mask, save
that it lacked the serenity of a dead face.
"Are you in any pain?" I asked, with my fingers still
on the thready pulse. But she merely shook her head
wearily, without opening her eyes.
It was very unsatisfactory. Her appearance was con-
sistent with all kinds of unpleasant possibilities, as was
also the strange atmosphere of secrecy about the whole
affair. Nor was the attitude of that ill-favoured man whom
I could see in the glass, still sitting hunched up with his
face buried in his hands, at all reassuring. And gradually
my attention began to focus itself upon the cloak which
covered the woman's body and was drawn around her neck
up to her chin. Did that cloak conceal anything? It
seemed incredible, seeing that they had sent for a doctor.
But the behaviour of everybody concerned was incredibly
irrational. I produced my stethoscope, which was fitted
with a diaphragm that enabled one to hear through the
clothing, and, drawing the cloak partly aside, applied the
chest-piece over the heart. On this the patient opened her
eyes and made a movement of her hand towards the upper
part of the cloak. I listened carefully to her heart—which
was organically sound, though a good deal disordered in
action—and moved the stethoscope once or twice, drawing
aside the cloak by degrees. Finally, with a somewhat
quick movement, I turned it back completely.
"Why," I exclaimed, "what on earth have you been
doing to your neck?"
"That mark?" she said in a half-whisper. "It is noth-
ing. It was made by a gold collar that I wore yesterday.
It was rather tight."
"I see," said I—truthfully enough; for the explanation
of her condition was now pretty clear up to a certain point.


10 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
a palsy. But in the woman's condition there was no posi-
tive suggestion of drugs; and something in her face—a
strong, resolute face despite its expression of suffering—
and her quiet, composed manner when she spoke, seemed
to exclude the idea. However, there was no use in specu-
lating. I had got all the information I was likely to get,
and all that remained for me to do was to administer such
treatment as my imperfect understanding of the case indi-
cated. Accordingly I opened my emergency bag, and,
taking out a couple of little bottles and a measure-glass,
went over to the washstand and mixed a draught in the
tumbler, diluting it from the water-bottle.
In crossing the room, I passed the fire-place, where, on
and above the mantelpiece, I observed a number of signed
photographs, apparently of actors and actresses, including
two of my patient, both of which were in character costume
and unsigned. From which it seemed probable that my
patient was an actress; a probability that was strengthened
by the hour at which I had been summoned and by certain
other appearances in the room with which Dr. Pumphrey's
largely theatrical practice had made me familiar. But,
as my patient would have remarked, this was not a medi-
cal question.
"Now, Mrs. Johnson," I said, when I had prepared the
draught—and as I spoke she opened her eyes and looked
at me with a slightly puzzled expression—"I want you to
drink this."
She allowed me to sit her up enough to enable her to
swallow the draught; and as her head was raised, I took
the opportunity to glance at the back of her neck, where
I thought I could distinctly trace the crossing of the cord
or band that had been drawn round it. She sank back


THE DOPER'S WIFE
11
with a sigh, but remained with her eyes open, looking at
me as I repacked my bag.
"I shall send you some medicine," I said, "which you
must take regularly. It is unnecessary for me to say," I
added, addressing the man, "that Mrs. Johnson must be
kept very quiet, and in no way agitated."
He bowed, but made no reply; and I then took my
leave.
"Good night, Mrs. Johnson," I said, shaking her cold
hand gently. "I hope you will be very much better in
an hour or two. I think you will if you keep quite quiet
and take your medicine."
She thanked me in a few softly spoken words and with
a very sweet smile, of which the sad wistfulness went to
my heart. I was loath to leave her, in her weak and help-
less state, to the care of her unprepossessing companion,
encompassed by I knew not what perils. But I was only
a passing stranger, and could do no more than my pro-
fessional office.
As I approached the door—with an inquisitive eye on its
disordered lock and loosened striking-box—the man rose,
and made as if to let me out. I wished him good-night, and
he returned the salutation in a pleasant voice, and with
a distinctly refined accent, quite out of character with
his uncouth appearance. Peeling my way down the
dark staircase, I presently encountered my first ac-
quaintance, who came to the foot of the stairs with the
candle.
"Well," he said, in his brusque way, "how is she?"
"She is very weak and shaken," I replied. "I want
to send her some medicine. Shall I take the address, or
are you driving me back?"


12
THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"I will take you back in the car," said he, "and you
can give me the medicine."
The car was waiting at the gate, and we went out to-
gether. As I turned to close the gate after me, I cast a
quick glance at the house and its surroundings, searching
for some distinctive feature in ease recognition of the
place should be necessary later. But it was a dark night,
though the rain had now ceased, and I could see no more
than that the adjoining house seemed to have a sort of
corner turret, crowned with a small cupola, and sur-
mounted by a weather-vane.
During the short journey home not a word was spoken,
and when the car drew up at Dr. Pumphrey's door and I
let myself in with the key, my companion silently followed
me in. I prepared the medicine at once, and handed it to
him with a few brief instructions. He took it from me, and
then asked what my fee was.
"Do I understand that I am not required to continue
the attendance?" I asked.
"They will send for you, I suppose, if they want you,"
he replied. "But I had better pay your fee for this visit
as I came for you."
I named the fee, and, when he had paid it, I said: "You
understand that she will require very careful and tender
treatment while she is so weak?"
"I do," he answered; "but I am not a member of
the household. Did you make it clear to Mr. her
husband?"
I noted the significant hesitation, and replied:
"I told him, but as to making it clear to him, I can't
say. His mental condition was none of the most lucid.
I hope she has someone more responsible to look after
her."


THE DOPER'S WIFE
13
"She has," he replied; and then he asked: "You don't
think she is in any danger, I hope?"
"In a medical sense," I answered, "I think not. In
other respects you know better than I do."
He gave me a quick look, and nodded slightly. Then,
with a curt "good-night," he turned and went out to the
car.
When he was gone, I made a brief record of the visit
in the day-book, and entered the fee in the cash column.
In the case of the experienced Dr. Pumphrey, this would
have been the end of the transaction. But, new as I was
to medical practice, I was unable to take this matter-of-fact
view of its incidents. My mind still surged with surprise,
curiosity, and a deep concern for my fair patient. Fill-
ing my pipe, I sat down before the gas fire to think over
the mystery to which I had suddenly become a party.
What was it that had happened in that house? Ob-
viously, something scandalous and sinister. The secrecy
alone made that manifest. Not only had the whereabouts
of the house been withheld from me, but a false name had
been given. I realized that when my late visitor stumbled
over the name and substituted "her husband." He had
forgotten what name it was that he had given on the spur
of the moment. I understood, too, the look of surprise
that my patient had given when I addressed her by that
false name. Clearly, something had happened which had
to be hushed up if possible.
What was it? The elements of the problem, and the
material for solving it, were the mark on the woman's
neck, the condition of the door, and a packet which I felt
morally certain contained cocaine. I considered these
three factors separately and together.
The mark on the neck was quite recent. Its character


14 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
was unmistakable. A cord or band had been drawn tight
and with considerable violence, either by the woman her-
self, or by some other person: that is to say, it was a case
either of attempted suicide or attempted murder. To
which of these alternatives did the circumstances point?
There was the door. It had been broken in, and had
therefore been locked on the inside. That was consistent
with suicide, but not inconsistent with murder. Then, by
whom had it been broken in? By a murderer to get at
his victim? Or by a rescuer? And if the latter, was it
to avert suicide or murder?
Again, there was the drug—assumed, but almost certain.
What was the bearing of that? Could these three persons
be a party of "dopers," and the tragedy the outcome of
an orgy of drug-taking? I rejected this possibility at once.
It was not consistent with the patient's condition nor with
her appearance or manner; and the man who had fetched
me and brought me back was a robust, sane-looking man
who seemed quite beyond suspicion.
I next considered the persons. There were three of
them: two men and a woman. Of the men, one was a
virile, fairly good-looking man of perhaps forty; the other
—the husband—was conspicuously unprepossessing, phys-
ically degenerate ani mentally, as I judged, a hysterical
poltroon. Here there seemed to be the making of trouble,
especially when one considered the personal attractiveness
of the woman.
I recalled her appearance very vividly. A handsome
woman, not, perhaps, actually beautiful—though she might
have been that if the roses of youth and health had bloomed
in those cheeks that I had seen blanched with that ghastly
pallor. But apart from mere comeliness, there was a sug-
gestion of a pleasing, gracious personality. I don't know


THE DOPER'S WIFE
15
how it had been conveyed to me, excepting by the smile
with which she had thanked me and bidden me farewell:
a smile that had imparted a singular sweetness to her
face. But I had received that impression, and also that
she was a woman of decided character and intelligence.
Her appearance was rather striking. She had a great
mass of dark hair, parted in the middle, and drawn down
over the temples, nearly covering the ears; darkish grey
eyes, and unusually strong, black, level eyebrows, that
almost met above the straight, shapely nose. Perhaps it
was those eyebrows that gave the strength and intensity to
her expression, aided by the compressed lips—though this
was probably a passing condition due to her mental state.
My cogitations were prolonged well into the small hours,
but they led to nothing but an open verdict. At length
I rose with a slight shiver, and, dismissing the topic from
my mind, crept up to bed.
But both the persons and the incident refused to accept
their dismissal. For many days afterwards I was haunted
by two faces; the one, ugly, coffin-shaped, surmounted by
a shock of soft, furry, mouse-coloured hair; the other,
sweet, appealing, mutely eloquent of tragedy and sorrow.
Of course, I received no further summons; and the where-
abouts of the house of mystery remained a secret until
almost the end of my stay in Osnaburgh-street. Indeed,
it was on the very day before Dr. Pumphrey's return that
I made the discovery.
I had been making a visit to a patient who lived near
Regent's Park, and on my way back had taken what I
assumed to be a short cut. This led me into a quiet, old
fashioned residential street, of which the houses stood
back behind small front gardens. As I walked along the
street I seemed to be aware of a faint sense of familiarity


16 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
which caused me to observe the houses with more than usual
attention. Presently I observed a little way ahead on the
opposite side a house with a corner turret topped by a
cupola, which bore above it a weather-vane. I crossed the
road as I approached it, and looked eagerly at the next
house. Its identity was unmistakable. My attention was
immediately attracted by the jalousies with which the
windows were fitted, and on looking at the front door I
observed that the number was forty-three.
This, then, was the house of mystery, perhaps of crime.
But whatever that tragedy had been, its actors were there
no longer. The windows were curtainless and blank; an
air of Spring-cleaning and preparation pervaded the
premises, and a bill on a little notice-board announced a
furnished house to let, and invited inquiries. For a mo-
ment, I was tempted to accept that invitation. But I was
restrained by a feeling that it would be in a way a breach
of confidence. The names of those persons had been pur-
posely withheld from me, doubtless for excellent reasons,
and professional ethics seemed to forbid any unauthorized
pryings into their private affairs. "Wherefore, with a
valedictory glance at the first-floor window, which I as-
sumed to be that of the room that I had entered, I went
on my way, telling myself that, now, the incident was
really closed, and that I had looked my last on the persons
who had enacted their parts in it.
In which, however, I was mistaken. The curtain was
down on the first act, but the play was not over. Only the
succeeding acts were yet in the unfathomed future. "Com-
ing events cast their shadows before them"; but who can
interpret those shadows, until the shapes which cast them
loom up, plain and palpable, to mock at their own un-
heeded premonitions?


CHAPTER II
RE-ENTER <(ME. JOHNSON"
IT was a good many months before the curtain rose on
the second act of the drama of which this narrative is
the record. Rather more than a year had passed,
and in that time certain changes had taken place in my
condition, of which I need refer only to the one that, in-
directly, operated as the cause of my becoming once more
a party to the drama aforesaid. I had come into a small
property, just barely sufficient to render me independent, .
and to enable me to live in idleness, if idleness had been
my hobby. As it was not, I betook myself to Adam-street,
Adelphi, to confer with my trusty medical agent, Mr.
Turcival, and from that conference was born my connexion
with the strange events which will be hereafter related.
Mr. Turcival had several practices to sell, but only one
that he thought quite suitable. "It is a death vacancy,"
said he, "at Rochester. A very small practice, and you
won't get much out of it, as the late incumbent was an old
man and you are a young man—and you look ten years
younger since you shaved off that fine beard and moustache.
But it is going for a song, and you can afford to wait;
and you couldn't have a more pleasant place to wait in
than Rochester. Better go down and have a look at it.
I'll write to the local agents, Japp and Bundy, and they
will show you the house and effects. What do you say?"
I said "yes"; and so favourably was I impressed that
the very next day found me in a first-class compartment
17


18 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
en route for Rochester, with a substantial portmanteau
in the guard's van.
At Dartford it became necessary to change, and as I
sauntered on the platform, waiting for the Rochester train,
my attention was attracted to a man who sat, somewhat
wearily and dejectedly, on a bench, rolling a cigarette.
I was impressed by the swift dexterity with which he
handled the paper and tobacco, a dexterity that was ex-
plained by the colour of his fingers, which were stained
to the hue of mahogany. But my attention was quickly
diverted from the colour of the fingers to their shape.
They were clubbed fingers. At the moment when I ob-
served the fact I was looking over his shoulder from be-
hind, and could not see his face. But I could see that he
had a large, pear-shaped head, surmounted by an enor-
mous cap, from beneath which a mass of mouse-coloured
hair stuck out like untidy thatch.
I suppose I must have halted unconsciously, for he
suddenly looked round, casting at me a curious, quick,
furt've, suspicious glance. He evidently did not recognize
me—naturally, since my appearance was so much changed;
but I recognized him instantly. He was "Mr. , her
husband." And his appearance was not improved since
I had last seen him. Inspecting him from the front, I
observed that he was sordidly shabby and none too clean,
and that his large, rough boots were white with dust as
if from a long tramp on the chalky Kentish roads.
When the train came in, I watched him saunter to a
compartment a few doors from my own, rolling a fresh
cigarette as he went: and at each station when we stopped,
I looked out of the window to see where he got out. But
he made no appearance until the train slowed down at
Rochester when I alighted quickly and strolled towards


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 19
his compartment. It had evidently been well filled, for a
number of passengers emerged before he appeared, con-
testing the narrow doorway with a stout workman. As
he squeezed past, the skirt of his coat caught and was
drawn back, revealing a sheath-knife of the kind known
to seamen as "Green River," attached to a narrow leather
belt. I did not like the look of that knife. No landsman
has any legitimate use for such a weapon. And the fact
that this man habitually carried about him the means of
inflicting lethal injuries—for it had no other purpose—
threw a fresh light, if any were needed on the sinister
events of that memorable night in the quiet house near
Regent's Park.
As I had to look after my luggage, I lost sight of him;
and when having deposited my portmanteau in the cloak
room, I walked out across the station approach and looked
up and down the street, he was nowhere to be seen. Dimly
wondering what this man might be doing in Rochester, and
whether his handsome wife were here, too—assuming her
to be still in existence—I turned and began to saunter
slowly westward. I had walked but two or three hundred
yards when the door of a tavern which I was approaching
opened, and a man emerged, licking his lips with uncom-
mon satisfaction, and rolling a cigarette. It was my late
fellow-traveller. He stood by the tavern door, looking
about him, and glancing at the people on the footway.
Just as I was passing him, he approached me and spoke.
"I wonder," said he, "if you happen to know a Mrs.
Frood who lives somewhere about here."
^ "I am afraid I don't," I replied, thankful to be able
to tell the truth—for I should have denied knowledge of
her in any case. "I am a stranger to the town at present."
He thanked me and turned away, and I walked on, but


20 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
no longer at a saunter, wondering who Mrs. Frood might
be and keeping an eye on the numbers of the houses on
the opposite side of the street.
A few minutes' walk brought into view the number I was
seeking, painted in the tympanum of a handsome Georgian
portico appertaining to one of a pair of pleasant old red-
brick houses. I halted to inspect these architectural twins
before crossing the road. Old houses always interest me,
and these two were particularly engaging, as their owners
apparently realized, for they were in the pink of condition,
and the harmony of the quiet green woodwork and the
sober red brick was no chance effect. Moreover they were
painted alike to carry out the intention of the architect,
who had evidently designed them to form a single composi-
tion; to which end he had very effectively placed, between
the twin porticoes, a central door which gave access to a
passage common to the two houses and leading, no doubt,
to the back premises.
Having noted these particulars, I crossed the road and
approached the twin which bore beside its doorway a
brass plate, inscribed "Japp and Bundy, Architects and
Surveyors." In the adjoining bay window, in front of
a green curtain, was a list of houses to let; and as I paused
for a moment to glance at this, a face decorated with a
pair of colossal tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, rose slowly
above the curtain, and then, catching my eye, popped
down again with some suddenness.
I ascended the short flight of steps to the open street
door, and entering the hall, opened the office door and
walked in. The owner of the spectacles was perched on a
high stool at a higher desk with his back to me, writing in
a large book. The other occupant of the office was a small,
spare, elderly man, with a pleasant wrinkly face and a


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 21
cockatoo-like crest of white hair, who confronted me across
a large table on which a plan was spread out. He looked
up interrogatively as I entered, and I proceeded at once to
announce myself.
"I am Dr. Strangeways," said I, drawing a bundle of
papers from my pocket. "Mr. Turcival—the medical
agent, you know—thought I had better come down and
settle things up on the spot. So here I am."
"Precisely," said my new acquaintance, motioning me
to a chair—it was a shield-back Heppelwhite, I noticed—
"I agree with Mr. Turcival. It is all quite plain sailing.
The position is this: Old Dr. Partridge died about three
weeks ago, and the executor of his will, who lives in North-
umberland, has instructed us to realize his estate. We
have valued the furniture, fittings, and effects, have added
a small amount to cover the drugs and instruments and the
goodwill of the practice, and this is the premium. It is
practically just the value of the effects."
"And the lease of the house?"
"Expired some years ago and we allowed Dr. Partridge
to remain as a yearly tenant, which he preferred. You
could do the same or you could have a lease, if you wished."
"Is the house your property?" I asked.
"No; but we manage it for the owner, a Mrs. Frood."
"Oh, it belongs to Mrs. Frood, does it?"
He looked up at me quickly, and I noticed that the
gentleman at the desk had stopped writing. "Do you
know Mrs. Frood?" he asked.
"No; but it happens that a man who came down by
my train asked me a few minutes ago if I could give him
her address. Fortunately I couldn't."
"Why fortunately?"
The question brought me up short. My prejudice


22 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
against the man was due to my knowledge of his ante-
cedents, which I was not prepared to disclose. I therefore
replied evasively:
"Well, I wasn't very favourably impressed by his ap-
pearance. He was a shabby-looking customer. I sus-
pected that he was a cadger of some kind."
'' Indeed! Now, what sort of a person was he 1 Could
you describe him?"
"He was a youngish man—from thirty-five to forty, I
should say—apparently well educated but very seedy and
not particularly clean. A queer-looking man, with a big,
pear-shaped head and a mop of hair like the fur of a
Persian cat. His fingers are clubbed at the ends,
and stained with tobacco to the knuckles. Do you know
him?"
"I rather suspect I do. What do you say, Bundy?"
Mr. Bundy grunted. "Hubby, I ween," said he.
"You don't mean Mrs. Frood's husband?" I exclaimed.
"I do. And it is, as you said, very fortunate that you
were not able to give him her address, as she is unable to
live with him and is at present unwilling to let him know
her whereabouts. It is an unfortunate affair. However,
to return to your business; you had better go up and
have a look at the house and see what you think of
it. You might just walk up with Dr. Strangeways,
Bundy."
Mr. Bundy swung round on his stool, and, taking off his
spectacles, stuck in his right eye a gold-rimmed monocle,
through which he inspected me critically. Then he hopped
off the stool, and, lifting the lid of the desk, took out a
velour hat and a pair of chamois gloves, the former of
which he adjusted carefully on his head before a small
mirror, and, having taken down a labelled key from a


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 23
key-board and provided himself with a smart, silver-
mounted cane, announced that he was ready.
As I walked along the picturesque old street at Mr.
Bundy's side, I reverted to my late fellow passenger and
my prospective landlady.
"I gather," said I, "that Mrs. Frood's matrimonial
affairs are somewhat involved."
"So do I," said Bundy. "Seems to have made a
regular mucker of it. I don't know much about her, my-
self, but Japp knows the whole story. He's some sort of
relative of hers; uncle or second cousin or something of
the kind. But Japp is a bit like the sailor's parrot; he
doesn't let on unnecessarily."
"What sort of a woman is Mrs. Prood?" I asked.
"Oh, quite a tidy sort of body. I've only seen her once
or twice; haven't been here long myself: tallish woman;
lot of black hair; thick eye-brows; rather squeaky voice.
Not exactly my idea of a beauty, but Frood seems quite
keen on her."
"By the way, how comes it that he doesn't know her
address? She's a Rochester woman, isn't she?"
"No. I don't know where she comes from. London, I
think. This property was left to her by an aunt who
lived here: a cousin of Japp's. Angelina came down here
a few weeks ago on the q.t. to get away from hubby, and
I fancy she's been keeping pretty close."
"She's living in lodgings, then, I suppose?"
"Yes; at least she lives in a set of offices that Japp
furnished for her, and the lady who rents the rest of
the house looks after her. As a matter of fact, the offices
are next door to ours; but you had better consider that
information as confidential, at any rate while hubby is in
the neighbourhood. This is your shanty."


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 25
turning her back on him and producing a large bunch of
keys, with which she proceeded to unlock the doors that
opened on the hall.
"The upstairs rooms are unlocked," she said, adding:
"If you want me you can ring the bell," and with this
she retired to the basement stairs and -vanished.
My examination of the rooms was rather perfunctory,
for I had made up my mind already. The premium was
absurdly small, and I could see that the house was fur-
nished well enough for my immediate needs. As to the
practice, I had no particular expectations.
"Better have a look at the books," said Bundy when we
went into the little surgery, "though Mr. Turcival has
been through them, and I daresay he has told you all about
the practice."
"Yes," I answered, "he told me that the practice was
very small and that I probably shouldn't get much of it,
as Partridge was an old man and I am a young one.
Still, I may as well glance through the books."
Bundy laid the day book and ledger on the desk and
placed a stool by the latter, and I seated myself and
began to turn over the leaves and note down a few figures
on a slip of paper, while my companion beguiled the time
by browsing round the surgery, taking down bottles and
sniffing at their contents, pulling out drawers and inspect-
*iiig the instruments and appliances. A very brief exam-
ination of the books served to confirm Mr. Turcival's
modest estimate of the practice, and when I had finished,
J closed them and turned round to report to Mr. Bundy,
who was, at the moment, engaged in "sounding" the sur-
gery clock with the late Dr. Partridge's stethoscope.
"I think it will do," said I. "The practice is negligi-


26 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
ble, but the furniture and fittings are worth the money,
and I daresay I shall get some patients in time. At any
rate, the premises are all in going order."
"You are not dependent on the practice, then?" said
he.
"No. I have enough just barely to exist on until the
patients begin to arrive. But what about the house ?''
"You can have a lease if you like, or you can go on
with the arrangement that Partridge had. If I were you,
I should take the house on a three years' agreement with
the option of a lease later if you find that the venture
turns out satisfactorily."
"Yes," I agreed, "that seems a good arrangement.
And when could I have possession?"
"You've got possession now if you agree to the terms.
Say yes, and I '11 draft out the agreement when I get back.
You and Mrs. Frood can sign it this evening. You give us
a cheque and we give you your copy of the document, and
the thing is d-u-n, done."
"And what about this old woman?"
"La Giaconda Dunkibus? I should keep her if I were
you. She looks an old devil, but she's a good servant.
Partridge had a great opinion of her, so Japp tells me,
and you can see for yourself that the house is in apple-pie
order and as clean as a new pin."
"You think she would be willing to stay?"
Bundy grinned (he was a good deal given to grinning,
and he certainly had a magnificent set of teeth). "Will-
ing!" he exclaimed. "She's going to stay whether you
want her or not. She has been here the best part of her
life and nothing short of a torpedo would shift her. You '11
have to take her with the fixtures, but I don't think you'll
regret it."


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 27
As Bundy was speaking, I had been, half-unconsciously,
looking him over, interested in the queer contrast between
his almost boyish appearance and gay irresponsible man-
ner on the one hand, and, on the other, his shrewdness, his
business capacity, and his quick, decisive, evidently force-
ful character.
To look at, he was just a young "nut," small, spruce,
dandified, and apparently not displeased with himself.
His age I judged to be about twenty-five, his height about
five feet six. In figure, he was slight, but well set-up, and
he seemed active and full of life and energy. He was
extraordinarily well turned-out. From his close-cropped ,
head, with the fore-lock "smarmed" back in the correct
"nuttish" fashion, so that his cranium resembled a large
black-topped filbert, to his immaculately polished and re-
markably small shoes, there was not an inch of his person
that had not received the most careful attention. He was
clean-shaved; so clean that on the smooth skin nothing but
the faint blue tinge on cheek and chin remained to suggest
the coarse and horrid possibilities of whiskers. And his
hands had evidently received the same careful attention
as his face; indeed, even as he was talking to me, he pro-
duced from his pocket some kind of ridiculous little instru-
ment with which he proceeded to polish his finger-nails.
"Shall I ring the bell?" he asked after a short pause,
"and call up the spirit of the Dunklett from the vasty
deep? May as well let her know her luck."
As I assented he pressed the bell-push, and in less than
a minute Mrs. Dunk made her appearance and stood in the
doorway, looking inquiringly at Bundy, but uttering no
sound.
"Dr. Strangeways is going to take the practice, Mrs.
Dunk," said Bundy, "inclusive of the house, furniture,


28 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
and all effects, and he is also prepared to take you at a
valuation.''
As the light of battle began to gleam in Mrs. Dunk's
eyes, I thought it best to intervene and conduct the negotia-
tions myself.
"I understand from Mr. Bundy," said I, "that you
were Dr. Partridge's housekeeper for many years, and it
occurred to me that you might be willing to act in the same
capacity for me. What do you say?"
"Very well," she replied. "When do you want to
move in?"
"I propose to move in at once. My luggage is at the
station."
"Have you checked the inventory?" she asked.
"No, I haven't, but I suppose nothing has been taken
away?"
"No," she answered. "Everything is as it was when
Dr. Partridge died."
"Then we can go over the inventory later. I will have
my things sent up from the station, and I shall come in
during the afternoon to unpack."
She agreed concisely to this arrangement, and, when we
had settled a few minor details, I departed with Bundy to
make my way to the station and thereafter to go in search
of lunch.
"You think," said I, as we halted opposite the station
approach, "that we can get everything completed to-
day?"
'' Yes,'' he replied,'' I will get the agreement drawn up in
the terms that we have just settled on, and will make an
appointment with Mrs. Frood. You had better look in
at the office about half-past six."
He turned away with a friendly nod and a flash of his


RE-ENTER "MR. JOHNSON" 29
white teeth, and bustled off up the street, swinging his
smart cane jauntily, and looking, with his trim, well-cut
clothes, his primrose-coloured gloves, and his glistening
shoes, the very type of cheerful, prosperous, self-respecting
and self-satisfied youth.


CHAPTER III
ANGELINA FROOD
PUNCTUALLY at half-past six I presented myself at
the office of Messrs. Japp and Bundy. The senior
partner was seated at a writing-table covered with
legal-looking documents, and, as I entered, he looked up
with a genial, wrinkly smile of recognition, and then turned
to his junior.
"You've got Dr. Strangeways's agreement ready, haven't
you, Bundy?" he asked.
"Just finished it five minutes ago," was the reply.
"Here you are."
Bundy swung round on his stool and held out the two
copies. "Would you mind going through it with Dr.
Strangeways?" said Japp. "And then you might go with
him to Mrs. Frood's and witness the signatures. I told her
you were coming."
Bundy pulled out his watch, and glared at it through
his great spectacles.
"By jove!" he exclaimed, "I'm afraid I can't. There's
old Baldwin, you know. I've got to be there at a quarter -
to seven."
"So you have," said Japp, "I had forgotten that. You
had better be off now. I'll see to Dr. Strangeways, if he
isn't in a hurry for a minute or two."
"I'm not in a hurry at all," said I. "Don't put your-
self out for me.''
"Well, if you really are not," said Japp, "I'll just
30


ANGELINA FROOD
31
finish what I am doing, and then I'll run in with you
and get the agreement completed. You might look
through it while you are waiting and see that it is all in
order."
Bundy handed me the agreement, and, as I sat down to
study it, he removed his spectacles, stuck his eye-glass in
his eye, hopped off his perch, brought forth his Imt, gloves,
and stick, and, having presented his teeth for my inspec-
tion, took his departure.
I read through the agreement carefully to ascertain that
it embodied the terms agreed on verbally and compared
the two copies. Then, while Mr. Japp continued to turn
over the leaves of his documents, I let my thoughts stray
from the trim, orderly office to the house of mystery in
London and the strange events that had befallen there
on that rainy night more than a year ago. Once more I
called up before the eyes of memory the face of my mys-
terious patient, sweet and gracious in spite of its deathly
pallor. Many a time, in the months that had passed, had
I recalled it: so often that it seemed, in a way, to have
become familiar. In a few minutes I was going to look
upon that face again—for there could be no reasonable
doubt that my prospective landlady was she. I looked for-
ward expectantly, almost with excitement, to the meeting.
Would she recognize me? I wondered. And if she did not,
I should I make myself known? This was a difficult ques-
tion, and I had come to no decision upon it when I was
aroused from my reverie by a movement on the part of
Mr. Japp, whose labours had apparently come to an end.
Folding up the documents and securing them in little bun-
dles with red tape, he deposited them in a cupboard with
his notes, and from the same receptacle took out his hat.
"Now," said he, "if you find the agreement in order,


32 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
we will proceed to execute it. Are you going to pay the
premium now?"
"I have my cheque-book with me," I replied. "When
we have signed the agreement, I will settle up for every-
thing."
"Thank you," said he. "I have prepared a receipt
which is, practically, an assignment of the furniture and
effects and of all rights in the practice.''
He held the door open and I passed out. We descended
the steps, and passing the central door common to the two
houses, ascended to that of the adjoining house, where Mr.
Japp executed a flourish on a handsome brass knocker.
In a few moments the door was opened by a woman
whom I could not see very distinctly in the dim hall, espe-
cially as she turned about and retired up the stairs.
Mr. Japp advanced to the door of the front room and
rapped with his knuckles, whereupon a high, clear, fem-
inine voice bade him come in. He accordingly entered, and
I followed.
The first glance disposed of any doubts that I might have
had. The lady who stood up to receive us was unquestion-
ably my late patient, though she looked taller than I had
expected. But it was the well-remembered face, less
changed, indeed, than I could have wished, for it was still
pale, drawn, and weary, as I could see plainly enough in
spite of the rather dim light; for, although it was not
yet quite dark, the curtains were drawn and a lamp lighted
on a small table, beside which was a low easy-chair, on*
which some needlework had been thrown down.
Mr. Japp introduced me to my future landlady, who
bowed, and having invited us to be seated, took up her
needlework and sat down in the easy-chair.
"You are not looking quite up to the mark," Japp ob-


ANGELINA FROOD
33
served, regarding her critically, as he turned over the
papers.
"No," she admitted, "I think I am a little run down."
"H'm," said Japp. "Oughtn't to get run down at
your age. Why, you are only just wound up. However,
you've got a doctor for a tenant, so you will be able to
take out some of the rent in medical advice. Let me see,
I told you what the terms of the agreement were, but you
had better look through it before you sign.''
He handed her one of the documents, which she took
from him, and, dropping her needlework in her lap, leaned
back in her chair to read it. Meanwhile, I examined her
with a good deal of interest and curiosity, wondering how
she had fared and what had happened to her in the months
that had elapsed since I had last seen her. The light was
not very favourable for a minute inspection, for the lamp
on the table was the sole luminary, and that was covered
by a red silk shade. But I was confirmed in my original
impression of her. She was more than ordinarily good-
looking, and rather striking in appearance, and I judged
that under happier conditions she might have appeared
even more attractive. As it was, the formally parted
dark hair, the strongly marked, straight eyebrows, the
firm mouth, rather compressed and a little drawn down at
the corners, and the pale complexion imparted to her face
a character that was somewhat intense, sombre, and even
> troubled. But, for this I could fully account from my
g knowledge of her circumstances, and I was conscious of
looking on her with a very sympathetic and friendly eye.
"This is quite satisfactory to me," she said at length, in
the clear, high-pitched voice to which Bundy had objected,
"and if it is equally so to Dr. Strangeways, I suppose I
had better sign.''


34 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
She laid the paper on the table, and, taking the fountain-
pen that Japp proffered, signed her name, Angelina Frood,
in a bold, legible hand, and then returned the pen to its
owner; who forthwith affixed his signature as witness and
spread out the duplicate for me to sign. When this also
was completed, he handed me the copy signed by Mrs.
Frood and the receipt for the premium, and I drew a
cheque for the amount and delivered it to him.
"Many thanks," said he, slipping it into a wallet and
pocketing it. "That concludes our business and puts you
finally in possession. I wish you every success in your
practice. By the way, I mentioned to Mrs. Frood that
you had seen her husband and that you know how she is
placed; and she agreed with me that it was best that you
should understand the position in case you should meet
him again."
"Certainly," Mrs. Frood agreed. "There is no use in
trying to make a secret of it. He came down with you
from London, Mr. Japp tells me."
"Not from London," said I. "He got in at Dartford."
Here Mr. Japp rose and stole towards the door. "Don't
let me interrupt you," said he, "but I must get back to
the office and hear what Bundy has to report. Don't gef
up. I can let myself out."
He made his exit quietly, shutting the door after him,
and as soon as he was gone Mrs. Frood asked:
"Do you mean that he changed into your train at Dart-
ford?"
"No," I answered. "I think he came to Dartford on
foot. He looked tired and his boots were covered with
white dust."
"You are very observant, Dr. Strangeways," she said.
'' I wonder what made you notice him so particularly 1''


ANGELINA FROOD 35
0
"He is rather a noticeable man," I said, and then, decid-
ing that it was better to be quite frank, I added: "But
the fact is I had seen him before."
"Indeed!" said she. "Would you think me very in-
quisitive if I asked where you had seen him?"
"Not at all," I answered. "It was a little more than a
year ago, about twelve o'clock at night, in a house near
Regent's Park, to which I was taken in a closed car to see
a lady."
As I spoke she dropped her needlework and sat up, gaz-
ing at me with a startled and rather puzzled expression.
"But," she said, "you are not the doctor who came to see
me that night?"
"I am, indeed," said I.
"Now," she exclaimed, "isn't that an extraordinary
thing? I had a feeling that I had seen you somewhere
before. I seemed to recognize your voice. But you don't
look the same. Hadn't you a beard then?"
"Yes, I am but the shaven and shorn remnant of my
former self, but I am your late medical attendant."
She looked at me with an odd, reflective, questioning
expression, but without making any further comment.
Presently she said:
"You were very kind and sympathetic though you were
so quiet. I wonder what you thought of it all."
"I hadn't much to go on beyond the medical facts," I
replied evasively.
"Oh, you needn't be so cautious," said she, "now that
the cat is out of the bag."
""Well," I said, "it was pretty obvious that there had
been trouble of some kind. The door had been broken
open, there was one man in a state of hysterics, an-
other man considerably upset and rather angry, and a


36 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
I
woman with the mark on her neck of a cord or band"
'' It was a knitted silk neck-tie, to be accurate. But you
put the matter in a nut-shell very neatly; and I see that you
diagnosed what novelists call 'the eternal triangle.' And
to a certain extent you were right; only the triangle was
imaginary. If you don't mind, I will tell you just what
did happen. The gentleman who came for you was a Mr.
Fordyce, the lessee of one or two provincial theatres—I
was on the stage then; but perhaps you guessed that."
"As a matter of fact, I did."
"Well, Mr. Fordyce had an idea of producing a play
at one of his houses, and was going to give me a leading
part. He had been to our house once or twice to talk the *
matter over with Nicholas (my husband) and me, and we
were more or less friendly. He was quite a nice, sober
kind of man, and perfectly proper and respectful. On
this night he had been at the theatre where I had an en-
gagement, and, as it was a wet night, he drove me home in
his car, and was coming in to have a few words with us
about our business. He wanted to see a photograph of me
in a particular costume, and when we arrived home I ran
upstairs to fetch it. There I found Nicholas, who had
seen our arrival from the window, and was in a state of
furious jealousy. Directly I entered the room, he locked
the door and flew at me like a wild beast. As to what
followed, I think you know as much as I do, for I fainted,
and when I recovered Nicholas was sobbing in a corner,
and Mr. Fordyce was standing by the door, looking as
black as thunder."
"Had your husband been jealous of Mr. Fordyce pre-
viously?"
"Not a bit. But on this occasion he was in a very


38 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
and I lost my father when I was about seventeen. He
died on the Gold Coast, where he held an appointment as
District Commissioner."
"Ah," said I, "I thought you were in some way con-
nected with West Africa. I noticed the zodiac ring on
your finger when you were signing the agreement. When
I was newly qualified I took a trip down the West Coast
as a ship's surgeon, and bought one of those rings at Cape
Coast."
"They are quaint little things, aren't they?" she re-
marked, slipping the ring off her finger and handing it to
me. "I don't often wear it, though. It is rather clumsy,
and it doesn't fit very well; and I don't care much for
rings."
I turned the little trinket over in my hand and examined
it with reminiscent interest. It was a roughly wrought
band of yellow native gold, with the conventional signs of
the zodiac worked round it in raised figures. Inside I
noticed that the letters A. C. had been engraved.
"It was given to you before you were married, I pre-
sume," said I, as I returned it to her.
"Yes," she replied, "those are the initials of my maiden
name—Angelina Carthew." She took the ring from me,
but instead of replacing it on her finger, dropped it into
a little pouch-like purse with metal jaws, which she had
taken from her pocket.
"Your position is a very disagreeable one," Said I, re-
verting to the main topic. "I wonder that you haven't
applied for a judicial separation. There are ample
grounds for making the application."
"I suppose there are. But it wouldn't help me really,
even if it were granted. I shouldn't get rid of him."
"You could apply to the police if he molested you."


ANGELINA FROOD
39
"No doubt. But that doesn't sound very restful, does
it?"
"I am afraid it doesn't. But it would be better than
being constantly molested without having any remedy or
refuge."
"Perhaps it would," she agreed doubtfully, and then,
with a faint smile, she added: "I suppose you are
wondering what on earth made me marry him?"
"Well," I replied, "it appears to me that his good
fortune was more remarkable than his personal attrac-
tions."
"He wasn't always like he is now," said she. "I mar-
ried him nearly ten years ago, and he was fairly present-
able then. His manners were quite nice and he had cer-
tain accomplishments that rather appealed to a young
girl—I was only eighteen and rather impressionable. He
was then getting a living by writing magazine stories—
love stories, they were, of a highly emotional type—and
occasional verses. They were second-rate stuff, really, but
to me he seemed a budding genius. It was not until after
we were married that the disillusionment came, and then
only gradually as his bad habits developed."
"By the way, what do you suppose he has come down
here for? What does he want? I suppose he wishes you
to go back to him ?''
"I suppose he does. But, primarily, I expect he wants
money. It is a horrible position,'' she added, with sudden
passion. "I hate the idea of hiding away from him when
I suspect that the poor wretch has come down to his last
few shillings. After all, he is my husband; and I am not
so deadly poor now."
"He seemed to have the wherewith to provide a fair
supply of tobacco, to say nothing of the cocaine and a


40 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
'modest quencher' at the tavern," I remarked drily. "At
any rate, I hope he won't succeed in finding out where
you live."
"I hope not," said she. "If he does, I shall have to
move on, as I have had to do several times already, and
I don't want to do that. I have only been here a little
over two months, and it has been very pleasant and peace-
ful. But you see, Dr. Strangeways, that, if I am to
follow Mr. Japp's advice, I shall inflict on you a very un-
promising patient. There is no medical treatment for
matrimonial troubles."
"No," I agreed, rising and taking up my hat, "but the
physical effects may be dealt with. If I am appointed
your medical advisor, I shall send you a tonic, and if I
may look in now and again to see how you are getting on,
I may be able to help you over some of your difficulties."
"It is very kind of you," she said, rising and shaking
my hand warmly; and, accepting my suggestion that she
had better not come to the street door, she showed me out
into the hall and dismissed me with a smile and a little
bow.
When I reached the bottom of the steps, I stood irres-
olutely for a few moments and then, instead of making
my way homeward, turned up the street towards the cathe-
dral and the bridge, walking slowly and reflecting pro-
foundly on the story I had just heard. It was a pitiful
story; and the quiet, restrained manner of the telling
made it the more impressive. All that was masculine in
me rose in revolt against the useless, inexcusable wrecking
of this poor woman's life. As to the man, he was, no
doubt, to be pitied for being the miserable, degenerate
wretch that he was. But he was doomed beyond any hope
of salvation. Such wretches as he are condemned in


ANGELINA FROOD
41
the moment of their birth; they are born to an inheritance
of misery and dishonour. But it is infamous that in their
inevitable descent into the abyss—from which no one can
save them—they should have the power to drag down with
them sane and healthy human beings who were destined by
nature to a life of happiness, of usefulness, and honour.
I thought of the woman I had just left—comely, dignified,
energetic, probably even talented. What was her future
to be? So far as I could see, the upas shadow of this
drug-sodden wastrel had fallen upon her, never to be
lifted until merciful death should dissolve the ill-omened
union.
This last reflection gave my thoughts a new turn. What
was this man's purpose in pursuing her? Was he bent
merely on extorting money or on sharing her modest in-
come? Or was there some more sinister motive? I re-
called his face; an evil, sly, vindictive face. I considered
what I knew of him; that he had undoubtedly made one
attempt to murder this woman, and that, to my knowledge,
he carried about his person the means of committing
murder. For what purpose could he have provided him-
self with that formidable weapon? It might be merely as
a means of coercion, or it might be as a means of revenge.
Thus meditating, I had proceeded some distance along
the street when I observed, on the opposite side, an old,
three-gabled house which looked like some kind of institu-
tion. A lamp above the doorway threw its light on a
stone tablet on which I could see an inscription of some
length, and, judging this to be an ancient almshouse, I
crossed the road to inspect it more closely. A glance at
the tablet told me that this was the famous rest-house
established in the sixteenth century by worthy Richard
Watts, to give a night's lodging and entertainment to


42 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
six poor travellers, with the express proviso that the said
travellers must be neither rogues nor proctors. I had
read through the quaint inscription and was speculating,
as many others have speculated, on the nature of Richard
Watts's grievance against proctors as a class, when the
door opened suddenly and a man rushed out with such
impetuosity that he nearly collided with me. I had moved
out of his way when he halted and addressed me excitedly.
"I say, governor, can you tell me where I can find a
doctor?"
"You have found one," I replied. "I am a doctor.
What is the matter?"
"There's a bloke in here throwing a fit," he answered,
backing into the doorway and holding the door open for
me. I entered, and followed him down a passage to a
largish, barely furnished room, where I found four men
and a woman, who looked like a hospital nurse, standing
around and watching anxiously a man who lay on the
floor.
"Here's a doctor, matron," said my conductor, as he
ushered me in.
"Well, Simmonds," said the matron, "you haven't
wasted much time."
"No, mum," replied Simmonds, "I struck it lucky.
Caught him just outside.''
Meanwhile I had stepped up to the prostrate man, and
at the first glance I recognized him. He was Mrs. Frood's
husband. And, whatever he might be "throwing," it was
not a fit—in the ordinary medical sense; that is to say,
it was not epilepsy or apoplexy; nor was it a fainting fit
of an orthodox kind. If the patient had been a woman
one would have called it a hysterical seizure, and I could
give it no other name, though I was not unmindful of


ANGELINA FROOD
43
the paper packet that I had seen on that former occasion.
But the emotional element was obvious. The man pur-
ported to be insensible, and manifestly was not. The
tightly closed eyes, the everted lips—showing a row of
blackened teeth—the clutching movements of the claw-
like hands—all were suggestive of at least half-conscious
simulation. I stood for a while, stooping over him and
watching him intently, and as I did so the bystanders
watched me. Then I felt his pulse, and found it, as I had
expected, quick, feeble, and irregular; and finally, pro-
ducing my stethoscope, listened to his heart with as little
disturbance of his clothing as possible.
"Well, doctor," said the matron, "what do you think
of him?"
"He is decidedly ill," I replied. "His heart is rather
jumpy, and not very strong. Too much tobacco, I fancy,
and perhaps some other things that are not very good, and
possibly insufficient food."
"He told me, when he came in," said the matron, "that
he was practically destitute."
"Ah," murmured Simmonds, "I expect he's been blow-
ing all his money on Turkish baths," whereupon the
other poor travellers sniggered softly, and were imme-
diately extinguished by a reproving glance from the
matron.
"Do you know what brought this attack on?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied; "he had a little dispute with Sim-
monds, here, and suddenly became violently excited, and
then he fell down insensible, as you see him. It was all
about nothing."
"I jest arsked 'im," said Simmonds, "if 'e could give
me the name of the cove what done 'is 'air, 'cos I thought
I'd like to 'ave mine done in the same fashionable style.


44 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
That seemed to give 'im the fair pip. 'E jawed me some-
thing chronic, until I got shirty and told 'im if 'e didn't
shut 'is face I'd give 'im a wipe acrost the snout. Then
blow me if 'e didn't start to throw a fit."
While this lucid explanation was proceeding I noticed
that the patient was evidently listening intently, though he
continued to twitch his face, exhibit his unlovely teeth, and
wriggle his fingers. He was apparently waiting for my
verdict with some anxiety.
"The question is," said the matron, "what is to be done
with him? Do you think he is in any danger?"
As she spoke, we drifted towards the door, and when we
were in the passage, out of earshot, I said:
"The best place for that man is the infirmary. There
is nothing much the matter with him but dope. He has
been dosing himself with cocaine, and he has probably
got some more of the stuff about him. He is in no dan-
ger now, but if he takes any more he may upset himself
badly."
"It is rather late to send him to the infirmary," she
said, "and I don't quite like to do it. Poor fellow, he
seems fearfully down on his luck, and he is quite a superior
kind of man. Do you think it would be safe for him to
stay here for the night if he had a little medicine of some
kind?"
"It would be safe enough," I replied, "if you could get
possession of his coat and waistcoat and lock them up
until the morning."
"Oh, I'll manage that," said she; "and about the medi-
cine?"
"Let Simmonds walk up with me—I have taken Dr.
Partridge's practice—and I will give it to him."
We re-entered the supper-room and found the conditions


ANGELINA FROOD
45
somewhat changed. Whether it was that the word
"infirmary" had been waited to the patient's attentive
ears, I cannot say; but there were evident signs of re-
covery. Our friend was sitting up, glaring wildly about
him, and inquiring where he was; to which questions
Simmonds was furnishing answers of a luridly inaccurate
character. When I had taken another look at the patient,
and received a vacant stare of almost aggressive unrecog-
nition, I took possession of the facetious Simmonds, and,
having promised to look in in the morning, wished the
matron good-night and departed with my escort; who enter-
tained me on the way home with picturesque, unflattering,
and remarkably shrewd comments on the sufferer.
I had made up a stimulant mixture, and handed it to
Simmonds when I remembered Mrs. Frood and that Sim-
monds would pass her house on his way back. For an
instant, I thought of asking him to deliver her medicine
for me; and then, with quite a shock, I realized what a
hideous blunder it would have been. Evidently, the poor
travellers gave their names, and if the man, Frood, had
given his correctly, the coincidence of the names would
have impressed Simmonds instantly, and then the murder
would have been out, and the fat would have been in the
fire properly. It was a narrow escape, and it made me
realize how insecure was that unfortunate lady's position
with this man lurking in the town. And, realizing this,
I determined to trust the addressed bottle to nobody, but
to leave it at the house myself. Accordingly, having made
up the medicine and wrapped it neatly in paper, I thrust
it into my pocket, and, calling out to Mrs. Dunk that I
should be back to supper in about half an hour, I set forth,
and in a few minutes arrived at the little Georgian door-
way and plied the elegant brass knocker. The door was


46 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
opened—rather incautiously, I thought—by Mrs. Frood
herself.
"I am my own bottle-boy, you see, Mrs. Frood," said
I, handing her the medicine. "I thought it safer not to
send an addressed packet under the circumstances."
"But how good of you!" she exclaimed. "How kind
and thoughtful! But you shouldn't have troubled about
it to-night."
"It was only a matter of five minutes' walk," said I,
"and besides, there was something that I thought you had
better know,'' and hereupon I proceeded to give her a brief
account of my recent adventures and the condition of her
precious husband. "Is he subject to attacks of this kind ?''
I asked.
"Yes," she answered. "When he is put out about
anything in some ways he is rather like a hysterical
woman. But, you see, I was right. He is penniless. And
that—now I come to think of it—makes it rather odd
that he should be here. But won't you come in for a mo-
ment?"
I entered and shut the door. "Why is it odd?" I
asked.
"Because he would be getting some money to-morrow.
I make him a small allowance; it is very little, but it is as
much as I can possibly manage; and it is paid monthly,
on the fifteenth of the month. But he has to apply for it
personally at the bank or send an accredited messenger
with a receipt; and as to-morrow is the fifteenth, the ques-
tion is, why on earth is he down here now? I mean that
it is odd that he should not have waited to collect the al-
lowance before coming to hunt me up.''
"If he is in communication with your banker," said I,
"he could, I suppose, get a letter forwarded to you?"


ANGELINA FROOD
47
"No," she replied; "the banker who pays him is the
London agent of Mr. Japp's banker, and he doesn't know
on whose behalf the payments are made. I had to make
that arrangement, or he would have bombarded me with
letters."
"Well," I said, "you had better keep close for a day
or two. If his search for you is unsuccessful, he may get
discouraged and raise the siege. I will let you know what
his movements are, so far as I can.''
She thanked me once more with most evident sincerity,
and as I made my way to the door, she let me out with a
cordial and friendly shake of the hand.


CHAPTER IV
DEALS WITH CHARITY AND ARCHEOLOGY
IMMEDIATELY after breakfast on the following
morning I made my way to Mr. Richard Watts's
establishment, where I learned that all the poor
travellers had departed with the exception of my patient,
who had been allowed to stay pending my report on
him.
"I shall be glad to see the back of him, poor fellow,"
said the matron, "for, of course, we have no arrange-
ments for dealing with sick men."
"Do you often get cases of illness here?" I asked.
"I really don't know," she answered. "You see, I am
only doing temporary duty here while the regular matron
is away. But I should think not, though little ailments
are apt to occur in the case of a poor man who has been on
the road for a week or so."
"This man is on tramp, is he?" said I.
"Well, no," she replied. "It seems, from what he
tells me, that his wife has left him, and he had reason to
believe that she was staying in this town. So he came
down here to try to find her. He supposed that Rochester
was a little place where everybody knew everybody else,
and that he would have no difficulty in discovering her
whereabouts. But all his inquiries have come to nothing.
Nobody seems to have heard of her. I suppose you don't
happen to know the name—Frood?"
"I only came here yesterday, myself," was my evasive

48


DEALS WITH CHARITY
49
reply. "I am a stranger to the town. But is he cer-
tain that she is here?"
"I don't think he is. At any rate, he seems inclined to
give up the search for the present, and he is very anxious
to get back to London. But I don't know how he is going
to manage it. He isn't fit to walk."
"Well," I said, "if it is only the railway fare that
stands in the way, that difficulty can be got over. I will
pay for his ticket; but I should like to be sure that he really
goes."
"Oh, I'll see to that," she said, with evident relief.
"I will go with him to the station, and get his ticket and
see him into the train. But you had better just have a
look at him, and see that he is fit to go."
She conducted me to the supper-room, where our friend
was sitting in a Windsor armchair, looking the very picture
of misery and dejection.
"Here is the doctor come to see you, Mr. Frood," the
matron said cheerfully,'' and he is kind enough to say that,
if you are well enough to travel, he will pay your fare
to London. So there's an end of your difficulties."
The poor devil glanced at me for an instant, and then
looked away; and, to my intense discomfort, I saw that
his eyes were filling.
"It is indeed good of you, Sir," he murmured, shakily,
but in a very pleasant voice and with a refined accent;
"most good and kind to help a lame dog over a stile in
this way. I don't know how to thank you."
Here, as he showed a distinct tendency to weep, I re-
plied hastily:
"Not at all. We've all got to help one another in this
world. And how are you feeling? Hand is still a little
bit shaky, I see."


50 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
I put my finger on his wrist and then looked him over
generally. He was a miserable wreck, but I judged that
he was as well as he was ever likely to be.
"Well," I said, "you are not in first-class form, but you
are up to a short railway journey. I suppose you have
somewhere to go to in London?"
"Yes," he replied, dismally, "I have a room. It isn't
in the Albany, but it is a shelter from the weather."
"Never mind," said I. "We must hope for better
times. The matron is going to see you safely to the station
and comfortably settled in the train—and''—here I handed
her a ten shilling note—"you will get Mr. Frood's ticket,
matron, and you had better give him the change. He may
want a cab when he gets to town."
He glowered sulkily at this arrangement—I suspect he
had run out of cigarettes—but he thanked me again, and,
when I had privately ascertained the time of the train
which was to bear him away, I wished him adieu.
"I suppose," said I, "there is no likelihood of his
hopping out at Strood to get a drink and losing the
train?"
The matron smiled knowingly. "He will start from
Strood," said she. "I shall take him over the bridge in
the tram and put him into the London express there. We
don't want him back here to-night."
Much relieved by the good lady's evident grasp of the
situation, I turned away up the street and began to con-
sider my next move. I had nothing to do this morning,
for at present there was not a single patient on my books
with the exception of Mrs. Frood; and it may have been
in accordance with the prevailing belief that to persons in
my condition, an individual, familiarly known as "the
old gentleman," obligingly functions as employment


52 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"I am sorry you have missed her, Sir," said she; and
then she asked:
"Are you her doctor, Sir?"
I felt myself justified in affirming that I was, where-
upon she exclaimed:
"Ah, poor thing! It is a comfort to know that she has
someone to look after her. She has been looking very
sadly of late. Very sadly, she has."
I began to back cautiously towards the door, but she
followed me up and continued: "I am afraid she has had
a deal of trouble; a deal of trouble, poor dear. Not that
she ever speaks of it to me. But I know. I can see the
lines of grief and sorrow—like a worm in the bud, so to
speak, Sir—and it makes my heart ache. It does, indeed."
I mumbled sympathetically and continued to back
towards the door.
"I don't see very much of her," she continued in a
plaintive tone. "She keeps herself very close. Too close,
I think. You see, she does for herself entirely. Now
and again, when she asks me, which is very seldom, I put
a bit of supper in her room. That is all. And I do
think that it isn't good for a young woman to live so
solitary; and I do hope you'll make her take a little more
change.''
"I suppose she goes out sometimes," said I, noting that
she was out at the present moment.
"Oh, yes," was the reply. "She goes out a good deal.
But always alone. She never has any society."
"And what time does she usually come in?" I asked,
with a view to a later call.
"About six; or between that and seven. Then she
has her supper and puts the things out on the hall table.
And that is the last I usually see of her.''


DEALS WITH CHARITY
53
By this time I had reached the door and softly un-
fastened the latch.
"If you should see her," I said, "you might tell her that
I shall look in this evening about half-past seven."
"Certainly, Sir," she replied. "I shall see her at
lunch-time, and I will give her your message."
I thanked her, and, having now got the door open, I
wished her good morning, and retreated down the steps."
As I was in the act of turning away, my eye lighted on
the adjacent bay window, appertaining to the office of
Messrs. Japp and Bundy, and I then perceived above the
green curtain the upper half of a human face, including
a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles; an apparition
which informed me that Mr. Bundy had been—to use Sam
Weller's expression—"a-twigging of me." On catching
my eye, the face rose higher, disclosing a broad grin;
whereupon, without any apparent reason, I felt myself
turning somewhat red. However, I mounted the official
steps, and, opening the office door, confronted the smiler
and his more sedate partner.
"Ha!" said the former, "you drew a blank, doctor. I
saw the lovely Angelina go out about an hour ago.
Whom did you see?"
"The lady of the house, I presume; a pale, depressed
female."
"I know," said Bundy. "Looks like an undertaker's
widow. That's Mrs. Gillow. Rhymes with willow—very
appropriate, too," and he began to chant in an absurb,
Punch-like voice: "Oh, all round my hat I'll wear the
green"
"Be quiet, Bundy," said Mr. Japp, regarding his part-
ner with a wrinkly and indulgent smile.
Bundy clapped his hand over his mouth and blew out


54 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
V
his cheeks, and I took the opportunity to explain: "I
called on Mrs. Prood to let her know that her husband is
leaving the town."
"Leaving the town, is he?" said Mr. Japp, elevating
his eyebrows and thereby causing his forehead to resemble
a small Venetian blind. "Do you know when?"
"He goes this morning by the ten-thirty express to
London."
"Hooray!" ejaculated Bundy, with a flourish of his
arms that nearly capsized his stool. He recovered him-
self with an effort, and then, fixing his eyes on me, pro-
ceeded to whistle the opening bars of "0! Thou that
tellest good tidings to Zion!"
"That'll do, Bundy," said Mr. Japp. Then turning
to me, he asked: "Where did you learn these good tid-
ings, Doctor?"
I gave them a brief account of the happenings of the
previous night and this morning's sequel, to which they
listened with deep attention. When I had finished Mr.
Japp said: "You have done a very great kindness to my
friend Mrs. Frood. It will be an immense relief to her
to know that she can walk abroad without the danger of
encountering this man. Besides, if he had stayed here he
would probably have found her out."
"He might even have found her at home," said Bundy,
"and that would have been worse. So I propose a vote
of thanks to the doctor—with musical honours. For-hor
he's a jolly good fell"
"There, that'll do, Bundy, that'll do," said Mr. Japp.
"I never saw such a fellow. You'll have the neighbours
complaining.''
Bundy leaned towards me confidentially and remarked
in a stage whisper, glancing at his partner: "Fidgetty


DEALS WITH CHARITY
55
old cove; regular old kill-joy." Then, with a sudden
change of manner, he asked: "What about that wall job,
Japp? Are you going to have a look at them?"
"I can't go at present," said Japp. "Bulford will be
coming in presently and I must see him. Have you got
anything special to do?"
"Only old Jeff son's lease, and that can wait. Shall I
trot over and see what sort of mess they are making of
things?"
"I wish you would," said Japp; whereupon Mr. Bundy
removed his spectacles, stuck in his eye-glass, extracted
from the desk his hat and gloves which he assumed with
the aid of the looking-glass, and took his stick from the
corner. Then he looked at me reflectively and asked:
"Are you interested in archaeology, Doctor?"
'' Somewhat,'' I replied. '' Why do you ask?"
"Because we are putting some patches in the remains
of the city wall. It isn't much to look at, and there isn't
a great deal of the original Roman work left; but if you
would care to have a look at it you might walk up there
with me."
I agreed readily, being, as I have said, somewhat at a
loose end, and we set forth together, Bundy babbling
cheerfully as we went.
"I have often thought," said he, "that there must have
been something rather pleasant and restful about the
old walled cities, particularly after curfew when the gates
were shut—that is, provided you were inside at the time."
"Yes," said I. "An enclosed precinct has a certain
agreeable quality of seclusion that you can't get in an
open town or village. When I was a student, I lived for
a time in chambers in Staple Inn, and it was, as you say,
rather pleasant^ when one came home at night, and the


56
THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FEOOD
porter had let one in at the wicket, to enter and find the
gates closed, the courts all quiet and empty, and to know
that all traffic was stopped and all strangers shut out until
the morning. But it doesn't appear to be in accordance
with modern taste, for those old Chancery Inns have nearly
all gone, and there is no tendency to replace them with
anything similar."
"No," Bundy agreed, stopping to look up at an old
timber house, "taste in regard to buildings, if there is
any—Japp says there isn't—has changed completely in
the last hundred years or so. Look at this alley we are
in now. Every house has got a physiognomy of its own.
But when we rebuild it, we shall fill it up with houses
that will look as if they had been bought in packets like
match-boxes.''
Gossiping thus, we threaded our way through all sorts
of queer little alleys and passages. At length Bundy
stopped at a wooden gate in a high fence, and, pushing it
open, motioned for me to enter; and as I did so he drew
out the key which was in the lock and put it in his
pocket.
The place which we had entered was a space of waste
land, littered with the remains of some old houses that had
been demolished and enclosed on three sides by high
fences. The fourth side was formed by a great mass of
crumbling rubble, patched in places with rough masonry
and brickwork, and showing in its lower part the remains
of courses of Roman bricks. It rose to a considerable
height, and was evidently of enormous thickness, as could
be seen where large areas of the face had crumbled away,
exposing great cavities, in which wall-flowers, valerian and
other rock-haunting plants, had taken up their abode. On


DEALS WITH CHARITY
57
one of these a small gang of men were at work, and it was
evident that repairs on a considerable scale were con-
templated, for there were several large heaps of rough
stone and old bricks, and in a cart-shed in a corner of the
space were a large number of barrels of lime.
As we entered, the foreman came forward to meet us,
and Bundy handed him the key from the gate.
"Better keep it in your pocket," said he. "Mr. Japp
is rather particular about keys that he has charge of. He
doesn't like them left in doors or gates. How are the
men getting on?"
"As well as you can expect of a lot of casuals like
these," was the reply. "There isn't a mason or a brick-
layer among them, excepting that old chap that's mixing
the mortar. However, it's only a rough job."
We walked over to the part of the old wall where the
men were at work, and the appearances certainly justified
the foreman's last remark. It was a very rough job. The
method appeared to consist in building up outside the
cavity a primitive wall of unhewn stone with plenty of|
mortar, and, when it had risen a foot or two, filling up the
cavity inside with loose bricks, lumps of stone, shovelfuls
of liquid mortar, and chunks of lime.
I ventured to remark that it did not look a very secure
method of building, upon which Bundy turned his eye-
glass on me and smiled knowingly.
"My dear Doctor," said he, "you don't appear to
appreciate the subtlety of the method. The purpose of
these activities is to create employment. That has been
clearly stated by the town council. But if you want to
create employment you build a wall that will tumble down
and give somebody else the job of putting it up again."


58 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
Here, as a man suddenly bore down on us with a bucket
of mortar, Bundy hopped back to avoid the unclean con-
tact, and nearly sat down on a heap of smoking* lime.
"You had a narrow escape that time, mister," remarked
the old gentleman who presided over the mortar depart-
ment, as Bundy carefully dusted his delicate shoes with his
handkerchief; "that stuff would 'ave made short work of
them fine clothes of yourn."
"Would it?" said Bundy, dusting his shoes yet more
carefully and wiping the soles on the turf.
"Ah," rejoined the old man; "terrible stuff is quicklime.
Eats up everything same as what fire does." He rested,
his hands on his shovel, and, assuming a reminiscent air,
continued: "There was a pal o' mine what was skipper
of a barge. A iron barge, she was, and he had to take
on a lading of lime from some kilns. The stuff was put
aboard with a shoot. Well, my pal, he gets 'is barge
under the shoot and then 'e goes off, leavin' 'is mate to see
the lime shot into the hold. Well, it seems the mate had
been takin' some stuff aboard, too. Beer, or p'raps whisky.
At any rate, he'd got a skinful. Well, presently the
skipper comes back, and he sees 'em a-tippin' the trucks
of lime on to the shoot, and he sees the barge's hold be-
ginning to fill, but 'e don't see 'is mate nowhere. He
goes aboard, down to the cabin, but there ain't no signs
of the mate there, nor yet anywheres else. Well, they
gets the barge loaded and the hatch-covers on, and every-
thing ready for sea; and still there ain't no signs of the
mate. So my pal, rememberin' that the mate—his name
was Bill—rememberin' that Bill seemed a bit squiffy, sup-
posed he must 'ave gone overboard. So 'e takes on a fresh
hand temporary and off 'e goes on % trip.
"Well, they makes their port all right and brings up


DEALS WITH CHARITY
59
alongside the wharf, but owing to a strike among the trans-
port men they can't unload for about three weeks. How-
ever, when the strike is over, they rigs a whip and a basket
and begins to get the stuff out. All goes well until they
get down to the bottom tier. Then one of the men brings up
a bone on his shovel. 'Hallo!' says the skipper, 'what's
bones a-doin' in a cargo of fresh lime?' He rakes over
the stuff on the floor and up comes a skull with a hole in
*the top of it. 'Why, blow me,' says the skipper, 'if that
don't look like Bill. He warn't as thin in the face as all
that, but I seem to know them teeth.' Just then one of
the men finds a clay pipe—a nigger's head, it was—and
the skipper reckernizes it at once. 'That there's Bill's■
pipe,' sez he, 'and them bones is Bill's bones,' 'e sez. And
so they were. They found 'is belt-buckle and 'is knife,
and 'is trouser buttons and the nails out of 'is boots. And
that's all there was left of Bill. He must have tumbled
down into the hold and cracked his nut, and then the first
truckful of lime must 'ave covered 'im up. So, if you
sets any value on them 'andsome shoes o' yourn, don't
you go a-treadin' in quick lime."
Bundy looked down anxiously at his shoes, and, having
given them an additional wipe, he moved away from the
dangerous neighbourhood of the lime and we went to-
gether to examine the ancient wall.
"That was rather a tall yarn of the old man's,"■ re-
marked Bundy. "Is it a fact that lime is as corrosive as
he made out?"
"I don't really know very much about it," I replied.
"There is a general belief that it will consume almost
anything but metal. How true that is I can't say, but
I remember that at the Crippen trial one of the medical
experts—I think it was Pepper—said that if the body had


60 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
been buried in quicklime it would have been entirely con-
sumed—excepting the bones, of course. But it is diffi-
cult to believe that a body could disappear completely in
three weeks, or thereabouts, as our friend said. How
fine this old wall looks with those clumps of valerian and
wallflowers growing on it! I suppose it encircled the
town completely at one time ?''
"Yes," he replied, "and it is a pity there isn't more
of it left, or at least one or two of the gateways. A city
gate is such a magnificent adornment. Think of the gates
of Canterbury and Rye, and especially at Sandwich, where
you actually enter the town through the barbican; and
think of what Rochester must have been before all the
gates were pulled down. But you must hear Japp on the
subject. He's a regular architectural Jeremiah. By the
way, what did you think of Mrs. Frood? You saw her
last night, didn't you?"
"Yes. I was rather taken with her. She is very nice
and friendly and unaffected, and good-looking, too. I
thought her distinctly handsome."
"She isn't bad-looking," Bundy admitted. "But I
can't stand her voice. It gets on my nerves. I hate a
squeaky voice."
"I shouldn't call it squeaky," said I. "It is a high
voice, and rather sing-song; and it isn't, somehow, quite in
keeping with her appearance and manner."
"No," said Bundy, "that's what it is. She's too big
for a voice like that."
I laughed at the quaint expression. "People's voices,"
said I, "are not like steamers' whistles, graduated in pitch
according to their tonnage. Besides, Mrs. Frood is not
such a very big woman."
"She is a good size," said he. "I should call her rather


DEALS WITH CHARITY
61
tall. At any rate, she is taller than I am. But I suppose
you will say that she might be that without competing
with the late Mrs. Bates."
'' Comparisons between the heights of men and women,''
I said cautiously, "are rather misleading," and here I
changed the subject, though I judged that Bundy was not
sensitive in regard to his stature, for while he was clean-
ing the lime from his shoes I had noticed that he wore
unusually low heels. Nor need he have been, for though
on a small scale, he was quite an important-looking person.
"Don't you think," he asked, after a pause, "that it is
rather queer that the man Frood should have gone off so
soon? He only came down yesterday, and he can't have
made much of a search for Madame."
"The queer thing is that he should have come down on
that particular day," I replied. "It seems that he draws
a monthly allowance on the fifteenth. That was what made
him so anxious to get back; but it is odd that he didn't put
off his visit here until he had collected the money."
"If he had run his wife to earth, he could have collected
it from her," said Bundy. "I wonder how he found out
that she was here."
"He evidently hadn't very exact information," I said,
"nor did he seem quite certain that she really was here.
And his failure to get any news of her appears to have
discouraged him considerably. It is just possible that he
has gone back to get more precise information if he can,
when he has drawn his allowance."
"That is very likely," Bundy agreed; "and it is proba-
ble that we haven't seen the last of him yet."
"I have a strong suspicion that we haven't," said I.
"If he is sure she is here, and can get enough money to-
gether to come and spend a week here, he will be pretty


62 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
certain to discover her whereabouts. It is a dreadful posi-
tion for her. She ought to get a judicial separation."
"I doubt if she could," said he. "You may be sure he
would contest that application pretty strongly, and what
case would she have in support of it? He is an unclean
blighter; he doesn't work; he smokes and drinks too much,
and you say he takes drugs. But he doesn't seem to be
violent or dangerous or threatening, or to be on question-
able terms with other women—at least, I have never heard
anything to that effect. Have you?"
"No," I answered— I had said nothing to him or Japp
about the London incident. "He seems to have married
the only woman in the world who would look at him."
Bundy grinned. "An unkind cut, that, Doctor," said
he; "but I believe you're right. And here we are, back
at the official premises. Are you coming in?"
I declined the invitation, and as he skipped up the steps
I turned my face homewards.


CHAPTER V
JOHN THORNDYKE
THE sexual preferences or affinities of men and
women have always impressed me as very mys-
terious and inexplicable. I am referring to the
selective choice of individuals, not to the general attraction
of the sexes for one another. Why should a particular
pair of human beings single one another out from the
mass of their fellows as preferable to all others? Why to
one particular man does one particular woman and no
other become the exciting cause of the emotion of love?
It is not a matter of mere physical beauty or mental excel-
lence, for if it were men and women would be simply classi-
fiable into the attractive and the non-attractive; whereas
we find in practice that a woman who may be to the major-
ity of men an object of indifference, is to some one man an
object of passionate love; and vice-versa. Nor is love
necessarily accompanied by any delusions as to the worth
of its object, for it will persist in spite of the clear recog-
nition of personal defects and in conscious conflict with
judgment and reason.
The above reflections, with others equally profound,
occupied my mind as I sat on a rather uncomfortable little
rush-seated chair in the nave of Rochester Cathedral;
whither I had proceeded in obedience to orders from Mrs.
Dunk, to attend the choral afternoon service; and they
were occasioned by the sudden recognition—not without
surprise—of the very deep impression that had been made
on me by my patient, Mrs. Prood. For the intensity of
63
■
i


64 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA PROOD
that impression I could not satisfactorily account. It is
true that her circumstances were interesting and provoca-
tive of sympathy. But that was no reason for the haunt-
ing of my thoughts by her, of which I was conscious.
She was not a really beautiful woman, though I thought
her more than commonly good-looking; and she had evi-
dently made no particular impression on Bundy. Yet,
though I had seen her but three times, including my first
meeting with her a year ago, I had to recognize that she
had hardly been out of my thoughts since, and I was aware
of looking forward with ridiculous expectancy to my pro-
posed visit to her this evening.
Thus, speculations on the meaning of this preoccupation
mingled themselves with other speculations, as, for in-
stance, on the abrupt changes of intention suggested by
half of an Early English arch clapped up against a Nor-
man pier; and as my thoughts rambled on, undisturbed
by a pleasant voice, intoning with soothing unintelligibility
somewhere beyond the stone screen, I watched with lan-
guid curiosity the strangers who entered and stole on tip-
toe to the nearest vacant chair. Presently, however, as
the intoning voice gave place to the deep, pervading hum
of the organ, a visitor entered who instantly attracted my
attention.
He was obviously a personage—a real personage; not
one of those who have achieved greatness by the free use
of their elbows, or have had it thrust upon them by influ-
ential friends. This was an unmistakable thoroughbred.
He was a tall man, very erect and dignified in carriage,
and in spite of his iron-grey hair, evidently strong, active,
and athletic. But it was his face that specially riveted
my attention: not merely by reason that it was a hand-
some, symmetrical face, inclining to the Greek type, with
\
I
/ J


JOHN THORNDYKE
65
level brows, a fine, straight nose, and a shapely mouth,
but rather on account of its suggestion of commanding
strength and intelligence. It was a strangely calm—even
immobile—face; but yet it conveyed a feeling of attentive-
ness and concentration, and especially of power.
I watched the stranger curiously as he stepped quietly
to a seat not far from me, noting how he seemed to stand
out from the ordinary men who surrounded him, and won-
dering who he was. But I was not left to wonder very
long. A few moments later another visitor arrived, but
not a stranger this time; for in this newcomer I recognized
an old acquaintance, a Dr. Jervis, whom I had known when
I was a student and when he had taken temporary charge
of my uncle's practise. Since then, as I had learned,
he had qualified as a barrister and specialized in legal
medicine as the coadjutor of the famous medical jurist,
Dr. John Thorndyke.
For a few moments Jervis stood near the entrance look-
ing about the nave, as if in search of someone. Then, sud-
denly, his eye lighted on the distinguished stranger, and
he walked straight over to him and sat down by his side;
from which, and from the smile of recognition with which
he was greeted, I inferred that the stranger was none
other than Dr. Thorndyke himself.
Jr.vis had apparently not seen, or at least not recog-
nized me, but, as I observed that there was a vacant chair
by his side, I determined to renew our acquaintance and se-
cure, if possible, a presentation to his eminent colleague.
Accordingly, I crossed the nave, and, taking the vacant
chair, introduced myself, and was greeted with a cordial
hand-shake.
The circumstances did not admit of conversation, but
presently, when the anthem appeared to be drawing to a
i
i


66
THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
close, Jervis glanced at his watch and whispered to me:
"I want to hear all your news, Strangeways, and to intro-
duce you to Thorndyke; and we must get some tea before
we go to the station. Shall we clear out now?"
As I assented he whispered to Thorndyke, and we all
rose and filed silently towards the door, our exit covered
by the concluding strains of the anthem. As soon as we
were outside Jervis presented me to his colleague, and
suggested an immediate adjournment to some place of
refreshment. I proposed that they should come and have
tea with me, but Jervis replied: "I'm afraid we haven't
time to-day. There is a very comfortable teashop close
to the Jasperian gate-house. You had better come there
and then perhaps you can walk to the station with us."
We adopted this plan, and when we had established
ourselves on a settle by the window of the ancient, low-
ceiled room and given our orders to a young lady in a
becoming brown costume, Jervis proceeded to interrogate.
"And what might you be doing in Rochester, Strange-
ways?"
"Nominally," I replied, "I am engaged in medical
practice. Actually, I am a gentleman at large. I have
taken a death vacancy here, and I arrived yesterday
morning.''
"Any patients?" he inquired.
"Two at present," I answered. "One I brought down
with me and returned empty this morning. The other
is his wife."
"Ha," said Jervis, "a concise statement, but obscure.
It seems to require amplification."
I accordingly proceeded to amplify, describing in detail
my journey from town and my subsequent dealings with


68 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
The conversation now turned from my affairs to those
of my friends, and I ventured to inquire what had brought
them to Rochester.
"We came down," said Jervis, "to watch an inquest
for one of our insurance clients. But after all it has had
to be adjourned for a fortnight. So we may have the
pleasure of seeing you again."
"We won't leave it to chance," said I. "Let us settle
that you come to lunch with me, if that will be convenient.
You can fix your own time."
My two friends consulted, and, having referred to their
time-table, accepted the invitation for one o'clock on that
day fortnight; and when I had "booked the appointment,"
we finished our tea and sallied forth, making our way over
the bridge to Strood Station, at the main entrance to which
I wished them adieu.
As I turned away from the station and sauntered slowly
along the shore before recrossing the bridge, I recalled
the conversation of my two colleagues with a certain
vague discomfort. To both of them, it was evident, the
relations of my fair patient and her husband presented
sinister possibilities, although I had not informed them
of the actual murderous attack; and though the more
cautious reticent Thorndyke had seemed to minimize them,
his remarks had expressed what was already in my own
mind, accentuated by what I knew. These nervy, abnor-
mal men are never safe to deal with. Their unstable
emotions may be upset in a moment and then no one can
tell what will happen. It was quite possible that Frood
had come to Rochester with the perfectly peaceable in-
tention of inducing his wife to return to him. But this
was far from certain, and I shuddered to think of what
might follow a refusal on her part. I did not like that


JOHN THORNDYKE
69
knife. I have a sane man's dislike of lethal weapons of
all kinds; but especially do I dislike them in the hands of
those whose self-control is liable to break down suddenly.
It was true that this man had not succeeded in finding
his wife, and even seemed to have given up the search.
But I felt pretty certain that he had not. Somehow, he
had discovered that she was in the town, and from the
same source he might get further information; and, in
any case, I felt no doubt that he would renew the pursuit,
and that, in the end, he would find her. And then—
but at this point I found myself opposite the house and
observed Mrs. Gillow standing on the doorstep, fumbling
in her pocket for the latch-key. She had just extracted
it, and was in the act of inserting it into the latch when
I crossed the road and made my presence known. She
greeted me with a wan smile as I ascended the steps, and,
having by this time got the door open, admitted me to
the hall.
"I gave Mrs. Frood your message at lunch-time, sir,"
said she, in a depressed tone, "and I believe she has come
in." Here, having closed the street door, she rapped
softly with her knuckles at that of the front room, where-
upon the voice to which Bundy objected so much called
out: "Come in, Mrs. Gillow."
The latter threw the door open. "It is the doctor,
Madam,' said she; and on this announcement, I walked
in.
"I didn't hear you knock," said Mrs. Frood, rising,
and •holding out her hand.
£ "I didn't knock," I replied. "I sneaked in under
cover of Mrs. Gillow."
"That was very secret and cautious of you," said she.
"You make me feel like a sort of feminine Prince Charlie,


70 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
lying perdu in the robbers' cavern; whereas, I have ac-
tually been taking my walks abroad and brazenly look-
ing in the shop windows. But I have kept a sharp look-
out, all the same."
"There really wasn't any need," said I. "The siege
is raised.
"You don't mean that my husband has gone?" she
exclaimed.
"I do, indeed," I answered; and I gave her a brief
account of the events of the morning, suppressing my un-
official part in the transaction.
"Do you think," she asked, "that the matron paid his
fare out of her own pocket?"
"I am sure she didn't," I answered hastily. "She
touched some local altruist for the amount; it was only a
few shillings, you know."
"Still," she said, "I feel that I ought to refund those
few shillings. They were really expended for my benefit.''
"Well, you can't," I said with some emphasis. "You
couldn't do it without disclosing your identity, and then
you would have some philanthropist trying to effect a
reconciliation. Your cue is to keep yourself to yourself
for the present."
"For the present!" she echoed. "It seems to me that
I have got to be a fugitive for the rest of my natural life.
It is a horrible position, to have to live in a state of per-
petual concealment, like a criminal, and never dare to
make an acquaintance."
"Don't you know anyone in Rochester?" I asked.
"Not a soul," she replied, "excepting Mr. Japp, who is
a relative by marriage—he was my aunt's brother-in-law—
his partner, and Mrs. Gillow and you. And you all know
my position."


JOHN THORNDYKE
71
"Does Mrs. Gillow know the state of affairs?" I asked
in some surprise.
"Yes," she answered, "I thought it best to tell her, in
confidence, so that she should understand that I want to
live a quiet life."
"I suppose you haven't cut yourself off completely from
all your friends ?'' said I.
"Very nearly. I haven't many friends that I really
care about much, but I keep in touch with one or two of
my old comrades. But I have had to swear them to
secrecy—though it looks as if the secret had leaked out in
some way. Of course they all know Nicholas—my hus-
band."
"And I suppose you have been able to learn from them
how your husband views the separation?"
"Yes. Of course he thinks I have treated him abomi-
nably, and he evidently suspects that I have some motive
for leaving him other than mere dislike of his unpleasant
habits. The usual motive, in fact."
"What Sam Weller would call a 'priory attachment'?"
I suggested.
"Yes. He is a jealous and suspicious man by nature.
I had quite a lot of trouble with him in that way before that
final outbreak, though I have always been most circum-
spect in my relations with other men. Still, a woman
doesn't complain of a little jealousy. Within reason, it is
a natural, masculine failing."
"I should consider a tendency to use a knitted silk
necktie for purposes which I need not specify as going
rather beyond ordinary masculine failings," I remarked
drily; on which she laughed and admitted that perhaps it
was so. There was a short pause; then, turning to a fresh
subject, she asked:


72 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Do you think you will get any of Dr. Partridge's
practice?"
"I suspect not, or at any rate very little; and that re-
minds me that I have not yet inquired as to my patient's
condition. Are you any better?"
As I asked the question, I looked at her attentively, and
noted that she was still rather pale and haggard, so far as
I could judge by the subdued light of the shaded lamp,
and that the darkness under the eyes remained un-
diminished.
"I am afraid I am not doing you much credit," she
replied, with a faint smile. "But you can't expect any
improvement while these unsettled conditions exist. If
you could induce my respected husband to elope with an-
other woman you would effect an immediate cure."
"I am afraid," said I, "that is beyond my powers, to
say nothing of the inhumanity to the other woman. But
we must persevere. You must let me look in on you from
time to time, just to keep an eye on you."
"I hope you will," she replied, energetically. "If it
doesn't weary you to listen to my complaints and gossip a
little, please keep me on your visiting list. With the
exception of Mr. Japp, you are the only human creature
that I hold converse with. Mrs. Gillow is a dear, good
creature, but instinct warns me not to get on conversational
terms with her. She's rather lonely, too."
"Yes; you might find it difficult to turn the tap off.
I am always very cautious with housekeepers and land-
ladies."
She darted a mischievous glance at me. "Even if your
landlady happens to be your patient?" she asked.
I chuckled as I remembered our dual relationship.
"That," said I, "is an exceptional case. The landlady be-


JOHN THORNDYKE
73
comes merged in the patient, and the patient tends to be-
come a friend."
"The doctor," she retorted, "tends very strongly to be-
come a friend, and a very kind and helpful friend. I
think you have been exceedingly good to me—a mere waif
who has drifted across your horizon."
"Well," I said, "if you think so, far be it from me to
contradict you. One may as well pick up gratefully a
stray crumb of commendation that one doesn't deserve to
set off against the deserved credit that one doesn't get.
But I should like to think that all my good deeds in the
future will be as agreeable in the doing."
She gave me a prim little smile. "We are getting
monstrously polite," she remarked, upon which we both
laughed.
"However," said I, "the moral of it all is that you
ought to have a friendly medical eye kept on you, and,
as mine is the eye that happens to be available, and as
you are kind enough to accept the optical supervision, I
shall give myself the pleasure of looking in on you from
time to time to see how you are and to hear how the world
wags. What is the best time to find you at home?"
"I am nearly always at home after seven o'clock, but
perhaps that is not very convenient for you. I don't
know how you manage your practice."
"The fact is," said I, "that at present you are my
practice, so I shall adapt my visiting round to your cir-
cumstances, and make my call at, or after, seven. I sup-
pose you get some exercise ?''
"Oh, yes. Quite a lot. I walk out in the country, and
wander about Chatham and Gillingham and out to Frinds-
bury. I have been along the Watling Street as far as
Cobham. Rochester itself I rather avoid for fear of mak-


74 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
ing acquaintances, though it is a pleasant old town in spite
of the improvements."
As she spoke of these solitary rambles the idea floated
into my mind that, later on, I might perchance offer to
diminish their solitude. But I quickly dismissed it. Her
position was, in any case, one of some delicacy—that of a
young woman living apart from her husband. It would
be an act the very reverse of friendly to compromise her
in any way; nor would it tend at all to my own profes-
sional credit. A doctor's reputation is nearly as tender
as a woman's.
Our conversation had occupied nearly three quarters of
an hour, and, although I would willingly have lingered,
it appeared to me that I had made as long a visit as was
permissible. I accordingly rose, and, having given a few
words of somewhat perfunctory professional advice, shook
hands with my patient and let myself out.
*


76 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
should have warned me to keep away was the magnet that
drew me to her side.
However, there was one consoling fact: if the indiscre-
tion was mine, so by me alone were the consequences sup-
ported. Our relations were of the most unexceptionable
kind; indeed, she was not the sort of woman with whom
any man would have taken a liberty. As to my feelings
towards her, I could not pretend to deceive myself, but
similarly, I had no delusions as to her feelings towards
me. She welcomed my visits with that frank simplicity
that is delightful to a friend and hopeless to a lover. It
was plain to me that the bare possibility of anything be-
yond straightforward, honest friendship never entered her
head. But this very innocence and purity, while at once
a rebuke and a reassurance, but riveted my fetters the
more firmly.
Such as our friendship was (and disregarding the secret
reservation on my side), it grew apace; indeed, it sprang
into existence at our first meeting. There was between us
that ease and absence of reserve that distinguishes the
intercourse of those who like and understand one another.
I never had any fear of unwittingly giving offence. In
our long talks and discussions, we had no need of choosing
our words or phrases or of making allowances for possible
prejudices. We could say plainly what we meant with
the perfect assurance that it would be neither misunder-
stood nor resented. In short, if my feelings towards her
could only have been kept at the same level as hers towards
me, our friendship would have been perfect.
In the course of these long and pleasant gossiping visits,
I observed my patient somewhat closely, and, quite apart
from the personal affinity, I became more and more fa-
vourably impressed. She was a clever woman, quick and


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
77
alert in mind, and evidently well informed. She seemed
to be kindly, and was certainly amiable and even-tempered,
though not in the least weak or deficient in character.
Probably, in happier circumstances, she would have been
more gay and vivacious, for, though she was habitually
rather grave and even sombre, there were occasional flashes
of wit that suggested a naturally lively temperament.
As to her appearance—to repeat in more detail what I
have already said—she was a rather large woman, very
erect and somewhat stately in bearing; distinctly good-
looking (though of this I was not, perhaps, a very good
judge). Her features were regular, but not in any way
striking. Her expression was, as I have said, a little som-
bre and severe, the mouth firmly set and slightly depressed
at the corners, the eyebrows black, straight, and unusually
well-marked and nearly meeting above the nose. She had
an abundance of black, or nearly black, hair, parted low
on the forehead and drawn back loosely, covering the ears
and temples, and she wore a largish coil nearly on the top
of the head; a formal, matronly style that accentuated the
gravity of her expression.
Such was Angelina Frood as I looked on her in those
never-to-be-forgotten evenings; as she rises before the eyes
of memory as I write, and as she will remain in my recol-
lection so long as I live.
In this fortnight one really arresting incident had oc-
curred. It was just a week after my meeting with Dr.
Thorndyke, when, returning from a walk along the London
Road as far as Gad's Hill, I stopped on Rochester Bridge
to watch a barge which had just passed under, and was
rehoisting her lowered mast. As I was leaning on the
parapet, a man brushed past me, and I turned my head
idly to look at him. Then, in an instant, I started up; for


78 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
though the man's back was towards me, there was some-
thing unmistakably familiar in the gaunt figure, the seedy-
clothes, the great cloth cap, the shock of mouse-coloured
hair, and the thick oaken stick that he swung in his hand.
But I was not going to leave myself in any doubt on the
subject. Cautiously I began to retrace my steps, keeping
him in view but avoiding overtaking him, until he reached
the western end of the bridge, when he halted and looked
back. Then any possible doubt was set at rest. The man
was Nicholas Frood. I don't know whether he saw me;
he made no sign of recognition; and when he turned and
walked on, I continued to follow, determined to make sure
of his destination.
As I had hoped and expected, he took the road to the
right, leading to the river bank and the station. Still fol-
lowing him, I noted that he walked at a fairly brisk pace
and seemed to have recovered completely from his debility
—if that debility had not been entirely counterfeit. Op-
posite the pier he turned into the station approach, and
when from the corner I had watched him enter the station,
I gave up the pursuit, assuming that he was returning to
London.
But how long had he been in Rochester? What had he
been doing, and what success had he had in his search!
These were the questions that I asked myself as I walked
back over the bridge. Probably he had come down for
the day; and since he was returning, it was reasonable to
infer that he had had no luck. As I entered the town
and glanced up at the great clock that hangs out across
the street from the Corn Exchange, like a sort of horologi-
cal warming-pan, I saw that it was close upon eight. It
was a good deal after my usual time for calling on Mrs.
Frood, but the circumstances were exceptional and I felt


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
79
that it was necessary to ascertain whether anything un-
toward had occurred. I was still debating what I should
do when, as I came opposite the house, I saw Mrs. Gillow
coming out of the door. Immediately I crossed the road
and accosted her.
"Have you seen Mrs. Frood this evening, Mrs. Gillow?"
I asked, after passing the usual compliments.
"Yes, sir," was the reply. "I left her only a few
minutes ago working at one of the drawings that she does
for Mr. Japp. She seems better this evening—brighter
and more cheerful. I think your visits have done her
good, sir. It is a lonely life for a young woman—having
no one to talk to all through the long evenings. I'm
always glad to hear your knock, and so, I think, is she."
"I'm pleased to hear you say so, Mrs. Gillow," said I.
"However, as it is rather late, and she has something to
occupy her, I don't think I will call this evening."
With this I took my leave and went on my way in
better spirits. Evidently all was well so far. Neverthe-
less, the reappearance of this man was an uncomfortable
incident. It was clear that he had not given up the pur-
suit, and, seeing that Rochester was only some thirty miles
from London, it would be quite easy for him to make
periodical descents on the place to continue the search.
There was no denying that Mrs. Frood's position was ex-
tremely insecure, and I could think of no plan for making
it less so, excepting that of leaving Rochester, for a time
at least, a solution which ought to have commended itself
to me, but did not.
Perhaps it was this fact that decided me not to say
anything about the incident. The obvious thing was to
have told her and put her on her guard. But I persuaded
myself that it would only make her anxious to no purpose;


80 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
that she could not prevent him from coming nor could
she take any further measures for concealment. And then
there was the possibility that he might never come again.
So far as I know, he never did. During the rest of the
week I perambulated the town hour after hour, looking
into the shops, scanning the faces of the wayfarers in the
streets and even visiting the stations at the times when
the London trains were due; but never a glimpse did I
catch of that ill-omened figure.
And all the time, the shadows were deepening, and that
which cast them was drawing nearer.
It was nearly a week after my meeting with Nicholas
Frood that an event befell at which I looked askance at
the time and which was, as it turned out, the opening scene
of a new act. It was on the Saturday. I am able to fix
the date by an incident, trivial enough in itself, but im-
portant by reason of its forming thus a definite point of
departure. My visitors were due on the following Monday,
and it had occurred to me that I had better lay in a little
stock of wine; and as Mr. Japp was an old resident who
knew everybody in the town, I decided to consult him as to
the choice of a wine merchant.
It was a little past mid-day when I arrived at the office,
and as I entered I observed that some kind of conference
was in progress. A man, whom I recognized as the fore-
man of the gang who were working on the old wall, was
standing sheepishly with his knuckles resting on the table;
Bundy had swung round on his stool and was glaring
owlishly through his great spectacles, while Mr. Japp was
sitting bolt upright, his forehead in a state of extreme cor-
rugation and his eyes fixed severely on the foreman.
"I suppose," said Bundy, "you left it in the gate?"
"I expect Evans did," replied the foreman. "You see,


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
81
I had to call in at the office, so I gave the key to Evans
and told him to go on with the other men and let them in.
When I got there the gate was open and the men were
at work, and I forgot all about the key until it was time
to come away and lock up. Then I asked Evans for it,
and he said he'd left it in the gate. But when I went to
look for it it wasn't there. Someone must have took it
out."
"Doesn't seem very likely," said Bundy. "However,
I suppose it will turn up. It had one of our wooden
labels tied to it. Shall I give him the duplicate to lock
up the place?"
"You must, I suppose," said Japp; "but it must be
brought straight back and given to me. You understand,
Smith? Bring it back at once, and deliver it to me or to
Mr. Bundy. And look here, Smith. I shall offer ten
shillings reward for that key; and if it is brought back
and I have to pay the reward you will have to make it up
among you. You understand that ?''
Smith indicated grumpily that he understood; and when
Bundy had handed him the duplicate key, he took his de-
parture in dudgeon.
When he had gone I stated my business, and Bundy
pricked up his ears.
"Wine, hey?" said he, removing his spectacles and as-
suming his eyeglass. "Tucker will be the man for him,
won't he, Japp? Very superior wine merchant is Tucker.
Old and crusted; round and soft; rare and curious. I'd
better pop round with him and introduce him, hadn't I?
You'll want to taste a few samples, I presume, Doctor?"
"I'm not giving a wholesale order," said I, smiling at
his enthusiasm. "A dozen or so of claret and one or two
bottles of port is all I want."


82 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"Still," said Bundy, "you want to know what the stuff's
like. Not going to buy a pig in a poke. You'll have to
taste it, of course. IH help you. Two heads are better
than one. Come on. You said Tucker, didn't you,
Japp?"
"As a matter of fact," said Japp, wrinkling his face
up into an appreciative smile, "I didn't say anything.
But Tucker will do; only he won't let you taste anything
until you have bought it."
'' Won't he!" said Bundy. '' We shall see. Come along,
Doctor."
He dragged me out of the office and down the steps, and
we set forth towards the bridge; but we had not walked
more than a couple of hundred yards when he suddenly
shot up a narrow alley and beckoned to me mysteriously.
I followed him up the alley, and as he halted I asked:
"What have you come here for?"
"I want you," he replied impressively, "to take a look
at this wall."
I scrutinized the wall with minute attention but failed
to discover any noteworthy peculiarities in it.
"Well," I said, at length, "I don't see anything unusual
about this wall."
"Neither do I," he replied, looking furtively down the
alley.
"Then, what the deuce—" I began.
"It's all right," said he. "She's gone. That damsel
in the pink hat. I just popped up here to let her pass.
The fact is," he explained, as he emerged cautiously into
the High Street, glancing up and down like an Indian on
the war-path, "these women are the plague of my life;
always trying to hook me for teas or bazaars or garden


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
83
fetes or some sort of confounded foolishness; and that
pink-hatted lady is a regular sleuth-hound."
We walked quickly along the narrow pavement, Bundy
looking about him warily, until we reached the wine-
merchant's premises, into which my companion dived like
a harlequin and forthwith proceeded to introduce me and
my requirements. Mr. Tucker was a small, elderly man;
old and crusted and as dry as his own Amontillado; but
he was not proof against Bundy's blandishments. Before
I had had time to utter a protest, I found myself in a dark
cavern at the rear of the shop, watching Mr. Tucker fill
a couple of glasses from a mouldy-looking cask.
"Ha!" said Bundy, sipping the wine with a judicial
air. "H'm. Yes. Not so bad. Slightly corked, per-
haps."
"Corked!" exclaimed Tucker, staring at Bundy in
amazement. "How can it be corked when it is just out
of the cask?"
"Well, bunged, then," Bundy corrected.
"I never heard of wine being bunged," said Tucker.
"There's no such thing."
"Isn't there? Well, then, it can't be. Must be my
fancy. What do you think of it, Doctor?"
"It seems quite a sound claret," said I, inwardly wish-
ing my volatile friend at the devil, for I felt compelled, by
way of soothing the wine merchant's wounded feelings,
to order twice the quantity that I had intended. We had
just completed the transaction, and were crossing the outer
shop when the doorway became occluded by two female
figures, and Bundy uttered a half-suppressed groan. I
drew aside to make way for the newcomers—two ladies
whom polite persons would have described as middle-aged,


84 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
on the assumption that they contemplated a somewhat
extreme degree of longevity—and I was aware that Bundy
was endeavouring to take cover behind me. But it was of
no use. One of them espied him instantly and announced
her discovery with a little squeak of ecstasy.
"Why, it's Mr. Bundy. I do declare! Now, where
have you been all this long time? It's ages and ages and
ages since you came to see us, isn't it, Martha? Let me
see, now, when was it?" She fixed a reflective eye on her
companion, while Bundy smiled a sickly smile and glanced
* wistfully at the open door.
"I know," she exclaimed, triumphantly. "It was when
we had the feeble-minded children to tea, and Mr. Blote
showed them the gold fish trick—at least he tried to, but
the glass bowl stuck in the bag under his coat-tails and
wouldn't come out; and when he tried to pull it out it
broke"
"I think you are mistaken, Marian," the other lady
interrupted. "It wasn't the feeble-minded tea. It was
after that, when we helped the Jewbury-Browns to get
up that rumble sale"
"Jumble sale, you mean, dear," her companion cor-
rected.
"I mean rummage sale," the lady called Martha in-
sisted, severely. "If you will try to recall the circum-
stances, you will remember that the jumble sale took place
after"
"Not after," the other lady corrected. "It was be-
fore—several days before, I should say, speaking from a
somewhat imperfect memory. If you will try to recollect,
Martha, dear"
"I recollect quite distinctly," the lady called Martha
interposed, a little haughtily. "There was the feeble-


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
85
minded tea—that was on a Tuesday—or was it a Thursday
—no, it was a Tuesday, or at least—well, at any rate, it
was some days before the jum—rum"
"Not at all," the other lady dissented emphatically.
At this point, catching the eye of the lady called
Marian, I crept by slow degrees out on the threshold and
turned an expectant eye on Bundy. The rather broad
hint took immediate effect, for the lady said to her com-
panion: "I am afraid, Martha, dear, you are detaining
Mr. Bundy and his friend. Good-bye, Mr. Bundy.
Shall we see you next Friday evening? We are giving a
little entertainment to the barge-boys. We are inviting
them to come and bring their mouth-organs and get up a
little informal concert. Do come if you can. We shall
be so delighted. Good-bye."
Bundy shook hands effusively with the two ladies and
darted out after me, seizing my arm and hurrying me along
the pavement.
"Bit of luck for me, Doctor, having you with me. If
I had been alone and unprotected I shouldn't have escaped
for half-an-hour; and I should have been definitely booked
for the barge-boys' pandemonium. Hallo! What's Japp
up to? Oh, I see. He's sticking up the notice about that
key. I ought to have done that. Japp writes a shocking
fist. I must see if it is possible to make it out."
As we approached the office I glanced at the sheet of
paper which Mr. Japp had just affixed to the window, and
was able to read the rather crabbed heading, "Ten Shil-
lings Reward." The rest of the inscription being of no
interest to me, I wished Bundy adieu and went on my way,
leaving him engaged in a critical inspection of the notice.
Happening to look back a few moments later, I saw him
still gazing earnestly at the paper, all unconscious of a


86 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
lady in a pink hat who was tripping lightly across the
road and bearing down on him with an alluring smile.
Threading my way among the foot-passengers who filled
the narrow pavements, I let my thoughts ramble idly from
subject to subject; from the expected visit of my two
friends on the following Monday to the alarming character
of the local feminine population. But always they tended
to come back to my patient, Mrs. Frood. I had seen her
on the preceding night and had been very ill-satisfied
with her appearance. She had been paler than usual—
more heavy-eyed and weary-looking; and she had impressed
me as being decidedly low-spirited. It seemed as though
the continual uncertainty and unrest, the abiding threat
of some intolerable action on the part of her worthless
husband, were becoming more than she could endure; and
unwillingly I was beginning to recognize that it was my
duty, both as her doctor and as her friend, to advise her to
move, at least for a time, to some locality where she would
be free from the constant fear of molestation.
The question was: when should I broach the subject?
And that involved the further question: when should I
make my next visit? Inclination suggested the present
evening, but discretion hinted that I ought to allow a de-
cent interval between my calls; and thus oscillating between
the two, I found myself in a state of indecision which
lasted for the rest of the day. Eventually discretion con-
quered, and I decided to postpone the visit and the pro-
posal until the following evening.
The decision was reached about the time I should have
been setting forth to make the visit, and no sooner had
that time definitely passed than I began to regret my
resolution and to be possessed by a causeless anxiety. Rest-
lessly I wandered from room to room; taking up books,


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
87
opening them and putting them down again, and generally
displaying the typical symptoms of an acute attack of
fidgets until Mrs. Dunk proceeded with a determined air
to lay the supper, and drew my attention to it with an
emphasis which it was impossible to disregard.
I had just drawn the cork of a bottle of Mr. Tucker's
claret when the door-bell rang, an event without precedent
in my experience. Silently I replaced the newly-extracted
cork and listened. Apparently it was a patient, for I
heard the street door close and footsteps proceed to the
consulting-room. A minute later Mrs. Dunk opened the
dining-room door and announced:
"Mrs. Frood to see you, sir."
With a slight thrill of anxiety at this unexpected visit,
I strode out, and, crossing the hall, entered the somewhat
dingy and ill-lighted consulting-room. Mrs. Frood was
seated in the patients' chair, but she rose as I entered and
held out her hand; and as I grasped it, I noticed how tall
she looked in her outdoor clothes. But I also noticed that
she was looking even more pale and haggard than when
I had seen her last.
'' There is nothing the matter, I hope ?'' said I.
"No," she answered; "nothing much more than usual;
but I have come to present a petition."
I looked at her inquiringly, and she continued:
"I have been sleeping very badly, as you know. Last
night I had practically no sleep at all, and very little the
night before; and I feel that I really can't face the pros-
pect of another sleepless night. Would you think it very
immoral if I were to ask you for something that would
give me a few hours' rest?"
"Certainly not," I answered, though with no great en-
thusiasm, for I am disposed to take hypnotics somewhat


88 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
seriously. "You can't go on without sleep. I will give
you one or two tablets to take before you go to bed. They
will secure you a decent night's rest, and then I hope
you will feel a little brighter.''
"I hope so," she said, with a weary sigh.
I looked at her critically. She was, as I have said, pale
and haggard; but there seemed to be something more; a
certain wildness in her eyes and a suggestion of fear.
"You are not looking yourself at all to-night," I said.
"What is it?"
"I don't know," she answered. "The same old thing,
I suppose. But I do feel rather miserable. I seem to have
come to the end of my endurance. I look into the future
and it all seems dark. I am afraid of it. In fact, I seem
to have—you'll think me very silly, I know—but I have
a sort of presentiment of evil. Of course, it's all non-
sense. But that is what I feel."
"Is there any reason for this presentiment?" I asked
uneasily; for my thoughts flew at once to that ill-omened
figure that I had seen on the bridge. "Has anything
happened to occasion these forebodings?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," she replied. But she
spoke without looking at me—an unusual thing for her to
do—and I found in her answer something ambiguous and
rather evasive. Could it be that she had seen her husband
on that day when I had followed him? Or had he been
in the town again—this very day, perhaps? Or was there
something yet more significant, something even more
menacing? That this deep depression of spirits, these fore-
bodings, were not without some exciting cause I felt the
strongest suspicion. But whatever the cause might be,
she was evidently unwilling to speak about it.
While I was speculating thus, I found myself looking her


THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
89
over with a minute attention of which I was not conscious
at the time; noting little trivial details of her appearance
and belongings with an odd exactness of observation. My
eyes travelled over the little hand-bag, stamped with her
initials, that rested on her lap; her dainty, high-heeled
shoes with their little oval buckles of darkened bronze; the
small brooch at her throat with the large opal in the middle
and the surrounding circle of little pearls, and even noted
that one of the pearls was missing and that the vacant
place corresponded to the figure three on a clock-dial. And
then they would come back to her face; to the set mouth
and the downcast eyes with their expression of gloomy
reverie.
I was profoundly uneasy and was on the point of opening
the subject of her leaving the town. Then I decided that
I would see her on the morrow and would go into the mat-
ter then. Accordingly I went into the surgery and put a
few tablets of sulphonal into a little box, and having
stuck one of Dr. Partridge's labels on it, wrote the direc-
tions and then wrapped it up and sealed it.
"There," I said, giving it to her, "take a couple of those
tablets and go to bed early, and let me find you looking
a little more cheerful to-morrow."
She took the packet and dropped it into her bag. "It is
very good of you," she said warmly. "I know you don't
like doing it, and that makes it the more kind. But I
will do as you tell me. I have just to go in to Chatham,
but when I get back I will go to bed quite early.''
I walked with her to the door, and when I had opened it
she stopped and held out her hand. "Good night," she
said, "and thank you so very much. I expect you will
find me a great deal better to-morrow." She pressed my
hand slightly, made me a little bow, smiled, and, turning


90 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
away, passed out; and I now noticed that the haze which
had hung over the town all the afternoon had thickened
into a definite fog. I stepped out on to the threshold and
watched her as she walked quickly down the street, follow-
ing the erect, dignified figure wistfully with my eyes as
it grew more and more shadowy and unsubstantial until
it faded into the fog and vanished. Then I went in to my
solitary supper, with an unwonted sense of loneliness; and
throughout the long evening I turned over again and again
our unsatisfying talk and wondered afresh whether that
presentiment of evil was but the product of insomnia and
mental fatigue, or whether behind it was some sinister
reality.


CHAPTER VII
MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM
NINE o'clock on the following morning found me
still seated at the breakfast table, with the
debris of the meal before me and the Sunday
paper propped up against the coffee-pot. It was a pleas-
ant, sunny morning at the end of April. The birds were
twittering joyously in the trees at the back of the house, a
premature bluebottle perambulated the window-pane, after
an unsuccessful attempt to crawl under the dish-cover, and
somewhere in the town an optimistic bell-ringer was en-
deavouring to lure unwary loiterers out of the sunshine
into the shadow of the sanctuary.
It was all very agreeable and soothing. The birds were
delightful in the exuberance of their spirits; even the blue-
bottle was a harbinger of summer; and the solo of the bell-
ringer, softened by distance, impinged gently on the ap-
preciative ear, awakening a grateful sense of immunity.
The sunshine and the placid sounds were favourable
to reflection, which the Sunday paper was powerless to
disturb. As my eye roamed inattentively down the incon-
sequent column of printers' errors, my mind flitted, beelike,
from topic to topic; from my vague professional prospects
to the visitors whom I was expecting on the morrow
and from them to the rather disturbing incident of the
previous evening. But here my thoughts had a tendency
to stick; and I was just considering whether the propri-
eties admitted of my making a morning call on Mrs. Frood,
with a view to clearing up the obscurity, when the street-
91


92 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
door bell rang. The unusual sound at such an unlikely
time caused me to sit up and listen with just a tinge of
uneasy expectancy. A few moments later Mrs. Dunk
opened the door, and having stated concisely and impas-
sively, "Mrs. Gillow," retired, leaving the door ajar. I
started up in something approaching alarm, and hurried
across to the consulting-room, where I found Mrs. Gillow
standing by the chair with anxiety writ large on her melan-
choly face.
"There's nothing amiss, I hope, Mrs. Gillow?" said I.
"I am sorry to say there is, sir," she replied. "I hope
you'll excuse me for disturbing you on a Sunday morning,
but I thought, as you were her doctor, and a friend, too,
and I may say"
"But what has happened?" I interrupted impatiently.
"Why, sir, the fact is that she went out last night and
she hasn't come back."
"You are quite sure she hasn't come back?"
"Perfectly. I saw her just before she went out, and
she said she was coming to see you, to get something to
make her sleep, and then she was just going into Chatham,
and that she would be back soon, so that she could go to
bed early. I sat up quite late listening for her, and before
I went to bed I went down and knocked at both her doors,
and as I didn't get any answer, I looked into both rooms.
But she wasn't in either, and her little supper was un-
touched on the table in the sitting-room. I couldn't sleep
a wink all night for worrying about her, and the first thing
this morning I went down, and, when I found the door un-
bolted and unchained, I went into her rooms again. But
there was no sign of her. Her supper was still there, un-
touched, and her bed had not been slept in."
"Did you look downstairs?" I asked.


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 93
"Yes. She usually kept the door of the basement stairs
locked, I think, but it was unlocked this morning, so I
went down and searched all over the basement; but she
wasn't there."
"It is very extraordinary, Mrs. Gillow," I said, "and
rather alarming. I certainly understood that she was
going home as soon as she had been to Chatham. By
the way, do you know what she was going to Chatham
for?"
"I don't, sir. She might have been going there to do
some shopping, but it was rather late, though it was Satur-
day night."
"You don't know, I suppose, whether she took any things
with her—though she couldn't have taken much, as she
had only a little handbag with her when she came here."
"She hasn't taken any of her toilet things," said Mrs.
Gillow, "because I looked over, her dressing-table, and all
her brushes and things were there; and, as you say, she
couldn't have taken much in that little bag. What do
you think we had better do, sir?"
"I think," said I, "that, in the first place, I will go
and see Mr. Japp. He is a relative and knows more about
her than we do, and, of course, it will be for him to take
any measures that may seem necessary. At any rate, I
will see him and hear what he says."
"Don't you think we ought to let the police know?"
she asked.
"Well, Mrs. Gillow," I said, "we mustn't be too hasty.
Mrs. Frood had reasons for avoiding publicity. Perhaps
we had better not busy ourselves too much until we are
quite certain that she has gone. She may possibly return
in the course of the day."
"I am sure I hope so," she replied despondently. "But


94 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
I am very much afraid she won't. I have a presentiment
that something dreadful has happened to her."
"Why do you say that?" I asked. "Have you any
reason for thinking so?"
"I have no actual reason," she answered, "but I have
always thought that there was something behind her fear
of meeting her husband."
Having no desire to discuss speculative opinions, I made
no direct reply to this. Apparently Mrs. Gillow had no
more to tell, and as I was anxious to see Mr. Japp and hear
if he could throw any light on the mystery, I adjourned
the discussion on which she would have embarked and
piloted her persuasively towards the door. "I shall see
you again later, Mrs. Gillow," I said, "and will let you
know if I hear anything. Meanwhile, I think you had
better not speak of the matter to anybody."
As soon as she was gone I made rapid preparations to
go forth on my errand, and a couple of minutes later was
speeding down the street at a pace dictated rather by the
agitation of my mind than by any urgency of purpose.
Although, by an effort of will, I had preserved a quiet,
matter-of-fact demeanour while I was talking to Mrs. Gil-
low, her alarming news had fallen on me like a thunder-
bolt; and even now, as I strode forward swiftly, my
thoughts seemed numbed by the suddenness of the catas-
trophe. That something terrible had happened I had
little more doubt than had Mrs. Gillow, and a good deal
more reason for my fears; for that last interview with
the missing woman, looked back upon by the light of her
unaccountable disappearance, now appeared full of dread-
ful suggestions. I had thought that she looked frightened,
and she admitted to a presentiment of evil. Of whom or
of what was she afraid?


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 95
And what did she mean by a presentiment? Reason-
able people do not have gratuitous presentiments; and I
recalled her evasive reply when I asked if she had any
reasons for her foreboding of evil. Now, there was little
doubt that she had; that the shadow of some impending
danger had fallen on her and that she knew it.
As I approached the premises of Japp and Bundy, I was
assailed by a sudden doubt as to whether Mr. Japp lived
there; and this doubt increased when I had executed two
loud knocks at the door without eliciting any response.
I was just raising my hand to make a third attack when I
became aware of Bundy's head rising above the curtain of
the office window; and even in my agitation I could not
but notice its extremely dishevelled state. His hair—
usually "smarmed" back neatly from the forehead and
brushed over the crown of his head—now hung down un-
tidily over his face like a bunch of rat's tails, and the un-
usualness of his appearance was increased by the fact that
he wore neither spectacles nor the indispensable eye-
glass. The apparition, however, was visible but for a mo-
ment, for even as I glanced at him he made a sign to me
to wait and forthwith vanished.
There followed an interval of about a minute, at the
end of which the door opened and I entered, discovering
Bundy behind it in a dressing-gown and pyjamas, but
with his hair neatly brushed and his eye-glass duly ad-
justed.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Doc," said he. "Fact is,
your knock woke me. The early bird catches the worm in
his pyjamas."
"I apologize for disturbing your slumbers," said I, "but
I wanted to see Japp. Isn't he in?"
"Japp doesn't live here," said Bundy, motioning to me


96 THE MYSTEEY OF ANGELINA FROOD
to follow him upstairs. "He used to, but the house began
to fill up with the business stuff and we had to make a
drawing office and a store-room, so he moved off to a house
on Boley Hill, and now I live here like Robinson Crusoe."
"Do you mean that you do your own cooking and house-
work?"
"Lord, no," he replied. "I get most of my meals at
ffapp's place. Prepare my own breakfast sometimes—I'm
going to now: and I make tea for us both. Got a little gas-
stove in the kitchen. And a charlady comes in every day
to wash up and do my rooms. If you are not in a hurry,
I'll walk round with you to Japp's house."
"I am in rather a hurry," said I; "at least—well, I
don't know why I should be; but I am rather upset. The
fact is, a very alarming thing has happened. I have just
heard of it from Mrs. Gillow. It seems that Mrs. Frood
went out last evening and has not come back."
Bundy whistled. "She's done a bolt," said he. "I
wonder why. Do you think she can have run up against
hubby in the town?"
"I don't believe for a moment that she has gone away
voluntarily," said I. "She came to see me last night to
get a sedative because she couldn't sleep, and she said that
she was going home as soon as she had been to Chatham,
and that she was going to take her medicine and go to bed
early."
"That might have been a blind," suggested Bundy; "or
she might have run up against her husband in Chatham."
I shook my head impatiently. "That is all nonsense,
Bundy. A woman doesn't walk off into space in that fash-
ion. Something has happened to her, I feel sure. I only
hope it isn't something horrible; one doesn't dare to think
of the possibilities that the circumstances suggest."


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 97
"No," said Bundy, "and it's better not to. Great mis-
take to let your imagination run away with you. Don't
you worry, Doc. She'll probably turn up all right, or send
Japp a line to say where she has gone to."
"Devil take it, Bundy!" I exclaimed irritably, "you are
talking as if she were just a cat that had strayed away.
If you don't care a hang what becomes of her, I do. I
am extremely alarmed about her. How soon will you be
ready?"
"I'll run and get on my things at once," he replied,
with a sudden change of manner. "You must excuse me,
old chap. I didn't realize that you were so upset. I'll
be with you in a few minutes and then we will start. Japp
will be able to give me some breakfast."
He bustled off—to the next room, as I gathered from
the sound—and left me to work off my impatience by gaz-
ing out of the window and pacing restlessly up and down
the barely-furnished sitting-room. But, impatient as I was,
the rapidity with which he made his toilet surprised me,
for in less than ten minutes he reappeared, spick and span,
complete with hat, gloves, and stick, and announced that
he was ready.
"I am not usually such a sluggard," he said, as we
walked quickly along the street, "but yesterday evening I
got a novel. I ought not to read novels. When I do, I
am apt to make a single mouthful of it; and that is what
I did last night. I started the book at nine and finished
it at two this morning; and the result is that I am as
sleepy as an owl even now."
In illustration of this statement he gave a prodigious
yawn and then turned up the steep little thoroughfare,
where he presently halted at the door of a small, old-
fashioned house and rang the bell. The door was opened


98 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
by a middle-aged servant, from whom he learned that Mr.
Japp was at home, and to whom Bundy communicated his
needs in the matter of breakfast. We found Mr. Japp
seated by the dining-room window, studying a newspaper
with the aid of a large pipe, and Bundy proceeded to intro-
duce me and the occasion of my visit in a few crisp sen-
tences.
Mr. Japp's reception of the news was very different
from his partner's. Starting up from his chair and tak-
ing his pipe from his mouth, he gazed at me for some sec-
onds in silent dismay.
"I suppose," he said at length, "there is no mistake.
It is really certain that she did not come back last night?"
"I am afraid there is no doubt of the fact," I replied,
and I gave him the details with which Mrs. Gillow had
furnished me.
"Dear! dear!" he exclaimed. "I don't like the look of
this at all. What the deuce can have happened to her?"
Here Bundy repeated the suggestion that he had made
to me, but Japp shook his head. "She wouldn't have
gone off without letting me or the doctor know. Why
should she 1 We are friends, and she knew she could trust
us. Besides, the thing isn't possible. A middle-class
woman can't set out like a tramp without any luggage or
common necessaries. There's only one possibility," he
added after a pause. "She might have seen Nicholas
prowling about and gone straight to the station and taken
a train to London. One of her woman friends would have
been able to put her up for the night."
"Or," suggested Bundy, "she might even have gone up
to town with Nick himself if he met her and threatened to
make a scene."
"Yes," said Japp doubtfully, "that is, I suppose,


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 99
possible. But it isn't in the least likely. For that matter,
nothing is likely. It is a most mysterious affair, and very
disturbing, very disturbing, indeed."
'The question is," said I, "what is to be done? Do you
think we ought to communicate with the police?"
"Well, no," he replied; "not immediately. If we don't
| hear anything, say to-morrow, I suppose we shall have to.
But we had better not be precipitate. If we go to the
police, we shall have to tell them everything. Let us give
her time to communicate, in case she has had to make a
sudden retirement—a clear forty-eight hours, as it is a
week-end. But we had better make some cautious in-
» quiries meanwhile. I suggest that we walk up to the hos-
pital. They know me pretty well there, and I could just
informally ascertain whether any accidents had been ad-
mitted, without giving any detailed reasons for the inquiry.
Are you coming with us, Bundy?"
"Yes," replied Bundy, who, having been provided with
a light breakfast, was despatching it with lightning speed;
"I shall be ready by the time you have got your boots on."
A few minutes later we set forth together, and made
our way straight to the hospital. Bundy and I waited
outside while Japp went in to make his inquiries; and,
as we walked up and down, my imagination busied itself
in picturing the hideous possibilities suggested by a some-
what extensive experience of the casualty department of
a general hospital. Presently Japp emerged, shaking his
head.
"She is not there," said he. "There were no casualties
of any kind admitted last night or since."
"Is there no other hospital?" I asked.
"None but the military hospital," he replied. "All the
casualties from the district would be brought here. So


100 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
we seem to be at the end of our resources, short of in-
quiring at the police-station; and even if that were advis-
able, it would be useless, for if—anything had happened—
—anything, I mean, that we hope has not happened—Mrs.
Gillow would have heard. She will be sure to have had
something about her by which she could have been
identified."
"She had," said I. "The little box that I gave her
had her name and my address on it."
"Then," said Japp. "I don't see that we can do any-
thing more. We can only wait until to-morrow evening
or Tuesday morning, and if we don't get any news of her
by then, notify the police."
Unwillingly I had to admit that this was so; and when
I had walked back with the partners to Mr. Japp's house,
I left them and proceeded to report to Mrs. Gillow and to
ascertain whether, in the meantime, she had received any
tidings of her missing tenant.
It was with more of fear than hope that I plied the fa-
miliar knocker, but the eager, expectant face that greeted
me when the door opened, while it relieved the one,
banished the other. She had heard nothing, and when I
had communicated my own unsatisfactory report she
groaned and shook her head.
"You are quite sure," I said, after an interval of si-
lence, "that she did not return from Chatham?"
"I don't see how she could have done," was the reply.
"You see, it was like this: I was going to see my sister at
Frindsbury, and as I came down to the hall, Mrs. Frood
opened her door and spoke to me. She had her hat on
then, and she told me she was coming to you, and then go-
ing on to Chatham, but that she would be back pretty soon,


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 101
and was going to bed early. I went out, leaving her at
her room door, and took the tram to Frindsbury, and I
got back home about a quarter to ten. Her sitting-room
door was open, and I could see that she hadn't gone to
bed, because her lamp was alight and her supper tray was
on the table and hadn't been touched. I knocked at her
bedroom door, but there was no answer, so I went upstairs
and sat up listening for her, and before I went to bed I
went down again, as I told you."
"What time was it when you went out?" I asked.
"About a quarter past eight. I told her I was going to
Frindsbury, and that I should be home before ten, and I
asked her not to bolt the door if she came in before me."
"Then," said I, "she must have gone out directly after
you, because it was only a little after half-past eight when
she called on me; and presumably she went straight on to
Chatham. If we only knew what she was going there for
we might be able to trace her. Did she know anybody at
Chatham?"
"So far as I know," replied Mrs. Gillow, "she didn't
know anybody here but you and Mr. Japp. I can't im-
agine what she could have been going to Chatham for."
After a little further talk, I took my leave and walked
homeward in a very wretched frame of mind. Tormented
as I was with a gnawing anxiety, inaction was intolerable.
Yet there was nothing to be done; nothing but to wait in
the feeble hope that the morning might bring some message
of relief, and with a heavy foreboding that the tidings,
when they came, would be evil tidings. But I found it
impossible to wait passively at home. At intervals dur-
ing the day I went forth to wander up and down the
streets; and some impulse which I hardly dared to rec-


102 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
ognize directed my steps again and again to the wharves
and foreshore that lie by the bend of the river between
Rochester and Chatham.
On the following morning I betook myself as early as I
decently could to the office of Japp and Bundy. No letter
had arrived by the early post, nor, when I repeated my
visit later, was there any news, either by post or telegram,
or from Mrs. Gillow. I paid a furtive visit to the police-
station and glanced nervously over the bills on the notice-
board, and I made another perambulation of the water-
side districts, which occupied me until it was time for me
to repair to the station to meet the train by which my
friends were expected to arrive, and did, in fact, arrive.
As we walked from the station to my house Jervis
looked at me critically from time to time. After one of
these inspections he remarked:
"I don't know whether it is my fancy, Strangeways,
but it seems to me that the cares of medical practice are
affecting your spirits. You look worried."
"I am worried," I replied. "There has been a very
disturbing development of that case that I was telling
you about."
"The doper, you mean?"
"His wife. She has disappeared. She went out on
Saturday night and has not been seen since."
"That sounds rather ominous," said Jervis. "I pre-
sume the circumstances—if you know them—could be
communicated without any breach of confidence."
"They will have to be made fully public if she doesn't
turn up by this evening," I replied, "and I am only too
glad of the chance to talk the matter over with you,'' and
forthwith I proceeded to give a circumstantial account of
the events connected with the disappearance, not omitting


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 103
any detail that seemed to have the slightest bearing. And
I now felt justified in relating my experience when I was
acting for Dr. Pumphrey. The narrative was interrupted
by our arrival at my house, but when we had taken our
places at the table it was continued and listened to with in-
tense interest by my two friends.
"Well," said Jervis, when I had finished, "it has an
ugly look, especially when one considers it in connexion
with that affair in London. But there is something to be
said for your friend Bundy's suggestion. Don't you
think so, Thorndyke?"
"Something, perhaps," Thorndyke agreed, "but not
• much; and if no letter arrives to-night or to-morrow
morning, I should say it is excluded. This lady seems to
have had complete confidence in Strangeways and in Mr.
Japp. She could depend on their secrecy if she had to
move suddenly to a fresh locality; and she seems to have
been a responsible person who would not unnecessarily
expose them to anxiety about her safety. Moreover, she
would know that, if she kept them in the dark, they must
unavoidably put the police on her track, which would be
the last thing that she would wish."
'' Can you make any suggestion as to what has probably
happened?" I asked.
"It is not of much use to speculate," replied Thorndyke.
"If we exclude a voluntary disappearance, an accident or
sudden illness, as we apparently can, there seems to re-
main only the possibility of crime. But to the theory of
crime—of murder, to put it bluntly—there is a manifest
objection. So far as the circumstances are known to us,
a murder, if it had occurred, would have been an im-
promptu murder, committed in a more or less public place.
But the first indication of a murder of that kind is usually


104 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
the discovery of the body. Here, however, thirty-six hours
have elapsed, and no body has come to light. On the other
hand, we have to bear in mind that there is a large, tidal
river skirting the town. Into that river the missing lady
might have fallen accidentally, or have been thrown, dead
or alive. But it is not very profitable to speculate. We
can neither form any opinion nor take any action until we
have some further facts."
I must confess that, as I listened to Thorndyke thus
calmly comparing the horrible possibilities, I experienced
a dreadful sinking of the heart, but yet I realized that this
passionless consideration of the essential evidence was
more to the point, and promised more result than any
amount of unskilful groping under the urge of emotion
and personal feeling. And, realizing this, I formed the
bold resolution of enlisting Thorndyke's aid in a regular,
professional capacity, and began to cast about for the
means of introducing the rather delicate subject. But
while I was reflecting, the opportunity was gone, at least
for the present. Lunch had virtually come to an end, for
Mrs. Dunk had silently and with iron visage just placed
the port and the coffee on the table and retired, when
.Jervis, who had observed her with evident interest, in-
quired: "Does that old Sphinx do the cooking, Strange-
ways ?''
"She does everything," I answered. "I have suggested
that she should get some help, but she just growled and
ignored the suggestion."
"Well," said Jervis, "she doesn't give you much ex-
cuse for growling. She has turned out a lunch that would
have done credit to Delmonico's. Are you coming to the
inquest with us? We shall have to be starting in a few
minutes."


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 105
"I may as well," said I. "Then I can bring you back
to tea. And I want to make a proposal, which we can
discuss as we go along. It is with regard to the case of
Mrs. Frood."
As my two friends looked at me inquiringly but made
no remark, I poured out the coffee and continued: "You
see, Mrs. Frood was my patient, and, in a way, my friend;
in fact, with the exception of Japp, I was the only friend
she had in the place. Consequently I take it as my duty
to ascertain what has happened to her, and, if she has
come to any harm, to see that the wrongdoers are brought
to account. Of course, I am not competent to investigate
the case myself, but I am in the position to bear any costs
that the investigation would entail.''
"Lucky man," said Jervis. "And what is the pro-
posal?"
"I was wondering," I replied, a little nervously,
"whether I could prevail on you to undertake the case."
Jervis glanced at his senior, and the latter replied:
"It is just a little premature to speak of a 'case.' The
missing lady may return or communicate with her friends.
If she does not, the inquiry will fall into the hands of the
police; and there is no reason to suppose that they will
not be fully competent to deal with it. They have more
means and facilities than we have. But if the inquiry
should become necessary, and the police should be un-
successful, Jervis and I would be prepared to render you
any assistance that we could."
"On professional terms," I stipulated.
Thorndyke smiled. "The financial aspects of the case,"
said he, "can be considered when they arise. Now, I
think, it is time for us to start."
As we walked down to the building where the inquest


106 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
was to be held, we pursued the topic, and Thorndyke
pointed out my position in the case.
"You notice, Strangeways," said he, "that you are the
principal witness. You are the last person who saw Mrs.
Frood before her disappearance, you heard her state her
intended movements, you knew her circumstances, you
saw and examined her husband, and you alone can give
an exact description of her as she was at the time when
she disappeared. I would suggest that, during the in-
quest, which will not interest you, you might usefully try
to reconstitute that last interview and make full notes in
writing of all that occurred with a very careful and de-
tailed description of the person, clothing, and belongings
of the missing lady. The police will want this information,
and so shall I, if I am to give any consideration to the
case."
On this suggestion I proceeded to act as soon as we had
taken our places at the foot of the long table occupied by
the coroner and the jury, detaching myself as well as I
could from the matter of the inquest; and by the time that
the deliberations were at an end and the verdict agreed
upon, I had drafted out a complete set of notes and made
two copies, one for the police and one for Thorndyke.
As soon as we were outside the court I presented the
latter copy, which Thorndyke read through.
"This is admirable, Strangeways," said he, as he placed
it in his note-case. "I must compliment you upon your
powers of observation. The description of the missing
lady is remarkably clear and exhaustive. And now I
would suggest that you call in at Mr. Japp's office on our
way back, and ascertain whether any letter has been re-
ceived. If there has been no communication we shall have


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 107
to regard the appearances as suspicious, and calling for
investigation."
Secretly gratified at the interest which Thorndyke
seemed to be developing in the mystery, I conducted my
friends up the High-street until we reached the office,
which I entered, leaving my colleagues outside. Mr. Japp
looked up from a letter which he was writing, and Bundy,
who had been peeping over the curtain, revolved on his
stool and faced me. ,
"Any news?" I asked.
Japp shook his head gloomily. "Not a sign," said he.
"I shall wait until the first post is in to-morrow morning,
and then, if there are no tidings of her, I shall go across
to the police station. Perhaps you had better come with
me, as you are able to give the particulars that they will
want."
"Very well," I said, "I will look in at half-past nine";
and with this I was turning away when Bundy inquired:
"Are those two toffs outside friends of yours?" and, on
my replying in the affirmative, he continued: "They
seem to be taking a deuce of an interest in Japp's proc-
lamation. You might tell them that if they happen to
have found that key, the money is quite safe. I will see
that Japp pays up."
I promised to deliver the message, and, as Bundy craned
up to make a further inspection of my colleagues, I de-
parted to join the latter.
"There is no news up to the present," I said, "but Japp
proposes to wait until to-morrow morning for a last chance
before applying to the police."
"Was that Japp who was inspecting us through that
preposterous pair of barnacles?" Jervis asked.


108 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"No," I answered. "That was Bundy. He suspects
you of having found that key and of holding on to it
until you are sure of the reward."
"What key is it?" asked Jervis. "The key of the
strong-room? They seem to be in a rare twitter about
it."
"No; it is just a gate-key belonging to a piece of waste
land where they are doing some repairs to the old city
wall. And, by the way, thereby hangs a tale; a horrible
and tragic tale of a convivial bargee, which ought to have
a special interest for a pair of medical jurists"—and
here I related to them the gruesome story that was told to
Bundy and me by the old mortar-mixer.
They both chuckled appreciatively at the denouement,
and Jervis remarked:
"It would seem that the late Bill was a rather inflamma-
ble gentleman. The yarn recalls the tragic end of Mr.
Krook in 'Bleak House,' only that Krook went one better
than Bill, for he managed to combust himself in an hour
or two without any lime at all."
The story and the comment brought us to my house,
which we had no sooner entered than Mrs. Dunk, who
seemed to have been lying in wait for us, made her appear-
ance with the tea; and while we were disposing of this re-
freshment Thorndyke reverted to the case of my missing
patient.
"As I am to keep an eye on this case," said he, "I
shall want to be kept in touch with it. Of course, the
actual investigation—if there has to be one—will need to
be conducted on the spot, which is not possible to me.
What I suggest is that you write out a detailed account
of everything that is known to you in connexion with it.
Don't select your facts. Put down everything in any


MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM 109
way connected with the case and say all you know about
the person concerned—Mrs. Prood herself and everybody
who was acquainted with her. Send this statement to me
and keep a copy. Then, if any new fact becomes known,
let me have it and make a note of it for your own informa-
tion. You are on the spot and I shall look to you for the
data; and if I want any of them amplified or confirmed I
shall communicate with you.
"There is one other matter. Do not confide to anyone
that you have consulted me or that I am interested in the
case; neither to Mr. Japp, to the police, nor to anybody
else whatsoever; and I advise you to keep your own in-
terest in the mystery to yourself as far as possible."
"What is the need of this secrecy?" I asked, in some
surprise.
"The point is," replied Thorndyke, "that when you are
investigating a crime you are playing against the criminal.
But if the criminal is unknown to you you are playing
against an unseen adversary. If you are visible to him
he can watch your moves and reply to them. Obviously
your policy is to keep out of sight and make your moves
unseen. And remember that as long as you do not know
who the criminal is you don't know who he is not. Any-
one may be the criminal, or may be his unconscious agent
or coadjutor. If you make confidences they may be
innocently passed on to the guilty parties. So keep your
own counsel rigorously. If there has been a crime, that
crime has local connexions and probably a local origin.
The solution of the mystery will probably be discovered
here. And if you intend to take a hand in the solution
let it be a lone hand; and keep me informed of everything
that you do or observe; and for my part, I will give you
all the help I can."


110 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
By the time we had finished our tea and our discussion
the hour of my friends' departure was drawing nigh. I
walked with them to the station, and when I bade them
farewell I received a warm invitation to visit them at
their chambers in the Temple; an invitation of which I
determined to avail myself on the first favourable oppor-
tunity.
t


CHAPTER VIII
SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND
PUNCTUALLY at half-past nine on the following
morning I presented myself at the office, and, if I
had indulged in any hopes of favourable news—
which I had not—they would have been dispelled by a
glance at Mr. Japp's troubled face.
"I suppose you have heard nothing?" I said, when we
had exchanged brief greetings.
He shook his head gloomily as he opened the cupboard
and took out his hat.
"No," he answered, "and I am afraid we never shall."
He sighed heavily, and, putting on his hat, walked slowly
to the door. "It is a dreadful affair," he continued, as we
went out together. "How she would have hated the idea
of it, poor girl! All the horrid publicity, the posters, the
sensational newspaper paragraphs, the descriptions of
her person and belongings. And then, at the end of it
all, God knows what horror may come to light. It won't
bear thinking of."
He trudged along at my side with bent head and* eyes
cast down, and for the remainder of the short journey
neither of us spoke. On reaching the police-station we
made our way into a small, quiet office, the only tenant of
which was a benevolent-looking, bald-headed sergeant, who
was seated at a high desk, and, who presented that pecul-
iar, decapitated aspect that appertains to a police officer
minus his helmet. As we entered the sergeant laid down
his pen and turned to us with a benign smile.
Ill


112 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"Good morning, Mr. Japp," said he. "What can I
have the pleasure of doing for you?"
"I am sorry to say, Sergeant," replied Japp, "that I
have come here on very unpleasant business," and he
proceeded to give the officer a concise summary of the
facts, to which our friend listened with close attention.
When it was finished, the sergeant produced a sheet of
blue foolscap, and, having folded a wide margin on it,
dipped his pen in the ink and began his examination.
"I'd better take the doctor's statement first," said he.
"The lady's name is Angelina Frood, married, living apart
from husband—I shall want his address presently—last
seen alive by"
"John Strangeways, M.D.,"eaid I, "of Maidstone-road,
Rochester."
The sergeant wrote this down, and continued: "Last
seen at about 8.30 p.m. on Saturday, 26th April, proceeding
towards Chatham, on unknown business. Can you give
me a description of her ?''
I described her person, assisted by Japp, and the ser-
geant, having committed the particulars to writing, read
them out:
"'Age 28, height 5 ft. 7 in., complexion medium, hazel
eyes, abundant dark brown hair, strongly marked black
eyebrows, nearly meeting over nose.'
"No special marks that you know of?"
"No."
"Now, doctor, can you tell us how she was dressed?"
"She was wearing a snuff-brown coat and skirt," I
replied, "and a straw hat of the same colour with a broad,
dull green band. The hat was fixed on by two hat-pins
with silver heads shaped like poppy-capsules. The coat
had six buttons, smallish, bronze buttons—about half an


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 113
inch in diameter—with a Tudor rose embossed on each.
Brown suede gloves with fasteners—no buttons—brown
silk stockings, and brown suede shoes with small, oval
bronze buckles. She had a narrow silk scarf, dull green,
with three purple bands at each end—one broad band and
two narrow—and knotted fringe at the ends. She wore
a small circular brooch with a largish opal in the centre
and a border of small pearls, of which one was missing.
The missing pearl was in the position of the figure three
on a clock dial. She carried a small morocco hand-bag
with the initials A. F. stamped on it, which contained a
little cardboard box, in which were six white tablets; the
box was labelled with one of Dr. Partridge's labels, on
which her name was written, and it was wrapped in white
paper and sealed with sealing-wax. That is all I can say
for certain. But she always wore a wedding-ring, and
occasionally an African Zodiac ring; but sometimes she
carried this ring in a small purse with metal jaws and a
ball fastening. I believe she always carried the purse."
As I gave this description, the sergeant wrote furiously,
glancing at me from time to time with an expression of
surprise, while Japp sat and stared at me open-mouthed.
"Well, doctor," said the sergeant, when he had taken
down my statement and read it out, "if I find myself ailing
I'm going to pop along and consult you. I reckon there
isn't much that escapes your notice. With regard to that
African ring now, I daresay you can tell us what it is
like."
I was, of course, able to describe it in detail, including
the initials A. C. inside, and even to give a rough sketch
of some of the signs embossed on it, upon which the ser-
geant chuckled admiringly and wagged his head as he
wrote down the description and pinned the sketch on the


114 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
margin of his paper. The rest of my statement dealt with
the last interview and the incidents connected with
Nicholas Frood's visits to Rochester, all of which the ser-
geant listened to with deep interest and committed to
writing.
Finally, I recounted the sinister incident—now more
sinister than ever—of the murderous assault in the house
near Regent's Park, whereat the sergeant looked uncom-
monly serious and took down the statement verbatim.
"Did you know about this, Mr. Japp?" he asked.
'' I knew that something unpleasant had happened,'' was
the reply, "but I didn't know that it was as bad as this."
"Well," said the sergeant, "it gives the present affair
rather an ugly look. We shall have to make some inquiries
about that gentleman."
Having squeezed me dry, he turned his attention to
Japp, from whom he extracted a variety of information,
including the address of the banker who paid the allowance
to Nicholas Frood, and that of a lady who had formerly
been a theatrical colleague of Mrs. Frood's, and with whom
Mr. Japp believed the latter had kept up a correspondence.
"You haven't a photograph of the missing lady, I sup-
pose?" said the sergeant.
With evident reluctance Japp drew from his pocket an
envelope and produced from it a cabinet photograph,
which he looked at sadly for a few moments and then
handed to me.
"I brought this photograph with me," he said, "as I
knew you would want it, but I rather hope that you won't
want to publish it."
"Now, why do you hope that?" the sergeant asked in
a soothing and persuasive tone. "You want this lady


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 115
found—or, at any rate, traced. But what better mean3
can you suggest than publishing her portrait?"
"I suppose you are right," said Japp; "but it is a
horrible thing to think of the poor girl's face looking out
from posters and newspaper pages."
"It is," the sergeant agreed. "But, you see, if she
is alive it is her own doing, and if she is dead it won't
affect her."
While they were talking I had been looking earnestly
at the beloved face, which I now felt I should never look
upon again. It was an excellent likeness, showing her
just as I had known her, excepting that it was free from
the cloud of trouble that had saddened her expression in
these latter days. As the sergeant held out his hand for
it, I turned it over and read the photographer's name and
address and the register number, and, having made a
mental note of them, I surrendered it with a sigh.
Our business was now practically concluded. When we
had each read over the statements and added our respective
signatures, the sergeant attested them and, having added
the date, placed the documents in his desk and rose.
"I am much obliged to you, gentlemen," said he as he
escorted us to the door. "If I hear anything that will
interest you I will let you know, and if I should want any
further information I shall take the liberty of calling on
you."
"Well," said Japp, as we turned to walk back, "the fat's
in the fire now. I mean to say," he added quickly, "that
we've fairly committed ourselves. I hope we haven't been
too precipitate. We should catch it if she came back and
found that we had raised the hue and cry and set the
whole town agog."


116 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"lam afraid there is no hope of that," said I. "At any
rate, we had no choice or discretion in the matter. A
suspected crime is the business of the police."
Mr. Japp agreed that this was so; and having by this
time arrived at the office, we separated, he to enter his
premises and I to betake myself to Chatham with no very,
defined purpose, but lured thither by a vague attraction.
As I walked along the High-street, making occasional
digressions into narrow alleys to explore wharves and
water-side premises, I turned over the statements that had
been given to the police and wondered what they conveyed
to our friend, the sergeant, with his presumably extensive
experience of obscure crime. To me they seemed to fur-
nish no means whatever of starting an investigation, ex-
cepting by inquiring as to the movements of Nicholas Frood,
by communicating with Angelina's late colleague or by
publishing the photograph. And here I halted to write
down in my note-book before I should forget them the
name and address of that lady—Miss Cumbers—and of the
photographers, together with the number of the photo-
graph; for I had decided to obtain a copy of the latter for
myself, and it now occurred to me that I had better get
one also for Thorndyke. And this latter reflection re-
minded me that I had to prepare my precis of the facts
for him, and that I should do well to get this done at once
while the matter of the two statements was fresh in my
mind. Accordingly, as I paced the deck of the Sun Pier,
looking up and down the busy river, with its endless pro-
cession of barges, bawleys, tugs, and cargo boats, striving
ineffectually to banish the dreadful thought that, per-
chance, somewhere, at this very moment there was floating
on its turbid waters the corpse of my dear, lost friend:
I tried to recall and write down the substance of Japp's


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 117
statement, as I had heard it made and had afterwards
read it. At length, finding the neighbourhood of the river
too disturbing, I left the pier and took my way homewards,
calling in at a stationer's on the way to provide myself
with a packet of sermon paper on which to write out my
summary.
When Thorndyke had given me my instructions, they
had appeared to me a little pedantic. The full narrative
which he asked for of all the events, without selection as
to relevancy, and the account of what I knew of all the
persons concerned in the case, seemed an excessive for-
mality. But when I came to write the case out the excel-
lence of his method became apparent in two respects. In
the first place, the ordered narrative put the events in
their proper sequence and exhibited their connexions; and
in the second, the endeavour to state all that I knew,
particularly of the persons, showed me how very little that
was. Of the persons in any way concerned in the case
there were but five: Angelina herself, her husband, Mrs.
Gillow, Mr. Japp, and Bundy. Of the first two I knew no
more than what I had observed myself and what Angelina
had told me; of the last three I knew practically nothing.
Not that this appeared to me of the slightest importance,
but I had my instructions, and in compliance with them
I determined to make such cautious inquiries as would
enable me to give Thorndyke at least a few particulars of
them. And this during the next few days I did; and I
may as well set down here the scanty and rather trivial
information that my inquiries elicited, and which I duly
sent on to Thorndyke in a supplementary report.
Mrs. Gillow was the wife of a mariner who was the second
mate of a sailing ship that plied to Australia, who had
now been away about four months and was expected home


118 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
shortly. She was a native of the locality and had known
Mr. Japp for several years. She occupied the part of the
house above the ground floor and kept no servant or depend-
ent, living quite alone when her husband was at sea. She
had no children. Her acquaintance with Angelina began
when the latter became the tenant of the ground floor
and basement; it was but a slight acquaintance, and she
knew nothing of Angelina's antecedents or affairs except-
ing that she had left her husband.
Mr. Japp was a native of Rochester and had lived in the
town all his life, having taken over his business estab-
lishment from his late partner, a Mr. Borden. He was
a bachelor and was related to Angelina by marriage,
his brother—now deceased—having married Angelina's
aunt.
As to Bundy, he was hardly connected with the case at
all, since he had seen Angelina only once or twice and had
scarcely exchanged a dozen words with her. Moreover,
he had but recently come to Rochester—about six weeks
ago, I gathered—having answered an advertisement of
Japp's for an assistant with a view to partnership; and
the actual deed had not yet been executed, though the two
partners were evidently quite well satisfied with one an-
other.
That was all the information that I had to give Thorn-
dyke; and with the exception of the London incident it
amounted to nothing. Nevertheless, it was as well to have
established the fact that if anyone were concerned in
Angelina's disappearance, that person would have to be
sought elsewhere than in Rochester.
Having sent off my summary and read over again and
again the copy which I had kept, I began to realize the
justice of Thorndyke's observation that the inquiry was


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 119
essentially a matter for the police, who had both the
experience and the necessary facilities; for whenever I
tried to think of some plan for tracing my lost friend,
I was brought up against the facts that I had nothing
whatever to go on and no idea how to make a start. As
to Thorndyke, he had no data but those that I had given
him, and I realized clearly that these were utterly insuf-
ficient to form the basis of any investigation; and I found
myself looking expectantly to the police to produce some
new facts that might throw at least a glimmer of light on
his dreadful and baffling mystery.
I had not very long to wait. On the Friday after our
call on the sergeant, I was sitting after lunch in my
dining-room with a book in my hand, while my thoughts
strayed back to those memorable evenings of pleasant con-
verse with the sweet friend who, I felt, had gone from
me for ever, when the door bell rang, and Mrs. Dunk
presently announced:
"Sergeant Cobbledick."
"Show him in here, Mrs. Dunk," said I, laying aside my
book, and rising to receive my visitor; who proved to be,
as I had expected, the officer who had taken our state-
ments. He entered with his helmet in his hand, and
greeted me with a smile of concentrated benevolence.
"Sit down, Sergeant," said I, offering him an easy-
chair. '' I hope you have some news for us.''
"Yes," he replied, beaming on me. "I am glad to say
we are getting on as well as we can expect. "We have made
quite a nice little start."
He spoke as if he had something particularly gratifying
to communicate, and, having carefully placed his helmet
on the table, he drew from his pocket a small paper
packet, which he opened with great deliberation, extracting


120 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA PROOD
from it a small object, which he held out in the palm of his
hand.
"There, Doctor," said he, complacently; "what do you
say to that?"
I looked at the object, and my heart seemed to stand
still. It was Angelina's brooch! I stared at it in speech-
less dismay for some moments. At length I asked, huskily:
"Where did you get it?"
"I found it," said the sergeant, gazing fondly at the
little trinket, "where I hardly hoped to find it—in a pawn-
broker's shop in Chatham."
"Did you discover who pawned it?" I asked.
"In a sense, yes," the sergeant replied with a bland
smile.
"How do you mean—in a sense?" I inquired.
"I mean that his name was John Smith—only, of course,
it wasn't; and that his address was 26, Swoffer's-alley,
Chatham—only he didn't live there, because there is no
such number. You see, Doctor, John Smith is the name of
nearly every man who gives a false description of himself;
and I went straight off to Swoffer's-alley—it was close
by—and found that there wasn't any number 26."
"Then you really don't know who pawned it?"
"We won't exactly say that," he replied. "I got a
fair description of the man from the pawnbroker's wife,
who made out the ticket and says she could swear to the
man if she saw him. He was a seafaring man, dressed in
sailor's clothes—a peaked cap and pea-jacket—a shortish
fellow, rather sunburnt, with a small, stubby, dark
moustache and dark hair, and a mole or wart on the left
side of his nose, near the tip. She asked him where he
had got the brooch, and he said it had belonged to his old
woman. I should say he probably picked it up."


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 121
"Why do you think so?" I asked.
"Well, if he had—er—got it in any other way, he would
hardly have popped it in Chatham forty-eight hours after
the—after it was lost, with the chance that the pawnbrokers
had already been notified—he pawned it on Monday
night."
"Then," said I, "if he picked it up, he isn't of much
importance; and in any case you don't know who he is."
"Oh, but he is of a good deal of importance," said the
sergeant. "I've no doubt he picked it up, but that is
only a guess. He may have got it the other way. But
at any rate, he had it in his possession and he will have
to give an account of how he obtained it. The importance
of it is this: taken with the disappearance, the finding of
this brooch raises a strong suspicion that a crime has been
committed, and if we could find out where it was picked
up, we should have a clue to the place where the affair
took place. I want that man very badly, and I'm going
to have a good try to get him."
"I don't quite see how," said I. "You haven't much
to go on."
"I've got his nose to go on," replied the sergeant.
"But there must be plenty of other men with moles on
their noses."
"That's their look-out," he retorted. "If I come across
a man who answers the description, I shall hang on to him
until Mrs. Pawnbroker has had a look at him. Of course,
if she says he's not the man, he'll be released."
"But she won't," said I. "If he has a mole on his nose,
she will be perfectly certain that he is the man.''
The sergeant smiled benignly. "There's something in
that," he admitted. "Ladies are a bit cock-sure when it
comes to identification. But you can generally check 'em


122 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
by other evidence. And if this chap picked the brooch
up, he would be pretty certain to tell us all about it when
he heard where it came from. Still, we haven't got him
yet."
For a while we sat without speaking, each pursuing his
own thoughts. To me, this dreadful discovery, though it
did but materialize the vague fears that had been surging
through my mind, had fallen like a thunderbolt. For,
behind those fears, I now realized that there had lurked
a hope that the mystery might presently be resolved by
the return of the lost one. Now that hope had suddenly
become extinct. I knew that she had gone out of my life
for ever. She was dead. This poor little waif that had
drifted back into our hands brought the unmistakable mes-
sage of her death, with horrible suggestions of hideous and
sordid tragedy. I shuddered at the thought; and in that
moment, from the grief and horror that possessed my soul,
there was born a passion of hatred for the wretch who had
done this thing and a craving for revenge.
"There's another queer thing that has come to light,"
the sergeant resumed at length. "There may be nothing
in it, but it's a little queer. About the husband, Nicholas
Frood."
"What about him?" I asked, eagerly.
"Why, he seems to have disappeared, too. Of course,
you understand, Doctor, that what I'm telling you is
confidential. We are not talking about this affair outside,
and we aren't telling the Press much, at present."
"Naturally," said I. "You can trust me to keep my
own counsel, and yours, too."
"I'm sure I can. Well, about this man, Frood. It
seems that last Friday he went away from his lodgings


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND 123
for a couple of days; but he hasn't come back, and nobody
knows what has become of him. He was supposed to be
going to Brighton, where he has some relatives from whom
he gets a little assistance occasionally, but they have seen
or heard nothing of him. Quaint, isn't it? You said
you saw him here on the Monday."
"Yes, and I haven't seen him since, though I have kept
a look-out for him. But he may have been here, all the
same. It looks decidedly suspicious."
"It is queer," the sergeant agreed, "but we've no evi-
dence that he has been in this neighbourhood."
"Have you made any other inquiries?" I asked.
"We looked up that lady, Miss Cumbers, but we got
nothing out of her. She had had a letter from Mrs. Prood
on the 24th—yesterday week—quite an ordinary letter,
giving no hint of any intention to go away from Eochester.
So there you are. The mystery seems to be concerned
entirely with this neighbourhood, and I expect we shall
have to solve it on the spot."
This last observation impressed me strongly. The ser-
geant's view of the case was the same as Thorndyke's, and
expressed in almost the same words.
"Have you any theory as to what has actually hap-
pened?" I asked.
The sergeant smiled in his benignant fashion. "It isn't
much use inventing theories," said he. "We've got to
get the facts before we can do anything. Still, looking
at the case as we find it, there are two or three things that
hit us in the face. There is a strong suspicion of murder,
there is no trace of the body, and there is a big tidal river
close at hand. On Saturday night it was high water at
half-past eleven, so there wouldn't have been much of the


124 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
shore uncovered at, say, half-past nine, and there would
have been plenty of water at any of the piers or cause-
ways. ''
'' Then you think it probable that she was murdered and
her body flung into the river?"
"It is the likeliest thing, so far as we can judge. There
is the river, and there is no sign of the body on shore.
But, as I say, it is no use guessing. We've got people
watching the river from Allington Lock to Sheerness, and
that's all we can do in that line. The body is pretty
certain to turn up, sooner or later. Of course, until it
does, there is no real criminal case; and even when we've
got the body, we may not be much nearer getting the
murderer. Excepting the man Frood, there is no one who
seems to have had any motive for making away with her;
and if it was just a casual robbery with murder it is un-
likely that we shall ever spot the man at all."
Having given expression to this rather pessimistic view,
the sergeant rose, and, picking up his helmet, took his de-
parture, after promising to let me know of any further
developments.
As soon as he was gone, I wrote down the substance of
what he had said, and then embodied it in a report for
Thorndyke. While I was thus occupied, the afternoon
post was delivered, and included a packet from the London
photographer, to whom I had written, enclosing two
copies of the photograph of Angelina that Mr. Japp had
handed to the sergeant. Of these, I enclosed one copy in
my communication to Thorndyke, on the bare chance that
it might be of some assistance to him, and, having closed
up the large envelope and stamped it, I went forth to
drop it into the post-box.


CHAPTER IX
JETSAM
THAT portion of Chatham High-street which lies
adjacent to the River Medway presents a feature
that is characteristic of old riverside towns in the
multitude of communications between the street and the
shore. Some of these are undisguised entrances to wharves,
some are courts or small thoroughfares lined with houses
and leading to landing-stages, while others are mere pas-
sages or nights of steps, opening obscurely and incon-
spicuously on the street by narrow apertures, unnoticed
by the ordinary wayfarer and suggesting the burrows of
some kind of human water-rat.
In the days that followed the sergeant's visit to me I
made the acquaintance of all of them. Now I would
wander down the cobbled cartway that led to a wharf,
there to cast a searching eye over the muddy fore-shore
or scan the turbid water at high tide as it eddied between
the barges and around the piles. Or I would dive into
the mouths of the burrows, creeping down slimy steps and
pursuing the tortuous passages through a world of un-
cleanness until I came out upon the shore, where the fresh
smell of seaweed mingled with odours indescribable. I
began to be an object of curiosity—and perhaps of some
suspicion—to the denizens of the little, ruinous, timber
houses that lined these alleys, and of frank interest to the
children who played around the rubbish heaps or dabbled
in the grey mud. But never did my roving eye light upon
that which it sought with such dreadful expectation.
125 1


126 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
One afternoon, about a week after the sergeant's visit,
when I was returning home from one of these explora-
tions, I observed a man on my doorstep as I approached
the house. His appearance instantly aroused my atten-
tion, for he was dressed in the amphibious style adopted
by waterside dwellers, and he held something in his hand
at which he looked from time to time. Before I reached
the door it had opened and admitted him, and when I
arrived I found him in the hall nervously explaining his
business to Mrs. Dunk.
"Here is the doctor," said the latter; "you'd better tell
him about it."
The man turned to me and held out an amazingly dirty
fist. "I've got something here, sir," said he, "what be-
longs to you, I think." Here he unclosed his hand and
exhibited a little cardboard box bearing one of Dr. Par-
tridge's labels. It was smeared with mud and grime, but
I recognized it instantly; indeed, when I took it with
trembling fingers from his palm and looked at it closely,
the name, "Mrs. Frood," was still decipherable under
the smears of dirt.
"Where did you find this?" I asked.
"I picked it up on the strand," he replied, "about
halfway betwixt the Sun Pier and the end of Ship Alley,
and just below spring tide high-water mark. Is it any
good?"
"Yes," I answered; "it is very important. I will get
you to walk along with me to the police station."
'' What for?" he demanded suspiciously. '' I don't want
no police stations. If it's any good, give us what you think
it's worth, and have done with it."
I gave him half-a-crown to allay his suspicions, and then
said: "You had better come with me to the station. I


JETSAM
127
expect the police will want you to show them exactly where
you found this box and help them to search the place; and
I will see that you are paid for your trouble."
"But look 'ere, mister," he objected; "what's the police
got to do with this 'ere box?"
I explained the position fo him briefly, and then, sud-
denly, his face lit up. "I know," he said excitedly. "I
seen the bills stuck up on the dead-'ouse door. And d'you
mean to say as this 'ere box was 'ers? 'Cos if it was it's
worth more'n 'arf-a-crown."
"Perhaps it is," said I. "We will hear what the ser-
geant thinks," and with this I opened the door and went
out, and my new acquaintance now followed with the
greatest alacrity, taking the opportunity, as we walked
along, to remind me of my promise and to offer tenta-
tive suggestions as to the scale of remuneration for his
services.
Our progress along the High-street was not unnoticed.
Doubtless, we appeared a somewhat ill-assorted pair, for
I observed a good many persons turn to look at us curiously,
and when we passed the office, on the opposite side of the
road, I saw Bundy's face rise above the curtain with an
expression of undissembled curiosity.
On arriving at the station, I inquired for Sergeant Cob-
bledick, and was fortunate enough to find him in his office.
As I entered with my companion, he bestowed on the latter
a quick glance of professional interest and then greeted
me with a genial smile. It was hardly necessary for me
to state my business, for the single quick glance of his
experienced eye at my companion had furnished the
diagnosis. I had only to produce the box and indicate the
finder.
"This looks like a lead," said he, reaching his helmet


128 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
down from a peg. "What's your name, sonny, and where
do you live?"
Sonny affirmed, with apparent reluctance, that his name
was Samuel Hooper and that his abode was situated in
Foul Anchor Alley; and when these facts had been com-
mitted to writing by the sergeant, the latter put on his hel-
met and invited the said Hooper to "come along," evi-
dently assuming that I was to form one of the party.
As we approached the office this time I saw Bundy from
afar off; and by the time we were abreast of the house he
was joined by Japp, who must have stood upon tip-toe to
bring his eyes above the curtain. Both men watched us
with intense interest, and we had barely passed the house
when Bundy's head suddenly disappeared, and a few
moments later its owner emerged from the doorway and
hurriedly crossed the road.
"What is in the wind, Doctor?" he asked, as he came
up with us. "Japp is in a rare twitter. Have they
found the body?"
"No," I answered; "only the little box that was in her
hand-bag. We are going to have a look at the place where
it was found."
"To see if the bag is there, too?" said he. "It proba-
bly is, unless it has been picked up already. I think I'll
come along with you, if you don't object. Then I can give
Japp all the news."
I did not object, nor did the sergeant—verbally; but his
expression conveyed to me that he would willingly
have dispensed with Mr. Bundy's society. However, he
was a suave and tactful man, and he made the best of the
unwelcome addition to the party, even going so far as to
offer the box for Bundy's inspection.
"It is pretty dirty," the latter observed, holding it


JETSAM
129
delicately in his fingers. "Wasn't it wrapped in paper
when you gave it to her, Doctor 1''
"It was wrapped up in paper when I found it," said
Hooper, "but I took off the paper to see what was inside,
and, yer see, my 'ands wasn't very clean, a-grubbin' about
in the mud." In conclusive confirmation of this state-
ment, he exhibited them to us, and then gave them a per-
functory wipe on his trousers.
"What struck me," said Bundy, "was that it doesn't
seem to have been in the water."
"It hadn't," said Hooper. "The outside paper was
quite clean when I picked it up."
"It looks," observed the sergeant, "as if they had
turned out the bag and thrown away what they didn't
want; and then they probably threw away the bag, too. It
is ten chances to one that it has been picked up, but if it
hasn't it will probably be somewhere along the high-water
mark. How are the tides, Hooper?"
"Just past the bottom of the nips," was the reply; and
a few moments later our guide added: "It's down here,"
and plunged into what looked like an open doorway. We
followed, one at a time, cautiously descending a flight of
very filthy stone steps and stooping to avoid knocking
our heads against the overhanging story of an ancient
timber house. At the bottom we proceeded, still in single
file, along a narrow, crooked passage between grimy walls
and ruinous tarred fences until, after many twistings and
turnings, we came to a flight of rough wooden steps, thickly
coated with yellow mud and slimy sea-grass, which led
down to the shore.
"Now," said the sergeant, turning up the bottoms of
his trousers, "show us exactly where you picked the box
up."


130 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"It was just oppersight that there schooner," said our
guide, taking his way along the muddy streak between
the two lines of jetsam that corresponded to the spring-
tide and neap-tide high-water marks; "betwixt her and
the wharf."
We followed him, picking our way daintly, and, having
inspected the spot that he indicated, squeezed in between
the schooner's bilge and the piles and raked over the rub-
bish that the tide had deposited on the shore.
"Was you looking for anything in partickler?" Hooper
asked.
"We are looking for a small leather handbag," replied
the sergeant, "or anything else we can find."
"A 'and-bag wouldn't 'ave been 'ere long," Hooper
remarked. "Somebody would 'ave twigged it pretty
quick, unless it got hidden under something big." He
straightened himself up and gave a searching look up and
down the shore; and then suddenly he started off with an
air of definite purpose. Glancing in the direction towards
which he was shaping his course, I observed, in the corner
of a stage that jutted out from the quay, a heap of miscel-
laneous rubbish surmounted by the mortal remains of a
large hamper. It looked a likely spot and we all followed,
though not at his pace, being somewhat more fastidious
as to where we stepped. Consequently he arrived con-
siderably before us, and having flung away the hamper,
began eagerly to grub among the underlying raffle. Just
as we had come within a dozen yards of him, anxiously
making the perilous passage over a stretch of peculiarly
slimy mud, he stood up with a howl of triumph, and we
all stopped to look at him. His arm was raised above his
head, and from his hand hung by its handle a little morocco
bag.


JETSAM
131
"There's no need to ask you to identify it, Doctor,"
said the sergeant, as he despoiled the water-rat of his prize.
"It fits your description to a T."
Nevertheless, he handed it to me, drawing my attention
to the initials "A. F." stamped on the leather. I turned
it over gloomily, noting that it showed signs of having
been in the water—though not, apparently, for any con-
siderable time—and that none of its contents remained
excepting a handkerchief tucked into an inner pocket, and
returned it to him without remark.
"Now, look here, Hooper," said he, "I want you to
stay down here and keep an eye on this shore until I send
some of our men up, and then you can stay and help them,
if you like. And remember that anything that you find—
no matter what it is—you keep and hand over to me or my
men; and you will be paid the full value and a reward for
finding it as well. Do you understand that?"
"I do," replied Hooper. "That's a fair orfer, and you
can depend on me to do the square thing. I'll stay down
here until your men come."
Thereupon we left him, pursuing our way along the
shore and keeping an attentive eye on all the rubbish and
litter that we passed, until we came to a set of rough
wooden steps by the Ship Pier.
"I had no authority to offer to pay that chap," said the
sergeant, as we walked up Ship Alley, "but the super-
intendent has put me on to work at this case, and I'm not
going to lose any chances for the sake of a few shillings.
It is well to keep in with these waterside people.''
"Have you published a list of things that are likely to
turn up 1" Bundy asked.
"We've posted up a description of the missing woman
with full details of her dress and belongings,'' replied the


132 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
sergeant. "But perhaps a list of the things that might
be washed up would be useful. People are such fools.
Yes, it's a good idea. I'll have a list printed of every-
thing that might get loose and be picked up, and stick it
up on the wharves and waterside premises. Then there
will be nothing left to their imagination."
At the top of Ship Alley he halted, and having thanked
me warmly for my prompt and timely information, turned
towards Chatham Town, leaving me and Bundy to retrace
our steps westward.
"That was a bit of luck," the latter remarked, "finding
that bag; and he hardly deserved it. He ought to have
had that piece of shore under observation from the first.
But he was wise to make an acceptable offer to that body-
snatcher, Hooper. I expect he lives on the shore, watch-
ing for derelict corpses and any unconsidered trifles that
the river may throw up. I see there is a reward of two
pounds for the body."
"You have seen the bills, then?"
"Yes. We have got one to stick up in the office win-
dow. Rather gruesome, isn't it?"
"Horrible," I said; and for a while we walked on in
silence. Presently Bundy exclaimed: "By Jove! I had
nearly forgotten. I have a message for you. It is from
Japp. He is taking a distinguished American archaeolo-
gist for a personally conducted tour round the town to
show him the antiquities, and he thought you might like
to join the party."
"That is very good of him," said I. "It sounds as if
it should be rather interesting."
"It will be," said Bundy. "Japp is an enthusiast in
regard to architecture and ancient buildings, and he is
quite an authority on the antiquities of this town. You'd


JETSAM
133
better come. The American—his name is Willard—is go-
ing to charter a photographer to come round with us and
take records of all the objects of interest, and we shall be
able to get copies of any photographs that we want. What
do you say ?''
"When does the demonstration take place?"
"The day after to-morrow. We shall do the Cathedral
in the morning and the castle and the town in the after-
noon. Shall I tell Japp you will join the merry throng?"
'' Yes, please; and convey my very warm thanks for the
invitation.''
"I will," said he, halting as we arrived at the office,
"unless you would like to come in and convey the joyful
tidings yourself."
"No," he replied, "I won't come in now. I will get
home and change my boots."
"Yes, by Jingo!" Bundy agreed, with a rueful glance
at his own delicate shoes. "Mudlarking calls for a spe-
cial outfit. And I clean my own shoes; but I'd rather
do that than face Mrs. Dunk."
With this he retired up the steps, and I turned home-
ward, deciding to profit by his last remark and forestall
unfavourable comment by shedding my boots on the door-
mat.


CHAPTER X
WHICH DEALS WITH ANCIENT MONUMENTS
AND A BLUE BOAE
ON arriving home, I found awaiting me a letter
from Dr. Thorndyke suggesting—in response to
a general invitation that I had given him some
time previously—that he should come down on Saturday
to spend the week-end with me. Of course, I adopted the
suggestion with very great pleasure, not a little flattered at
receiving so distinguished a guest; and now I was some-
what disposed to regret my engagement to attend Mr.
Japp's demonstration. However, as Thorndyke was not
due until lunch time, I should have an opportunity of
modifying my arrangement, if necessary.
But, as events turned out, I congratulated myself
warmly on not having missed the morning visit to the
Cathedral. It was a really remarkable experience; and
not the least interesting part of it to me was the revelation
of the inner personality of my friend, Mr. Japp. That
usually dry and taciturn man of business was transfigured
in the presence of the things that he really loved. He
glowed with enthusiasm; he exhaled the very spirit of
mediaeval romance; at every pore he exuded strange and
recondite knowledge. Obedient to his behest, the ancient
building told the vivid story of its venerable past, pre-
sented itself in its rude and simple beginnings; exhibited
the transformations that had marked the passing centuries;
peopled itself with the illustrious departed, whose heirs
134


136 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
was what determined me to come down. The discovery of
that bag upon the shore dispels to some extent the ambi-
guity of our data. The finding of the brooch did not
enlighten us much. It might simply have been dropped
and picked up by some casual wayfarer. In fact, that is
what the appearances suggested, for it is manifestly im-
probable that a person who had committed a crime would
take the risk of pawning the product of robbery with vio-
lence in the very neighbourhood where the crime had been
committed, and after an interval of time which would al-
low of the hue and cry having already been raised. Your
sergeant is probably right in assuming that the man with
the mole had nothing to do with the affair. But the find-
ing of this bag is a different matter. It connects that disap-
pearance with the river and it offers a strong suggestion
of crime."
"Don't you think it possible that she might have fallen
into the river accidentally?" I asked.
"It is possible," he admitted. "But that is where the
significance of the brooch comes in. If she had fallen into
the river from some wharf or pier, there does not seem to
be any reason why the brooch should have become detached
and fallen on land—as it apparently did. The finding of
the bag where it had been thrown up by the river, and
of the brooch on shore, suggests a struggle on land previous
to the fall into the water. You don't happen, I suppose,
to know what the bag contained?"
"I don't—excepting the packet of tablets that I gave
her. When the bag was found, it was empty; at least, it
contained only the handkerchief, as I mentioned in my re-
port."
"Yes," he said reflectively. "By the way, I must com-
pliment you on those reports. They are excellent, and


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 137
■with regard to this one, there are two or three rather
curious circumstances. First, as to the packet of tablets.
You mention that it had not been unwrapped and that,
when it was found, the paper was quite clean. Therefore
it had never been in the water. Therefore it had been
taken out of the bag—by somebody with moderately clean
hands—before the latter was dropped into the river; and it
must have been thrown away on the shore above high-
water mark. Incidentally, since the disappearance oc-
curred—presumably—on the evening of the 26th of April,
and the packet was found on the 7th of May, it had been
lying on the shore for a full ten days. Perhaps there is
nothing very remarkable in that; but the point is that
Mrs. Frood was carrying the bag in her hand and she would
almost certainly have dropped it if there had been any
struggle. How, then, did the bag come to be in the river,
and how came some of its contents to be found on the
shore clean and free from any traces of submersion ?''
"We can only suppose," said I, with an inward shudder
—for the discussion of these hideous details made my very
flesh creep—"that the murderer picked up the bag when
he had thrown the body into the river, took out any articles
of value, if there were any, and threw the rest on the
shore."
"Yes," agreed Thorndyke, a little doubtfully, "that
would seem to be what happened. And in that case, we
should have to assume that the place where the packet was
found was, approximately, the place where the crime was
committed. For, as the packet was never immersed, it
could not have been carried to that place by the tide, and
•one cannot think of any other agency by which it could
have been moved. Its clean and unopened condition seems
to exclude human agency. The question then naturally


138 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
arises, Is the place where the packet was found, a place at,
or near, which the tragedy could conceivably have oc-
curred? What do you say to that?"
I considered for a few moments, recalling the intricate
and obscure approach of the shore and the absence of any-
thing in the nature of a public highway.
"I can only say," I replied at length, "that it seems
perfectly conceivable that Mrs. Frood could have been at
that place, or even near it, unless she went there for some
specific purpose—unless, for instance, she were lured there
in some way. It is a place that is, I should say, unknown
to any but the waterside people.''
"We must go there and examine the place carefully,"
said he, "for if it is, as you say, a place to which no one
could imaginably have strayed by chance, that fact has an
important evidential bearing."
"Do you think it quite impossible that the package
could have been carried to that place and dropped there ?''
"Not impossible, of course," he replied, "but I can
think of no reasonably probable way in which it could
have happened, supposing the murderer to have pocketed
it, and afterwards to have thrown it away. That would
be a considered and deliberate act; and it is almost incon-
ceivable that he should not have opened the packet to see
what was inside, and that he should have dropped it on
the dry beach when the river was close at hand. Remem-
ber that the bag was found quite near, and that it had been
in the water."
"And assuming the crime to have been committed at that
place, what would it prove?"
"In the first place," he replied, "it would pretty def-
initely exclude the theory of accidental death. Then it
would suggest at least a certain amount of premeditation,


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 139
since the victim would have had, as you say, to be enticed
to that unlikely spot. And it would suggest that the mur-
derer was a person acquainted with the locality."
"One of the waterside people," said I. "They are a
pretty shady lot, but I don't see why any of them should
want to murder her."
"It is not impossible," said he. "She was said to be
shopping in Chatham, and she might have had a well-
filled purse and allowed it to be seen. But that is mere
speculation. The fact is that we have no data at present.
We know practically nothing about Mrs. Frood. We
can't say if she had any secret enemies, or if there was
anyone who might have profited by her death or have had
any motive for making away with her."
"We know something about her husband," said I, "and
that he has disappeared in a rather mysterious fashion;
and that his disappearance coincides with that of his
wife."
"Yes," Thorndyke agreed, "those are significant facts.
But we mustn't lose sight of the legal position. Until
the body is recovered, there is no evidence of death. Un-
til the death is proved, no charge of murder can be sus-
tained. When the body is found it will probably furnish
some evidence as to how the death occurred, if it is re-
covered within a reasonable time. As a matter of fact, it
is rather remarkable that it has not yet been found. The
death occurred—presumably—nearly a fortnight ago.
Considering how very much frequented this river is, it is
really rather unaccountable that the body has not come
to light. But I suppose it is time that we started for the
rendezvous.''
I looked at my watch and decided that it was, and we
accordingly set forth in the direction of the office, which


140 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
was the appointed meeting-place, calling at a stationer's to
provide ourselves each with a map. We chose the six-
inch town plan, which contained the whole urban area, in-
cluding the winding reaches of the river, folding them so
as to show at an opening the peninsula on which the city
of Rochester is built.
"A curious loop of the river, this," said Thorndyke,
scanning the map as we went along. '' Rather like that of
the Thames at the Isle of Dogs. You notice that there are
quite a number of creeks on the low shore at both sides.
Those will be places to watch. A floating body has rather
a tendency to get carried into shallow creeks and to stay
there. But I have no doubt the longshoremen are keep-
ing an eye on them as a reward has been offered. Perhaps
we might be able to go down and have a look at the shore
when we have finished our perambulation of the town."
"I don't see why not," I replied, though, to tell the
truth, I was not very keen on this particular exploration.
To Thorndyke this quest was just an investigation to be
pursued with passionless care and method. To me it was
a tragedy that would colour my whole life. To him,
Angelina was but a missing woman whose disappearance
had to be explained by patient inquiry. To me she was a
beloved friend whose loss would leave me with a life-long
sorrow. Of course, he was not aware of this; he had no sus-
picion of the shuddering horror that his calm, impersonal
examination of the evidential details produced in me. Nor
did I intend that he should. It was my duty and my
privilege to give him what assistance I could, and keep my
emotions to myself.
"You will bear in mind," said he, as we approached the
office, "that my connexion with the ease of Mrs. Frood


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 141
is not to be referred to. I am simply a friend staying
with you for a day or two."
"I won't forget," said I, "though I don't quite see why
it should matter."
"It probably doesn't matter at all," he replied. "But
one never knows. Facts which might readily be spoken of
before a presumably disinterested person might be with-
held from one who was known to be collecting evidence
for professional purposes. At any rate, I make it a rule
to keep out of sight as far as possible."
These observations brought us to the office, where we
found our three friends together with a young man, who
was apparently acting as deputy during the absence of the
partners, and the photographer. I presented Thorndyke
to my friends, and when the introduction had been made
Mr. Japp picked up his hat, and turned to the deputy.
"You know where to find me, Stevens," he said, "if I
should be really wanted—really, you understand. But
I don't particularly want to be found. Shall we start
now? I propose to begin at the bridge, follow the High-
street as far as Eastgate House, visit Restoration House,
trace the city wall on the southwest side, and look over the
dastle. By that time we shall be ready for tea. After tea
we can trace the north-east part of the wall and the gates
that opened through it, and that will finish our tour of
inspection.''
Hereupon the procession started, Mr. Japp and his guest
leading, Thorndyke, Bundy, and I following, and the
photographer bringing up the rear.
"Let me see," said Bundy, looking up at Thorndyke
with a sort of pert shyness, "weren't you down here a
week or two ago 1''


142 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Yes," replied Thorndyke; "and I think I had the
honour of being inspected by you while I was reading
your proclamation respecting a certain lost key."
"You had," said Bundy; "in fact, I may say that you
raised false hopes in my partner and me. We thought
you were going to find it.''
"What, for ten shillings!" exclaimed Thorndyke.
"We would have raised the fee if you had made a firm
offer," said Bundy, removing his eyeglass to polish it with
his handkerchief. "It was a valuable key. Belonged to a
gate that encloses part of the city wall."
'' Indeed!'' said Thorndyke. '' I don't wonder you were
anxious about it considering what numbers of dishonest
persons there are about. Ha! Here is the bridge. Let
us hear what Mr. Japp has to say about it."
Mr. Japp's observations were concise. Having cast a
venomous glance at the unlovely structure, he turned his
back on it and remarked acidly:
"That is the new bridge. It is, as you see, composed of
iron girders. It is not an antiquity, and I hope it never
will be. Let us forget it and go on to the Guildhall.'' He
strode forward doggedly and Bundy turned to us with
a grin.
"Poor old Japp," said he, "he does hate that bridge.
He has an engraving of the old stone one in his rooms,
and I've seen him stand in front of it and groan. And
really you can't wonder. It is an awful come-down. Just
think what the town must have looked like from across
the river when that stone bridge was standing."
Here we halted opposite the Guildhall, and when we had
read the inscription, admired the magnificent ship weather-
cock—said to be a model of the Rodney—and listened to


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAE 143
Japp's observations on the architectural features of the
building, the photographer was instructed to operate on
its exterior while we entered to explore the Justice Room
and examine the portraits. From the Guildhall we passed
on to the Corn Exchange, the quaint and handsome over-
hanging clock of which had evidently captured Mr. Wil-
lard's fancy.
"That clock," said he, "is a stroke of genius. It gives
a character to the whole street. But what in creation in-
duced your City Fathers to allow that charming little build-
ing to be turned into a picture theatre ?''
Japp shook his head and groaned. "You may well ask
that,'' said he, glaring viciously at the inane posters and the
doorway, decorated in the film taste. "If good Sir
Cloudesley Shovel, who gave it to the town, could rise
from his grave and look at it, now he'd—bah! The cry-
ing need of this age is some means of protecting historic
buildings from town councils. To these men an ancient
building is just old-fashioned—out-of-date; a thing to be
pulled down and replaced by something smart and up-to-
date in the corrugated iron line." He snorted fiercely,
and as the photographer dismounted his camera, he turned
and led the way up the street. I lingered to help the
photographer with his repacking, and meanwhile Thorn- -
dyke and Bundy walked on together, chatting amicably
and suggesting to my fancy an amiable mastiff accom-
panied by a particularly well-groomed fox terrier.
"Do you usually give your patients a week-end holi-
day?" Bundy was inquiring as I overtook them.
"I haven't any patients," replied Thorndyke. "My
medical practice is conducted mostly in the Law Courts."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Bundy. "Do you mean


144 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
that you live by resuscitating moribund jurymen and
fattening up murderers for execution, and that sort of
thing?"
"Not at all," replied Thorndyke. "Nothing so harm-
less. I am what is known as a Medical Expert. I give
opinions on medical questions that affect legal issues."
"Then you are really a sort of lawyer?"
"Yes. A medico-legal hybrid; a sort of centaur or
merman, with a doctor's head and a lawyer's tail."
"Well," said Bundy, "there are some queer professions.
I once knew a chap in the furniture trade who described
himself as a 'worm-eater'—drilled worm-holes in faked
antiques, you know."
"And what," asked Thorndyke, "might be the analogy
that you are suggesting? You don't propose to associate
me with the diet of worms, I hope.''
"Certainly not," said Bundy, "though I suppose your
practice is sometimes connected with exhumations. But I
was thinking that you must know quite a lot about crime.''
"A good deal of my practice is concerned with criminal
cases," Thorndyke admitted.
'' Then you will be rather interested in our local mystery.
Has the doctor told you about it?"
"You mean the mystery of the disappearing lady? But
of what interest should it be to me? I was not acquainted
with her."
'' I meant a professional interest. But I suppose you are
not taking a 'bus-man's holiday: don't want to be bothered
with mysteries that don't concern you. Still, I should
like to hear your expert opinion on the case."
"You mistake my functions," said Thorndyke. "A
common witness testifies to facts known to himself. An
expert witness interprets facts presented to him by others.


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAK 145
Present me your facts, and I will try to give you an in-
terpretation of them."
"But there are no facts. That is what constitutes the
mystery.''
"Then there is nothing to interpret. It is a case for
the police, and not for the scientific expert."
Here our conversation was interrupted by our arrival at
the House of the Six Poor Travellers, and by a learned
disquisition by Japp on the connotation of the word
Proctor—which, it appeared, was sometimes used in the
Middle Ages in the sense of a cadger or swindler. Thence
we proceeded to Eastgate House, where Japp mounted his
hobby and discoursed impressively on the subject of ceil-
ings, taking as his text a specimen modelled in situ, and
bearing the date 1590.
"The fellow who put up that ceiling," said he, "took
his time about it, no doubt. But his work has lasted three
hundred and fifty years. That is the best way to save
time. Your modern plasterer will have his ceiling up in
a jiffy; and it will be down in a jiffy, and to do all over
again. And never worth looking at at all.''
Mr. Willard nodded. "It is very true," said he.
"What is striking me in looking at all this old work is the
great economy of time that is effected by taking pains and
using good material, to say nothing of the beauty of the
things created."
"If he goes on talking like that," whispered Bundy,
"Japp'11 kiss him. We must get them out of this."
Mercifully—if such a catastrophe was imminent—the
ceiling discourse brought our inspection here to an end.
From Eastgate House we went back to the Maidstone-
road, and when we had inspected Restoration House, began
to trace out the site of the city wall, which Thorndyke


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 147
result. Perhaps they won't show so much in the photo-
graph."
While the photographer was setting up his camera and
making the exposure, Japp explained the relation of this
piece of wall to the North Gate and the Gate that faced
the bridge, and marked its position on Thorndyke's map.
"And that," he continued, "concludes our perambula-
tion. The photographer is chartered by Mr. Willard, but
I understand that we are at liberty to secure copies of the
photographs, if we want them. Is that not so, Mr.
Willard?"
"Surely," was the cordial reply; "only I stipulate that
they shall be a gift from me, and I shall ask a favour in
return. If there is a plate left, I should like to have a
commemorative group taken, so that when I recall this
pleasant day, I can also recall the pleasant society in which
I spent it."
We all acknowledged the kindly compliment with a bow,
and as the photographer announced that he had a spare
plate, we grouped ourselves against a portion of undis-
figured wall, removed our hats, and took up easy and
graceful postures on either side of Mr. Willard. When
the exposure had been made, and the photographer pro-
ceeded to pack up his apparatus, Thorndyke tendered
his very hearty thanks to Mr. Japp and his friend for their
hospitality.
"It has been a great privilege," said he, "to be allowed
to share in the products of so much study and research,
and I assure you it is far from being unappreciated.
Whenever I revisit Rochester—which I hope to do before
long—I shall think of you gratefully, and of your.very
kind and generous friend, Mr. Willard."
Our two hosts made suitable acknowledgments; and


148 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
while these compliments were passing, I turned to Bundy.
"Can we get down to the shore from here?" I asked.
"Thorndyke was saying that he would like to have a look
at the river. If it is accessible from here we might take it
on the way home."
"It isn't difficult to get at," replied Bundy. "If he
wants to get a typical view of the river with the below-
bridge traffic, by far the best place is Blue Boar Pier. It
isn't very far, and it is on your way home—more or less.
I'll show you the way there if you like. Japp is dining
with Willard, so he won't want me.''
I accepted the offer gladly, and as the exchange of
compliments seemed to be completed and our party was
moving towards the gate, I tendered my thanks for the
day's entertainment and bade my hosts farewell, explain-
ing that we were going riverwards. Accordingly we
parted at the gate, Japp and Willard turning towards the-
town, while Thorndyke, Bundy, and I retraced our steps
towards the marshes.
At the bottom of the lane Bundy paused to explain the
topography. "That path," said he, "leads to Gas House-
road and the marshes by the North Shore. But there isn't
much to see there. If we take this other track we shall
strike Blue Boar-lane, which will take us to the pier. From
there we can get a view of the whole bend of the river right
across to Chatham."
Thorndyke followed the description closely with the aid
of his map, marking off our present position with a pencil.
Then we struck into a rough cart-track, with the wide
stretch of the marshes on our left, and, following this,
we presently came out into the lower part of Blue Boar-
lane and turned our faces towards the river. We had not
gone far when I observed a man approaching whose ap-


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 149
pearance seemed to be familiar. Bundy also observed
him, for he exclaimed: "Why, that is old Cobbledick!
Out of uniform, too. Very irregular. I shall have to
remonstrate with him. I wonder what he has been up to.
Prowling about the river bank in search of clues, I ex-
pect. And he'll suspect us of being on the same errand."
Bundy's surmise appeared to be correct, for as the
sergeant drew nearer and recognized us, his face took on an
expression of shrewd inquiry. But I noticed with some
surprise that his curiosity seemed to be principally con-
cerned with Thorndyke, at whom he gazed with some-
thing more than common attention. Under the circum-
stances I should have passed him with a friendly greeting,
but he stopped, and, having wished me "Good evening,"
said: "Could I have a few words with you, Doctor?"
upon which I halted, and Thorndyke and Bundy walked
on slowly. The sergeant looked after them, and, turn-
ing his back to them, drew from his pocket with a mys-
terious air a small dirty brown bundle, which he handed
to me.
"I wanted you just to have a look at that," he said.
I opened out the bundle, though I had already tenta-
tively recognized it. But when it was unrolled it was un-
mistakable. It was poor Angelina's scarf.
"I thought there couldn't be any doubt about it," the
sergeant said cheerfully when I had announced the identi-
fication. "Your description was so clear and exact. Well,
this gives us a pretty fair kick-off. You can see that it
has been in the water—some time, too. So we know where
to look for the body. The mysterious thing is, though,
that we've still got to look for it. It ought to have come
up on the shore days ago. And it hasn't. There isn't a
longshoreman for miles up and down that isn't on the


150 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
look-out for it. You can see them prowling along the sea-
walls and searching the creeks in their boats. I can't
think how they can have missed it. The thing is getting
serious.''
"Serious?" I repeated.
"Well," he explained, "there's no need for me to point
out to a medical gentleman like you that bodies don't
last for ever, especially in mild weather such as we've
been having, and in a river where the shore swarms with
rats and shore-crabs. Every day that passes is making
the identification more difficult."
The horrible suggestions that emerged from his explan-
ation gave me a sensation of physical sickness. I fidgeted
uneasily, but still I managed to rejoin huskily: "There's
the clothing, you know.''
"So there is," he agreed; "and very good means of
identification in an ordinary case—accidental drowning,
for instance. But this is a criminal case. I don't want
to have to depend on the clothing.''
"Was the scarf found floating?" I asked, a little anxious
to change the subject to one less gruesome.
"No," he replied. "It was on the shore by the small
creek just below Blue Boar Pier, under an empty fish-
trunk. One of the Customs men from the watch-house
found it. He noticed the trunk lying out on the shore as
he was walking along and went out to see if there was
anything in it. Then, when he found it was empty, he
turned it over, and there was the scarf. He recognized
it at once—there's a list of the articles stuck up on the
watch-house—and kept it to bring to me. But it happened
that I came down here—as I do every day—just after
he'd found it. But I mustn't keep you here talking,


152 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
■which a smooth sheet of mud—now dry and covered with
multitudinous cracks—spread out to the slimy domain of
the ordinary tides. At the edge of the dry mud lay a
derelict fish-trunk around which a group of bare-legged
boys had gathered—and all along the shore, on the faded
grass, on the dry mud and wading in the soft slime, the
human water-rats were to be seen, turning over drift-
rubbish, prying under stranded boats or grubbing in the
soft mud. Hard by, on the grass near the sea-wall, an old
ship's long-boat had been hauled up above tide-marks to a
permanent berth and turned into a habitation by the erec-
tion in it of a small house. A short ladder gave access to
it from without and the resident had laid down a little
causeway of flat stones leading to the wall.
"Mr. Noah seems to be at home," observed Bundy, as
we approached the little amphibious residence to inspect
it. He pointed to a thin wisp of smoke that issued from
the iron chimney; and, almost as he spoke, the door opened
and an old man came out into the open stern-sheets of the
boat with a steaming tin pannikin in his hand. His ap-
pearance fitted his residence to a nicety; for whereas the
latter appeared to have been constructed chiefly from
driftwood and wreckage, his costume suggested a collec-
tion of assorted marine salvage, with a leaning towards
oil-skin.
"Mr. Noah" cast a malevolent glance at the searchers;
then, having fortified himself with a pull at the pannikin,
he turned a filmy blue eye on us.
"Good evening," said Thorndyke. "There seems to be
a lot of business doing here," and he indicated the fish-
trunk and the eager searchers.
The old man grunted contemptuously. "Parcel of
fules," said he, "a-busyin' theirselves with what don't


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 153
concern 'em, and lookin' in the wrong place at that."
"Still," said Bundy, "they have found something here."
"Yes," the old man admitted, "they have. And that's
why they ain't goin' to find anything more." He re-
freshed himself with a drink of—presumably—tea, and
continued: "But the things is a-beginning to come up.
It's about time she come up. But she won't come up
here."
"Where do you suppose she will come up J" asked
Bundy.
The old man regarded him with a cunning leer. "Never
you mind where she'll come up," said he. "It ain't no
consarn o' yourn."
"But how do you know where she'll come up?" Bundy
persisted.
"I knows," the old scarecrow replied conclusively, "be-
cos I do. Becos I gets my livin' along-shore, and it's my
business for to know."
Having made this pronouncement, Mr. Noah looked
inquiringly into the pannikin, emptied it at a draught, and,
turning abruptly, retired into the ark, shutting the door
after him with a care suited to its evident physical in-
firmity.
"I wonder if he really does know," said Bundy, as we
walked away past the Customs watch-house.
"We can fairly take it that he doesn't," said Thorndyke,
"seeing that the matter is beyond human calculation.
But I have no doubt that he knows the places where
bodies and other floating objects are most commonly washed
ashore, and we may assume that he is proposing to devote
his probably extensive leisure to the exploration of those
places. It wouldn't be amiss to put the sergeant in com-
munication with him."


154 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Probably the sergeant knows him," said I, "but I will
mention the matter the next time I see him."
At the top of Blue Boar-lane Bundy halted and held
out his hand to Thorndyke. "This is the parting of the
ways," said he.
"Oh, no, it isn't," replied Thorndyke. "You've got to
have your mosquito-bite treated. Never neglect an insect-
bite, especially on the face."
"As a matter of fact," said I, "you have got to come
and have dinner with us. We can't let you break up the
party in this way.''
"It's very nice of you to ask me," he began, hesitatingly,
a little shy, as I guessed, of intruding on me and my
visitor; but I cut him short, and, hooking my arm through
his, led him off, an obviously willing captive. And if his
presence hindered me from discussing with Thorndyke
the problem that had occasioned his visit, that was of no
consequence, since we should have the following day to
ourselves; and he certainly contributed not a little to the
cheerfulness of the proceedings. Indeed, I seemed to find
in his high spirits something a little pathetic; a suggestion
that the company of two live men—one of them a man of
outstanding intellect—was an unusual treat, and that his
life with old Japp and the predatory females might be a
trifle dull. He took to Thorndyke amazingly, treating
him with a sort of respectful cheekiness, like a schoolboy
dining with a favourite head-master; while Thorndyke,
fully appreciative of his irresponsible gaiety, developed a
quiet humour and playfulness which rather took me by
surprise. The solemn farce of the diagnosis and treatment
of the mosquito bite was an instance; when Thorndyke,
having seated the patient in the surgery chair and invested
him with a large towel, covered the table with an assort-


ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND A BLUE BOAR 155
ment of preposterous instruments and bottles of reagents,
and proceeded gravely to examine the bite through a lens
until Bundy was as nervous as a cat, and then to apply
the remedy with meticulous -precision on the point of a
fine sable brush.
It was a pleasant evening, pervaded by a sense of
frivolous gaiety that was felt gratefully by the two elder
revellers and was even viewed indulgently by Mrs. Dunk.
As to Bundy, his high spirits flowed unceasingly—but, I
may add, with faultless good manners—and when, at
length, he took his departure, he shook our hands with a
warmth which, again, I found slightly pathetic.
"I have had a jolly evening!" he exclaimed, looking at
me with a queer sort of wistfulness. "It has been a red-
letter day"; and with this he turned abruptly and walked
away.
We watched him from the threshold, bustling jauntily
along the pavement; and as I looked at him, there came
unbidden to my mind the recollection of that other figure
that I had watched from this same threshold, walking away
in the fading light—walking into the fog that was to swal-
low her up and hide her from my sight for ever.
From these gloomy reflections I was recalled by Thorn-
dyke's voice.
"A nice youngster, that, Strangeways. Gay and
sprightly, but not in the least shallow. I often think that
there was a great deal of wisdom in that observation of
Spencer's, that happy people are the greatest benefac-
tors to mankind. Your friend, Bundy, has helped me to
renew my youth; and who could have done one a greater
service ?''


CHAPTER XI
THE MAN WITH THE MOLE
WHEN I had seen my guest off by the last train
on Saturday night, I walked homeward slowly,
cogitating on the results of his visit. It seemed
to me that they were very insignificant. In the morning
we had explored the piece of shore on which the bag and
the box of tablets had been found, making our way to
it by the narrow and intricate alleys which seemed to be
the only approach; and we had reached the same conclu-
sion. It was an impossible place.
"If we assume," said Thorndyke, "as we must, on the
apparent probabilities, that the tragedy occurred here,
we must assume that there are some significant circum-
stances that are unknown to us. Mrs. Frood could not
have strayed here by chance. We can think of no busi-
ness that could have brought her here; and since she was
neither a child nor a fool, she could not have been enticed
into such an obviously sinister locality without some plausi-
ble pretext. There is evidently something more than
meets the eye."
"Something, you mean, connected with her past life and
the people she knew?"
"Exactly. I am having careful inquiries made on the
subject in likely quarters, including the various theatrical
photographers. They form quite a promising source of
information, as they are not only able to give addresses but
they can furnish us with photographs of members of the
156


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE 157,
companies who would have been colleagues, and, at least,
acquaintances."
"If you come across any photographs of Mrs. Frood,"
I said, "I should like to see them."
"You shall," he replied. "I shall certainly collect all
I can get, on the chance that they may help us with the
identification of the body; which may possibly present
some difficulty."
Here I was reminded of Cobbledick's observations, and,
distasteful as they were, I repeated them to Thorndyke.
"The sergeant is quite right," said he. "This is ap-
parently a criminal case, involving a charge of wilful mur-
der. To sustain that charge, the prosecution will have to
produce incontestable evidence as to the identity of the
deceased. Clothing alone would not be sufficient to secure
a conviction. The body would have to be identified. And
the sergeant's anxiety is quite justified. Have you had
any experiences of bodies recovered from the water?"
"Yes," I replied; "and I don't like to think of them."
I shuddered as I spoke, for his question had recalled to
my memory the incidents of a professional visit to Poplar
Mortuary. There rose before my eyes the picture of a
long black box with a small glass window in the lid, and
of a thing that appeared at that window; a huge, bloated,
green and purple thing, with groups of radiating wrinkles,
and in the middle a button-like object that looked like the
tip of a nose. It was a frightful picture; and yet I knew
that when the river that we stood by should give up its
dead
I put the thought away with a shiver and asked faintly:
"About the man Frood. Don't you think that his dis-
appearance throws some light on the mystery?"
"It doesn't throw much light," replied Thorndyke,


158 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"because nothing is known about it. Obviously the coin-
cidence in time of the disappearance, added to the known
character of the man and his relations with his wife, make
him an object of deep suspicion. His whereabouts will
have to be traced and his time accounted for. But I have
ascertained that the police know nothing about him, and
my own inquiries have come to nothing, so far. He seems
to have disappeared without leaving a trace. But I shall
persevere. Your object—and mine—is to clear up the
mystery, and if a crime has been committed, to bring the
criminal to justice."
So that was how the matter stood; and it did not appear
to me that much progress had been made towards the
elucidation of the mystery. As to the perpetrator of that
crime, he remained a totally unknown quantity, unless the
deed could be fixed on the missing man, Frood. And so
matters remained for some days. Then an event occurred
which seemed to promise some illumination of the dark-
ness; a promise that it failed to fulfil.
It was about a week after Thorndyke's visit. I had
gone out after lunch to post off to him the set of photo-
graphs which had been delivered to me by the photographer
with my own set. I went into the post-office to register
the package, and here I found Bundy in the act of send-
ing off a parcel. When we had transacted our business
we strolled out together, and he asked:
"What are you going to do now, Doctor?"
"I was going to walk down to Blue Boar Pier," said I,
"to see if anything further has been discovered."
'' Should I be in the way if I walked there with you ?''
he asked. "I've got nothing to do at the moment. But
perhaps you would rather go alone. You've had a good
deal of my society lately."


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE 159
"Not more than I wanted, Bundy," I answered. "You
are my only chum here, and you are not unappreciated,
I can assure you."
"It's nice of you to say that," he rejoined, with some
emotion. "I've sometimes felt that I was rather thrust-
ing my friendship on you."
"Then don't ever feel it again," said I. "It has been
a bit of luck for me to find a man here whom I could like
and chum in with."
He murmured a few words of thanks, and we walked
on for a while without speaking. Presently, as we turned
into the lane by the Blue Boar Inn, he said, a little hesi-
tatingly:
"Don't you think, Doc, that it is rather a mistake to let
your mind run so much on this dreadful affair? It seems
to be always in your thoughts. And it isn't good for you
to think so much about it. I've noticed you quite a lot,
and you haven't been the same since—since it happened.
You have looked worried and depressed."
"I haven't felt the same," said I. "It has been a great
grief to me."
"But," he urged, "don't you think you should try to
forget it? After all, she was little more than an acquaint-
ance."
"She was a great deal more than that, Bundy," said I.
"While she was alive, I would not admit even to myself
that my feeling towards her was anything more than
ordinary friendship. But it was; and now that she is
gone, there can be no harm in recognizing the fact, or even
in confessing it to you, as we are friends.''
"Do you mean, Doc," he said in a low voice, "that you
were in love with her ?''
"That is what it comes to, I suppose," I answered.


160 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"She was the only woman I had ever really cared for."
'' And did she know it?" he asked.
"Of course she didn't," I replied indignantly. "She
was a lady and a woman of honour. Of course she never
dreamed that I cared for her, or she would never have let
me visit her."
For a few moments he walked at my side in silence.
Then he slipped his arm through mine, and pressing it
gently with his hand, said softly and very earnestly:
"I'm awfully sorry, Doc. It is frightfully hard luck for
you, though it couldn't have been much better even if
—but it's no use talking of that. I am sorry, old
chap. But still, you know, you ought to try to put
it away. She wouldn't have wished you to make your-
self unhappy about her."
"I know," said I. "But I feel that the office belongs
to me, who cared most for her, to see that the mystery of
her death is cleared up and that whoever wronged her is
brought to justice."
He made no reply to this but walked at my side with his
arm linked in mine, meditating with an air of unwonted
gravity.
When we reached the head of the pier the place was
deserted excepting for one man; a sea-faring person, ap-
parently, who was standing with his back to us, studying
intently the bills that were stuck on the wall of the look-
out. As we were passing, my eye caught the word
"Wanted" on a new bill, and pausing to read it over the
man's shoulder, I found that it was a description of the
unknown man—'' with a mole on the left side of his nose''
—who had pawned the opal brooch. Bundy read it, too,
and as we walked away he remarked: "They are rather
late in putting out those bills. I should think that gentle-


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE 161
man will have left the locality long ago, unless he was a
local person"; an opinion with which I was disposed to
agree.
After a glance round the shore and at "the Ark"—
which was closed but of which the chimney emitted a
cheerful smoke suggestive of culinary activities on the
part of "Mr. Noah"—we sauntered up past the head of
the creek, along the rough path by the foundry, and out
upon the upper shore.
"Well, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Bundy, glancing back
at the watch-house, "that chap is still reading that bill.
He must be a mighty slow reader, or he must find it more
thrilling than I did. Perhaps he knows somebody with a
mole on his nose."
I looked back at the motionless figure; and at that
moment another figure appeared and advanced, as we
had done, to look over the reader's shoulder.
"Why, that looks like old Cobbledick—come to admire
his own literary productions. There's vanity for you.
Hallo! What's up now?"
As Bundy spoke, the reader had turned to move away
and had come face to face with the sergeant. For a
moment both men had stood stock still; then there was a
sudden, confused movement on both sides, with the final
result that the sergeant fell, or was knocked, down and that
the stranger raced off, apparently in our direction. He
disappeared at once, being hidden from us by the foundry
buildings, and we advanced towards the end of the fenced
lane by which we had come, to intercept him, waiting by
the edge of a trench or dry ditch.
"Here he comes," said Bundy, a trifle nervously, as
rapid footfalls became audible in the narrow, crooked
lane. Suddenly the man appeared, running furiously,


162 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
and as he caught sight of us, he whipped out a large
knife, and, flourishing it with a menacing air, charged
straight at us. I watched an opportunity to trip him up;
but as he approached Bundy pulled me back with such
energy that he and I staggered on the brink of the ditch,
capsized, and rolled together to the bottom. By the time
we had managed to scramble up, the man had disappeared
into the wilderness of sheds, scrap-heaps, derelict boilers,
and stray railway-waggons that filled the area of land be-
tween the foundry and the coal-wharves and jetties.
"Come on, Bundy," said I, as my companion stood
tenderly rubbing various projecting portions of his per-
son ; "we mustn't lose sight of him."
But Bundy showed no enthusiasm; and at this moment a
rapid crescendo of heavy foot-falls was followed by the
emergence of the sergeant, purple-faced and panting,
from the end of the lane.
"Which way did he go?" gasped Cobbledick.
I indicated the wilderness, briefly explaining how the
fugitive had escaped us, whereupon the sergeant started
forward at a lumbering trot and we followed. But it was
an unfavourable hunting-ground, for the bulky litter—the
heaps of coal-dust, the wagons, the cranes, the piles of
condemned machinery, mingled with clumps of bushes—
gave the fugitive every opportunity to disappear. And,
in fact, he had disappeared without leaving a trace.
Presently we came out on a wharf beside which a schooner
was berthed; a trim-looking little craft with a white
under-body and black top-sides, bearing a single big yard
on her fore-mast and the name Anna on her counter.
She was all ready for sea and was apparently waiting for
high water, for her deck was all clear and a man on it was
engaged in placidly coiling a ■rope on the battened hatch


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE 163
■while another watched him from the door of the deck-
house. On this peaceful scene the sergeant burst sud-
denly and hailing the rope-coiler demanded:
"Have you seen a man run past here?"
The mariner dropped the rope, and looking up drowsily,
repeated:
"Have I seen a mahn?"
"Yes, a sea-faring man with a mole on his nose."
The mariner brightened up perceptibly. "Please?"
said he.
"A sailor-man with a mole on his nose."
"Ach!" exclaimed the mariner. "Vos it tied on?"
"Tied on!" the sergeant snorted impatiently. "Of
course it wasn't. It grew there."
Here the second mariner apparently asked some ques-
tion, for our friend turned to him and replied: "Ja.
Maulwurf"; on which I heard Bundy snigger softly.
'' No, no," I interposed; '' not that sort of mole. A kind
of wart, you know. Das Mai."
On this the second mariner fell out of the deckhouse
door, and the pair burst into yells of laughter, rolling about
the deck in agonies of mirth, wiping their eyes, mutter-
ing Maulwurf, Maulwurf, and screeching like demented
hyenas.
"Well," Cobbledick demanded impatiently, "have you
seen him?"
The mariner shook his head. "No," he replied, shakily.
"I have not any mahn seen."
"Well, why couldn't you say so at first?" the sergeant
growled.
"I vos zo zubbraised," the mariner explained, glancing
at his shipmate; and the pair burst out into fresh howls
of laughter.


164 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
The sergant turned away with a sort of benevolent con-
tempt and ran his eye despairingly over the wilderness.
"I suppose we had better search this place," said he,
"though he is pretty certain to have got away."
At his suggestion we separated and examined the possi-
ble hiding-places systematically, but, of course, with no
result. Once only I had a momentary hope that we had
not lost our quarry, when the sergeant suddenly stooped
and began cautiously to stalk an abandoned boiler sur-
rounded by a clump of bushes; but when the grinning
countenance of Bundy appeared at the opposite end and
that reprobate crept out stealthily and proceeded to stalk
the sergeant, the last hope faded.
"I certainly thought I saw someone moving in those
bushes," said Cobbledick, with a disappointed air.
"So did Mr. Bundy," said I. "You must have seen
one another."
The sergeant glanced suspiciously at our colleague, but
made no remark; and we continued our rather per-
functory search. At length we gave it up and slowly re-
turned to the neighbourhood of the pier. By this time
the tide had turned, and a few loiterers were standing
about watching the procession of barges moving down-
stream on the ebb. Among them was a grave-looking,
sandy-haired man who leaned against the watch-house,
smoking reflectively as he surveyed the river. To this
philosopher Cobbledick addressed himself, explaining, as
he was in plain clothes:
"Good afternoon. I am a police officer and I am looking
for a man who is described on that bill." Here he indi-
cated the poster.
The philosopher turned a pale grey, and somewhat sus-
picious eye on him, and having removed his pipe, expec-


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE 165
torated thoughtfully but made no comment on the state-
ment.
"A sea-faring man," continued the sergeant, "with a
mole on the left side of his nose.'' He looked enquiringly
at the philosopher, who replied impassively:
"Nhm—nhm."
"Do you happen to have seen a man answering that de-
scription ?''
"Nhm—nhm," was the slightly ambiguous reply.
"You have seen him?" the sergeant asked, eagerly.
"Aye."
"Do you know if he belongs to any of the craft that
trade here?"
"Nhm—nhm."
"Do you happen to know which particular vessel he
belongs to?"
"Aye," was the answer, accompanied by a grave nod.
"Can you tell me," the sergeant asked patiently, "which
vessel that is, and where she is at present?"
Our friend replaced his pipe and took a long draw at
it, gazing meditatively at a schooner which was moving
swiftly down the river under the power of an auxiliary
motor, and setting her sails as she went. I had noticed
her already, and observed that she had a white under-
body and black top-sides, and that she carried a single
long yard on her fore-mast. At length our friend re-
moved his pipe, expectorated, and nodded gravely at the
schooner.
"Yon," said he, and replaced his pipe, as a precaution,
I supposed, against unnecessary loquacity.
Cobbledick gazed wistfully at the receding schooner.
"Pity," said he. "I should have liked to have a look at
that fellow."


166 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"You could get the schooner held up at Sheerness,
couldn't you?" I asked.
"Yes; I could send a 'phone message to Garrison Point
Fort. But, you see, she's a foreigner. Might make trou-
ble. And he is probably not the man we want. After
all, it's only a matter of a mole."
"Maulwurf," murmured Bundy.
"Yes," said the sergeant, with a faint grin; "those beg-
gars were laughing at us. Well, it can't be helped."
We stood for a moment or two watching the schooner
set one sail after another. Presently Bundy observed:
"Methinks, Sergeant, that Mr. Noah is trying to attract
your attention."
We glanced towards the Ark, the tenant of which was
seated in the stern-sheets, scrubbing a length of rusty chain.
As he caught the sergeant's eye, he beckoned mysteri-
ously, whereupon we descended the bank, and, picking our
way across the muddy grass by his little causeway of
stepping-stones, approached the foot of the short ladder.
"Well, Israel," said the sergeant, resting his hands on
the gunwale of the old boat as he made a rapid survey of
the interior, "giving the family plate a bit of a polish,
eh?"
"Plate!" exclaimed the old man, holding up the chain,
which, as I now saw, had a number of double hooks linked
to it, "this ain't plate. 'Tis what we calls a creeper."
"A creeper," repeated the sergeant, looking at it with
renewed interest. "Ha, yes, hm. A creeper, hey? Well,
Israel, what's a-doing? Have you got something to
show us?"
The old man laid down the creeper and the scrubbing-
brush—which had a strong suggestion of salvage in its


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE
167
appearance—and moved towards the door of the Ark.
"Come along inside," said he.
Cobbledick mounted the ladder and motioned me to fol-
low, which I did, while Bundy discretely sauntered away
and sat down on the bank. On entering, I observed that
the Ark followed closely the constructional traditions.
Like its classical prototype, it was "pitched with pitch,
within and without," and was furnished with a single
small window, let into the door and hermetically sealed.
Seeing that our host looked at me with some disfavour,
the tactful sergeant hastened to make us known to one
another.
"This is Dr. Strangeways, Israel. He was Mrs. Frood's
doctor, and he knows all about this affair. This, Doctor,
is Mr. Israel Bangs, the eminent long-shoreman, a sort of
hereditary Grand Duke of the Rochester foreshore."
I bowed ceremoniously, and the Grand Duke acknowl-
edged the introduction with a sour grin. Then, lifting the
greasy lid of a locker, he dived into it and came to the sur-
face, as it were, with a small shoe in his hand.
"What do you say to that?" he demanded, holding the
shoe under the sergeant's nose. The sergeant said noth-
ing, but looked at me; and I, suddenly conscious of the
familiar sickening sensation, could do no more than nod
in reply. Soiled, muddy and sodden as it was, the poor
little relic instantly and vividly recalled the occasion when
I had last seen it, then all trim and smart, peeping coyly
beneath the hem of the neat brown skirt.
"Where did you find it, Israel?" asked Cobbledick.
"Ah," said Bangs, with a sly leer, "that's tellin', that
is. Never you mind where I found it. There's the shoe."
"Don't be a fool, Israel," said the sergeant. "What


168 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
use do you suppose the shoe is to me if I don't know where
you found it? I've got to put it in evidence, you know."
"You can put it where you like, so long as you pays
for it," the old rascal replied, doggedly. "The findin' of
it's my business."
There ensued a lengthy wrangle, but the sergeant,
though patient and polite, was firm. Eventually Israel
gave way.
"Well," he said, "if you undertakes not to let on to
Sam Hooper or any of his lot, IH tell you. I found
it on the mud, side of the long crik betwixt Blue Boar
Head and Gas-'us Point."
The sergeant made a note of the locality, and, after hav-
ing sworn not to divulge the secret to Sam Hooper or any
other of the shore-rat fraternity, and having ascertained
that Israel had no further information to dispose of, rose
to depart; and, I noticed that, as we passed out towards
the ladder, he seemed to bestow a glance of friendly recog-
nition on the creeper.
"Well," said Bundy, when we rejoined him, "what had
Mr. Noah to say? I hope you remembered me kindly to
my old friends, Shem, Ham, and Japhet." ■
"He has found one of Mrs. Prood's shoes," answered
the sergeant, producing it from his pocket and offering it
for inspection. Bundy glanced at it indifferently, and
then remarked: "It seems to answer the description, but,
for my part, I don't quite see the use of all this searching
and prying. It only proves what we all know. There's
no doubt that she fell into the river. The question■is,
how did she get there? It is not likely that it was an
accident, and, if it wasn't, it must have been a crime.
What we want to know is, who is the criminal?"
Cobbledick pocketed the shoe with an impatient gesture.


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE
169
"That's the way they always talk," said he. "They
will always begin at the wrong end. The question, 'Who
is the murderer?' does not arise until it is certain that
there has been a murder; and it can't be certain that there
has been a murder until it is certain that the missing
person is dead. And that certainty can hardly be estab-
lished until the body is found. But, in the meantime,
these articles are evidence enough to justify us in making
other inquiries, and they may give us a hint where to look
for the body. They do, in fact. They suggest that the
body is probably not very far away, and more likely to
be up-stream than down."
"I don't see how they do," said Bundy.
"I do," retorted the sergeant, "and that's enough for
me.
Bundy, with his customary discretion, took this as clos-
ing the discussion, and further—as I guessed—surmising
that the sergeant might wish to have a few words with me
alone, took his leave of us when we reached the vicinity of
the office.
"That is not a bad idea of old Israel's," said Cobble-
dick, when Bundy had gone. "The creeper, I mean."
"What about it?" I asked.
"You know what a creeper is used for, I suppose," said
he. "In the old days, the revenue boats used to trail
them along over the bottom in shallow water where they
suspected that the smugglers had sunk their tubs. You
see they couldn't always get a chance to land the stuff.
Then they used to fill the spirits into a lot of little ankers
or tubs, lash them together into a sort of raft and sink
the raft close in-shore, on a dark night, in a marked place
where their pals could go some other night and fish them
up. Well the revenue cutters knew most of those places


170 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
and used to go there and drift over them trailing creepers.
Of course, if there were any tubs there, the creepers hooked
on to the lashings and up they came."
"But what do you suppose is Israel's idea?" I asked.
"Why, as the body ought to have come up long before
this, and it hasn't, he thinks it has been sunk. It might
have been taken up the river in a boat, and sunk in mid-
stream with a weight of some sort. Or it might have got
caught by a lost anchor or on some old moorings. That
would account for its not coming up and for these odd-
ments getting detached and drifting ashore. So old Israel
is going to get to work with a creeper. I expect he spends
his nights creeping over the likely spots, and that is what
makes him so deuced secret about the place where he found
that shoe. He reckons that the body is somewhere there-
abouts. ''
I made no comment on this rather horrible communica-
tion. Of course, it was necessary that the body should be
searched for, since its discovery was the indispensable con-
dition of the search for the murderer. But I did not want
to hear more of the dreadful details than was absolutely
unavoidable.
When we reached the Guildhall, I halted and was
about to take leave of the sergeant when he said, some-
what hesitatingly:
"Do you remember, Doctor, when you met me last
Saturday, you had a gentleman with you?"
"I remember," said I.
"Now, I wonder if you would think I was taking a
liberty if I were to ask what that gentleman's name was.
I had an idea that I knew his face."
"Of course it wouldn't be a liberty," I replied. "His
name is Thorndyke; Dr. John Thorndyke.''


THE MAN WITH THE MOLE
171
"Ah!" exclaimed Cobbledick, "I thought I couldn't be
mistaken. It isn't the sort of face that one would forget.
I once heard him give evidence at the Old Bailey. Won-
derful evidence it was, too. Since then I've read reports
of his investigations from time to time. He's a marvellous
man. The way he has of raking up evidence from no-
where is perfectly astonishing. Did you happen to talk
to him about this case at all?"
"Well, you see, Sergeant," I answered, rather evasively,
"he had come down here for the week-end as my
guest"
"Exactly, exactly," Cobbledick interrupted, uncon-
sciously helping me to avoid answering his question, "he
came down for a rest and a change, and wouldn't want to
be bothered with professional matters. Still, you know, I
think he would be interested in this case. It is quite in
his own line. It is a queer case; a very queer case in some
respects."
"In what respects?" I asked.
It was Cobbledick's turn to be evasive. He had ap-
parently said more than he had intended, and now drew
in his horns perceptibly.
"Why," he replied, "when you come to think of—of
the—er—the character of the lady, for instance. Why
should anyone want to do her any harm? And then there
is the mystery as to how it happened, and the place, and
—in fact, there are a number of things that are difficult
to understand. But I mustn't keep you standing here.
If you should happen to see Dr. Thorndyke again, it might
be as well to tell him about the case. It would be sure
to interest him; and if he should, by any chance, want to
know anything that you are not in a position to tell him,
why, you know where I am to be found. I shouldn't


172 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
want to make any secrets with him. And he might spot
something that we haven't noticed."
I promised to follow the sergeant's advice, and, having
bid him adieu, turned back, and walked slowly homeward.
As I went I reflected profoundly on my conversation with
Cobbledick; from which, as it seemed to me, two conclu-
sions emerged. First, there were elements in this mystery
that were unknown to me. I had supposed that the es-
sence of the mystery was the mere absence of data.
But it now appeared from the sergeant's utterances, and
still more from his evasions, that he saw farther into the
affair than I did; either because he had more facts, or be-
cause, by reason of his greater experience, the facts meant
more to him than they did to me. The second conclusion
was that he was in some way in difficulties; that he was
conscious of an inability to interpret satisfactorily the
facts that were known to him. His evident eagerness to
get into touch with Thorndyke made this pretty clear; and
the two conclusions together suggested a further question.
How much did Thorndyke know? Did he know all that
the sergeant knew? Did he perchance know more? From
the scanty data with which I had supplied him, might he
possibly have drawn some illuminating inferences that had
carried his understanding of the case beyond either mine
or Cobbledick's? It was quite possible. Thorndyke's
great reputation rested upon his extraordinary power of
inference and constructive reasoning from apparently un-
illuminating facts. The facts in this case seemed unil-
luminating enough. But they might not be so to him.
And again I recalled how both he and the sergeant seemed
to look to the finding of the body as probably furnishing
the solution of the mystery.


CHAPTER XII
THE PRINTS OP A VANISHED HAND
MR. BUNDY'S opinion that no particular signifi-
cance attached to the finding of further relics of
the missing woman was one that I was myself
disposed to adopt. The disappearance of poor Angelina
was an undeniable fact, and there seemed to be no doubt
that her body had fallen, or been cast, into the river. On
these facts, the recovery of further articles belonging to
her, and presumably detached from the body, shed no ad-
ditional light. From the body itself, whenever it should
be surrendered by the river, one hoped that something
fresh might be learned. But all that anyone could say
was that Angelina Frood had disappeared, that her dis-
appearance was almost certainly connected with a crime,
and that the agents of that crime and their motives for
committing it were alike an impenetrable mystery, a mys-
tery that the finding of further detached articles tended in
no way to solve.
I shall, therefore, pass somewhat lightly over the inci-
dents of the succeeding discoveries, notwithstanding the
keen interest in them displayed by Sergeant Cobbledick
and even by Thorndyke. On Monday, the 25th of May,
the second shoe was found (to Israel Bangs' unspeakable
indignation) by Samuel Hooper of Foul Anchor Alley,
who discovered it shortly after high-water, lying on the
gridiron close to Gas-house Point, and brjought it in
triumph to the police station.
After this, there followed a long interval, occupied by a
173


174 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
feverish contest between Israel Bangs and Samuel Hooper.
But the luck fell to the experienced Israel. On Saturday,
the 20th of June, that investigator, having grounded his
boat below a wharf between Gas-house Point and the
bridge, discovered a silver-headed hat-pin lying on the
shore between two of the piles of the wharf. Its identity
was unmistakable. The silver poppy-head that crowned
the pin was no trade production that might have had thou-
sands of indistinguishable fellows. It was an individual
work wrought by an artist in metal, and excepting its
fellow, there was probably not another like it in the world.
The discovery of this object roused a positive frenzy of
search. The stretch of muddy shore between Gas-house
Point and the bridge literally swarmed with human shore-
rats, male and female, adult and juvenile. Every day,
and all the day, excepting at high-water, Israel Bangs
hovered in his oozy little basket of a boat on the extreme
edge of the mud, scanning every inch of slime, and glower-
ing fiercely at the poachers ashore who were raking over
his preserves. But nothing came of it. Day after day
passed. The black and odorous mud was churned up by
countless feet; the pebbles were sorted out severally by in-
numerable filthy hands; every derelict pot, pan, box, or
meat-tin was picked up again and again, and explored to
its inmost recesses. But in vain. Not a single relic of any
kind was brought to light by all those searchings and grub-
bings in the mud. Presently the searchers began to grow
discouraged. Some of them gave up the search; others
migrated to the shore beyond the bridge, and were to be
seen wading in the mud below the Esplanade, the cricket-
ground, or the boat-building yards. So the month of
June ran out, and the third month began. And still
there was no sign of the body.
1


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 175
Meanwhile I watched the two professional investigators,
and noted a certain similarity in their outlook and methods.
Both were keenly interested in the discoveries; and both,
I observed, personally examined the localities of the finds.
The sergeant conducted me to each spot in turn, making
appropriate, but not very illuminating, comments; and I
perceived that he was keeping a careful account of time
and place. So, too, with Thorndyke, who had now taken
to coming down regularly each week-end. He visited each
spot where anything had been found, marking it carefully
on his map, together with a reference number, and inquir-
ing minutely as to the character of the object, its condition,
and the state of the tide and the hour of the day when it
was discovered; all of which particulars he entered in his
note-book under the appropriate reference number.
Both of my friends, too, expressed increasing surprise
and uneasiness at the non-appearance of the body. The
sergeant was really worried, and he expressed his senti-
ments in a tone of complaint as if he felt that he was not
being fairly treated.
"It's getting very serious, Doctor," he protested.
"Nearly three months gone—three summer months, mind
you—and not a sign of it. I don't like the look of things
at all. This case means a lot to me. It's my chance. It's
a detective-inspector's job, and if I bring it off it'll be a
big feather in my cap. I want to get a conviction, and so
far I haven't got the material for a coroner's verdict.
I've half a mind to do a bit of creeping myself."
Thorndyke's observations on the case were much to the
same effect. Discussing it one Saturday afternoon at the
beginning of July, when I had met him at Strood Station
and was walking with him into Rochester, he said:
"My feeling is that the crux of this case is going to be


176 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
the question of identity—if the body ever comes to light.
Of course, if it doesn't, there is no case: it is simply an un-
explained disappearance. But if the body is found and is
unrecognizable excepting by clothing and other extrinsic
evidence, it will be hard to get a conviction even if the un-
recognizable corpse should give some clue to the circum-
stances of death."
"I suppose," said I, "the police are searching for
Nicholas Frood."
"I doubt it," he replied. "They are not likely to be
wasting efforts to find a murderer when there is no evidence
that a murder has been committed. What coulcLthey do if
they did find him? The woman was not in his custody or
even living with him. And his previous conduct is not
relevant in the absence of evidence of his wife's death."
"You said you were making some inquiries yourself."
"So I am. And I am not without hopes of picking up
his tracks. But that is a secondary matter. What we
have to settle beyond the shadow of a doubt is the ques-
tion, 'What has become of Angelina Frood? Is she dead?
And, if she is, what was the cause and what were the cir-
cumstances of her death?' The evidence in our possession
points to the conclusion that she is dead, and that she met
her death by foul means. That is the belief that the known
facts produce. But we have got to turn that belief into
certainty. Then it will be time to inquire as to the identity
of the criminal.''
"Do you suppose the body would be unrecognizable
now?"
"I feel no doubt that it would be quite unrecognizable
by ordinary means if it has been in the water all this time.
But it would still be identifiable in the scientific sense, if
we could only obtain the necessary data. It could, for


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 177
instance, be tested by the Bertillon measurements, if we
had them; and it would probably yield finger-prints, clear
enough to recognize, long after the disappearance of all
facial character or bodily traits."
"Would it really?" I exclaimed.
"Certainly," he replied. "Even if the whole outer
skin of the hand had come off bodily, like a glove, as it
commonly does in long-submerged bodies, that glove-like
cast would yield fairly clear finger-prints if property
treated—with dilute formalin, for instance. And then
the fingers from which the outer skin had become detached
would still yield recognizable finger-prints, if similarly
treated; for you must remember that the papillary ridges
which form the finger-print pattern, are in the true skin.
The outer skin is merely moulded on them. But, un-
fortunately, the question is one of merely academic inter-
est to us as we have no original finger-prints of Mrs.
Prood's by which to test the body. The only method of
scientific identification that seems to be available is that
of anthropometric measurements, as employed by Bertil-
lon."
"But," I objected, "the Bertillon system is based on the
existence of a record of the measurements of the person
to be identified. We have no record of the measurements
of Mrs. Frood."
"True," he agreed. "But you may remember that Dr.
George Bertillon was accustomed to apply his system, not
only to suspected persons who had been arrested, but also
to stray garments, hat, gloves, shoes, and so forth, that
came into the possession of the police. But it is clear
that, if such garments can be compared with a table of
recorded measurements, they can be used as standards
of comparison to determine the identity of a dead body.


178 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
Of course, the measurements would have to be taken, both
of the garments and of the body, by someone having an
expert knowledge of anthropometrical methods."
"Of course," I agreed. "But it seems a sound method.
I must mention it to Cobbledick. He has the undoubted
shoes, and I have no doubt that he could get a supply of
worn garments from Mrs. Gillow."
"Yes," said Thorndyke. "And, speaking of Mrs. Gil-
low reminds me of another point that I have been intend-
ing to inquire into. You mentioned to me that Mrs. Gil-
low told you, at the time of the disappearance, that she
had been expecting a tragedy of some kind. She must
have had some grounds for that expectation."
"She said it was nothing but a vague, general impres-
sion. ''
"Still, there must have been something that gave her
that impression. Don't you think it would be well to
question her a little more closely?"
"Perhaps it might," said I, not very enthusiastically.
"We are close to the house now. We can call in and see
her, if you like."
"I think we ought to leave no stone unturned," said
he; and a minute or two later, when we arrived opposite
the office, he remarked, looking across attentively at the
two houses: "I don't see our friend Bundy's face at the
window."
"No," I replied, "he is playing tennis somewhere up at
the Vines. But here is Mrs. Gillow, herself, all dressed
up and evidently going out visiting."
The landlady had appeared at the door just as we were
crossing the road. Perceiving that we were bearing down
on her, she paused, holding the door ajar. I ran up the


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 181
■which was locked, though the key had not been removed.
At the threshold Thorndyke paused and stood for nearly
half a minute looking about the room in the same queer,
inquisitive way that I had noticed in the other room, as if
he were trying to fix a mental picture of it. Meanwhile,
full of the Bertillon system, I had walked across to the
wardrobe to see what garments were available for measure-
ment. I had my hand on the knob of the door when my
glance fell on two objects on the dressing-table; an empty
tumbler and a small water-bottle, half-full. There was
nothing very remarkable about these objects, taken by
themselves, but, even from where I stood, I could see that
both bore a number of finger-marks which stood out con-
spicuously on the plain glass.
"By Jove!" I exclaimed. "Here is the very thing that
you were speaking of. Do you see what it is?"
Apparently he had, for he had already taken his gloves
out of his pocket and was putting them on.
"Don't touch them, Strangeways," said he, as I was
approaching to inspect them more closely. "If these are
Mrs. Frood's finger-prints they may be invaluable. We
mustn't confuse them by adding our own."
"Whose else could they be?" I asked.
"They might be Sergeant Cobbledick's," he replied.
"The sergeant has been in here." He drew a chair up to
the table, and, taking a lens from his pocket, began sys-
tematically to examine the markings.
"They are a remarkably fine set," he remarked, "and
a complete set—the whole ten digits. Whoever made them
held the bottle in the right hand and the tumbler in the
left. And I don't think they are the sergeant's. They
are too small and too clear and delicate."
"No," I agreed, "and the probabilities are against their


182 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
being his. There is no reason why he should have wanted
to take a drink of water during the few minutes that he
spent here. It would have been different if it had been a
beer bottle. But it would have been quite natural for
Mrs. Frood to drink a glass of water while she was dress-
ing or before she started out."
"Yes," said he. "Those are the obvious probabilities.
But we must turn them into certainties if we can. Proba-
bilities are not good data to work from. But the question
is now, what are we to do? I have a small camera with
me, but it would not be very convenient to take the photo-
graphs here, and it would occupy a good deal of time. On
the other hand, these things would be difficult to pack
without smearing the finger-prints. We want a couple of
small boxes."
"Perhaps," said I, "we may find something that will
do if we take a look round.''
"Yes," he agreed, "we must explore the place. Mean-
while, I think I will develop up these prints for our im-
mediate information, as we have to try to find some others
to verify them."
He went back to the sitting-room, where he had put
down the two cases that he always brought with him: a
small suit-case that contained his toilet necessaries and a
similar-sized case covered with green canvas which had
been rather a mystery to me. I had never seen it open,
and had occasionally speculated on the nature of its con-
tents. My curiosity was now to be satisfied, for, when he
returned with it in his hand he explained: "This is what
I call my research-case. It contains the materials and ap-
pliances for nearly every kind of medico-legal investiga-
tion, and I hardly ever travel without it."


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 183
He placed it on a chair and opened it, when I saw that
it formed a complete portable laboratory, containing,
among other things a diminutive microscope, a little fold-
ing camera, and an insufflator, or powder-spray. The lat-
ter he now took from its compartment, and, lifting the
tumbler with his gloved hand, stood it on a corner of the
mantelpiece and blew over it with the insufflator a cloud
of impalpably fine white powder, which settled evenly on
the surface of the glass. He then tapped the tumbler
gently once or twice with a lead pencil, when most of the
powder coating either jarred off or crept down the sur-
face. Finally, he blew at it lightly, which removed the
rest of the powder, leaving the finger-prints standing out
on the clear glass as if they had been painted on with
Chinese white.
While he was operating in the same manner on the
water-bottle—having first emptied it into the ewer—I ex-
amined the tumbler with the aid of his lens. The mark-
ings were amazingly clear and distinct. Through the lens
I could see, not only the whole of the curious, complicated
ridge-pattern, but even the rows of little round spots that
marked the orifices of the sweat glands. For the first
time, I realized what a perfect means of identification
these remarkable imprints furnished.
"Now," said Thorndyke, when he had finished with the
bottle, "the two questions are, where shall we look for
confirmatory finger-prints, and where are we to get the
boxes that we want for packing these things? You said
that Mrs. Frood had a kitchen.''
"Yes. But won't you try the furniture here; the ward-
robe door, for instance. The dark, polished mahogany
ought to give good prints."


184 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"An excellent suggestion, Strangeways," said he. "We
might even find the sergeant's finger-prints, as he has
probably had the wardrobe open."
He sprayed the three doors of the wardrobe, and when
he had tapped them and blown away the surplus powder,
there appeared near the edge of each a number of finger-
marks, mostly rather indistinct, and none of them nearly
so clear as those on the glass.
"This is very satisfactory," said Thorndyke. "They
are poor prints, but you can see quite plainly that there
are two pairs of hands, one pair much larger than the
other; and the prints of the larger hands are evidently
not the same pattern as those on the glass, whereas those
of the smaller ones are quite recognizable as the same, in
spite of their indistinctness. As the large ones are almost
certainly Cobbledick's, the small ones are pretty certainly
Mrs. Frood's. But we mustn't take anything for granted.
Let us go down to the kitchen. We shall have a better
chance there."
The door of the basement staircase was still unlocked,
as Mrs. Gillow had described it. I threw it open, and we
descended together, I carrying the insufflator and he bear-
ing the tumbler and bottle in his gloved hands. When he
had put the two articles down on the kitchen table, he
proceeded to powder first the kitchen door and then the
side-door that gave on to the passage between the two
houses. Both of them were painted a dark green and both
yielded obvious finger-marks, and though these were mere
oval smudges, devoid of any trace of pattern, their size
and their groupings showed clearly enough that they
appertained to a small hand. But we got more conclusive
confirmation from a small aluminium frying-pan that had
been left on the gas stove; for, on powdering the handle,


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 185
Thorndyke brought into view a remarkably clear thumb-
print, which was obviously identical with that on the
water-bottle.
"I think," said he, "that settles the question. If Mrs.
Gillow has not touched anything in these premises—as
she assures us that she has not—then we can safely assume
that these are Mrs. Frood's finger-prints."
"Are you going to annex the frying-pan to produce in
evidence?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "This verification is for our own
information: to secure us against the chance of produc-
ing Cobbledick's finger-prints to identify the body. I
propose, for the present, to say nothing to anyone as to
our possessing this knowledge. When the time comes we
can tell what we know. Until then we shall keep our own
counsel."
Once more I found myself dimly surprised at my
friend's apparently unnecessary secrecy, but, assuming
that he knew best, I made no comment, but watched with
somewhat puzzled curiosity his further proceedings. His
interest in the place was extraordinary. In a queer, cat-
like fashion he prowled about the premises, examining the
most trivial objects with almost ludicrous attention. He
went carefully through the cooking appliances and the
glass and china; he peered into cupboards, particularly into
a large, deep cupboard in which spare crockery was
stored, and which was, oddly enough, provided with a
Yale lock; he sorted out the meagre contents of the refuse-
bin, and incidentally salved from it a couple of cardboard
boxes that had originally contained groceries, and he ex-
plored the, now somewhat unsavoury, larder.
"I suppose," he said reflectively, "the dustman must
have used the side door. Do you happen to know?"


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 187
prints from contact with the sides; which was accom-
plished very neatly with the aid of a number of balls of
plasticine from the inexhaustible research-case.
"This is a little disappointing," said Thorndyke, look-
ing at the hair-brush and comb as he took off his gloves.
"I had hoped to collect a useful sample of hair. But her
excessive tidiness defeats us. There seems to be only one
or two short hairs and one full length. However, we may
as well have them. They won't be of much use for com-
parison with the naked eye, but even a single hair can be
used as a colour control under the microscope."
He combed the brush until the last hair was extracted
from it, and then drew the little collection from the comb
and arranged it on a sheet of paper. There were six short
hairs, from two to four inches long, and one long hair,
which seemed to have been broken off, as it had no bulb.
"Many ladies keep a combing-bag," he remarked, as
he bestowed the collection in a seed-envelope from the
research-case; "but I gather from your description that
Mrs. Frood's hair was luxuriant enough to render that
economy unnecessary. At any rate, there doesn't seem to
be such a bag. And now I think we have finished, and we
haven't done so badly."
"We have certainly got an excellent set of finger-
prints," said I. "But it seems rather doubtful whether
there will ever be an opportunity of using them; and if
there isn't, we shan't be much more forward for our ex-
ploration. Of course, there is the hair."
"Yes," said Thorndyke, "there is the hair. That may
be quite valuable. And perhaps there are some other mat-
ters—but time will show.''
With this somewhat cryptic conclusion he proceeded with
great care to pack the two boxes in his suit-case, wedging


188 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
them with his pyjamas so that they should not get shaken
in transit.
As we walked home I reflected on Thorndyke's last re-
mark. It seemed to contain a suggestion that the mys-
tery of Angelina's death was not so complete to him as it
was to me. For my own part, I could see no glimmer of
light in any direction. She seemed to have vanished with-
out leaving a trace excepting those few derelict objects
which had been washed ashore and which told us nothing.
But was it possible that those objects bore some signifi-
cance that I had overlooked? That they were charged
with some message that I had failed to decipher? I re-
called a certain reticence on the part of Cobbledick which
had made me suspect him of concealing from me some
knowledge that he held or some inferences that he had
drawn; and now there was this cryptic remark of Thorn-
dyke's, offering the same suggestion. Might it possibly
be that the profound obscurity was only in my own mind,
the product of my inexperience, and that to these skilled
investigators the problem presented a more intelligible
aspect? It might easily be. I determined cautiously to
approach the question.
"You seemed," said I, "to imply, just now, that there
are certain data for forming hypotheses as to the solution
of this mystery that envelops the disappearance of Mrs.
Frood. But I am not aware of any such data. Are you ?''
"Your question, Strangeways," he replied, "turns on
the meaning of the word 'aware.' If two men, one literate
and the other illiterate, look at a page of a printed book,
both may be said to be aware of it; that is to say that in
both it produces a retinal image which makes them con-
scious of it as a visible object having ^certain optical prop-
erties. In the case of the illiterate man the perception


THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 189
of the optical properties is the total effect. But the liter-
ate man has something in his consciousness already, and
this something combines, as it were, with the optical per-
ception, and makes him aware of certain secondary prop-
erties of the printed characters. To both, the page yields
a visual impression; but to one only does it yield what we
may call a psychical impression. Are they both aware of
the page?"
"I appreciate your point," said I, with a sour smile,
'' and I seem to be aware of a rather skilful evasion of my
question.''
He smiled in his turn and rejoined: "Your question
was a little indirect. Shall we have it in a more direct
form?"
"What I wanted to know," said I, "though I suppose
I have no right to ask, is whether there appears to you
to be any prospect whatever of finding any solution of
the mystery of Mrs. Frood's death."
"The answer to that question," he replied, "is furnished
by my own proceedings. I am not a communicative man,
as you may have noticed, but I will say this much: that
I have taken, and am taking, a good deal of trouble with
this case, and am prepared to take more, and that I do
not usually waste my efforts on problems that appear to
be unsolvable. I am not disposed to say more than that,
excepting to refer you again to the instance of the printed
page and to remind you that whatever I know I have
either learned from you or from the observation, in your
company, of objects equally visible to both of us."
This reply, if not very illuminating, at least answered
my question, as it conveyed to me that I was not likely
to get much more information out of my secretive friend.
Nevertheless, I asked:


THE PKINTS OF A VANISHED HAND 191
were dry -we inspected them through a lens, and found
them microscopically sharp. Finally, at Thorndyke's sug-
gestion, I scratched my initials with a needle in the corner
of each plate.
"Well," I said, when he had finished, "you have got
the evidence that you wanted, and in a very complete
form. It remains to be seen now whether you will ever
get an opportunity to use it."
"Don't be pessimistic, Strangeways," said he. "We
have had exceptional luck in getting this splendid series of
finger-prints. Let us hope that Fortune will not desert us
after making us these gifts."
"What is to be done with the originals?" I asked.
'' Shall I put them back where we found them ?''
"I think not," he replied "If you have a safe or a
secure lock-up cupboard, where they could be put away,
out of sight, and from whence they could be produced if
necessary, I will ask you to take charge of them."
There was a cupboard with a good lock in the old bureau
that I had found in my bedroom, and to this I conveyed
the precious objects and locked them in. And so ended
—at least, for the present—the episode of our raid on
poor Angelina's abode.


CHAPTER XIII
THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE
ON a fine, sunny afternoon, about ten days after
our raid on Angelina's rooms (it was Tuesday
the 14th of July, to be exact), I was sitting
in my dining-room, from which the traces of lunch had
just been removed, idly glancing over the paper, and con-
sidering the advisability of taking a walk, when I heard
the door-bell ring. There was a short interval; then the
door was opened, and the sounds of strife and wrangling
that followed this phenomenon informed me that the
visitor was Mr. Bundy, between whom and Mrs. Dunk
there existed a state of chronic warfare. Presently the
dining-room door opened—in time for me to catch a con-
cluding growl of defiance from Mrs. Dunk—and that lady
announced gruffly: "Mr. Bundy."
My visitor tripped in smilingly, "all teeth and eye-
glass," as his inveterate enemy had once expressed it,
holding a Panama hat, which had temporarily superseded
the velour.
"Well, John," said he, "coming out to play?" He had
lately taken to calling me John; in fact, a very close and
pleasant intimacy had sprung up between us. It dated
from the occasion when I had confided to him my unfortu-
nate passion for poor Angelina. That confidence he had
evidently taken as a great compliment, and the matter of
it had struck a sympathetic chord in his kindly nature.
From that moment there had been a sensible change in his
manner towards me. Beneath his habitual flippancy there
192


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 193
was an undertone of gentleness and sympathy, and even
of affection. Nor had I been unresponsive. Like Thorn-
dyke, I found in his sunny temperament, his invariable
cheerfulness and high spirits, a communicable quality that
took effect on my own state of mind. And then I had
early recognized that, in spite of his apparent giddiness,
Bundy was a man of excellent intelligence and consider-
able strength of character. So the friendship had ripened
naturally enough.
I rose from my chair and, dropping the paper, stretched
myself.
"You are an idle young dog," said I. "Why aren't you
at work?"
"Nothing doing at the office except some specifications.
Japp is doing them. Come out and have a roll round."
"Well, Jimmy," said I. "Your name is Jimmy, isn't
it?"
"No, it is not," he replied with dignity. "I am called
Peter—like the Bishop of Rumtifoo, and, by a curious
coincidence, for the very same reason."
"Let■ine see," said I, falling instantly into the trap,
"what was that reason?"
"Why, you see," he replied impressively, "the Bishop
was called Peter because that was his name."
"Look here, young fellow my lad," said I, "you'll get
yourself into trouble if you come up here pulling your
elder's legs."
"It was only a gentle tweak, old chap," said he. "Be-
sides, you aren't so blooming senile, after all. You are
only cutting your first crop of whiskers. Are you com-
ing out? I saw old Cobbledick just now, turning down
Blue Boar Lane and looking as miserable as a wet cat."
"What was he looking miserable about?"


194 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"The slump in relics, I expect. He is making no head-
way with his investigation. I fancy he had reckoned on
getting an inspectorship out of this case, whereas, if he
doesn't reach some sort of conclusion, he is likely to get
his rapples knucked, as old Miss Barman would say. I
suspect he was on his way to the Ark to confer with Mr.
Noah. What do you say to a stroll in the direction of
Mount Ararat?"
It was a cunning suggestion on the part of Bundy, for
it drew me instantly. Repulsive as old Israel's activities
were to me, the presence of those finger-prints, securely
locked up in my bureau, had created in me a fresh anxiety
to see the first state of the investigation completed so that
the search for the murderer could be commenced in earnest.
Not that my presence would help the sergeant, but that I
was eager to hear the tidings of any new discovery.
Bundy's inference had been quite correct. We arrived
at the head of the Blue Boar pier just in time to see the
sergeant slowly descending the ladder, watched gloomily
by Israel Bangs. As the former reached terra firma he
turned round and then observed us.
"Any news, Sergeant?" I asked, as he approached
across the grass.
He shook his head discontentedly. "No," he replied,
"not a sign; not a vestige. It's a most mysterious affair.
The things seemed to be coming up quite regularly until
that hatpin was found. Then everything came to an
end. Not a trace of anything for nigh upon a month.
And what, in the name of Fortune, can have become of
the body? That's what I can't make out. If this goes
on much longer, there won't be any body: and then we
shall be done. The case will have to be dropped."
He took off his hat (he was in plain clothes as usual)


196 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Did he find the hat-pin that you spoke of?" Bundy
asked.
"Yes; and he has been grubbing round the place where
he found it ever since, as if he thought hat-pins grew
there."
"Still," said Bundy, "it is not so unreasonable. A hat-
pin couldn't have floated ashore. If the hat came off, the
two hat-pins must have fallen out at pretty much the same
time and place."
"Yes," the sergeant agreed, reflectively, "that seems
to be common sense; and, if it is, the other hat-pin ought
to be lying somewhere close by. I must go and have a
look there myself." He again reflected for a few moments
and then asked: "Would you like to see the place where
Israel found the pin?"
As I had seen the place already and had shown it to
Thorndyke, I left Bundy to answer.
'' Why not?" he assented, rather, I suspected, to humour
the sergeant than because he felt any particular interest
in the place. Thereupon Cobbledick, whose enthusiasm
appeared to have been revived by Bundy's remark, led
the way briskly towards the wilderness by the coal-wharves,
through that desolate region and along a cart-track that
skirted the marshes until we came out into a sort of lesser
wilderness to the west of Gas-House Road. Here the ser-
geant slipped through a large hole in a corrugated iron
fence which gave access to a wharf littered with the un-
presentable debris resulting from the activities of a firm
of ship-knackers. Advancing to the edge of the wharf,
Cobbledick stood for a while looking down wistfully at
the expanse of unspeakable mud that the receding tide had
uncovered.


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 197
"I suppose it is too dirty to go down," he said in a
regretful tone.
Bundy's assent to this proposition was most emphatic
and unqualified, and the sergeant had to content himself
with a bird's-eye view. But he made a very thorough
inspection, walking along the edge of the wharf, scrutiniz-
ing its base, pile by pile, and giving separate attention to
each pot, tin, or scrap of driftwood on the slimy surface.
He even borrowed Bundy's telescope to enable him to ex-
amine the more distant parts of the mud, until the owner
of the instrument was reduced to the necessity of standing
behind him, for politeness' sake, to get a comfortable
yawn.
"Well," said Cobbledick, at long last, handing back the
telescope, "I suppose we must give it up. But it's disap-
pointing."
"I don't quite see why," said Bundy. "You have
found enough to prove that the body is in the river, and
no number of further relics would prove any more."
"No, there's some truth in that," Cobbledick agreed.
"But I don't like the way that everything seems to have
come to a stop." He crawled dejectedly through the hole
in the fence and walked on for a minute or two without
speaking. Presently he halted and looked about him. '' I
suppose Black Boy-lane will be our best way," he re-
marked.
"Which is Black Boy-lane?" I asked.
"It is the lane we came down after we left Japp and
Willard that day," Bundy explained.
"I remember," said I, "but I didn't know it had a
name."
"It was named after a little inn that used to stand


198 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
somewhere near the top; but it was pulled down years ago.
Here's the lane."
We entered the little, tortuous alley that wound between
the high, tarred fences, and as it was too narrow for us
to walk abreast, Bundy dropped behind. A little way up
the lane I noticed an old hat lying on the high grass at the
foot of the fence. Bundy apparently noticed it, too, for
just after we had passed it I heard the sound of a kick, and
the hat flew over my shoulder. At the same moment, and
impelled by the same kick, a small object, which I at first
thought to be a pebble, hopped swiftly along the ground
in front of us, then rolled a little way, and finally came to
rest, when I saw that it was a button. I should probably
have passed it without further notice, having no use for
stray buttons. But the more thrifty sergeant stooped and
picked it up; and the instant that he looked at it he stopped
dead.
"My God! Doctor," he exclaimed, holding it out towards
me. "Look at this!"
I took it from him, though I had recognized it at a
glance. It was a small bronze button with a Tudor Rose
embossed on it.
"This is a most amazing thing," said Cobbledick.
"There can't be any doubt as to what it is."
"Not the slightest," I agreed. "It is certainly one of
the buttons from Mrs. Frood's coat. The question is, how
on earth did it get here?"
"Yes," said the sergeant, "that is the question; and a
very difficult question, too.''
"Aren't you taking rather a lot for granted?" suggested
Bundy, to whom I had passed the little object for inspec-
tion. "It doesn't do to jump at conclusions too much.
Mrs. Frood isn't likely to have had her buttons made to


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 199
order. She must have bought them somewhere. She
might even have bought them in Rochester. In any case,
there must be thousands of others like them.''
"I suppose there must be," I admitted, "though I
have never seen any buttons like them."
"Neither have I," said Cobbledick, "and I am go-
ing to stick to the obvious probabilities. The missing
woman wore buttons like this, and I shall assume that
this is one of her buttons unless someone can prove that
it isn't."
"But how do you account for one of her buttons being
here ?'' Bundy objected.
"I don't account for it," retorted Cobbledick. "It's a
regular puzzle. Of course, someone—a child, for instance
—might have picked it up on the shore and dropped it
here. But that is a mere guess, and not a very likely one.
The obvious thing to do is to search this lane thoroughly
and see if there are any other traces; and that is what I
am going to do now. But don't let me detain you two
gentlemen if you had rather not stay.''
"I shall certainly stay and help you, Sergeant," said I;
and Bundy, assuming the virtue of enthusiasm, if he had
it not, elected also to stay and join in the search.
"We had better go back to the bottom of the lane,"
said Cobbledick, "and go through the grass at the foot of
the fence from end to end. I will take the right hand side
and you take the left."
We retraced our steps to the bottom of the lane and
began a systematic search, turning over the grass and
weeds and exposing the earth inch by inch. It was
a slow- process and would have appeared a singular
proceeding had any wayfarer passed through and observed
us, but fortunately it was an unfrequented place, and no


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 201
lane. That is the new and astonishing fact that needs
explaining."
"We don't want to do any explaining now," said Cobble-
dick. "We are here to collect facts. If we can find out
what became of the hat, that may help us when we come
to consider the explanations.''
"Well, it obviously isn't here," said I.
"No," he agreed, "and it wouldn't have been left here.
A murderer mightn't have noticed the button, or even the
hat-pin, on a dark, foggy night. But he'd have noticed the
hat; and he wouldn't have left it where it must have been
seen, and probably led to inquiries. He might have taken
it with him, or he might have got rid of it. I should say
he would have got rid of it. What is on the other side of
these fences?"
We all hitched ourselves up the respective fences far
enough to look over. On the one side was a space of bare,
gravelly ground with thin patches of grass and numerous
heaps of cinder; on the other was an area of old waste land
thickly covered with thistles, ragwort, and other weeds.
The sergeant elected to begin with the latter, as the less
frequented and therefore more probably undisturbed.
Setting his foot on the buttress of a post, he went over the
fence with surprising agility, considering his figure, and
was lost to view; but we could hear him raking about
among the herbage close to the fence, and from time to
time I stood on the buttress and was able to witness his
proceedings. First he went to the bottom of the lane and
from that point returned by the fence, searching eagerly
among the high weeds. I saw him thus proceed, appar-
ently to the top of the lane in the neighbourhood of the
remains of the city wall. Thence he came back, but now
at a greater distance from the fence, and as he was still


202 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
eagerly peering and probing amoDgst the weeds, it was
evident that he had had no success. Suddenly, when he
was but a few yards away, he uttered an exclamation and
ran forward. Then I saw him stoop, and the next moment
he fairly ran towards me holding the unmistakable brown
straw hat with the dull green ribbon.
'' That tells us what we wanted to know,'' he said breath-
lessly, handing the hat to me as he climbed over the fence;
"at least, I think it does. I'll tell you what I mean—but
not now," he added in a lower tone, though not unheard
by Bundy, as I inferred later.
"I suppose we need hardly go on with the search any
further?" I suggested, having had enough of groping
amongst the grass.
"Well, no," he replied. "I shall go over it again later
on, but we've got enough to think about for the present.
By the way, Mr. Bundy, I've found something belonging
to you. Isn't this your property?"
He produced from his pocket a largish key, to which was
attached a wooden label legibly inscribed "Japp and
Bundy, High-street, Rochester."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Bundy, "it is Japp's precious,
key! Where on earth did you find it, Sergeant ?''
"Right up at the top," was the reply. "Close to the
old wall."
"Now, I wonder how the deuce it got there," 'said
Bundy. "Some fool must have thrown it over the fence
from pure mischief. However, here it is. You know
there was a reward of ten shillings for finding it, Sergeant.
I had better settle up at once. You needn't make any
difficulties about it," he added, as the sergeant seemed dis-
posed to decline the payment. "It won't come out of my
pocket. It is the firm's business."


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 203
On this understanding Cobbledick pocketed the proffered
note and we walked on up the lane, the sergeant slightly
embarrassed, as we approached the town, by the palpably
unconcealable hat. Very little was said by any of us, for
these new discoveries, with the amazing inferences that
they suggested, gave us all abundant material for thought.
The sergeant walked with eyes bent on the ground, evi-
dently cogitating profoundly; my mind surged with new
speculations and hypotheses, while Bundy, if not similarly
preoccupied, refrained from breaking in on our meditations.
When, at length, by devious ways, we reached the High-
street in the neighbourhood of the Corn Exchange, we
halted, and the sergeant looked at me as if framing a
question. Bundy glanced up at the quaint old clock, and
remarked:
"It is about time I got back to the office. Mustn't leave
poor old Japp to do all the work, though he never grumbles.
So I will leave you here.''
I realized that this was only a polite excuse to enable the
sergeant to have a few words with me alone, and I accepted
it as such.
"Good-bye, then," said I, "if you must be off, and in
case I don't see you before, I shall expect you to dinner on
Saturday if you've got the evening free. Dr. Thorndyke
is coming down for the week-end, and I know you enjoy
ragging him."
"He is pretty difficult to get a rise out of, all the same,''
said Bundy, brightening up perceptibly at the invitation.
"But I shall turn up with very great pleasure." He be-
stowed a mock ceremonious salute on me and the sergeant,
and, turning away, bustled off in the direction of the office.
As soon as he was out of earshot Cobbledick opened the
subject of the new discoveries.


204 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"This is an extraordinary development of our case,
Doctor," said he. "I didn't want to discuss it before
Mr. Bundy, though he is really quite a discreet gentleman,
and pretty much on the spot, too. But he isn't a party to
the case, and it is better not to talk too freely. You see
the points that these fresh finds raise?"
'' I see that they put a new complexion on the affair, but
to me they only make the mystery deeper and more in-
comprehensible."
"In a way they do," Cobbledick agreed, "but, on the
other hand, they put the case on a more satisfactory foot-
ing. For instance, we understand now why the body has
never come to light. It was never in the river at all.
Then as to the perpetrator; he was a local man—or, at
least, there was a local man in it; a man who knew the town
and the waterside neighbourhood thoroughly. No stranger
would have found Black Boy-lane. Very few Rochester
people know it."
"But," I asked, "what does the finding of these thiDgs
suggest to you?"
"Well," he replied, "it suggests several questions. Let
me just put these things away in my office, and then we
can talk the matter over." He went into his office, and
shortly returned relieved—very much relieved—of the con-
spicuous hat. We turned towards the bridge, and he re-
sumed: "The first question and the most important one
is, which way was the body travelling? It is obvious that
it was carried through Black Boy-lane. But in which
direction? Towards the town or towards the river?
When you think of the circumstances; when you recall that
it was a foggy night when she disappeared; it seems at
first more probable that the crime might have been com-
mitted in, or near, the lane, and the body carried down to


THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE 205
the river. But when you consider all the facts, that doesn't
seem possible. There is that box of tablets, picked up dry
and clean on Chatham Hard. That seems to fix the locality
where the crime occurred."
"And there is the brooch," said I.
"I don't attach much importance to that," he replied.
"It might have been picked up anywhere. But the box
of tablets couldn't have got from Black Boy-lane to
Chatham except by the river, and it hadn't been in the
river. But the hat seems to me to settle the question. You
see, one hat-pin was found on the shore and the other in
the lane near the hat. Now, one hat-pin might have
dropped out and left the hat still fixed on the head. But
when the hat came off, the pins must have come off with
it. The hat came off near the top of the lane. If both the
pins had been in it they would both have come out there.
But one pin was found on the shore; therefore when the
body was at the shore the hat must have been still on the
head, though it had probably got loosened by all the drag-
ging about in the boat and in landing the body. You agree
to that, Doctor?"
"Yes, it seem undeniable," I answered.
"Very well," said he. "Then the body was being car-
ried up the lane. The next question is: was it being
carried by one person or by more than one? Well, I think
you will agree with me, Doctor, that it could hardly have
been done by one man. It is quite a considerable distance
from the shore to the top of the lane. She was a good-
sized woman, and a dead body is a mighty awkward thing
to carry at the best of times. I should say there must have
been at least two men."
"It certainly does seem probable," I admitted.
"I think so," said he. "Then we come to another ques-


CHAPTER XIV
SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED
THE custom which had grown upon my part of
meeting Thorndyke at the station on the occasion
of his visits was duly honoured on the present
occasion, for the surprising discoveries in Black Boy-lane,
which I had described in my report to him, made me eager
to hear his comments. Unfortunately, on this occasion, he
had come down by an unusually late train, and the oppor-
tunity for discussion was limited to the time occupied by
the short walk from Rochester Station to my house. For
it was close upon dinner time, and I rather expected to
find Bundy awaiting us.
"Your report was quite a thrilling document," he re-
marked, as we came out of the station approach. "These
new discoveries seem to launch us on a fresh phase of the
investigation.''
"Do they seem to you to offer any intelligible sugges-
tions?" I asked.
"There is no lack of suggestions," he replied. "To a
person of ordinary powers of imagination, a number of
hypotheses must present themselves. But, of course, the
first thing to consider is not what might have happened,
but what did happen, and what we can safely infer from
those happenings. We can apparently take it as proved
that the body was carried through the lane; and every-
thing goes to show that it was carried from the river
towards the town. The first clear inference is that we can
208


SEKGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 211)
four photographs, all mounted and all of cabinet size, which
he stood up in a row on the mantelpiece. Two of them
were from the same negative, one being printed in red
carbon, the other in sepia. The remaining two were or-
dinary silver prints of the conventional trade type.
Bundy looked at the collection with not unnatural sur-
prise.
"Where did these things come from?" he asked.
"They came from London," replied Thorndyke, "where
things of this kind grow. Strangeways asked me to get
him some samples. How do you like them? My own
preference is for the carbons, and of the two I think I like
the red chalk print the better."
I ran my eye along the row and found myself in strong
agreement with Thorndyke. It was not only that the car-
bon prints had the advantage of the finer medium. The
treatment was altogether more artistic, and the likeness
seemed better, in spite of a rather over-strong top-lighting.
"Yes," I said, "the carbons are infinitely superior to
the silver prints, and of the two I think the red is the
better because it emphasises the shadows less.''
"Is the likeness as good as in the silver prints?" Thorn-
dyke asked.
"Better, I think. The expression is more natural and
spontaneous. What do you say, Peter?"
As I spoke I looked at him, not for the first time, for
I had already been struck by the intense concentration
with which he had been examining the two carbons. And
it was not only concentration. There was a curious ex-
pression of surprise, as if something in the appearance of
the portraits puzzled him.
He looked up with a perplexed frown. "As to the like-
ness," said he, "I don't know that I am a particularly good


212 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
judge. I only saw her once or twice. But, as far as I
remember, it seems to be quite a good likeness, and there
can be no question as to the superiority, in an artistic
sense, of the carbons. And I agree with you that the
shadows are less harsh in the red than in the sepia. Who
is the photographer?"
He picked up the red print and, turning it over, looked
at the back. Then, finding that the back of the card was
blank, he picked up the sepia print and inspected it in the
same way, but with the same result. There was no photog-
rapher's name either on the back or front.
"I have an impression," said Thorndyke, "that the
carbons were done by a City photographer. But my man
will know. He got them for me."
Bundy set the two photographs back in their places,
still, as it seemed to me, with the air of a man who is try-
ing vainly to remember something. But, at this moment,
Mrs. Dunk entered with the soup tureen, and we forth-
with took our places at the table.
We had finished our soup, and I was proceeding to effect
the dismemberment of an enormous sole, when Bundy,
having fortified himself with a sip of Chablis, cast a malig-
nant glance at Thorndyke.
'' I have got some bad news for you, Doctor,'' said he.
"Which doctor are you addressing?" Thorndyke asked.
"There's only one now," replied Bundy. "T'other one
has been degraded to the rank of John."
"That happens to be my rank, too," observed Thorn-
dyke.
"Oh, but I couldn't think of taking such a liberty,"
Bundy protested, "though it is very gracious and con-
descending of you to suggest it. No, your rank and title
will continue to be that of doctor."


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 213
"And what is your bad news?"
"It is a case of a lost opportunity," said Bundy. "'Of
all the sad words of tongue or pen,' and so on. It might
have been ten shillings. But it never will now. Cobble-
dick has got your ten bob.''
"Do you mean that Cobbledick has found the missing
key?"
'' Even so, alackaday! The chance is gone for ever.''
"Where did he find it?" Thorndyke asked.
"Ah!" exclaimed Bundy. "There it is again. The
tragedy of it! He wasn't looking for it at all. He just
fell over it in a field where he was searching for relics of
Mrs. Frood."
"Your description," said Thorndyke, "is deficient in
geographical exactitude. Could you bring your ideas of
locality to a somewhat sharper focus? There are proba-
bly several fields in the neighbourhood of Rochester."
"So there are," said Bundy. "Quite a lot. But this
particular field lies on the right, or starboard, side of a
small thoroughfare called Black Boy-lane."
"Let me see," said Thondyke. "Isn't that the lane that
we went down after leaving our friends on the day of the
Great Perambulation?"
"Yes," replied Bundy, looking at him in astonishment,
"but how did you know its name?" (He was, of course,
not aware of my report to Thorndyke describing the dis-
coveries and the place.)
"That," said Thorndyke, "is an irrelevant question.
Now when you say 'the right-hand side'"
"I mean the right-hand side looking towards the town,
of course. As a matter of fact, Cobbledick found the key
among the thistles near to the fence, and quite close to the
outside of the city wall."


214 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"How do you suppose it got there?" Thorndyke asked.
"I've no idea. Someone must have taken it out of the
gate and thrown it over the fence. That is obvious. But
who could have done it I can't imagine. Of course, you
suspect Cobbledick, but that is only jealousy."
The exchange of schoolboy repartee continued without a
sensible pause on either side. But yet I seemed to detect
in Thorndyke's manner a certain reflectiveness underlying
the levity of his verbal conflict with Bundy; a reflective-
ness that seemed to have had its origin in the "news"
that the latter had communicated. Of course, I had said
nothing, in my report, about the finding of the key. Why
should IV Those reports referred exclusively to matters
connected with the disappearance of poor Angelina. The
loss and the recovery of the key were items of mere local
gossip with which Thorndyke could have no concern ex-
cepting in connexion with Bundy's facetious fiction. And
yet it had seemed to me that Thorndyke showed quite a
serious interest in the announcement. However, he made
no further reference to the matter, and the conversation
drifted to other topics.
It was almost inevitable that, sooner or later, some refer-
ence should be made to the discoveries in the lane. It was
Bundy, of course, who introduced the subject; and I was
amused by the adroit way in which Thorndyke conveyed
the impression of complete ignorance, without making any
statement, and the patient manner in which he listened to
the account of the adventure, and even elicited amplified
details by judicious questions. But he eluded all Bundy's
efforts to extract an opinion on the significance of the
discoveries.
"But," the latter protested, "you said that if I would
give you the facts, you would give me the explanation."


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 215
'' The explanation is obvious,'' said Thorndyke. '' If you
found these objects in the lane, they must have been
dropped there."
"Well, of course they must," said Bundy. "That is
quite obvious."
"Exactly," agreed Thorndyke. "That is what I am
pointing out."
"But why was the body being carried up the lane?
And where was it being carried to?"
"Ah," protested Thorndyke, "but now you are going
beyond your facts. You haven't proved that there was
any body there at all."
"But there must have been, or the things couldn't have
dropped off it."
"But you haven't proved that they did drop off it.
They may have, or they may not. That is a question
of fact; and as I impressed on you on a previous occasion,
evidence as to fact is the function of the common witness.
The expert witness explains the significance of facts fur-
nished by others. I have explained the facts that you
have produced, and now you ask me to explain something
that isn't a fact at all. But that is not my function. I
am an expert."
"I see," said Bundy; "and now I understand why
judges are so down on expert witnesses. It is my belief that
they are a parcel of impostors. Wasn't Captain Bunsby
an expert witness? Or was he only an oracle?"
"It is a distinction without a difference," replied Thorn-
dyke. "Captain Bunsby is the classical instance of orac-
ular safety. It was impossible to dispute the correctness
of his pronouncements."
"Principally," said I, "because no one could make head
or tail of them."


218 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FKOOD
"Good night, John, old chap," he said cordially, as I
retired.
"Good night, Peter, my child," I responded; and so
took my way homeward to my other guest.
I arrived at my house in time to meet Thorndyke re-
turning from the adjacent pillar-box, and we went in to-
gether.
"Well, said he, "I suppose we had better turn in, ac-
cording to what is, I believe, the custom of this household,
and turn out betimes in the morning, for a visit, perhaps,
to Black Boy-lane."
"Yes," I replied, "we may as well turn in now. You
are not going to leave these photographs there, are you?"
"They are your photographs," he replied; "that is, if
you care to have them. I brought them down for you."
I thanked him very warmly for the gift, and gathered up
the portraits carefully, replacing them, for the present, in
their box. Then we turned out the lights and made our
way up to our respective bedrooms.
At breakfast on the following morning Thorndyke
opened the subject of our investigation by cross-examining
me on the matter of my report, and the more detailed ac-
count that Bundy had given.
"What does Sergeant Cobbledick think of the new de-
velopments?" he asked, when I had given him all the detail
that I could.
"In a way he is encouraged. He is glad to get some-
thing more definite to work on. But for the present he
seems to be high and dry. He gave me quite a learned
exposition of the possibilities of the case, but he had to
admit when he had finished that he was still in the dark
so far as any final conclusion was concerned. He even
suggested that I should put the facts before you—he recog-


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 219
nized you when we met him on the road near Blue Boar
Pier—and ask if you could make any suggestion."
"Can you recall the sergeant's exposition of the case?"
"I think so. It made rather an impression on me at the
time," and here I repeated, as well as I could remember
them, the various inferences that Cobbledick had drawn
from the presence in the lane of the things that we had
found. Thorndyke listened with deep attention, nodding
his head approvingly as each point was made.
"A very admirable analysis, Strangeways," he said
when I had finished. "It does the sergeant great credit.
So far as it goes, it is an excellent interpretation of the
facts that are in his possession. There are, perhaps, one
or two points that he has overlooked."
"If there are," said I, "it would be a great kindness
to draw his attention to them. He is naturally anxious to
get on with the case, and he has taken endless trouble over
it."
"I shall be very glad to give him a hint or two," said
Thorndyke. "After breakfast I should like to go over the
ground with you, and then we might go along to the sta-
tion and see if he is in his office."
I agreed to this program, and as soon as we had finished
our breakfast we went forth, making our way by Free
School-lane and The Common to the marshes west of Gas
House-road. From there we entered Black Boy-lane at the
lower end, and slowly followed its windings, Thorndyke
looking about him attentively, and occasionally peering
over the fences, which his stature enabled him to do without
climbing. At the top of the lane, where it opened into a
paved thoroughfare, we observed no less a personage than
Sergeant Cobbledick, standing on the pavement and look-
ing at the few adjacent houses with an expression of pro-


SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 221
might be taken to a house to be destroyed by burning or to
be dismembered or even buried, say under the cellar. I
must say my own feeling is that it was a dead body.''
"The reasons you gave Dr. Strangeways for thinking
so seem to be quite sound. Let us proceed on the assump-
tion that it was a dead body.''
"Well, Sir," said Cobbledick, gloomily, "there you are.
That's all. We have got a body brought up from the
river. We can trace it up to near the top of the lane.
But there we lose it. It seems to have vanished into
smoke. It was being taken up into the town; but where?
There's nothing to show. We come out into the paved
streets, and, of course, there isn't a trace. We seem to
have come to the end of our clues; and I am very much
afraid that we shan't get any more.''
"There," said Thorndyke, "I am inclined to agree with
you, Sergeant. You won't get any more clues for the
simple reason that you have got them all."
"Got them all!" exclaimed Cobbledick, staring in amaze-
ment at Thorndyke.
"Yes," was the calm reply; "at least, that is how it
appears to me. Your business now is not to search for
more clues but to extract the meaning from the facts that
you possess. Come, now, Sergeant," he continued, "let
us take a bird's-eye view of the case, as it were, recon-
structing the investigation in a sort of synopsis. I will
read the entries from my note-book."
"On Saturday, the 26th of April, Mrs. Frood disap-
peared. On the 1st of May the brooch was found at the
pawn-brokers. On the 7th of May the box of tablets and
the bag were found on the shore at Chatham, apparently
fixing the place of the crime. On the 9th of May the
scarf was found at Blue Boar Head. On the 15th of May


222 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
a shoe was found in the creek between Blue Boar Head and
Gas House Point. On the 25th of May the second shoe
was found on the gridiron near Gas House Point. On the
20th of June a hat-pin was found on the shore a little
west of the last spot; always creeping steadily up the
river, you notice."
"Yes," said Cobbledick, "I noticed that, and I'm
hanged if I can account for it in any way."
"Never mind," said Thorndyke. "Just note the fact.
Then on the 14th of July four articles were found; near
the bottom of the lane a button; near the middle of the
lane a hat-pin, and, abreast of it in the field, the hat, itself.
Finally, at the top of the lane, in the field, you found the
missing key."
"I don't see what the key has got to do with it," said
the sergeant. "It don't seem to me to be in the picture."
"Doesn't it?" said Thorndyke. "Just consider a mo-
ment, Sergeant. But perhaps you have forgotten the date
on which the key disappeared?"
"I don't know that I ever noticed when it was lost."
"It wasn't lost," said Thorndyke. "It was taken away
—probably out of the gate—and afterwards'thrown over
the fence. But I daresay Dr. Strangeways can give you
the date."
I reflected for a few moments. "Let me see," said I.
"It was a good while ago, and I remember that it was a
Saturday, because the men who were filling the holes in
the city wall had knocked off at noon for a week-end. Now
when was it? I went to the wine merchant's that day,
and—" I paused with a sudden shock of recollection.
"Why!" I exclaimed. "It was the Saturday; the day
Mrs. Frood disappeared!"


SEKGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED 223
Cobblediek seemed to stiffen in his chair as he suddenly
turned a startled look at Thorndyke.
"Yes," agreed the latter; "the key disappeared during
the morning of the 26th of April and Mrs. Prood disap-
peared on the evening of the same day. That is a coin-
cidence in time. And if you consider what gate it was that
this key unlocked; that it gave entrance—and also excluded
entrance—to an isolated, enclosed area of waste land in
which excavations and fillings-in were actually taking
place; I think you will agree that there is matter for in-
vestigation."
As Thorndyke was speaking Cobblediek's eyes opened
wider and wider, and his mouth exhibited a like change.
"Good Lord, Sir!" he exclaimed at length, "you mean
to say"
"No, I don't," Thorndyke interrupted with a smile. "I
am merely drawing your attention to certain facts which
seem to have escaped it. You said that there was no hint
of a place to which the body could have been conveyed. I
point out a hint which you have overlooked. That is all.''
"It is a pretty broad hint, too," said Cobblediek, "and
I am going to lose no time in acting on it. Do you happen
to know, Doctor, who employed the workmen?"
"I gathered that Japp and Bundy had the contract to
repair the wall. At any rate, they were supervising the
work, and they will be able to tell you where to find the
foreman. Probably they have a complete record of the
progress of the work. You know Mr. Japp's address on
Boley Hill, I suppose, and Mr. Bundy lives over the
office."
"I'll call on him at once," said Cobblediek, "and see
if he can give me the particulars, and I'll get him to lend


224 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
me the key. I suppose you two gentlemen wouldn't care
to come and have a look at the place with me?"
"I don't see why not," said Thorndyke. "But I par-
ticularly wish not to appear in connexion with the case, so
I will ask you to say nothing to anyone of your having
spoken to me about it, and, of course, we go to the place
alone."
"Certainly," the sergeant agreed emphatically. "We
don't want any outsiders with us. Then if you will wait
for me here I will get back as quickly as I can. I hope
Mr. Bundy is at home."
He snatched up his hat and darted out of the office, full
of hope and high spirits. Thorndyke's suggestion had
rejuvenated him.
"It seems to me," I said, when he had gone, "a rather
remarkable thing that you should have remembered all
the circumstances of the loss of this key.''
"It isn't really remarkable at all," he replied. "I
heard of it after the woman had disappeared. But as soon
as she had disappeared, the loss of this particular key at
this particular time became a fact of possible evidential
importance. It was a fact that had to be noted and re-
membered. The connexion of the tragedy with the river
seemed to exclude it for a time; but the discoveries in the
lane at once revived its importance. The fundamental
rule, Strangeways, of all criminal investigation is to note
everything, relevant or irrelevant, and forget nothing."
"It is an excellent rule," said I, "but it must be a
mighty difficult one to carry out"; and for a while we sat,
each immersed in his own reflections. •
The sergeant returned in an incredibly short space of
time, and he burst into the office with a beaming face,


CHAPTER XV
THE END OP THE TRAIL
SHORTLY after breakfast on the following morning
Sergeant Cobbledick made his appearance at my
house. I found him in the consulting-room, walk-
ing about on tip-toe with his hat balanced in his hands,
and evidently in a state of extreme nervous tension.
"I have got everything in train, Doctor," said he, declin-
ing a seat. '' I dug up the foreman yesterday evening and
he dug up one of his mates to give him a hand, if neces-
sary; and I have the authority to open the wall. So we
are all ready to begin. The two men have gone down to the
place with their tools, and Mr. Bundy has gone with them
to let them in. He didn't much want to go, but I thought
it best that either he or Mr. Japp should be present. It
is their wall, so to speak. I suppose you are coming to
see the job done."
"Is there any need for me to be there?" I asked.
Cobbledick looked at me in surprise. He had evidently
assumed that I should be eager to see what happened.
"Well," he replied, "you are the principal witness to the
identity of the remains. You saw her last, you know.
What is your objection, Doctor?"
I was not in a position to answer this question. I could
not tell him what this last and most horrible search meant
to me; and apart from my personal feelings in regard to
poor Angelina, there was no objection at all, but, on the
contrary, every reason why I should be present.
228


THE END OF THE TRAIL 229
"It isn't a very pleasant affair," I replied, "seeing that
I knew the lady rather well. However, if you think I had
better be there, I will come down with you."
"I certainly think your presence would be a help,"
said he. "We don't know what may turn up, and you
know more about her than anybody else."
Accordingly, I walked down with him, and when he had
admitted me with his key—Bundy had presumably used
the duplicate—he closed the gate and locked it from within.
The actual operations had not yet commenced, but the fore-
man and his mate were standing by the wall, conversing af-
fably with Bundy, who looked nervous and uncomfortable,
evidently relishing his position no more than I did mine.
"This is a gruesome affair, John, isn't it?" he said in
a low voice. "I don't see why old Cobbledick wanted to
drag us into it. It will be an awful moment when they
uncover her, if she is really there. I'm frightfully sorry
for you, old chap."
"I should have had to see the body in any case," said
I; "and this is less horrible than the river."
Here my attention was attracted by the foreman, who
had just drawn a long, horizontal chalk line across the
patch of new rubble, a little below the middle.
"That's about the place where we left off that
Saturday, so far as I remember," he said. "We had
built up the outer case, and we filled in the hollow with
loose bricks and stones, but we didn't put any mortar to
them until Monday morning. Then we mixed up a lot of
mortar, quite thin, so that it would run, and poured it
on top of the loose stuff.''
"Rum way of building a wall, isn't it?" observed Cob-
bledick.
The foreman grinned. "It ain't what you'd call the


230 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
highest class of masonry," he admitted. "But what can
you expect to do with a gang of corner-boys who've never
done a job of real work in their lives?"
"No, that's true," said the Sergeant. "But you made
a soft job for the grave-diggers, didn't you? Why they'd
only got to pick out the loose stuff and then dump it back
on top when they'd put the body in. Then you came
along on Monday morning and finished the job for them
with one or two bucketsful of liquid mortar. How long
would it have taken to pick out that loose stuff ?''
"Lord bless yer," was the answer, "one man who meant
business could have picked the whole lot out by hand in an
hour; and he could have chucked it back in less. As you
say, Sergeant, it was a soft job."
While they had been talking, the foreman's familiar
demon had been making a tentative attack on the outer
casing with a great, chisel-ended steel bar and a mason's
hammer. The foreman now came to his aid with a sledge
hammer, the first stroke of which caused the shoddy ma-
sonry to crack in all directions like pie-crust. Then the
fractured pieces of the outer shell were prised off, reveal-
ing the "loose stuff" within. And uncommonly loose it
was; so loose that the unjoined bricks and stones, with
their adherent gouts of mortar, came away at the lightest
touch of the great crow-bar.
As soon as a breach had been made at the top of the
patch, the labourer climbed up and began flinging out the
separated bricks and stones. Then he attacked a fresh
course of the outer shell with a pick, and so exposed a fresh
layer of the loose filling.
"There'll be a fresh job for the unemployed to build
this up again," the sergeant observed with a sardonic
smile.


232 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
came to light, and almost immediately afterwards I saw
the labourer stoop suddenly and stare down at the lime
with an expression that made my flesh creep, as he pointed
something out to the foreman.
"Ah!" the latter exclaimed. "Here she is! But, my
word! There ain't much left of her. Look at this, Ser-
geant."
Very gingerly, and with an air of shuddering distaste,
he picked something out of the lime and held it up; and
even at that distance I could see that it was a human -ulna.
Cobbledick took it from him with the same distasteful
and almost fearful manner, and held it towards me for
inspection. I glanced at it and looked away. "Yes," I
said. "It is a human arm bone."
On this, Cobbledick beckoned for the labourer to come
down, and, taking out his official note-book, wrote some-
thing in pencil and tore out the leaf.
"Take this down to the station and give it to Sergeant
Brown. He will tell you what else to do." He gave
the paper to the man, and having let him out of the gate,
came back and climbed up to the exposed surface of the
excavation, where I saw him draw on a pair of gloves and
then stoop and begin to pick over the lime.
"This is a horrid business, isn't it?" said Bundy.
"Why the deuce couldn't Cobbledick carry on by himself?
I don't see that it is our affair. Do you think we need
stay?"
"I don't see why you need. You have finished your
part of the business. You have seen the wall opened. I
am afraid I must stay a little longer, as Cobbledick may
want me to identify some of the other objects that may be
found. But I shan't stay very long. There is really no
question of the identity of the body, and there is no doubt


THE END OP THE TRAIL
233
now that the body is there. Detailed identification is a
matter for the coroner.''
As we were speaking, we walked slowly away from the
wall among the mounds of rubbish, now beginning to be
hidden under a dense growth of nettles, rag-wort and
thistles. It was a desolate, neglected place, sordid of as-
pect and contrasting unpleasantly in its modern squalor
with the dignified decay of the ancient wall. We had
reached the further fence and were just turning about,
when-the sergeant hailed me with a note of excitement in his
voice. I hurried across and found him standing up with
his eyes fixed on something that lay in the palm of his
gloved hand.
"This seems to be the ring that you described to me,
Doctor," said he. "Will you just take a look at it?"
He reached down and I received in my hand the little
trinket of deep-toned, yellow gold that I remembered so
well. I turned it over in my palm, and as I looked on its
mystical signs, its crude, barbaric workmanship and the
initials "A. C." scratched inside, the scene in that dimly-
lighted room—years ago, it seemed to me now—rose before
me like a vision. I saw the gracious figure in the red
glow of the lamp and heard the voice that was never again
to sound in my ears, telling the story of the little bauble,
and for a few moments, the dreadful present faded into
the irredeemable past.
'' There isn't any doubt about it, is there, Doctor ?'' the
sergeant asked anxiously.
"None, whatever," I replied. "It is unquestionably
Mrs. Frood's ring."
"That's a mercy," said Cobbledick; "because we shall
want every atom of identification that we can get. The
body isn't going to help us much. This lime has done


234 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
its work to a finish. There's nothing left, so far as I can
see, but the skeleton and the bits of metal belonging to
the clothing. Would you like to come up and have a look,
Doctor? There isn't much to see yet, but I have un-
covered some of the bones.''
"I don't think I will come up, Sergeant, thank you,"
said I. "When you have finished, I shall have to look
over what has been found, as I shall have to give evidence
at the inquest. And I think I need hardly stay any
longer. There is no doubt now about the identity, so far
as we are concerned, at any rate."
"No," he agreed. "There is no doubt in my mind, so
I need not keep you any longer if you want to be off. But,
before you go, there is one little matter that I should like
to speak to you about." He climbed down to the ground,
and, walking away with me a little distance, continued:
"You see, Doctor, some medical man will have to examine
the remains, so as to give evidence before the coroner. If
it is impossible to identify them as the remains of Mrs.
Frood, it will have to be given in evidence that they are
the remains of a person who might have been Mrs. Frood;
that they are the remains of a woman of about her size
and age, I mean. Of course, the choice of the medical
witness doesn't rest with the police, but if you would care
to take on the job, our recommendation would have weight
with the coroner. You see, you are the most suitable
person to make the examination, as you actually knew
her."
I shook my head emphatically. "For that very reason,
Sergeant, I couldn't possibly undertake the duty. Even
doctors have feelings, you know. Just imagine how you
would feel, yourself, pawing over the bones of a woman
who had once been your friend.''


THE END OP THE TRAIL
235
Cobbledick looked disappointed. "Yes," he admitted,
"I suppose there is something in what you say. But I
didn't think doctors troubled about such things very
much; and you have got. such an eye for detail—and such
a memory. However, if you'd rather not, there is an end
of the matter."
He climbed back regretfully to the opening in the wall,
and I rejoined Bundy. "I have finished here now," said
I. "That was a ring of hers that Cobbledick had found.
Are you staying any longer?"
"Not if you are going away," he replied. "I am not
wanted now, and I can't stick this charnel-house atmos-
phere; it is getting on my nerves. Let us clear out."
We walked towards the entrance with a feeling of relief
at escaping from the gruesome place, and had arrived with-
in a few yards of it when there came a loud knocking at
the gate, at which Bundy started visibly.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "it's like Macbeth. Here,
take my key and let the beggars in, whoever they are."
I unlocked the gate and threw it open, when I saw, stand-
ing in the lane, two men, bearing on their shoulders a
rough, unpainted coffin, and accompanied by the labourer,
who carried a large sieve. I stood aside to let them pass
in, and when they had entered, Bundy and I walked out,
shutting and locking the gate after us. We made our
way up the lane in silence, for there was little to say but
much to think about; indeed, I would sooner have been
alone, but the gruesome atmosphere of the place we had
come from seemed to have affected Bundy's spirits so much
that I thought it only kind to ask him to come back to
lunch with me; an invitation that he accepted with avidity.
During lunch we discussed the tragic discovery, and
Bundy, now that he had escaped from physical contact


238 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
The thought of my friend reminded me that I had to
report to him the results of the opening of the wall; results
very different from what he had anticipated when he had
given the sergeant the too-fruitful hint. I accordingly
wrote out a detailed report, so far as my information
went; but I held it back until the last post in case any-
thing further should come to my knowledge. And it was
just as well that I did; for about eight o 'clock, Cobbledick
called to give me the latest tidings.
"Well, Doctor," he said, with a smile of concentrated
benevolence, "I have got everything in going order. I
have seen the coroner and made out a list of witnesses.
You are one of them, of course; in fact, you are the star-
witness. You were the last person to see her alive, and
you were present at the exhumation. Dr. Baines—he's
rather a scientific gentleman—is to make the post-mortem
examination, and tell us the cause of death, if he can. He
won't have much to go on. The lime has eaten up every-
thing—it would, naturally, after three months—but the
bones look quite uninjured, so far as I could judge."
"When does the inquest open?" I asked.
'' The day after to-morrow. I've got your summons with
me, and I may as well give it to you now.''
I looked at the little blue paper and put it in my pocket-
book. "Do you think the coroner will get through the
case in one day?" I asked.
"No, I am sure he won't," replied Cobbledick. "It is
an important case, and there will be a lot of witnesses.
There will be the evidence as to the building of the wall;
then the opening of it and the description of what we
found in it; then the identification of the remains—that
is you, principally; and then there will be all the other
evidence, the pawnbroker, Israel Bangs, Hooper, and the


THE END OF THE TRAIL 239
others. And then, of course, there will be the question as
to the guilty parties. That is the most important of all."
"I didn't know you had any evidence on that subject,"
said I.
"I haven't much," he replied. "From the time when
she disappeared nobody saw her alive or dead, and, of
course, nothing has ever been heard of any occurrence that
might indicate a crime. All we have to go on—and it is
mighty little—is the fact that she was hiding from her
husband, and that he was trying to find her. Also that
he had made one attempt on her life. That is where
your evidence will come in, and that of the matron at
the 'Poor Travellers.' I've had a talk with her."
"Do you know anything of Frood's movements about
the time of the disappearance?"
"Practically nothing, excepting that he went away from
his lodgings the day before. You see, we were not in
a position to start tracing possible criminals. We had no
real evidence of any crime. We knew that the woman
had disappeared, and she appeared to have got into the
river. But there was nothing to show how. It looked sus-
picious, but it wasn't a case. So long as no body was
forthcoming there was no evidence of death, and nobody
could have been charged. Even if we had found the body
in the river, unless there had been distinct traces of
violence, it would have been merely a case of 'found dead,'
or 'found drowned.' But now the affair is on a different
footing entirely. The body has been discovered under con-
ditions which furnish prima facie evidence of murder,
whatever the cause of death may turn out to have been.
There is sure to be a verdict of wilful murder—not that
the police are dependent on the coroner's verdict. So now
we can get a move on and look for the murderer."


THE END OF THE TRAIL
241
persons concerned in this affair was a local man who knew
the place well. So you see, Doctor, we have got something
to go on, after all."
I listened to the sergeant's exposition with deep inter-
est and no little revival of my drooping hopes. It was a
most able summary of the case, and I felt that I should
have liked Thorndyke to hear it; in fact, I determined to
embody it in the amplification of my report. With the
facts thus fully and lucidly collated, it did really seem as
though the perpetrator of this foul crime must inevitably
fall into our hands. Having refreshed the sergeant with
a couple of glasses of port, I shook his hand warmly and
wished him the best of success in the investigation that
he was conducting with so much ability.
"When he had gone I wrote a full account of our inter-
view to add to my previous report, and expressed the hope
that Thorndyke would be able to be present at the inquest,
when I myself should "be and appear" at the appointed
place to give evidence on the day after the morrow.


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE 243
might walk down together. You know how sorry I am
for you, John."
"Yes, I know and appreciate, and I am always glad to
see you, Peter. But why are you going there? Have you
had a summons?"
"No, I have no information to give. But I am inter-
ested in the case, of course, so I am going to attend as a
spectator. So is Japp, though he is really a legitimately
interested party. In fact, I am rather surprised they
didn't summon him as a witness."
"So am I. He really knows more about the poor girl
than I do. But, of course, he knows nothing of the cir-
cumstances of her death."
By this time we had arrived at the Guildhall, and here
we encountered Sergeant Cobbledick, who was evidently
on the look-out for me.
"I am glad you came early, Doctor," said he. "I want
you just to pop round to the mortuary. You know the
way. There's a tray by the side of the coffin with all her
belongings on it. I'll get you to take a careful look at
them, so that you can tell the jury that they are really her
things. And you had better run your eye over the re-
mains. You might be able to spot something of importance.
At any rate, they will expect you to have viewed the body,
as you are the principal witness to its identity. I've told
the constable on duty to let you in. And, of course, you
can go in, too, Mr. Bundy, if you want to."
"I don't think I do, thank you," replied Bundy. But
he walked round with me to the mortuary, where the
constable unlocked the door as he saw us approaching. I
mentioned my name to the officer, but he knew me by sight,
and now held the door open and followed me in, while
Bundy halted at the threshold, and stood, rather pale and


246 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FEOOD
grateful, too; and never had my heart inclined more af-
fectionately towards him than in this moment of trial that
had been lightened by his unobtrusive sympathy and per-
fect understanding.
We stayed for a few minutes, looking down on the river
and talking of the dead woman and the sad and troubled
life from which this hideous crime had snatched her; then,
as the appointed time approached, we made our way to
the room in which the inquiry was to be held. As we
entered, a pleasanHooking, shrewd-faced man, who looked'
like a barrister and who had been standing by a constable,
approached and accosted me.
"Dr. Strangeways? My name is Anstey. I do most of
the court work in connexion with Thorndyke's cases, and
I am representing him here to-day. He had hoped to
come down, himself, but he had to go into the country on
some important business, so I have to come to keep the nest
warm—to watch the proceedings and make a summary of
the evidence. You mentioned to him that the case would
take more than one day."
"Yes," I answered, "that is what I understand. Will
Dr. Thorndyke be here to-morrow ?''
"Yes; he has arranged definitely to attend to-morrow.
And I think he expects by then to have some information
of importance to communicate."
"Indeed!" I said eagerly. "Do you happen to know
the nature of it?"
Anstey laughed. "My dear Doctor," said he, "you have
met Thorndyke, and you must know by now that he is
about as communicative as a Whitstable native. No one
ever knows what cards he holds."
"Yes," I agreed, "he is extraordinarily secretive. Un-
necessarily so, it has seemed to me."


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE 249
"In that case there might be a fracture of one or more
bones, but there might be no fracture at all. Of course,
there would be a bullet."
"Did you find a bullet?"
"No. I did not see the bones until they had been
brought to the mortuary."
"There has been no mention of a bullet having been
found," the coroner interposed, "and you heard Sergeant
Cobbledick say that the lime had all been sifted through a
fine sieve. We must take it that there was no bullet.
But," he continued, addressing the witness, "the con-
ditions that you found would not exclude violence, I pre-
sume?"
"Not at all. Only violence that would cause injury to
the bones."
"What kinds of violence would be unaccompanied by
injury to the bones?"
"Drowning, hanging, strangling, suffocation, stabbing;
and, of course, poisoning usually leaves no traces on the
bones."
"Can you give us no suggestion as to the cause of
death?"
"None whatever," was the firm reply.
"You have heard the description of the missing woman,
Mrs. Frood. Do these remains correspond with that de-
scription 1''
"They are the remains of a woman of similar stature and
age to Mrs. Frood, so far as I can judge. I can't say
more than that. The description of Mrs. Frood was only
approximate; and the estimate of the stature, and espe-
cially the age, of a skeleton can only be approximate."
This being all that could be got out of the witness, who
was concerned only with the skeleton, and naturally re-


252 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
Thorndyke, who regards you with respectful admiration."
"Does he?" said Bundy, Mushing with pleasure, but
looking somewhat surprised. '' I can't imagine why. But
are you an expert, too ?''
"Bless you, no," laughed Anstey. "I am a mere law-
yer, and, on this occasion, what is known technically as a
devil—technically, you understand. I am watching this
case for Thorndyke."
"But I didn't know that Dr. Thorndyke was interested
in the case,'' said Bundy, in evident perplexity.
"He is interested in everything of a criminal and horrid
nature," replied Anstey. "He never lets a really juicy
crime mystery pass without getting all the details, if pos-
sible. You see, they are his stock in trade."
"But he never would discuss this case—not seriously,"
objected Bundy.
"Probably not," said Anstey. "Perhaps there wasn't
much to discuss. But wait till the case is finished. Then
he will tell you all about it."
"I see," said Bundy. "He is one of those prophets
who predict after the event."
"And the proper time, too," retorted Anstey. "It is
no use being premature."
The conversation proceeded on this plane of playful
repartee until we arrived at my house, where Mrs. Dunk,
having bestowed a wooden glance of curiosity at Anstey
and a glare of defiance at Bundy, handed me a telegram
addressed to R. Anstey, K.C., care of Dr. Strangeways.
I passed it to Anstey, who opened it and glanced through
it.
"What shall 1 say in answer?" he asked, placing it in
my hand.


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE
253
I read the message and was not a little puzzled by it.
"Ask Strangeways come back with you to-night. Very
urgent. Reply time and place."
"What do you suppose he wants me for?" I asked.
"I never suppose in regard to Thorndyke," he replied.
"But if he says it is urgent, it is urgent. Can you come
up with me?"
"Yes, if it is necessary."
"It is. Then I'll say yes. And you had better arrange
to stay the night—there is a spare bedroom at his cham-
bers—and come down with him in the morning. Can
you manage that?"
"Yes," I replied; "and you can say that we shall be at
Charing Cross by seven-fifteen."
I could see that this transaction was as surprising to
Bundy as it was to me. But, of course, he asked no ques-
tions, nor could I have answered them if he had. More-
over, there was not much time for discussion as we had
to be back in the court room by two o'clock, and what talk
there was consisted mainly of humorous comments by
Anstey on the witnesses and the jury.
Having sent off the telegram on our way down, we took
our places once more, and the proceedings were resumed
punctually by the calling of the foreman of the repairing
gang; who deposed to the date on which the particular
patch of rubble was commenced and finished and its con-
dition when the men knocked off work on Saturday, the
26th of April. He also mentioned the loss of the key, but
could give no particulars. The cross-examination elicited
the facts that he had communicated to Cobbledick and me
as to the state of the loose filling.
"How many men," the coroner asked, "would it have


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE
255
"Yes. We was working the other side of the grounds,
so we shouldn't have heard anything if anybody had took
it."
That completed the evidence as to the key, and when
Evans was dismissed the matron of the Poor Travellers
was called. As she took her place, a general straightening
of backs and air of expectancy on the part of the jury
suggested that her evidence was looked forward to with
more than common interest. And so it turned out to be.
Her admirably clear and vivid presentment of the man,
Nicholas Frood; his quarrelsome, emotional temperament,
his shabby condition, his abnormal appearance, the evi-
dences of his addiction to drink and drugs, his apparently
destitute state, and, above all, the formidable sheath-
knife that he wore under his coat; were listened to with
breathless attention, and followed by a fusilade of eager,
and often highly improper, questions. But the coroner
was a wise and tactful man, and he unobtrusively inter-
vened to prevent any irregularities; as, for instance, "It
is not permissible," he observed, blandly, "to ask a wit-
ness if a certain individual seemed to be a likely person
to commit a crime. And a coroner's court is not a crim"
inal court. It is not our function to establish any person's
guilt, but to ascertain how deceased met with her death.
If the evidence shows that she was murdered, we shall say
so in our verdict. If the evidence points clearly to a
particular person as the murderer, we shall name that
person in the verdict. But we are not primarily investi-
gating a crime; we are investigating a death. The crim-
inal investigation is for the police."
This reminder cooled the ardour of the criminal investi-
gators somewhat, but there were signs of a fresh outbreak
when Mrs. Gillow gave her evidence, for that lady having


256 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
a somewhat more lively imagination than the matron,
tended to lure enterprising jurymen on to fresh indiscre-
tions. She certainly enjoyed herself amazingly, and oc-
cupied a most unnecessary amount of time before she at
length retired, dejected but triumphant, to the manifest
relief of the coroner.
This brought the day's proceedings to a close. There
were a few more witnesses on the list, and the coroner
hoped to take their evidence and complete the inquiry on
the following day. As soon as the court rose, Anstey and
I with Bundy proceeded to a tea-shop hard by and, having
refreshed ourselves with a light tea, set forth to catch
our train at Strood Station. Thither Bundy accompanied
us at my invitation, but though I suspected that he was
hursting with curiosity as to the object of my mysterious
journey, he made no reference to it, nor did I or Anstey.
At the barrier at Charing Cross we found Thorndyke
awaiting us, and Anstey, having delivered me into his
custody and seen us into a taxi-cab that had already been
chartered, wished us success and took his leave. Then
the driver, who apparently had his instructions, started
and moved out of the station.
"I don't know," said I, "whether I may now ask what
I am wanted for."
"I should rather not go into particulars," he replied.
"I want your opinion on something that I am going to
show you, and I especially want it to be an impromptu
opinion. Previous consideration might create a bias which
would detract from the conclusiveness of your decision.
However, you have only a few minutes to wait."
In those few minutes I could not refrain from cudgelling
my brains, even at the risk of creating a bias, and was
still "doing so—quite unproductively—when the cab ap-


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE 257
proached the hospital of St. Barnabas and gave me a
hint. But it swept past the main entrance, and, turn-
ing up a side street, slowed down and stopped opposite
the entrance of the medical school. Here we got out,
and, leaving the cab waiting, entered the hall, where
Thorndyke inquired for a person of the name of Farrow.
In a minute or two this individual made his appearance
in the form of a somewhat frowsy, elderly man, whom,
from the multitude of warts on his hands, I inferred to be
the post-mortem porter or dissecting-room attendant. He
appeared to be a taciturn man, and he, too, evidently had
his instructions, for he merely looked at us and then
walked away slowly, leaving us to follow. Thus silently
he conducted us down a long corridor, across a quadrangle
beyond which rose the conical roof of a theatre, along a
curved passage which followed the wall of the circular
building and down a flight of stone steps which let into a
dim, cement-floored basement, lighted by sparse electric
bulbs and pervaded by a faint, distinctive odour that
memory associated with the science of anatomy. From the
main basement room Farrow turned into a short passage,
where he stopped at a door, and, having unlocked it, threw
it open and switched on the light, when we entered and
I looked around. It was a large, cellar-like room, lighted
by a single powerful electric bulb fitted with a basin-like
metal reflector and attached to a long, movable arm. The
activities usually carried on in it were evident from the
great tins of red lead on the shelves, from a large brass
syringe fitted with a stop-cock and smeared with red paint,
and from a range of oblong slate tanks or coffers furnished
with massive wooden lids.
Still without uttering a word, the taciturn Farrow swung
the powerful lamp over one of the coffers, and then drew


258 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
off the lid. I stepped forward and looked in. The coffer
was occupied by the body of a man, evidently—from the
shaven head and the traces of red paint—prepared as an
anatomical "subject." I looked at it curiously, thinking
how unhuman, how artificial it seemed; how like to a
somewhat dingy waxwork figure. But as I looked I was
dimly conscious of some sense of familiarity stealing into
my mind. Some chord of memory seemed to be touched.
I stooped and looked more closely; and then, suddenly, I
started up.
"Good God!" I exclaimed. "It is Nicholas Prood!"
"Are you sure?" asked Thorndyke.
"Yes, quite," I answered. "It was the shaved head
that put me off: the absence of that mop of hair. I
have no doubt at all. Still—let us have a look at the
hands."
Farrow lifted up the hands one after the other; and
then, if there could have been any doubt, it was set at
rest. The mahogany-coloured stain was still visible; but
much more conclusive were the bulbous finger-tips and the
mis-shapen, nutshell-like nails. There could be no possi-
ble doubt.
"This is certainly the man I saw at Rochester," said I.
"I am fully prepared to swear to that. But oughtn't
he to have been identified by somebody who knew him
better?"
"The body has been identified this afternoon by his late
landlady," replied Thorndyke, "but I wanted your con-
firmation, and I wanted you as a witness at the inquest.
The identification is important in relation to the inquiry
and the possible verdict.''
"Yes, by Jove!" I agreed, with a vivid recollection of
the questions put to Mrs. Gillow. "This will come as a


THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE
259
thunder-bolt to the jury. But how, in the name of For-
tune, did he come here?"
"I'll tell you about that presently," replied Thorndyke.
He tendered a fee to the exhibitor, and when the latter had
replaced the lid of the coffer, he conducted us back to our
starting-point, and saw us into the waiting cab.
"5a, King's Bench Walk," Thorndyke instructed the
driver, and as the cab started, he began his explanation.
"This has been a long and weary search, with a stroke
of unexpected good luck at the end. We have had to go
through endless records of hospitals, police-courts, poor-
houses, infirmaries, and inquests. It was the records of an
inquest that put us at last on the track; an inquest on an
unknown man, supposed to be a tramp. Roughly, the
history of the affair is this:
"Frood seems to have started for Brighton on the 25th
of April, but for some unexplained reason, he broke his
journey and got out at Horwell. What happened to him
there is not clear. He may have over-dosed himself with
cocaine; but at any rate, he was found dead in a meadow,
close to a hedge, on the morning of the 26th. He was
therefore dead before his wife disappeared. The body
was taken to the mortuary and there carefully examined.
But there was not the faintest clue to his identity. His
pockets were searched, but there was not a vestige of prop-
erty of any kind about him, not even the knife of which
you have spoken. The probability is that he had been
robbed by some tramp of everything that he had about
him, either while he was insensible or after he was dead.
In any case he appeared to be completely destitute, and
this fact, together with his decidedly dirty and neglected
condition, led naturally to the conclusion that he was a
tramp. An inquest was held, but of course, no expensive


260 THE A1YSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
and troublesome measures were taken to trace his identity.
Examinations showed that he had not died from the effects
of violence, so it was assumed that he had died from ex-
posure, and a verdict to that effect was returned. He was
about to be given a pauper's funeral when Providence
intervened on our behalf. It happened that the Demon-
strator of Anatomy at St. Barnabas resides at Horwell;
and it happened that the presence of an unclaimed body
in the mortuary came to his knowledge. Thereupon he
applied to the authorities, on behalf of his school, for the
use of it as an anatomical subject. His application was
granted and the body was conveyed to St. Barnabas, where
it was at once embalmed and prepared and then put aside
for use during the next winter session."
"Was that quite in order—legally, I mean?"
"That is not for us to ask," he replied. "It was not in
any way contrary to public policy, and it has been our
salvation in respect of our particular inquiry."
"I suppose it has," I said, not, however, quite seeing it
in that light. "Of course, it disposes of the question
of his guilt."
"It does a good deal more than that as matters have
turned out," said he. "However, here we are in the
precincts of the Temple. Let us dismiss Nicholas Frood
from our minds for the time being, and turn our attention
to the more attractive subject of dinner."
The cab stopped opposite a tall house with a fine carved-
brick portico, and, when Thorndyke had paid the driver,
we ascended the steps and made our way up a couple of
flights of oaken stairs to the first floor. Here, at the door
of my friend's chambers, we encountered a small, clerical-
looking gentleman with an extremely wrinkly, smiling face,
who reminded me somewhat of Mr. Japp.


CHAPTER XVII
THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE
THE journey down to Rochester would have been
more agreeable and interesting under different
circumstances. Thorndyke kept up a flow of
lively conversation to which I should ordinarily have
listened with the keenest pleasure. But he persistently
avoided any reference to the object of our journey; and as
this was the subject that engrossed my thoughts and from
which I was unable to detach them, his conversational
efforts were expended on somewhat inattentive ears. In
common politeness I tried to make a show of listening and
even of some sort of response; but the instant a pause
occurred, my thoughts flew back to the engrossing sub-
ject and the round of fruitless speculation begun again.
What was it that Thorndyke had in his mind? He was
not making this journey to inform the coroner of Frood's
death. That could have been done by letter; and, more-
over, I was the actual witness to the dead man's identity.
There was some point that he expected to be able to eluci-
date; some evidence that had been overlooked. And that
evidence seemed to be connected with that dreadful, piti-
ful thing that lay in the coffin—crying out, indeed, to
Heaven for retribution, but crying in a voice all inarticu-
late. But would it be inarticulate to him? He had
seemed to imply an expectation of being able to infer from
the appearance of those mouldering bones the cause and
manner of death, and even—so it had appeared to me—
the very identity of the murderer. But how could this
264


266 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"They began about five minutes ago, sir," was the reply;
on which we made our way to the court-room, where Thorn-
dyke, having secured a place at the table, beckoned to the
coroner's officer.
"Will you hand that to the coroner, please?" said he,
producing from his pocket a note in an official-looking
blue envelope. The officer took the note and laid it down
before the coroner, who glanced at it and nodded and then
looked with sudden interest at Thorndyke. The witness
who was being examined at the moment was the pawn-
broker's daughter, and her account of the mysterious m.an
with the mole on his nose was engaging the attention of
the jury. While the examination was proceeding, the
coroner glanced from time to time at the note. Presently
he took it up and opened the envelope, and in a pause in
the evidence, took out the note and turned it over to look at
the signature. Then he ran his eyes over the contents, and
I saw his eyebrows go up. But at that moment one of the
jurymen asked a question, and the note was laid down
while the answer was entered in the depositions. At length
the evidence of this witness was completed, and the wit-
ness dismissed, when the coroner took up the note and
read it through carefully.
"Before we take the evidence of Israel Bangs, gentle-
men," said he, "we had better consider some new facts
which I think you will regard as highly important. I have
just received a communication from Dr. John Thorndyke,
who is a very eminent authority on medico-legal evidence.
He informs me that the husband of the deceased, Nicholas
Frood, is dead. It appears that he died about three
months ago, but his body was not identified until yester-
day, when it was seen by Frood's landlady and by Dr.
Strangeways, who is here and can give evidence as to the


THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE 267
identity. I propose that we first recall Dr. Strangeways
and then ask Dr. Thorndyke, who is also present, to give
us the further particulars."
The jury agreed warmly to the suggestion, and I was
at once recalled, and as I took my place at the coroner's
left hand I felt that I was fully justifying Cobbledick's
description of me as the "star witness," for not only was
I the object of eager interest on the part of the jury and
the sergeant himself, but also of Bundy, whose eyes were
riveted on me with devouring curiosity.
There is no need for me to repeat my evidence. It was
quite short. I just briefly described the body and its
situation. As to how it came to the hospital, I had no
personal knowledge, but I affirmed that it was undoubtedly
the body of Nicholas Frood. Of that I was quite certain.
No questions were asked. There was a good deal of
whispered comment, and one indiscreet juryman remarked
audibly that "this fellow seemed to have cheated the hang-
man." Then the coroner deferentially requested Thorn-
dyke to give the Court any information that was available,
and my friend advanced to the head of the table, where
the coroner's officer placed a chair for him, and took the
oath.
"What a perfectly awful thing this is about poor old
Nicholas!" whispered Bundy, who had crept into the
chair that Thorndyke had just vacated. "It makes one's
flesh creep to think of it."
"It was rather horrible," I agreed, noting that my de-
scription of the scene had evidently made his flesh creep,
for he was as pale as a ghost. But there was no time to
discuss the matter further, for Thorndyke, having been
sworn, and started by a general question from the coroner,
now began to give his evidence, in the form of a narrative


270 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
you kindly tell us how you were able to determine that
these remains are not those of Angelina Frood?"
"It is a matter of simple inference," replied Thorn-
dyke. "On the 26th of April last Mrs. Frood is known to
have been alive. It has been assumed that on that night
or the next her body was built up in the wall. If that had
really happened, when the wall was opened on the 20th of
July, the body would have been found intact and perfectly
recognizable!"
"You are not overlooking the circumstance that it was
buried in a bed of quick-lime?" said the coroner.
"No," replied Thorn dyke; "in fact that is the circum-
stance that makes it quite certain that these remains are
not those of Angelina Frood. There is," he continued,
"a widely prevalent belief that quick-lime has the prop-
erty of completely consuming and destroying organic sub-
stances such as a dead human body. But that belief is
quite erroneous. Quick-lime has no such properties. On
the contrary, it has a strongly preservative effect on or-
ganic matter. Putrefaction is a change in organic matter
which occurs only when that matter is more or less moist.
If such matter is completely dried, putrefaction is pre-
vented or arrested, and such dried, or mummified, matter
will remain undecomposed almost indefinitely, as we see
in the case of Egyptian mummies. But quick-lime has
the property of abstracting the water from organic sub-
stances with which it is in contact; of rendering them
completely dry. It thus acts as a very efficient preserva-
tive. If Mrs. Frood's body had been buried, when re-
cently dead, three months ago in fresh quick-lime, it would
by now have been reduced more or less to the condition
of a mummy. It would not have been even partially de-
stroyed, and it would have been easily recognizable.''


THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE 271
To this statement everyone present listened with pro-
found attention and equally profound surprise; and a
glance at the faces of the jurymen was sufficient to show
that it had failed utterly to produce conviction. Even
the coroner was evidently not satisfied, and, after a few
moment's reflection with knitted brows, he stated his
objection.
"The belief in the destructive properties of lime," he
said, "can hardly be accepted as a mere popular error.
In the Crippen trial, you may remember that the question
was raised, and one of the expert witnesses—no less an
authority than Professor Pepper—gave it as his considered
opinion that quick-lime has these destructive properties,
and that if a body were buried in a sufficient quantity of
quick-lime, that body would be entirely destroyed. You
will agree, I think, that great weight attaches to the opinion
of a man of Professor Pepper's great reputation."
"Undoubtedly," Thorndyke agreed. "He was one of
our greatest medico-legal authorities, though, on this sub-
ject, I think, his views differed from those generally held
by medical jurists. But the point is that this was an
opinion, and that no undeniable facts were then available.
But since that time, the matter has been put to the test of
actual experiment, and the results of those experiments
are definite facts. It is no longer a matter of opinion but
one of incontestable fact."
"What are the experiments that you refer to?"
"The first practical investigation was carried out by Mr.
A. Lucas, the Director of the Government Analytical Labo-
ratory and Assay Office at Cairo. He felt that the question
was one of great medico-legal importance, and that it
ought to be settled definitely. He accordingly carried
out a number of experiments, of which he published the


272 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
particulars in his treatise on 'Forensic Chemistry.' I
produce a copy of this book, with your permission."
"Is this evidence admissible?" the foreman asked.
"The witness can't swear to another man's experiments."
"It is admissible in a coroner's court," was the reply.
"We are not bound as rigidly by the rules of evidence as
a criminal court, for instance. It is relevant to the in-
quiry, and I think we had better hear it.''
"I may say," said Thorndyke, "that I have repeated
and confirmed these experiments; but I suggest that, as
the published cases are the recognized authority, I be al-
lowed to quote them before describing my confirmatory
experiments."
The coroner having agreed to this course, he continued:
"The tests were made with the fresh bodies of young
pigeons, which were plucked but not opened, and which
were buried in boxes with loosely-fitted covers, filled re-
spectively with dry earth, slaked lime, chlorinated lime,
quick-lime, and quick-lime suddenly slaked with water.
These bodies were left thus buried for six months, the
boxes being placed on the laboratory roof at Cairo. At
the end of that period the bodies were disinterred and
examined with the following results: The body which
had been buried in dry earth was found to be in a very
bad condition. There was a considerable smell of putre-
faction and a large part of the flesh had disappeared.
The body which had been buried in quick-lime was found
to be in good condition; it was dry and hard, the skin was
unbroken, but the body was naturally shrunken. The
other three bodies do not concern us, but I may say that
none of them was as completely preserved as the one that
was buried in quick-lime.


274 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Still," said the foreman, "it was somebody's body, you
know. And the lime seems to have eaten it up pretty
clean, possible or impossible."
"Exactly," said the coroner. "The destruction of this
particular body appears to be an undeniable fact; and we
may assume that one body is very much like another—in a
chemical sense, at least. What do you say, doctor?"
"My statement," replied Thorndyke, "had reference
to Angelina Frood, who is known to have been alive on a
certain date. Of the condition of the unknown body that
was buried in the wall, I can give no opinion."
Again there was an uncomfortable silence, during which
Thorndyke, having finished writing, folded the sheet of
notepaper, tucked the end in securely, and wrote an ad-
dress on the back. Then he handed it to his neighbour, who
passed it on until it reached me. I was on the point of
opening it when I observed with astonishment that it was
addressed to Peter Bundy, Esq., to whom I immediately
handed it. But my astonishment was nothing to Bundy's.
He seemed positively thunderstruck. Indeed, his aspect
was so extraordinary as he sat gazing wildly at the opened
note, that I forgot my manners and frankly stared at him.
First he turned scarlet; then he grew deathly pale; and
then he turned scarlet again. And, for the first and only
time in my life, I saw him look really angry. But this
was only a passing manifestation. For a few moments his
eyes flashed and his mouth set hard. Then, quite sud-
denly, the wrath faded from his face and gave place to
a whimsical smile. He tore off the fly-leaf of the note, and,
scribbling a few words on it, folded it up small, addressed
it to Dr. Thorndyke, and handed it to me for transmission
by the return route.
When it reached Thorndyke, he opened it, and, having


THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE 275
read the brief message, nodded gravely to Bundy, and
once more turned his attention to the foreman, who was
addressing the coroner at greater length.
"The jury wish to say, sir, that this evidence is not
satisfactory. It can't be reconciled with the other evi-
dence. The facts before the jury are these: On the 26th
of April Angelina Prood disappeared, and was never after-
wards seen alive. On the night that she disappeared, or
on the next night, a dead body was buried in the wall.
Three months later that body was found in the wall,
packed in quick-lime, and eaten away to a skeleton. That
* skeleton has been examined by an expert, and found to be
that of a woman of similar size and age to Angelina Prood.
With that skeleton were found articles of clothing, jewel-
lery, and ornaments which have been proved to have been
the clothing and property of Angelina Prood. Other
articles of clothing have been recovered from the river;
and those articles were missing from the body when it
was found in the wall. On these facts, the jury feel that
it is impossible to doubt that the remains found in the wall
are the remains of Angelina Frood."
As the foreman concluded the coroner turned to Thorn-
dyke with a slightly puzzled smile. '' Of course, Doctor,''
said he, "you have considered those facts that the foreman
has summarized so admirably. What do you say to his
conclusion 1''
"I must still contest it," replied Thorndyke. "The
foreman's summary of the evidence, masterly as it was,
furnishes no answer to the objection—based on established
chemical facts—that the condition of the remains when
found is irreconcilable with the alleged circumstances of
the burial."
The coroner raised his eyebrows and pursed up his lips.


THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE 277
"We must presume that the witness knows his own
name," said the coroner, writing it down. "Angelina
Bundy."
"No, Sir," said the witness. "Angelina Frood."
The coroner suddenly stiffened with the upraised pen
poised in the air; and so everyone in the room, including
myself, underwent an instantaneous arrest of movement as
if we had been turned into stone; and I noticed that the pro-
cess of petrifaction had caught us all with our mouths open.
But whereas the fixed faces on which I looked, expressed
amazement qualified by incredulity, my own astonishment
was coupled with conviction. Astounding as the statement
was, the moment that it was made I knew that it was true.
In spite of the discrepancies of appearance, I realized in a
flash of enlightenment, the nature of that subtle influence
that had drawn me to Bundy with a tenderness hardly
congruous with mere male friendship. Outwardly I had
been deceived, but my sub-conscious self had recognized
Angelina all the time.
The interval of breathless silence, during which the wit-
ness calmly surveyed the court through his—or rather her
—eyeglass, was at length broken by the coroner, who asked
gravely: "This is not a joke? You affirm seriously that
you are Angelina Frood?"
"Yes; I am Angelina Frood," was the reply.
Here Mr. Pilley recovered himself and demanded ex-
citedly: "Do we understand this gentleman to say that
he is the deceased ?''
"Well," replied the coroner, "he is obviously not de-
ceased, and he states that he is not a gentleman. He has
declared that he is a lady."
"But," protested Pilley, "he says that she—at least she
says that he"


278 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"You are getting mixed, Pilley," interrupted the fore-
man. "This appears to be a woman masquerading as a
man and playing practical jokes on a coroner's jury. I
suggest, sir, that we ought to have evidence of identity."
"I agree with you, emphatically," said the coroner.
"The identification is indispensable. Is there anyone
present who can swear to the identity of this—er—person?
Mr. Japp, for instance?"
"I'd rather you didn't bring Mr. Japp into it," said
Angelina, hastily. "It isn't really necessary. If you will
allow me to run home and change my clothes, Mrs. Gillow
and Dr. Strangeways will be able to identify me. And I
can bring some photographs to show the jury.''
"That seems quite a good suggestion," said the coroner.
'' Don't you think so, gentlemen ?''
"It is a very proper suggestion," said the foreman,
severely. "Let her go away and clothe herself decently.
How long will she be gone?"
"I shall be back in less than half an hour," said
Angelina; and on this understanding she was given per-
mission to retire. I watched her with a tumult of mixed
emotions as she took up her hat, gloves, and stick, and
strolled jauntily towards the door. There she paused for
an instant and shot at me a single, swift, whimsical glance
through her monocle. Then she went out; and with her
disappeared for ever the familiar figure of Peter Bundy.


CHAPTER XVIII
THE UNCONTRITE PENITENT
S the door closed on Angelina, a buzz of excited
talk broke out. The astonished jurymen put their
A m. heads together and eagerly discussed the new turn
of events, while the coroner sat with a deeply cogitative
expression, evidently thinking hard and casting an oc-
casional speculative glance in Thorndyke's direction.
Meanwhile Cobbledick edged up to my side and presented
his views in a soft undertone.
"This is a facer, Doctor, isn't it? Regular do. My
word! Just think of the artfulness of that young woman,
toting us round and helping us to find the things that she
had just popped down for us to find. I call it a master-
piece." He chuckled admiringly, and added in a lower
tone, "I hope she hasn't got herself into any kind of mess."
I looked at Cobbledick with renewed appreciation. I
had always liked the sergeant. He was a capable man
and a kindly one; and now he was showing a largeness
of soul that won my respect and my gratitude, too. A
small man would have been furious with Angelina, but
Cobbledick took her performances in a proper sporting
spirit. He was only amused and admiring. Not for noth-
ing had Nature imprinted on his face that benevolent
smile.
Presently Mr. Pilley, who seemed to have a special gift
for the expression of erroneous opinions, addressed him-
self to the coroner.

279


280 THE MYSTERY OP ANGELINA FROOD
"Well, Mr. Chairman," he said cheerfully, "I suppose
we can consider the inquest practically over."
"Over!" exclaimed the astonished coroner.
"Yes. We were inquiring into the death of Angelina
Frood. But if Mrs. Frood is alive after all, why, there's
an end to the matter.''
"What about the body in the mortuary?" demanded
the foreman.
"Oh, ah," said Pilley. "I had forgotten about that."
He looked owlishly at the coroner and then exclaimed:
"But that is the body of Mrs. Frood!"
"It can't be if Mrs. Frood is alive," the coroner re-
minded him.
"But it must be," persisted Pilley. "It has been identi-
fied as her, and it had her clothes and ring on. Mr. Bundy
must have been pulling our legs."
"There is certainly something very mysterious about that
body," said the coroner. "It was dressed in Mrs. Frood's
clothes, as Mr. Pilley points out, and it appears that Mrs.
Frood must be in some way connected with it."
"There's no doubt about that," agreed the foreman.
"She must know who that dead person is and how the
body came to be in the place where it was found, and
she will have to give an account of it."
"Yes," said the coroner. "But it is a mysterious af-
fair. I wonder if Dr. Thorndyke could enlighten us. He
seems to know more about the matter than anybody else."
But Thorndyke was not to be drawn into any statement.
"It would be merely a conjecture on my part," he said.
"Presumably Mrs. Frood knows how the remains got into
the wall, and I must leave her to give the necessary ex-
planations. ''
"I don't see what explanations she can give," said the


THE UNCONTRITE PENITENT 281
foreman. "It looks like a clear case of wilful murder.
And it is against her.''
To this view the coroner gave a guarded assent; and
indeed it was the obvious view. There was the body, in
Angelina's clothing, and everything pointed clearly to
Angelina's complicity in the crime, if there had really
been a crime committed. And what other explanation was
possible?
As I reflected on the foreman's ominous words, I was
sensible of a growing alarm. What if Angelina had been,
as it were, snatched from the grave only to be placed in
the dock on a charge of murder? That she could possibly
be guilty of a crime did not enter my mind. But there was
evidently some sort of criminal entanglement from which
she might find it hard to escape. The appearances were
sinister in the extreme; her simulated disappearance, her
disguise, her suspicious silence during the inquiry; to any
eye but mine they were conclusive evidence of her guilt.
And the more I thought about it, the more deadly did the
sum of that evidence appear, until, as the time ran on,
I became positively sick with terror.
The opening of a door and a sudden murmur of sur-
prise caused me to turn; and there was Angelina herself.
But not quite the Angelina that I remembered. Gone were
the pallid complexion, the weary, dark-circled eyes, the
down-cast mouth, the sad and pensive countenance, the
dark, strong eye-brows. Rosy-cheeked, smiling, confident,
and looking strangely tall and imposing, she stepped com-
posedly over to the head of the table, and stood there gaz-
ing with calm self-possession, and the trace of a smile at
the stupefied jurymen.
"Your name is—?" said the coroner, gazing at her in
astonishment.


282 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"Angelina Frood," was the quiet reply; and the voice
was Bundy's voice.
Here Pilley rose, bubbling with excitement. "This
isn't the same person!" he exclaimed. "Why, he was a
little man, and she's a tall woman. And his hair was
short, and just look at hers! You can't grow a head of
hair like that in twenty minutes."
"No," Angelina agreed, suavely. "I wish you could."
"The objection is not relevant, Mr. Pilley," said the
coroner, suppressing a smile. "We are not concerned
with the identity of Mr. Bundy but with that of Angelina
Frood. Can anyone identify this lady?"
"I can," said I. "I swear that she is Angelina Frood."
"And Mrs. Gillow?"
Mrs. Gillow could and did identify her late lodger, and
furthermore, burst into tears and filled the court-room
with "yoops" of hysterical joy. When she had been paci-
fied and gently restrained by the coroner's officer from an
attempt to embrace the witness, the coroner proceeded:
"Now, Mrs. Frood, the jury require certain explanations
from you, in regard to the body of a woman which is
at present lying in the mortuary and which was found
buried in the city wall with certain articles of clothing
and jewellery which have been identified as your property.
Did you know that that body had been buried in the
wall?"
"Yes," replied Angelina.
"Do you know how it came to be in the wall?"
"Yes. I put it there."
"You put it there!" roared Pilley, amidst a chorus of
exclamations from the jurymen. The coroner held up his
hand to enjoin silence and asked, as he gazed in astonish-
ment at Angelina.


284 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA PROOD
three-pence. Received with thanks, 0. Hammerstein.'
Perhaps you would like to see the bill, yourselves, gentle-
men."
He passed it to the foreman, taking a quick glance out
of the corners of his eyes at the bland and impassive
Angelina, and the jury studied it in a deep silence, which
was broken only by a soft, gurgling sound, from some-
where behind me, which, I discovered, on looking round,
to proceed from Sergeant Cobbledick, whose crimsoned
face was partly hidden by a large handkerchief and whose
shoulders moved convulsively.
Presently the coroner addressed Thorndyke. "In con-
tinuation of your evidence, Doctor, does Mrs. Frood's ex-
planation agree with any conclusions that you had arrived
at from your inspection of the remains?"
"It agrees with them completely," Thorndyke replied
with a grim smile.
The coroner entered the answer in the depositions, and
then turned once more to Angelina.
"With regard to the objects that were found with the
skeleton; did you put them there ?''
"Yes. I put in the metal things and a few pieces of
scorched rag to give a realistic effect—on account of the
lime, you know."
"And the articles that were recovered from the river,
too, I suppose?"
"Yes, I put them down—with proper precautions, of
course."
"What do you mean by proper precautions?"
"Well, I couldn't afford to waste any of the things, so
I used to keep a lookout with a telescope, and then, when
I saw a likely person coming along, I put one of the things
down where it could be seen."


286 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
Angelina smiled a prim little smile. "I think that
could have been managed," she said.
"Well," said the coroner, "it was an ingenious scheme.
But apparently Dr. Thorndyke knew who Mr. Bundy was.
How do you suppose he discovered your identity V
"That is just what I should like to know," she replied.
"So should I," said the coroner, with a broad smile;
"but, of course, it isn't my affair or that of the jury.
We are concerned with this skeleton that you have planted
on us. I suppose you can give us no idea as to where
it came from originally V
"The dealer said it had been found in a barrow—not
a wheel-barrow, you know; an ancient burial-place. Of
course, I don't know whether he was speaking the truth."
"What do you think, Dr. Thorndyke?" the coroner
asked.
"I think it is an ancient skeleton, though very well pre-
served. Some of the teeth—the original ones—show more
wear than one expects to find in a modern skull. But I
only made a cursory inspection."
''1 think the evidence is sufficient for our purpose,'' said
the coroner; "and that really concludes the case, so we
need not detain you any longer, Mrs. Frood. I don't know
exactly what your legal position is; whether you have
committed any legal offence. If you have, it is not our
business; and I think I am expressing the sentiments of
the jury if I say that I hope that the authorities will not
make it their business. No one has been injured, and no
action seems to be called for."
With these sentiments the jury concurred warmly, as
also did Sergeant Cobbledick, who was heard, very audibly
and regardless of the proprieties, to murmur "Hear,


THE UNCONTRITE PENITENT 287
hear.'' We waited to learn the nature of the verdict, and
when this had been pronounced (to the effect that the skele-
ton was that of an unknown woman, concerning the cir-
cumstances of whose death no evidence was available),
the court rose and we prepared to depart.
"You are coming back to lunch with us, Angelina?"
said I.
"I should love to," she replied, "but there is Mr. Japp.
Do you think you could ask him, too?"
"Of course," I replied, with a sudden perception of
the advantage of even numbers. "We shouldn't be com-
plete without him.''
Japp accepted with enthusiasm, and, after a hasty
farewell to Cobbledick, we went forth into the High Street,
by no means unobserved of the populace. As we ap-
proached the neighbourhood of the office Angelina said:
"I must run into my rooms for a few moments just to
tidy myself up a little. It was such a very hurried toil-
ette. I won't be more than a few minutes. You needn't
wait for me."
"I suggest," said Thorndyke, "that Mr. Japp and I go
on and break the news to Mrs. Dunk that there is a lady
guest, and that Strangeways remains behind to escort the
prisoner.''
I fell in readily with this admirable suggestion, and as
the two men walked on, I followed Angelina up the steps
and waited while she plied her latch-key. We entered the
hall together and then went into the sitting-room, where
she stood for a moment, looking round with deep satis-
faction.
"It's nice to be home again," she said, "and to feel
that all that fuss is over."


288 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
'' I daresay it is,'' said I. '' But now that you are home,
what have you got to say for yourself? You are a nice
little baggage, aren't you?"
"I am a little beast, John," she replied. "I've been
a perfect pig to you. But I didn't mean to be, and I
really couldn't help it. You'll try to forgive me, won't
you?"
"The fact is, Angelina," I said, "I am afraid I am in
love with you."
"Oh, I hope to goodness you are, John," she exclaimed.
"If I thought you weren't I should wish myself a skeleton
again. Do you think you really are?"
She crept closer to me with such a sweet, wheedlesome
air that I suddenly caught her in my arms and kissed her.
"It does seem as if you were," she admitted with a
roguish smile; and then—such unaccountable creatures are
women—she laid her head on my shoulder and began to
sob. But this was only a passing shower. Another kiss
brought back the sunshine and then she tripped away to
spread fresh entanglements for the masculine heart.
In a few minutes she returned, further adorned and
looking to my eyes the very picture of womanly sweet-
ness and grace. When I had given confirmatory evidence
of my sentiments towards her, we went out, just in time
to encounter Mrs. Gillow and acquaint her with the pro-
gram.
"I suppose," said Angelina, glancing furtively at a
little party of women who were glancing, not at all fur-
tively, at her, "one should be gratified at the interest shown
by one's fellow towns-people; but don't you think the
back streets would be preferable to the High-street?"
"It is no use, my dear," I replied. "We've got to face


THE UNCONTRITE PENITENT 289
it. Take no notice. Regard these bipeds that infest the
footways as mere samples of the local fauna. Let them
stare and ignore them. For my part, I rather like them.
They impress on me the admirable bargain that I have
made in swapping Peter Bundy for a beautiful lady."
"Poor Peter," she said, pensively. "He was a sad boy
sometimes when he looked at his big, handsome John and
thought that mere friendship was all that he could hope for
when his poor little heart was starving for love. Your
deal isn't the only successful one, John, so you needn't be
so conceited. But here we are home—really home, this
time, for this has been my real home, John, dear. And
there—Oh! Moses!—there is Mrs. Dunk, waiting to re-
ceive us!"
"What used you to do to Mrs. Dunk," I asked, "to
make her so furious?"
"I only used to inquire after her health," Angelina
replied plaintively. "But mum's the word. She'll spot
my voice as soon as I speak."
Mrs. Dunk held the door open ceremoniously and
curtsied as we entered. She was a gruff old woman, but
she had a deep respect for "gentlefolk," as is apt to be the
way with old servants. Angelina acknowledged her salu-
tation with a gracious smile and followed her meekly up
the stairs to the room that Mrs. Dunk had allotted to her.
I found Thorndyke and Japp established in the library
—Dr. Partridge had dispensed with a drawing-room and
I followed his excellent example—and here presently
Angelina joined us, sailing majestically into the room and
marching up to Thorndyke with an air at once hostile and
defiant.
"Serpent," said Angelina.


290 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA PROOD
"Not at all," Thorndyke dissented with a smile. "You
should be grateful to me for having rescued you from
your own barbed-wire entanglements."
"Serpent, I repeat," persisted Angelina. "To let me
sit in that court-room watching all the innocents walking
into my trap one after another, and then, just as I thought
they were all inside, to hand me a thing like that!" and
she produced, dramatically, a small sheet of paper, which I
recognized as the remainder of Thorndyke's note. I took
it from her, and read: "You see whither the evidence is
leading. The deception cannot be maintained, nor is there
any need, now that your husband is dead. Explanations
must be given either by you or by me. For your own sake
I urge you to explain everything and clear yourself. Let
me know what you will do."
"This is an extraordinary document," I said, passing it
to Japp. "How in the name of Fortune did you know
that Bundy was Angelina ?''
"Yes, how did you?" the latter demanded. "It is for
you to give an explanation now."
"We will have the explanations after lunch," said he;
"mutual explanations. I want to hear how far I was cor-
rect in details."
"Very well," agreed Angelina, "we will both explain.
But you will have the first innings. You are not going to
listen to my explanation and then say you knew all about
it. And that reminds me, John, that you had better tell
Mrs. Dunk. She is sure to recognize my voice."
I quite agreed with Angelina and hurried away to inter-
cept Mrs. Dunk and let her know the position. She was
at first decidedly shocked, but a vivid and detailed de-
scription of the late Mr. Frood produced a complete re-
vulsion; so complete, in fact, as to lead me to speculate on


CHAPTER XIX
EXPLANATIONS
THE investigation of this case," Thorndyke
began, "falls naturally into two separate in-
quiries: that relating to the crime and that
which is concerned with what we may conveniently call
the personation. They make certain contacts, but they are
best considered separately. Let us begin with the crime.
"Now, to a person having experience of real crime, there
was, in this case, from the very beginning, something
rather abnormal. A woman of good social position had
disappeared. There was a suggestion that she had been i
murdered; and the murder had apparently been commit-
ted in some public place, that is to say, not in a house.
But in such cases, normally, the first evidence of the crime
is furnished by the discovery of the body. It is true that,
in this case, there was a suggestion that the body had been
flung into the river, and this, at first, masked the abnor-
mality to some extent. But even then there was the dis-
crepancy that the brooch, which was attached to the person,
appeared to have been found on land, while the bag, which
was not attached to the person, was picked up at the
water's edge. The bag itself, and the box which had
been in it, presented several inconsistencies.
"They had apparently been lying unnoticed for eleven
days on a piece of shore that was crowded with small
craft and frequently by numbers of seamen and labourers,
and that formed a play-ground for the waterside children.
293


294 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
The clean state of the box when found showed that it had
neither been handled nor immersed, and as the wrapping-
paper was intact, the person who had taken it out of the
bag must have thrown it away without opening it to see
what it contained. The bag was found under some light
rubbish. That rubbish had not been thrown on it by the
water, or the bag would have been soaked; and no one
could have thrown the rubbish on it without seeing the
bag, which was an article of some value. Again, the bag
had not been carried to this place by the water, as was
proved by its condition.
'' Therefore, either this was the place where the crime had
been committed, or someone had brought the bag to this
place and thrown it away. But neither supposition was
reasonably probable. It was inconceivable that a person
like Mrs. Frood should have been in this remote, inaccessi-
ble, disreputable place at such an hour. The bag could
not have been brought here by an innocent person, for no
such person would have thrown it away. It was quite a
valuable bag. And a guilty person would have thrown it
in the river, and probably put a stone in it to sink it. So
you see that these first clues were strikingly abnormal.
They prepared one to consider the possibility of false tracks.
Even the brooch incident had a faint suggestion of the
same kind when considered with the other clues. The
man who pawned the brooch had a mole on his nose.
Such an adornment can be easily produced artificially.
It is highly distinctive of the person who possesses it, and
it is equally distinctive—negatively—of the person who
does not possess it. Then there was the character of the
person who had disappeared. She was a woman who was
seeking to escape from her husband; and hitherto she had
not succeeded because she had not hidden herself securely


EXPLANATIONS
295
enough. She was a person of a somewhat disappearing
tendency. She had an understandable motive for disap-
pearing.
"From the very beginning, therefore, the possibility of
voluntary disappearance had to be borne in mind. And
when it was, each new clue seemed to support it. There
was the scarf, for instance. It was found under a fish-
trunk; an unlikely place for it to have got by chance, but
an excellent one for a 'plant.' The scarf was not baldly
exposed, but someone was sure to turn the trunk over and
find it. And at this point another peculiarity began to
develop. There was a noticeable tendency for the succes-
sive 'finds' to creep up the river from Chatham towards
Rochester Bridge. It was not yet very remarkable, but I
noticed it, as I entered each find on my map. The brooch
was associated with Chatham, the bag and box with the
Chatham shore a little farther up, the scarf with the
Rochester shore at Blue Boar Head. As I say, it attracted
my attention; and when the first shoe was found above
Blue Boar Head, the second shoe farther up still, and the
hat-pin yet farther up towards the bridge, it became im-
possible to ignore it. There was no natural explanation.
Whether the body were floating or stationary, the con-
stancy of direction was inexplicable; for the tide sweeps
up and down twice daily, and objects detached from the
body would be carried up or down stream, according to
the direction of the tide when they became detached.
This regular order was a most suspicious circumstance.
Later, when the objects were found in Black Boy-lane, it
became absurd. It was a mere paper-chase. Just look at
my map."
He exhibited the large-scale map, on which each "find"
was marked by a small circle. The series of circles, joined


296 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
by a connecting line, proceeded directly from near Sun
Pier, Chatham, along the shore, and up Black Boy-lane
to the gate of the waste ground, and across it to the wall.
Angelina giggled. "You can't say I didn't make it as
easy as I could for poor old Cobbledick," she said. "Of
course, I never reckoned on anyone bringing up the heavy
guns. By the way, I wonder who your private client
was. Do you know, John?" she added, with a sudden
glance of suspicion; and, as I grinned sheepishly, she ex-
claimed: "Well! I wouldn't have believed it. It was
a regular conspiracy. But I am interrupting the expert.
Proceed, my lord."
"Well," Thorndyke resumed, "we have considered the
aspect of the crime problem taken by itself, as it appeared
to an experienced investigator. From the first there was
a suspicion that the clues were counterfeit, and with each
new clue this suspicion deepened. And you will notice
an important corollary. If the case was a fraud, that fraud
was being worked by someone on the spot. Keep that
point in mind, for it has a most significant bearing on the
other problem, that of the personation, to which we will
now turn our attention. But before we go into details,
there are certain general considerations that we ought to
note, in order that we may understand more clearly how
the deception became possible.
"The subject of personation and disguise is often mis-
understood. It is apt to be supposed that a disguise ef-
fects a complete transformation resulting in a complete
resemblance to the individual personated—or, as in this
case, a complete disappearance of the identity of the dis-
guised person. But no such transformation is possible.
All disguise is a form of bluff. It acts by suggestion.
And the suggestion is effected by a set of misleading cir-


EXPLANATIONS
297
cumstances which produce in the dupe a state of mind in
which a very imperfect disguise serves to produce convic-
tion. That is the psychology of personation, and I can
only express my admiration of the way in which Angelina
had grasped it. Her conduct of this delicate deception
was really masterly. Let us consider it in more detail.
"Mr. Bundy was ostensibly a man. But if he had been
put in a room with a dozen moderately intelligent persons,
and those persons had been asked, "Is this individual a
man? or is he a woman with short hair and dressed in
man's clothing?" they would probably have decided unan-
imously that he was a woman. But the question never
was asked. The issue was never raised. He was Mr.
Bundy. One doesn't look at young men to see if they
are women in disguise.
'' Then consider the position of Strangeways—the chosen
victim. He comes to a strange town to transact business
with a firm of land agents. He goes into the office, and
finds the partners—whose names are on the plate outside,
and to whom he has been sent by his London agent—en-
gaged in their normal avocations. He transacts his busi-
ness with them in a normal way, and Mr. Bundy seems to
be an ordinary, capable young man. He goes back later
and interviews Mr. Bundy, who is just on the point of
taking him to introduce him to Mrs. Frood, when he is
called away. Then, within a few minutes, he is taken to
Mrs. Frood's house, where he finds that lady calmly en-
gaged in needlework. Supposing Mrs. Frood had been
extremely like Bundy, could it possibly have entered
Strangeways's head that they might be one and the same
person? Remember that he had left Bundy in another
place only a few minutes before; and here was Mrs. Frood
in her own apartments, with the appearance of having been


298 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
there for hours. Obviously no such thought could have
occurred to any man. There was nothing to suggest it.
"But, in fact, Angelina was not perceptibly like Bundy
on cursory inspection. They were markedly different in
size. A woman always looks bigger than a man of the
same height. Bundy was a little man and looked smaller
than he was by reason of his very low heels; Angelina was
a biggish woman and looked taller than she was by reason
of her high heels and her hair. Disregarding her hair,
she was fully two inches taller than Bundy.
"Then the facial resemblance must have been slight.
Angelina had a mass of hair and wore it low down on her
brows and temples; Bundy's hair was short and was brushed
back from his forehead. Angelina had strong, black eye-
brows; Bundy's eyebrows were thin, or rather, cut off
short. Angelina was pale, careworn, dark under the eyes,
with drooping mouth, melancholy expression and depressed
in manner; Bundy was fresh-coloured, smiling, gay and
sprightly in manner and he wore an eye-glass—which has
a surprising effect on facial expression. Their voices and
intonation were strikingly different. Finally, Strange-
ways never saw Angelina excepting in a very subdued
light in which any small resemblances in features would
be unnoticeable.
"And now observe another effect of suggestion.
Strangeways had made the acquaintance of Mr. Bundy.
Then he had made the acquaintance of Mrs. Frood. They
were two separate persons; they were practically strangers
to one another; they belonged to different sets of surround-
ings. He would never think of them in connexion with one
another. They were two of his friends, mutually unac-
quainted. In this condition of separateness they would
become established in his mind, and the conception of them


EXPLANATIONS
299
as different persons would become confirmed by habit. It
would be a permanent suggestion that would offer an ob-
stacle to any future suggestion that they were the same.
That was the advantage of introducing Bundy first, for
if he had appeared only after Angelina had disappeared,
there would have been no such opposing suggestion. The
resemblances might have been noticed, and he might have
been detected.
"In passing I may remark upon the tact and judgment
that were shown in the disguise. The troublesome make-
up, the wig, the false eyebrows, the grease-paint, the false
voice, all were concentrated on the temporary Mrs. Frood,
who was to disappear. Bundy was not disguised at all,
excepting for the eye-glass. He was simply Angelina with
her hair cut short and dressed as a man. He hadn't even
an assumed voice; for as Angelina is a contralto, and
habitually speaks in the lower register, her voice would
pass quite well as a light tenor, so long as she kept
off the 'head notes.'
"So much for the general aspects of the case. And
now as to my own position. As I had never seen Angelina,
I naturally should not perceive any resemblance to her in
Bundy; but, equally with Strangeways, I was subject to
the suggestion that Bundy was a man. The personal equa-
tion, however, was different. It is my professional habit
to reject all mental suggestion so far as is possible; to sift
out the facts and consider them with an open mind regard-
less of what they appear to suggest. And then you are
to remember that when I first met Mr. Bundy, there was
already in my mind a faint suspicion that this was not a
genuine crime; that things were not quite what they ap-
peared; and that if this were the case, the clues were being
manipulated by somebody on the spot.


300 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
"When I met Mr. Bundy, I looked him over as I look
over every person whom I meet for the first time; and
that inspection yielded one or two rather remarkable facts.
I noticed that he wore exceptionally low heels and that he
had several physical characteristics that were distinctively
feminine. The very low heels puzzled me somewhat. If
they had been exceptionally high there would have been
nothing in it. But why should a noticeably short man
wear almost abnormally low heels? I could think of no
reason, unless he wore them for greater comfort, but I noted
the fact and reserved it for further consideration.
"Of his physical peculiarities, the first that attracted
my attention was the shape of his hands. They were quite
of the feminine type. Of course, hands vary, but still it
was a fact to be noted, and the observation caused me to
look him over a little more critically; and then I discovered
a number of other feminine characteristics.
"Perhaps it may be useful to consider briefly the less
obvious differences between the sexes—the more obvious
ones would, of course, be provided for by the disguise.
There are two principal groups of such differences; the one
has reference to the distribution of bulk, the other to the
direction of certain lines. Let us take the distribution of
bulk. This exhibits opposite tendencies in the two sexes.
In the female, the great mass is central—the hip region;
and from this the form diminishes in both directions. The
whole figure, including the arms, is contained in an
elongated ellipse. And the tendency affects the individual
members. The limbs are bulky where they join the trunk,
they taper pretty regularly towards the extremities, and
they terminate in relatively small hands and feet. The
hands themselves taper as a whole, and the individual


EXPLANATIONS
301
fingers taper markedly from a comparatively thick base
to a pointed tip.
"In the male figure the opposite condition prevails; it
tends to be acromegalous. The central mass is relatively
small, the peripheral masses is relatively large. The hip
region is narrow, and there is a great widening towards
the shoulders. The limbs taper much less towards the
extremities, and they terminate in relatively large hands
and feet. So, too, with the hands; they tend to be square
in shape, and the individual fingers—excepting the index
finger—are nearly as broad at the tips as at the base.
"Of the second group of differences we need consider
only one or two instances. The general rule is that certain
contour lines tend in the male to be vertical or horizontal
in direction and in the female to be oblique. A man's neck,
at the back, is nearly straight and vertical; a woman's
shows a sweeping oblique curve. The angle of a man's
lower jaw is nearly a right angle; there is a vertical and
a horizontal ramus. A woman's lower jaw has an open
angle and its contour forms an oblique line from the ear
to the chin. But the most distinctive difference is in the
ear itself. A man's ear has its long diameter vertical; a
woman's has the long diameter oblique; and the obliquity
is usually very marked.
"Bearing these differences in mind, and remembering
that they are subject to variation in individual cases, let
us now return to Mr. Bundy. His hands, as I have said,
had the feminine character. His feet were small even
for a small man; his ears were set obliquely and
the line of his jaw was oblique with an open angle.
His shoulders had evidently been made up by the tailor,
and he seemed rather wide across the hips for a man. In


EXPLANATIONS
"It will never be an accomplished fact," said Angelina.
"The equality of the sexes is like the equality of the
classes. The people who roar for social equality are the
under-dogs; and the women who shout for sex equality are
the under-cats. Normal women are satisfied with things
as they are."
"Hearken unto the wisdom of Angelina," said Thorn-
dyke, with a smile. "But perhaps she is right. It may
be that the women who are so eager to compete with men
are those who can't compete with women. I can't say.
I have never been a woman: whereas Angelina has the ad-
vantage of being able to view the question from both sides.
"The prima facie evidence, then, suggested that Mr.
Bundy was a woman. But as this was a prima facie im-
probability, the matter had to be gone into further. On
Mr. Bundy's cheeks and chin was a faint blue colouration,
suggestive of such a growth of whiskers and beard as would
be appropriate to his age. Now if those whiskers and that
beard were genuine, the other signs were fallacious. Mr.
Bundy must be a man. But his cheeks looked perfectly
smooth and clean; and it was about seven o'clock in the
evening. My own cheeks and Strangeways' were by this
time visibly prickly; and as he had been with us all day,
Mr. Bundy could not have shaved since the morning. I
tried vainly to get a closer view, and was considering how
it could be managed when Providence intervened."
"I know," said Angelina. "It was that beastly mos-
quito. ''
"Yes," agreed Thorndyke. "But even then I could not
get a chance to look at the skin closely. But when we
got Mr. Bundy into the surgery, and examined the bite
through a lens, the murder was out."
"You could see there were no whiskers?" said Angelina.


306 THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOD
hair, forehead, neck, and bust. The eye-glass was the
disturbing factor, though it showed very little, and Bundy
managed it so skilfully that it hardly affected the shape
of the eye and the set of the brow. Still, it was necessary
to eliminate it, and as painting was out of our province,
we invoked the aid of Mrs. Anstey, who is a very talented
portrait painter and miniaturist. She touched out the
joins in the composites, painted out the eye-glass in
the one and painted an eye-glass into the other. And
now the identity was complete. The Bundy-Angelina por-
trait was identical with the photographer's portrait, and
the Angelina-Bundy photograph was Mr. Bundy to the
life.
"However, we made a final test. Polton reduced the
Bundy-Angelina portrait to cabinet size, and made a couple
of carbon prints, which I brought down here and exhibited;
and as Strangeways accepted them as portraits of Ange-
lina, I considered the proof complete."
Here Angelina interrupted: "But what, about that
brooch? I never had a brooch like that."
Thorndyke smiled a grim smile. "I asked Mrs. Anstey
to paint in a brooch of a characteristic design."
"What for?" asked Angelina.
"Ah!" said Thorndyke, "thereby hangs a tale."
"Oh! a serpent's tail, I suppose," said Angelina. «
'' You will be able to judge presently,'' he replied. '' The
brooch had its uses. Well, to continue: The identity of
Mr. Bundy was now established as a moral certainty. But
it was not certain enough for legal purposes. I wanted
conclusive evidence; and I wanted to ascertain exactly how
the transformation effects were worked. I had noted that
Bundy and Angelina occupied adjoining houses which
were virtually the two moieties of a double house with a


EXPLANATIONS
307
common covered passageway. I assumed that the two
houses communicated, but it was necessary to ascertain if
they really did. The only way to establish the facts was
to inspect the house in which Angelina had lived, and this
I determined to do, in the very faint hope that I might be
able, at the same time, to get one or more of Angelina's
finger-prints. I made a pretext for visiting the house
with Strangeways, and we had the extraordinary good
luck to find Mrs. Gillow just going out, so we had the
house to ourselves. But this was not the only piece of
luck, for we found that Angelina had taken a drink from
the bedroom tumbler and water-bottle before going out,
and had left on them a complete set of beautiful finger-
prints, of which I secured a number of admirable photo-
graphs.
"Examination of the basement showed that I was right
as to the communication. Both houses had a side door
opening into the passage-way, and both doors were fitted
with Yale latches which looked as if they were opened with
the same key. The passage was little used, but the gravel
between the two doors was a good deal trodden, and there
were numerous finger-prints on Angelina's side-door. In
the kitchen was a large cupboard fitted with a Yale lock
on the door and pegs inside. I assumed that when Ange-
lica was at home that cupboard contained a suit of "Mr.
Bundy's clothes, and that when Mr. Bundy was in the
office it contained a wig and a dress and a pair of lady's
shoes.
"Well, that made the evidence fairly complete with one
exception. We had to get a set of Bundy's finger-prints
to compare with Angelina's. That was where the
brooch came in. I knew that when Mr. Bundy saw
a portrait of his former self with a brooch that he had


EXPLANATIONS
309
only a skeleton had been buried and that no crime had
been committed. That is all I have to tell; and now it is
Angelina's turn to enter the confessional."
"You haven't left me much to tell," said Angelina. "I
feel as if I had been doing the thimble and pea trick with
glass thimbles. However, I will fill in a few details. This
scheme first occurred to me when I came down here to take
over the property that had been left to me. I put it con-
fidentially to Uncle Japp, but he was so shocked that he
has never been able to get his hair to lie down since. He
wouldn't hear of it. So I asked him to lunch with poor
Nicholas; and after that he was ready to agree to any-
thing. Accordingly I made my preparations. I got a
theatrical wig-maker to cut off my hair and make it into
a wig (I told him I had a man's part and it was expected
to be a long run), got a suit made by a theatrical costumier,
and down I came as Mr. Bundy. Uncle J. had already
had the new plate put up. The next door offices and base-
ment were empty, so we got them furnished for Angelina,
and as soon as the wig was ready, down she came and
took possession.
"Up to this time the third act was a bit sketchy. I had
arranged the disappearance, and the recovery of the clues
from the river, and I had a plan of buying a mummy,
dressing it in my clothes, and burying it in the marshes
close to the shore, where I could discover it when it had
matured sufficiently. But I didn't much like the plan.
I didn't know enough about mummies, and some other
people might know too much. It looked as if I should
have to do without a body, and leave my death to mere
rumour; which would be unsatisfactory. I did want a
tombstone.
"About this time an angel of the name of Turcival—he