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Books by R. AUSTIN FREEMAN.
THE BLUE SCARAB
THE RED THUMB MARK
THE MYSTERY OF ANGELINA FROOB
THE SHADOW OF THE WOLF
THE PUZZLE LOCK
THE D'ARBLAY MYSTERY
THE MAGIC CASKET
THE CAT'S EYE
A CERTAIN DR. THORNDYKE
AS A THIEF IN THE NIGHT


THE EYE OF
OSIRIS
A DETECTIVE STORY
By R. AUSTIN FREEMAN
__1 I
c/flJTHOR of
"As a Thief in the Night," "The Cat's Eye," "A Certain Dt.
Thorndyke," "The D'Arblay Mystery," "The Mystery
of Angelina Frood," "The Puzzle Lock," "The
Shadow of the Wolf," "The Singing Bone," etc.

A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with Dodd Mead & Company
Printed In U. S. A.


TT-2 >'"'■' YO!X
PULLIC LIB11ARY
513675B
ASTOn, I.EN')X AND
TUftLW FOl NDAT1ON8
K 11X9 L
OOPYBIGHT, 1911, BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America


CONTENTS
CHAPTIS FAGI
I. The Vanishing Man i
II. The Eavesdropper o
III. John Thorndyke 23
IV. Legal Complications and a Jackal . . 36
V. The Water-Cress Bed 50
VI. Sidelights 64
VII. John Bellingham's Will 81
VIII. A Museum Idyll 101
IX. The Sphinx of Lincoln's Inn . . . . 115
X. The New Alliance 132
XL The Evidence Reviewed 149
XII. A Voyage of Discovery 163
XIII. The Coroner's Quest 182
XIV. Which Carries the Reader into the Pro-
bate Court 196
XV. Circumstantial Evidence 224
XVI. O Artemidorus, Farewell! 240
XVII. The Accusing Finger 255
£s» XVIII. John Bellingham, 273
XIX. A Strange Symposium 299
XX. The End of the Case 328
X





THE EYE OF OSIRIS


v


CHAPTER I
THE VANISHING MAN
The school of St. Margaret's Hospital was fortunate
in its lecturer on Medical Jurisprudence, or Forensic
Medicine, as it is sometimes described. At some
schools the lecturer on this subject is appointed ap-
parently for the reason that he lacks the qualifications
to lecture on any other. But with us it was very differ-
ent: John Thorndyke was not only an enthusiast, a man
of profound learning and great reputation, but he was
an exceptional teacher, lively and fascinating in style
and of endless resources. Every remarkable case that
had ever been reported he appeared to have at his
fingers' ends; every fact—chemical, physical, biologi-
cal, or even historical—that could in any way be twisted
into a medico-legal significance, was pressed into his
service; and his own varied and curious experiences
seemed as inexhaustible as the widow's cruse. One of
his favorite devices for giving life and interest to a
rather dry subject was that of analyzing and comment-
ing upon contemporary cases as reported in the papers
(always, of course, with a due regard to the legal and
social proprieties); and it was in this way that I first
became introduced to the astonishing series of events
that was destined to exercise so great an influence on
my own life.
The lecture which had just been concluded had dealt
with the rather unsatisfactory subject of survivorship.


2 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Most of the students had left the theater, and the re-
mainder had gathered round the lecturer's table to listen
to the informal comments that Dr. Thorndyke was
wont to deliver on these occasions in an easy, conversa-
tional manner, leaning against the edge of the table and
apparently addressing his remarks to a stick of black-
board chalk that he held in his fingers.
"The problem of survivorship," he was saying, in
reply to a question put by one of the students, "ordi-
narily occurs in cases where the bodies of the parties
are producible, or where, at any rate, the occurrence of
death and its approximate time are actually known.
But an analogous difficulty may arise in a case where
the body of one of the parties is not forthcoming, and
the fact of death may have to be assumed on collateral
evidence.
"Here, of course, the vital question to be settled is,
what is the latest instant at which it is certain that this
person was alive? And the settlement of that question
may turn on some circumstance of the most trivial and
insignificant kind. There is a case in this morning's
paper which illustrates this. A gentleman has disap-
peared rather mysteriously. He was last seen by the
servant of a relative at whose house he had called.
Now, if this gentleman should never reappear, dead
or alive, the question as to what was the latest mo-
ment at which he was certainly alive will turn upon the
further question: 'Was he or was he not wearing a
particular article of jewelry when he called at the
relative's house?'"
He paused with a reflective eye bent upon the stump
of chalk he still held; then, noting the expectant in-
terest with which we were regarding him, he resumed:
"The circumstances in this case are very curious; in


THE VANISHING MAN 3
fact, they are highly mysterious; and if any legal issues
should arise in respect of them, they are likely to yield
some very remarkable complications. The gentleman
who has disappeared, Mr. John Bellingham, is a man
well known in archeological circles. He recently re-
turned from Egypt, bringing with him a very fine col-
lection of antiquities—some of which, by the way, he
has presented to the British Museum, where they are
now on view—and having made this presentation, he
appears to have gone to Paris on business. I may men-
tion that the gift consisted of a very fine mummy and a
complete set of tomb-furniture. The latter, however,
had not arrived from Egypt at the time when the miss-
ing man left for Paris, but the mummy was inspected on
the fourteenth of October at Mr. Bellingham's house
by Dr. Norbury of the British Museum, in the presence
of the donor and his solicitor, and the latter was author-
ized to hand over the complete collection to the British
Museum authorities when the tomb-furniture arrived;
which he has since done.
"From Paris he seems to have returned on the
twenty-third of November, and to have gone direct to
Charing Cross to the house of a relative, a Mr. Hurst,
who is a bachelor and lives at Eltham. He appeared
at the house at twenty minutes past five, and as Mr.
Hurst had not yet come down from town and was not
expected until a quarter to six, he explained who he
was and said he would wait in the study and write
some letters. The housemaid accordingly showed him
into the study, furnished him with writing materials,
and left him.
"At a quarter to six Mr. Hurst let himself in with
his latchkey, and before the housemaid had time to


4 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
speak to him he had passed through into the study and
shut the door.
"At six o'clock, when the dinner bell was rung, Mr.
Hurst entered the dining-room alone, and observing
that the table was laid for two, asked the reason.
"'I thought Mr. Bellingham was staying to dinner,
sir,' was the housemaid's reply.
"'Mr. Bellingham!' exclaimed the astonished host.
'I didn't know he was here. Why was I not told?'
"'I thought he was in the study with you, sir,' said
the housemaid.
"On this a search was made for the visitor, with the
result that he was nowhere to be found. He had dis-
appeared without leaving a trace, and what made the
incident more odd was that the housemaid was certain
that he had not gone out by the front door. For since
neither she nor the cook was acquainted with Mr. John
Bellingham, she had remained the whole time either in
the kitchen, which commanded a view of the front gate,
or in the dining-room, which opened into the hall op-
posite the study door. The study itself has a French
window opening on a narrow grass plot, across which is
a side-gate that opens into an alley; and it appears that
Mr. Bellingham must have made his exit by this rather
eccentric route. At any rate—and this is the important
fact—he was not in the house, and no one had seen
him leave it.
"After a hasty meal Mr. Hurst returned to town and
called at the office of Mr. Bellingham's solicitor and
confidential agent, a Mr. Jellicoe, and mentioned the
matter to him. Mr. Jellicoe knew nothing of his client's
return from Paris, and the two men at once took the
train down to Woodford, where the missing man's
brother, Mr. Godfrey Bellingham, lives. The servant


THE VANISHING MAN 5
who admitted them said that Mr. Godfrey was not at
home, but that his daughter was in the library, which
is a detached building situated in a shrubbery beyond
the garden at the back of the house. Here the two men
found, not only Miss Bellingham, but also her father,
who had come in by the back gate.
"Mr. Godfrey and his daughter listened to Mr.
Hurst's story with the greatest surprise, and assured
him that they had neither seen nor heard anything of
John Bellingham.
"Presently the party left the library to walk up to the
house; but only a few feet from the library door Mr.
Jellicoe noticed an object lying in the grass and pointed
it out to Mr. Godfrey.
"The latter picked it up, and they all recognized it
as a scarab which Mr. John Bellingham had been ac-
customed to wear suspended from his watch-chain.
There was no mistaking it. It was a very fine scarab of
the eighteenth dynasty fashioned of lapis lazuli and
engraved with the cartouche of Amenhotep III. It had
been suspended by a gold ring fastened to a wire which
passed through the suspension hole, and the ring,
though broken, was still in position.
"This discovery of course only added to the mystery,
which was still further increased when, on inquiry, a
suit-case bearing the initials J. B. was found to be un-
claimed in the cloak-room at Charing Cross. Reference
to the counterfoil of the ticket-book showed that it had
been deposited about the time of the arrival of the Con-
tinental express on the twenty-third of November, so
that its owner must have gone straight on to Eltham.
"That is how the affair stands at present, and, should
the missing man never reappear or should his body
never be found, the question, as you see, which will be


6 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
required to be settled is, 'What is the exact time and
place, when and where, he was last known to be alive!'
As to the place, the importance of the issues involved in
that question is obvious and we need not consider
it. But the question of time has another kind of
significance. Cases have occurred, as I pointed out in
the lecture, in which proof of survivorship by less than
a minute has secured succession to property. Now,
the missing man was last seen alive at Mr. Hurst's
house at twenty minutes past five on the twenty-third
of November. But he appears to have visited his
brother's house at Woodford, and, since nobody saw
him at that house, it is at present uncertain whether he
went there before calling on Mr. Hurst. If he went
there first, then twenty minutes past five on the evening
of the twenty-third is the latest moment at which he is
known to have been alive; but if he went there after,
there would have to be added to this time the shortest
time possible in which he could travel from the one
house to the other.
"But the question as to which house he visited first
hinges on the scarab. If he was wearing the scarab
when he arrived at Mr. Hurst's house, it would be cer-
tain that he went there first; but if it was not then on
his watch-chain, a probability would be established that
he went first to Woodford. Thus, you see, a question
which may conceivably become of the most vital mo-
ment in determining the succession of property turns
on the observation or non-observation by this house-
maid of an apparently trivial and insignificant fact."
"Has the servant made any statement on this sub-
ject, sir?" I ventured to inquire.
"Apparently not," replied Dr. Thorndyke; "at any
rate, there is no reference to any such statement in the
X


THE VANISHING MAN 7
newspaper report, though otherwise, the case is re-
ported in great detail; indeed, the wealth of detail,
including plans of the two houses, is quite remark-
able and well worth noting as being in itself a fact of
considerable interest."
"In what respect, sir, is it of interest?" one of the
students asked.
"Ah," replied Dr. Thorndyke, "I think I must leave
you to consider that question yourself. This is an un-
tried case, and we mustn't make free with the actions
and motives of individuals."
"Does the paper give any description of the missing
man, sir?" I asked.
"Yes; quite an exhaustive description. Indeed, it is
exhaustive to the verge of impropriety, considering that
the man may turn up alive and well at any moment. It
seems that he has an old Pott's fracture of the left
ankle, a linear, longitudinal scar on each knee—origin
not stated, but easily guessed at—and that he has
tattooed on his chest in vermilion a very finely and
distinctly executed representation of the symbolical
Eye of Osiris—or Horus or Ra, as the different authori-
ties have it. There certainly ought to be no difficulty
in identifying the body. But we hope that it will not
come to that.
"And now I must really be running away, and so
must you; but I would advise you all to get copies of
the paper and file them when you have read the re-
markably full details. It is a most curious case, and it
is highly probable that we shall hear of it again. Good
afternoon, gentlemen."
Dr. Thorndyke's advice appealed to all who heard
it, for medical jurisprudence was a live subject at St.
Margaret's, and all of us were keenly interested in it.


8 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
As a result, we sallied forth in a body to the nearest
news-vendor's, and, having each provided himself with
a copy of the Daily Telegraph, adjourned together to
the Common room to devour the report and thereafter
to discuss the bearings of the case, unhampered by
those considerations of delicacy that afflicted our more
squeamish and scrupulous teacher.


CHAPTER II
THE EAVESDROPPER
It is one of the canons of correct conduct, scrupu-
lously adhered to (when convenient) by all well-bred
persons, that an acquaintance should be initiated by a
proper introduction. To this salutary rule, which I
have disregarded to the extent of an entire chapter, I
now hasten to conform; and the more so inasmuch as
nearly two years have passed since my first informal
appearance.
Permit me then, to introduce Paul Berkeley, M.B.,
etc., recently—very recently—qualified, faultlessly at-
tired in the professional frock-coat and tall hat, and, at
the moment of introduction, navigating with anxious
care a perilous strait between a row of well-filled coal-
sacks and a colossal tray piled high with kidney pota-
toes.
The passage of this strait landed me on the terra
firma of Fleur-de-Lys Court, where I halted for a mo-
ment to consult my visiting list. There was only one
more patient for me to see this morning, and he lived
at 49, NevilPs Court, wherever that might be. I turned
for information to the presiding deity of the coal shop.
"Can you direct me, Mrs. Jablett, to Nevill's Court?"
She could and she did, grasping me confidentially by
the arm (the mark remained on my sleeve for weeks)
and pointing a shaking forefinger at the dead wall
ahead. "Nevill's Court," said Mrs. Jablett, "is a alley,
9


io THE EYE OF OSIRIS
and you goes into it through a archway. It turns out
on Fetter Lane on the right 'and as you goes up, op-
persight Bream's Buildings."
I thanked Mrs. Jablett and went on my way, glad
that the morning round was nearly finished, and
vaguely conscious of a growing appetite and of a de-
sire to wash in hot water.
The practice which I was conducting was not my
own. It belonged to poor Dick Barnard, an old St.
Margaret's man of irrepressible spirits and indifferent
physique, who had started only the day before for a
trip down the Mediterranean on board a tramp engaged
in the currant trade; and this, my second morning's
round, was in some sort a voyage of geographical dis-
covery.
I walked on briskly up Fetter Lane until a narrow
arched opening, bearing the superscription "Nevill's
Court," arrested my steps, and here I turned to en-
counter one of those surprises that lie in wait for the
traveler in London by-ways. Expecting to find the
gray squalor of the ordinary London court, I looked
out from under the shadow of the arch past a row of
decent little shops through a vista full of light and
color—a vista of ancient, warm-toned roofs and walls
relieved by sunlit foliage. In the heart of London a
tree is always a delightful surprise; but here were not
only trees, but bushes and even flowers. The narrow
footway was bordered by little gardens, which, with
their wooden palings and well-kept shrubs, gave to the
place an air of quaint and sober rusticity; and even as
I entered, a bevy of workgirls, with gaily-colored
blouses and hair aflame in the sunlight, brightened up
the quiet background like the wild flowers that spangle
a summer hedgerow.


THE EAVESDROPPER n
In one of the gardens I noticed that the little paths
were paved with what looked like circular tiles, but
which, on inspection, I found to be old-fashioned stone
ink-bottles, buried bottom upwards; and I was medi-
tating upon the quaint conceit of the forgotten scrivener
who had thus adorned his habitation—a law-writer per-
haps or an author, or perchance even a poet—when I
perceived the number that I was seeking inscribed on
a shabby door in a high wall. There was no bell or
knocker, so, lifting the latch, I pushed the door open
and entered.
But if the court itself had been a surprise, this was
a positive wonder, a dream. Here, within earshot of
the rumble of Fleet Street, I was in an old-fashioned
garden enclosed by high walls and, now that the gate
was shut, cut off from all sight and knowledge of the
urban world that seethed without. I stood and gazed
in delighted astonishment. Sun-gilded trees and flower
beds gay with blossom; lupins, snapdragons, nastur-
tiums, spiry foxgloves, and mighty hollyhocks formed
the foreground; over which a pair of sulphur-tinted
butterflies flitted, unmindful of a buxom and miracu-
lously clean white cat which pursued them, dancing
across the borders and clapping her snowy paws fruit-
lessly in mid-air. And the background was no less won-
derful; a grand old house, dark-eaved and venerable,
that must have looked down on this garden when ruf-
fled dandies were borne in sedan chairs through the
court, and gentle Izaak Walton, stealing forth from
his shop in Fleet Street, strolled up Fetter Lane to
"go a-angling" at Temple Mills.
So overpowered was I by this unexpected vision that
my hand was on the bottom knob of a row of bell-pulls
before I recollected myself; and it was not until a most


12 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
infernal jangling from within recalled me to my busi-
ness that I observed underneath it a small brass plate
inscribed "Miss Oman."
The door opened with some suddenness and a short,
middle-aged woman surveyed me hungrily.
"Have I rung the wrong bell?" I asked—foolishly
enough, I must admit.
"How can I tell?" she demanded. "I expect you
have. It's the sort of thing a man would do—ring the
wrong bell and then say he's sorry."
"I didn't go as far as that," I retorted. "It seems to
have had the desired effect, and I've made your ac-
quaintance into the bargain."
"Whom do you want to see?" she asked.
"Mr. Bellingham."
"Are you the doctor?"
"I'm a doctor."
"Follow me upstairs," said Miss Oman, "and don't
tread on the paint."
I crossed the spacious hall, and preceded by my con-
ductress, ascended a noble oak staircase, treading care-
fully on a ribbon of matting that ran up the middle.
On the first-floor landing Miss Oman opened a door
and, pointing to the room, said, "Go in there and wait;
I'll tell her you're here."
"I said Mr. Bellingham—" I began; but the door
slammed on me, and Miss Oman's footsteps retreated
rapidly down the stairs.
It was at once obvious to me that I was in a very
awkward position. The room into which I had been
shown communicated with another, and though the
door of communication was shut, I was unpleasantly
aware of a conversation that was taking place in the
adjoining room. At first, indeed, only a vague mutter,


14 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
singular and puzzling. There were the bookshelves,
for instance, home made and stained at the cost of a
few pence, but filled with recent and costly new works
on archeology and ancient art. There were the ob-
jects on the mantelpiece: a facsimile in bronze—not
bronze plaster—of the beautiful head of Hypnos and
a pair of fine Ushabti figures. There were the deco-
rations of the walls, a number of etchings—signed
proofs, every one of them—of Oriental subjects, and
a splendid facsimile reproduction of an Egyptian
papyrus. It was incongruous in the extreme, this
mingling of costly refinements with the barest and shab-
biest necessaries of life, of fastidious culture with mani-
fest poverty. I could make nothing of it. What man-
ner of man, I wondered, was this new patient of mine?
Was he a miser, hiding himself and his wealth in this
obscure court? An eccentric savant? A philosopher?
Or—more probably—a crank? But at this point my
meditations were interrupted by the voice from the
adjoining room, once more raised in anger.
"But I say that you are making an accusation! You
are implying that I made away with him."
"Not at all," was the reply; "but I repeat that it is
your business to ascertain what has become of him.
The responsibility rests upon you."
"Upon me!" rejoined the first voice. "And what
about you? Your position is a pretty fishy one if it
comes to that."
"What!" roared the other. "Do you insinuate that
I murdered my own brother?"
During this amazing colloquy I had stood gaping
with sheer astonishment. Suddenly I recollected my-
self, and dropping into a chair, set my elbows on my
knees and clapped my hands over my ears; and thus


THE EAVESDROPPER 15
I must have remained for a full minute when I became
aware of the closing of a door behind me.
I sprang to my feet and turned in some embarrass-
ment (for I must have looked unspeakably ridiculous)
to confront the somber figure of a rather tall and strik-
ingly handsome girl, who, as she stood with her hand
on the knob of the door, saluted me with a formal bow.
In an instantaneous glance I noted how perfectly she
matched her strange surroundings. Black-robed, black-
haired, with black-gray eyes and a grave sad face of
ivory pallor, she stood, like one of old Terborch's por-
traits, a harmony in tones so low as to be but one
step removed from monochrome. Obviously a lady
in spite of the worn and rusty dress, and something in
the poise of the head and the set of the straight brows
hinted at a spirit that adversity had hardened rather
than broken.
"I must ask you to forgive me for keeping you wait-
ing," she said; and as she spoke a certain softening at
the corners of the austere mouth reminded me of the
absurd position in which she had found me.
I murmured that the trifling delay was of no con-
sequence whatever; that I had, in fact, been rather
glad of the rest; and I was beginning somewhat vaguely
to approach the subject of the invalid when the voice
from the adjoining room again broke forth with hideous
distinctness.
"I tell you I'll do nothing of the kind! Why, con-
found you, it's nothing less than a conspiracy that your
proposing!"
Miss Bellingham—as I assumed her to be—stepped
quickly across the floor, flushing angrily, as well she
might; but, as she reached the door, it flew open and
a small, spruce, middle-aged man burst into the room.


i6 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Your father is mad, Ruth!" he exclaimed; "abso-
lutely stark mad! And I refuse to hold any further
communication with him."
"The present interview was not of his seeking," Miss
Bellingham replied coldly.
"No, it was not," was the wrathful rejoinder; "it
was my mistaken generosity. But there—what is the
use of talking? I've done my best for you and I'll
do no more. Don't trouble to let me out; I can find
my way. Good-morning." With a stiff bow and a
quick glance at me, the speaker strode out of the
room, banging the door after him.
"I must apologize for this extraordinary reception,"
said Miss Bellingham; "but I believe medical men are
not easily astonished. I will introduce you to your
patient now." She opened the door and, as I followed
her into the adjoining room, she said: "Here is another
visitor for you, dear. Doctor"
"Berkeley," said I. "I am acting for my friend
Doctor Barnard."
The invalid, a fine-looking man of about fifty-five,
who sat propped up in bed with a pile of pillows, held
out an excessively shaky hand, which I grasped cordi-
ally, making a mental note of the tremor.
"How do you do, sir?" said Mr. Bellingham. "I
hope Doctor Barnard is not ill."
"Oh, no," I answered; "he has gone for a trip down
the Mediterranean on a currant ship. The chance oc-
curred rather suddenly, and I bustled him off before
he had time to change his mind. Hence my rather
unceremonious appearance, which I hope you will for-
give."
"Not at all," was the hearty response. "I'm de-
lighted to hear that you sent him off; he wanted a


THE EAVESDROPPER 17
holiday, poor man. And I am delighted to make your
acquaintance, too."
"It is very good of you," I said; whereupon he
bowed as gracefully as a man may who is propped up
in bed with a heap of pillows; and having thus ex-
changed broadsides of civility, so to speak, we—or, at
least, I—proceeded to business.
"How long have you been laid up?" I asked cau-
tiously, not wishing to make too evident the fact that
my principal had given me no information respecting
his case.
"A week to-day," he replied. "The fons et origo malt
was a hansom-cab which upset me opposite the Law
Courts—sent me sprawling in the middle of the road.
My own fault, of course—at least, the cabby said so,
and I suppose he knew. But that was no consolation
to me."
"Were you hurt much?"
"No, not really; but the fall bruised my knee rather
badly and gave me a deuce of a shake up. I'm too old
for that sort of thing, you know."
"Most people are," said I.
"True; but you can take a cropper more gracefully
at twenty than at fifty-five. However, the knee is get-
ting on quite well—you shall see it presently—and you
observe that I am giving it complete rest. But that
isn't the whole of the trouble or the worst of it. It's
my confounded nerves. I'm as irritable as the devil
and as nervous as a cat. And I can't get a decent
night's rest."
I recalled the tremulous hand that he had offered me.
He did not look like a drinker, but still
"Do you smoke much?" I inquired diplomatically.
He looked at me slyly and chuckled. "That's a very


18 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
delicate way to approach the subject, Doctor," he said.
"No, I don't smoke much, and I don't crook my little
finger. I saw you look at my shaky hand just now—
oh, it's all right; I'm not offended. It's a doctor's
business to keep his eyelids lifting. But my hand is
steady enough as a rule, when I'm not upset, but the
least excitement sets me shaking like a jelly. And the
fact is that I have just had a deucedly unpleasant
interview"
"I think," Miss Bellingham interrupted, "Doctor
Berkeley and, indeed, the neighborhood at large, are
aware of the fact."
Mr. Bellingham laughed rather shamefacedly. "I'm
afraid I did lose my temper," he said; "but I am
an impulsive old fellow, Doctor, and when I'm put out
I'm apt to speak my mind—a little too bluntly per-
haps."
"And audibly," his daughter added. "Do you know
that Doctor Berkeley was reduced to the necessity of
stopping his ears?" She glanced at me as she spoke,
with something like a twinkle in her solemn gray
eyes.
"Did I shout?" Mr. Bellingham asked, not very con-
tritely, I thought, though he added: "I'm very sorry,
my dear; but it won't happen again. I think we've
seen the last of that good gentleman."
"I am sure I hope so," she rejoined, adding: "And
now I will leave you to your talk; I shall be in the
next room if you should want me."
I opened the door for her, and when she had passed
out with a stiff little bow I seated myself by the bed-
side and resumed the consultation. It was evidently a
case of nervous breakdown, to which the cab accident
had, no doubt, contributed. As to the other antecedents;


THE EAVESDROPPER 19
they were of no concern of mine, though Mr. Belling-
ham seemed to think otherwise, for he resumed: "That
cab business was the last straw, you know, and it fin-
ished me off, but I have been going down the hill for a
long time. I've had a lot of trouble during the last two
years. But I suppose I oughtn't to pester you with
the details of my personal affairs."
"Anything that bears on your present state of health
is of interest to me if you don't mind telling it," I
said.
"Mind!" he exclaimed. "Did you ever meet an in-
valid who didn't enjoy talking about his own health?
It's the listener who minds, as a rule."
"Well, the present listener doesn't," I said.
"Then," said Mr. Bellingham, "I'll treat myself to
the luxury of telling you all my troubles; I don't often
get the chance of a confidential grumble to a respon-
sible man of my own class. And I really have some
excuses for railing at Fortune, as you will agree when
I tell you, that, a couple of years ago, I went to bed
one night a gentleman of independent means and ex-
cellent prospects and woke up in the morning to find
myself practically a beggar. Not a cheerful experience
that, you know, at my time of life, eh?"
"No," I agreed, "nor at any other."
"And that was not all," he continued; "for at the
same moment I lost my brother, my dearest, kindest
friend. He disappeared—vanished off the face of the
earth; but perhaps you have heard of the affair. The
confounded papers were full of it at the time."
He paused abruptly, noticing, no doubt, a sudden
change in my face. Of course I recollected the case
now. Indeed, ever since I had entered the house some


20 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
chord of memory had been faintly vibrating, and now
his last words had struck out the full note.
"Yes," I said, "I remember the incident, though I
don't suppose I should but for the fact that our lec-
turer on medical jurisprudence drew my attention to
it."
"Indeed," said Mr. Bellingham, rather uneasily, as
I fancied. "What did he say about it?"
"He referred to it as a case that was calculated to
give rise to some very pretty legal complications."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Bellingham, "that man was
a prophet! Legal complications, indeed! But I'll be
bound he never guessed at the sort of infernal tangle
that has actually gathered round the affair. By the
way, what was his name?"
"Thorndyke," I replied. "Doctor John Thorndyke."
"Thorndyke," Mr. Bellingham repeated in a musing,
retrospective tone. "I seem to remember the name.
Yes, of course. I have heard a legal friend of mine,
a Mr. Marchmont, speak of him in reference to the
case of a man whom I knew slightly years ago—a
certain Jeffrey Blackmore, who also disappeared very
mysteriously. I remember now that Dr. Thorndyke
unraveled that case with most remarkable ingenuity."
"I daresay he would be very much interested to hear
about your case," I suggested.
"I daresay he would," was the reply; "but one can't
take up a professional man's time for nothing, and I
couldn't afford to pay him. And that reminds me that
I'm taking up your time by gossiping about purely
personal affairs."
"My morning round is finished," said I, "and, more-
over, your personal affairs are highly interesting. I


THE EAVESDROPPER 21
suppose I mustn't ask what is the nature of the legal
entanglement?"
"Not unless you are prepared to stay here for the
rest of the day and go home a raving lunatic. But
I'll tell you this much: the trouble is about my poor
brother's will. In the first place it can't be admin-
istered because there is not sufficient evidence that my
brother is dead; and in the second place, if it could,
all the property would go to people who were never
intended to benefit. The will itself is the most diaboli-
cally exasperating document that was ever produced
by the perverted ingenuity of a wrongheaded man.
That's all. Will you have a look at my knee?"
As Mr. Bellingham's explanation (delivered in a
rapid crescendo and ending almost in a shout) had left
him purple-faced and trembling, I thought it best to
bring our talk to an end. Accordingly I proceeded to
inspect the injured knee, which was now nearly well,
and to overhaul my patient generally; and having given
him detailed instructions as to his general conduct, I
rose and took my leave.
"And remember," I said as I shook his hand, "No
tobacco, no coffee, no excitement of any kind. Lead
a quiet, bovine life."
"That's all very well," he grumbled, "but supposing
people come here and excite me?"
"Disregard them," said I, "and read Whitaker's Al-
manack." And with this parting advice I passed out
into the other room.
Miss Bellingham was seated at the table with a pile
of blue-covered notebooks before her, two of which
were open, displaying pages closely written in a small,
neat handwriting. She rose as I entered and looked
at me inquiringly.
s


22 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I heard you advising my father to read Whitaker's
Almanack," she said. "Was that a curative measure?"
"Entirely," I replied. "I recommended it for its
medicinal virtues, as an antidote to mental excitement."
She smiled faintly. "It certainly is not a highly emo-
tional book," she said, and then asked: "Have you any
other instructions to give?"
"Well, I might give the conventional advice—to
maintain a cheerful outlook and avoid worry; but I
don't suppose you would find it very helpful."
"No," she answered bitterly; "it is a counsel of per-
fection. People in our position are not a very cheerful
class, I'm afraid; but still they don't seek out worries
from sheer perverseness. The worries come unsought.
But, of course, you can't enter into that."
"I can't give any practical help, I fear, though I do
sincerely hope that you father's affairs will straighten
themselves out soon."
She thanked me for my good wishes and accom-
panied me down to the street door, where, with a bow
and a rather stiff handshake, she gave me my conge.
Very ungratefully the noise of Fetter Lane smote on
my ears as I came out through the archway, and very
squalid and unrestful the little street looked when
contrasted with the dignity and monastic quiet of the
old garden. As to the surgery, with its oilcloth floor
and walls made hideous with gaudy insurance show-
cards in sham gilt frames, its aspect was so revolting
that I flew to the day-book for distraction, and was
still busily entering the morning's visits when the bottle-
boy, Adolphus, entered stealthily to announce lunch.


CHAPTER III
JOHN THORNDYKE
That the character of an individual tends to be
reflected in his dress is a fact familiar to the least
observant. That the observation is equally applicable
to aggregates of men is less familiar, but equally true.
Do not the members of fighting professions, even to
this day, deck themselves in feathers, in gaudy colors
and gilded ornaments, after the manner of the African
war-chief or the Redskin "brave," and thereby indicate
the place of war in modern civilization? Does not the
Church of Rome send her priests to the altar in habili-
ments that were fashionable before the fall of the
Roman Empire, in token of her immovable conserva-
tism? And, lastly, does not the Law, lumbering on in
the wake of progress, symbolize its subjection to pre-
cedent by head-gear reminiscent of the good days of
Queen Anne?
I should' apologize for intruding upon the reader
these somewhat trite reflections; which were set going
by the quaint stock-in-trade of the wig-maker's shop in
the cloisters of the Inner Temple, whither I strayed
on a sultry afternoon in quest of shade and quiet. I
had halted opposite the little shop window, and, with
my eyes bent dreamily on the row of wigs, was pur-
suing the above train of thought when I was startled
by a deep voice saying softly in my ear: "I'd have the
full-bottomed one if I were you."
23


24 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
I turned swiftly and rather fiercely, and looked into
the face of my old friend and fellow student, Jervis,
behind whom, regarding us with a sedate smile, stood
my former teacher, Dr. John Thorndyke. Both men
greeted me with a warmth that I felt to be very flat-
tering, for Thorndyke was quite a great personage, and
even Jervis was several years my academic senior.
"You are coming in to have a cup of tea with us, I
hope," said Thorndyke; and as I assented gladly, he
took my arm and led me across the court in the direc-
tion of the Treasury.
"But why that hungry gaze at those forensic vanities,
Berkeley?" he asked. "Are you thinking of following
my example and Jervis's—deserting the bedside for the
Bar?"
"What! Has Jervis gone in for the law?" I ex-
claimed.
"Bless you, yes!" replied Jervis. "I have become
parasitical on Thorndyke! 'The big fleas have little
fleas,' you know. I am the additional fraction trailing
after the whole number in the rear of a decimal point."
"Don't you believe him, Berkeley," interposed
Thorndyke. "He is the brains of the firm. I supply
the respectability and moral worth. But you haven't
answered my question. What are you doing here on a
summer afternoon staring into a wig-maker's window?"
"I am Barnard's locum; he is in practise in Fetter
Lane."
"I know," said Thorndyke; "we meet him occasion-
ally, and very pale and peaky he has been looking of
late. Is he taking a holiday?"
"Yes. He has gone for a trip to the Isles of Greece
in a currant ship."


JOHN THORNDYKE 25
"Then," said Jervis, "you are actually a local G.P.
I thought you were looking beastly respectable."
"And judging from your leisured manner when we
encountered you," added Thorndyke, "the practise is
not a strenuous one. I suppose it is entirely local?"
"Yes," I replied. "The patients mostly live in the
small streets and courts within a half-mile radius of the
surgery, and the abodes of some of them are pretty
squalid. Oh! and that reminds me of a very strange
coincidence. It will interest you, I think."
"Life is made up of strange coincidences," said
Thorndyke. "Nobody but a reviewer of novels is ever
really surprised at a coincidence. But what is yours?"
"It is connected with a case that you mentioned to
us at the hospital about two years ago, the case of a
man who disappeared under rather mysterious circum-
stances. Do you remember it? The man's name was
Bellingham."
"The Egyptologist? Yes, I remember the case quite
well. What about it?"
"The brother is a patient of mine. He is living in
NevilFs Court with his daughter, and they seem to be
as poor as church mice."
"Really," said Thorndyke, "this is quite interesting.
They must have come down in the world rather sud-
denly. If I remember rightly, the brother was living
in a house of some pretentions standing in its own
grounds."
"Yes, that is so. I see you recollect all about the
case."
"My dear fellow," said Jervis, "Thorndyke never
forgets a likely case. He is a sort of medico-legal
camel. He gulps down the raw facts from the news-
papers or elsewhere, and then, in his leisure moments,


26 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
he calmly regurgitates them and has a quiet chew at
them. It is a quaint habit. A case crops up in the
papers or in one of the courts, and Thorndyke swallows
it whole. Then it lapses and every one forgets it. A
year or two later it crops up in a new form, and, to
your astonishment, you find that Thorndyke has got
it all cut and dried. He has been ruminating on it peri-
odically in the interval.
"You notice," said Thorndyke, "that my learned
friend is pleased to indulge in mixed metaphors. But
his statement is substantially true, though obscurely
worded. You must tell us more about the Belling-
hams when we have fortified you with a cup of tea."
Our talk had brought us to Thorndyke's chambers,
which were on the first floor of No. 5A, King's Bench
Walk, and as we entered the fine, spacious, paneled
room we found a small, elderly man, neatly dressed in
black, setting out the tea-service on the table. I
glanced at him with some curiosity. He hardly looked
like a servant, in spite of his neat, black clothes; in
fact, his appearance was rather puzzling, for while his
quiet dignity and his serious intelligent face suggested
some kind of professional man, his neat, capable hands
were those of a skilled mechanic.
Thorndyke surveyed the tea-tray thoughtfully and
then looked at his retainer. "I see you have put three
teacups, Polton," he said. "Now, how did you know
I was bringing some one in to tea?"
The little man smiled a quaint, crinkly smile of
gratification as he explained:
"I happened to look out of the laboratory window
as you turned the corner, sir."
"How disappointingly simple," said Jervis. "We
were hoping for something abstruse and telepathic."


JOHN THORNDYKE 27
"Simplicity is the soul of efficiency, sir," replied
Polton as he checked the tea-service to make sure that
nothing was forgotten, and with this remarkable aphor-
ism he silently evaporated.
"To return to the Bellingham case," said Thorn-
dyke, when he had poured out the tea. "Have you
picked up any facts relating to the parties—and facts,
I mean, of course, that it would be proper for you to
mention?"
"I have learned one or two things that there is no
harm in repeating. For instance, I gather that Godfrey
Bellingham—my patient—lost all his property quite
suddenly about the time of the disappearance."
"That is really odd," said Thorndyke. "The oppo-
site condition would be quite understandable, but one
doesn't see exactly how this can have happened, unless
there was an allowance of some sort."
"No, that was what struck me. But there seem
to be some queer features in the case, and the legal
position is evidently getting complicated. There is a
will, for example, which is giving trouble."
"They will hardly be able to administer the will
without either proof or presumption of death," Thorn-
dyke remarked.
"Exactly. That's one of the difficulties. Another
is that there seems to be some fatal defect in the draft-
ing of the will itself. I don't know what it is, but I ex-
pect I shall hear sooner or later. By the way, I men-
tioned the interest that you have taken in the case, and
I think Bellingham would have like to consult you, but,
of course, the poor devil has no money."
"That is awkward for him if the other interested
parties have. There will probably be legal proceedings
of some kind, and as the law takes no account of
S"


28 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
poverty, he is likely to go to the wall. He ought to
have advice of some sort."
"I don't see how he is to get it," said I.
"Neither do I," Thorndyke admitted. "There are no
hospitals for impecunious litigants; it is assumed that
only persons of means have a right to go to law. Of
course, if we knew the man and the circumstances we
might be able to help him; but for all we know to the
contrary, he may be an arrant scoundrel."
I had recalled the strange conversation that I had
overheard, and wondered what Thorndyke would have
thought of it if it had been allowable for me to repeat
it. Obviously it was not, however, and I could only
give my own impressions.
"He doesn't strike me as that," I said; "but of
course, one never knows. Personally, he impressed me
rather favorably, which is more than the other man
did."
"What other man?" asked Thorndyke.
"There was another man in the case, wasn't there?
I forget his name. I saw him at the house and didn't
much like the look of him. I suspect he's putting some
sort of pressure on Bellingham."
"Berkeley knows more about this than he's telling
us," said Jervis. "Let us look up the report and see
who this stranger is." He took down from a shelf a
large volume of newspaper cuttings and laid it on the
table.
"You see," said he, as he ran his finger down the
index. "Thorndyke files all the cases that are likely
to come to something, and I know he had expectations
regarding this one. I fancy he had some ghoulish hope
that the missing gentleman's head might turn up in
somebody's dust-bin. Here we are; the other man's


JOHN THORNDYKE 29
name is Hurst. He is apparently a cousin, and it was
at his house the missing man was last seen alive."
"So you think Mr. Hurst is moving in the matter?"
said Thorndyke, when he had glanced over the report.
"That is my impression," I replied, "though I really
know nothing about it."
"Well," said Thorndyke, "if you should learn what
is being done and should have permission to speak of
it, I shall be very interested to hear how the case
progresses and if an unofficial opinion on any point
would be of service, I think there would be no harm
in giving it."
"It would certainly be of great value if the other
parties are taking professional advice," I said; and
then, after a pause, I asked: "Have you given this case
much consideration?"
Thorndyke reflected. "No," he said, "I can't say
that I have. I turned it over rather carefully when the
report first appeared, and I have speculated on«it oc-
casionally since. It is my habit, as Jervis was telling
you, to utilize odd moments of leisure (such as a rail-
way journey, for instance) by constructing theories
to account for the facts of such obscure cases as have
come to my notice. It is a useful habit, I think, for,
apart from the mental exercise and experience that one
gains from it, an appreciable portion of these cases
ultimately comes into my hands, and then the pre-
vious consideration of them is so much time gained."
"Have you formed any theory to account for the
facts in this case?" I asked.
"Yes, I have several theories, one of which I es-
pecially favor, and I am awaiting with great interest
such new facts as may indicate to me which of these
theories is probably the correct one."
f


JOHN THORNDYKE 31
with him. Finally he blew a little cloud and com-
menced:
"The position appears to be this: Here is a man seen
to enter a certain house, who is shown into a certain
room, and shut in. He is not seen to come out, and
yet, when the room is next entered, it is found to be
empty; and that man is never seen again, alive or dead.
That is a pretty tough beginning.
"Now, it is evident that one of three things must
have happened. Either he must have remained in that
room, or at least in that house, alive; or he must have
died, naturally or otherwise, and his body have been
concealed; or he must have left the house unobserved.
Let us take the first case. This affair happened nearly
two years ago. Now, he couldn't have remained alive
in the house for two years. He would have been
noticed. The servants, for instance, when cleaning out
the rooms, would have observed him."
Here Thorndyke interposed with an indulgent smile
at his junior: "My learned friend is treating the in-
quiry with unbecoming levity. We accept the con-
clusion that the man did not remain in the house alive."
"Very well. Then did he remain in it dead? Ap-
parently not. The report says that as soon as the man
was missed, Hurst and the servants together searched
the house thoroughly. But there had been no time or
opportunity to dispose of the body, whence the only
possible conclusion is that the body was not there.
Moreover, if we admit the possibility of his having been
murdered—for that is what concealment of the body
would imply—there is the question: 'Who could have
murdered him?' Not the servants, obviously, and as
to Hurst—well, of course, we don't know what his


32 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
relations with the missing man may have been—at least,
I don't."
"Neither do I," said Thorndyke. "I know nothing
beyond what is in the newspaper report and what
Berkeley has told us."
"Then we know nothing. He may have had a mo-
tive for murdering the man or he may not. The point
is that he doesn't seem to have had the opportunity.
Even if we suppose that he managed to conceal the
body temporarily, still there was the final disposal of
it. He couldn't have buried it in the garden with the
servants about; neither could he have burned it. The
only conceivable method by which he could have got
rid of it would have been that of cutting it up into
fragments and burying the dismembered parts in some
secluded spots or dropping them into ponds or rivers.
But no remains of the kind have been found, as some
of them probably would have been by now, so that
there is nothing to support this suggestion; indeed, the
idea of murder, in this house at least, seems to be ex-
cluded by the search that was made the instant the man
was missed.
"Then to take the third alternative: Did he leave
the house unobserved? Well, it is not impossible, but
it would be a queer thing to do. He may have been
an impulsive or eccentric man. We can't say. We
know nothing about him. But two years have elapsed
and he has never turned up, so that if he left the
house secretly he must have gone into hiding and be
hiding still. Of course, he may have been the sort of
lunatic who would behave in that manner or he may
not. We have no information as to his personal char-
acter.
"Then there is the complication of the scarab that


JOHN THORNDYKE 33
was picked up in the grounds of his brother's house at
Woodford. That seems to show that he visited that
house at some time. But no one admits having seen
him there; and it is uncertain, therefore, whether he
went first to his brother's house or to Hurst's. If he
was wearing the scarab when he arrived at the Eltham
house, he must have left that house unobserved and
gone to Woodford; but if he was not wearing it he
probably went from Woodford to Eltham, and there
finally disappeared. As to whether he was or was not
wearing the scarab when he was last seen alive by
Hurst's housemaid, there is at present no evidence.
"If he went to his brother's house after his visit to
Hurst, the disappearance is more understandable if
we don't mind flinging accusations of murder about
rather casually; for the disposal of the body would be
much less difficult in that case. Apparently no one saw
him enter the house, and, if he did enter, it was by a
back gate which communicated with the library—a
separate building some distance from the house. In
that case it would have been physically possible for the
Bellinghams to have made away with him. There was
plenty of time to dispose of the body unobserved—tem-
porarily, at any rate. Nobody had seen him come to
the house, and nobody knew that he was there—if he
was there; and apparently no search was made either
at the time or afterward. In fact, if it could be shown
that the missing man left Hurst's house alive, or that
he was wearing the scarab when he arrived there,
things would look rather fishy for the Bellinghams—
for, of course, the girl must have been in it if the father
was. But there's the crux: there is no proof that the
man ever did leave Hurst's house alive. And if he
/


34 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
didn't—but there! as I said at first, whichever turning
you take, you find that it ends in a blind alley."
"A lame ending to a masterly exposition," was
Thorndyke's comment.
"I know," said Jervis. "But what would you have?
There are quite a number of possible solutions, and
one of them must be the true one. But how are we to
judge which it is? I maintain that until we know
something of the parties and the financial and other
interests involved we have no data."
"There," said Thorndyke, "I disagree with you en-
tirely. I maintain that we have ample data. You
say that we have no means of judging which of the
various possible solutions is the true one; but I think
that if you read the report carefully and thoughtfully
you will find that the facts now known point to
one explanation, and one only. It may not be the true
explanation, and I don't suppose it is. But we are now
dealing with the matter speculatively, academically,
and I contend that our data yield a definite conclusion.
What do you say, Berkeley?"
"I say that it is time for me to be off; the evening
consultations begin at half-past six."
"Well," said Thorndyke, "don't let us keep you from
your duties, with poor Barnard currant picking in the
Grecian Isles. But come in and see us again. Drop
in when you like after your work is done. You won't be
in our way even if we are busy, which we very seldom
are after eight o'clock."
I thanked Dr. Thorndyke most heartily for making
me free of his chambers in this hospitable fashion and
took my leave, setting forth homeward by way of
Middle Temple Lane and the Embankment; not a very
direct route for Fetter Lane, it must be confessed; but


CHAPTER IV
LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL
My meditations brought me by a circuitous route,
and ten minutes late, to the end of Fetter Lane, where,
exchanging my rather abstracted air for the alert man-
ner of a busy practitioner, I strode briskly forward and
darted into the surgery with knitted brows, as though
just released from an anxious case. But there was
only one patient waiting, and she saluted me as I en-
tered with a snort of defiance.
"Here you are, then?" said she.
"You are perfectly correct, Miss Oman," I replied;
"in fact, you have put the case in a nutshell. What
can I have the pleasure of doing for you?"
"Nothing," was the answer. "My medical adviser
is a lady; but I've brought a note from Mr. Belling-
ham. Here it is," and she thrust the envelope into
my hand.
I glanced through the note and learned that my pa-
tient had had a couple of bad nights and a very
harassing day. "Could I have something to give me a
night's rest?" it concluded.
I reflected for a few moments. One is not very ready
to prescribe sleeping draughts for unknown patients,
but still, insomnia is a very distressing condition. In
the end I temporized with a moderate dose of bromide,
deciding to call and see if more energetic measures
were necessary.
36


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 37
"He had better take a dose of this at once, Miss
Oman," said I, as I handed her the bottle, "and I will
look in later and see how he is."
"I expect he will be glad to see you," she answered,
"for he is all alone to-night and very dumpy. Miss
Bellingham is out. But I must remind you that he's
a poor man and pays his way. You must excuse my
mentioning it."
"I am much obliged to you for the hint, Miss Oman,"
I rejoined. "It isn't necessary for me to see him, but
I should like just to look in and have a chat."
"Yes, it will do him good. You have your points,
though punctuality doesn't seem to be one of them,"
and with this parting shot Miss Oman bustled away.
Half-past eight found me ascending the great, dim
staircase of the house in Nevill's Court preceded by
Miss Oman, by whom I was ushered into the room.
Mr. Bellingham, who had just finished some sort of
meal, was sitting hunched up in his chair gazing gloom-
ily into the empty grate. He brightened up as I en-
tered, but was evidently in very low spirits.
"I didn't mean to drag you out after your day's
work was finished," he said, "though I am very glad
to see you."
"You haven't dragged me out. I heard you were
alone, so I just dropped in for a few minutes' gossip."
"That is really kind of you," he said heartily. "But
I'm afraid you'll find me rather poor company. A man
who is full of his own highly disagreeable affairs is not
a desirable companion."
"You mustn't let me disturb you if you'd rather be
alone," said I, with a sudden fear that I was intruding.
"Oh, you won't disturb me," he replied; adding,
with a laugh: "It's more likely to be the other way
s


38 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
about. In fact, if I were not afraid of boring you to
death I would ask you to let me talk my difficulties
over with you."
"You won't bore me," I said. "It is generally inter-
esting to share another man's experiences without their
inconveniences. 'The proper study of mankind is—
man,' you know, especially to a doctor."
Mr. Bellingham chuckled grimly. "You make me
feel like a microbe," he said. "However, if you would
care to take a peep at me through your microscope, I
will crawl on to the stage for your inspection, though
it is not my actions that furnish the materials for your
psychological studies. It is my poor brother who is
the Deus ex machina, who, from his unknown grave,
as I fear, pulls the strings of this infernal puppet-
show."
He paused and for a space gazed thoughtfully into
the grate as if he had forgotten my presence. At
length he looked up and resumed:
"It is a curious story, Doctor—a very curious story.
Part of it you know—the middle part. I will tell you
it from the beginning, and then you will know as much
as I do; for, as to the end, that is known to no one.
It is written, no doubt, in the book of destiny, but
the page has yet to be turned.
"The mischief began with my father's death. He
was a country clergyman of very moderate means, a
widower with two children, my brother John and me.
He managed to send us both to Oxford, after which
John went into the Foreign Office and I was to have
gone into the Church. But I suddenly discovered that
my views on religion had undergone a change that
made this impossible, and just about this time my
father came into a quite considerable property. Now,


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 39
as it was his expressed intention to leave the estate
equally divided between my brother and me, there was
no need for me to take up any profession for a liveli-
hood. Archeology was already the passion of my
life, and I determined to devote myself henceforth to
my favorite study, in which, by the way, I was fol-
lowing a family tendency; for my father was an en-
thusiastic student of ancient Oriental history, and
John was, as you know, an ardent Egyptologist.
"Then my father died quite suddenly, and left no
will. He had intended to have one drawn up, but had
put it off until it was too late. And since nearly all
the property was in the form of real estate, my brother
inherited practically the whole of it. However, in
deference to the known wishes of my father, he made
me an allowance of five hundred a year, which was
about a quarter of the annual income. I urged him
to assign me a lump sum, but he refused to do this.
Instead, he instructed his solicitor to pay me an allow-
ance in quarterly instalments during the rest of his
life; and it was understood that, on his death, the en-
tire estate should devolve on me, or if I died first,
on my daughter, Ruth. Then, as you know, he disap-
peared suddenly, and as the circumstances suggested
that he was dead, and there was no evidence that he
was alive, his solicitor—a Mr. Jellicoe—found himself
unable to continue the payment of the allowance. On
the other hand, as there was no positive evidence that
my brother was dead, it was impossible to administer
the will."
"You say the circumstances suggested that your
brother was dead. What circumstances were they?"
"Principally the suddenness and completeness of the
disappearance. His luggage, as you may remember,


4o THE EYE OF OSIRIS
was found lying unclaimed at the railway station; and
there was another circumstance even more suggestive.
My brother drew a pension from the Foreign Office,
for which he had to apply in person, or, if abroad, pro-
duce proof that he was alive on the date when the
payment became due. Now, he was exceedingly regu-
lar in this respect; in fact, he had never been known
to fail, either to appear in person or to transmit the
necessary documents to his agent, Mr. Jellicoe. But
from the moment when he vanished so mysteriously to
the present day, nothing whatever has been heard of
him."
"It's a very awkward position for you," I said, "but
I should think there will not be much difficulty in ob-
taining the permission of the Court to presume death
and to proceed to prove the will."
Mr. Bellingham made a wry face. "I expect you are
right," he said, "but that doesn't help me much. You
see, Mr. Jellicoe, having waited a reasonable time for
my brother to reappear, took a very unusual but, I
think, in the special circumstances, a very proper step;
he summoned me and the other interested party to his
office and communicated to us the provisions of the
will. And very extraordinary provisions they turned
out to be. I was thunderstruck when I heard them.
And the exasperating thing is that I feel sure my poor
brother imagined that he had made everything per-
fectly safe and simple."
"They generally do," I said, rather vaguely.
"I suppose they do," said Mr. Bellingham; "but poor
John has made the most infernal hash of his will, and
I am certain that he has utterly defeated his own
intentions. You see, we are an old London family.
The house in Queen Square where my brother nom-


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 41
inally lived, but actually kept his collection, has been
occupied by us for generations, and most of the Bel-
linghams are buried in St. George's burial-ground close
by, though some members of the family are buried in
other churchyards in the neighborhood. Now, my
brother—who, by the way, was a bachelor—had a
strong feeling for the family traditions, and he stipu-
lated, not unnaturally, in his will that he should be
buried in St. George's burial-ground among his an-
cestors, or, at least, in one of the places of burial
appertaining to his native parish. But instead of
simply expressing the wish and directing his executors
to carry it out, he made it a condition affecting the
operation of the will."
"Affecting it in what respect?" I asked.
"In a very vital respect," answered Mr. Bellingham.
"The bulk of the property he bequeathed to me, or if I
predeceased him, to my daughter Ruth. But the be-
quest was subject to the condition I have mentioned—
that he should be buried in a certain place—and if that
condition was not fulfilled, the bulk of the property
was to go to my cousin, George Hurst."
"But in that case," said I, "as you can't produce the
body, neither of you can get the property."
"I am not so sure of that," he replied. "If my
brother is dead, it is pretty certain that he is not buried
in St. George's or any of the other places mentioned,
and the fact can easily be proved by production of the
registers. So that a permission to presume death would
result in the handing over to Hurst of almost the entire
estate."
"Who is the executor?" I asked.
"AhI" he exclaimed, "there is another muddle.
There are two executors; Jellicoe is one, and the other


42 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
is the principal beneficiary-^Hurst or myself, as the
case may be. But, you see, neither of us can become
an executor until the Court has decided which of us
is the principal beneficiary."
"But who is to apply to the Court? I thought that
was the business of the executors."
"Exactly, that is Hurst's difficulty. We were dis-
cussing it when you called the other day, and a very
animated discussion it was," he added, with a grim
smile. "You see, Jellicoe naturally refuses to move in
the matter alone. He says he must have the support of
the other executor. But Hurst is not at present the
other executor; neither am I. But the two of us
together are the co-executor, since the duty devolves
upon one or other of us, in any case."
"It's a complicated position," I said.
"It is; and the complication has elicited a very curi-
ous proposal from Hurst. He points out—quite cor-
rectly, I am afraid—that as the conditions as to burial
have not been complied with, the property must come
to him, and he proposes a very neat little arrangement,
which is this: That I shall support him and Jellicoe
in their application for permission to presume death
and to administer the will, and that he shall pay me
four hundred a year for life; the arrangement to hold
good in all eventualities."
"What does he mean by that?"
"He means," said Bellingham, fixing me with a fero-
cious scowl, "that if the body should turn up at any
future time, so that the conditions as to burial should
be able to be carried out, he should still retain the
property and pay me the four hundred a year."
"The deuce!" said I. "He seems to know how to
drive a bargain."


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 43
"His position is that he stands to lose four hundred
a year for the term of my life if the body is never
found, and he ought to stand to win if it is."
"And I gather that you have refused this offer?"
"Yes; very emphatically, and my daughter agrees
with me; but I am not sure that I have done the right
thing. A man should think twice, I suppose, before
he burns his boats."
"Have you spoken to Mr. Jellicoe about the matter?"
"Yes, I have been to see him to-day. He is a cau-
tious man, and he doesn't advise me one way or the
other. But I think he disapproves of my. refusal; in
fact, he remarked that a bird in the hand is worth two
in the bush, especially when the whereabouts of the
bush is unknown."
"Do you think he will apply to the Court without
your sanction?"
"He doesn't want to; but I suppose, if Hurst puts
pressure on him, he will have to. Besides, Hurst, as
an interested party, could apply on his own account,
and after my refusal he probably will; at least, that is
Jellicoe's opinion."
"The whole thing is a most astonishing muddle," I
said, "especially when one remembers that your brother
had a lawyer to advise him. Didn't Mr. Jellicoe point
out to him how absurd the provisions were?"
"Yes, he did. He tells me that he implored my
brother to let him draw up a will embodying the matter
in a reasonable form. But John wouldn't listen to
him. Poor old fellow! he could be very pig-headed
when he chose."
"And is Hurst's proposal still open?"
"No, thanks to my peppery temper. I refused it
very definitely, and sent him off with a flea in his ear.
s


44 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
I hope I have not made a false step; I was quite taken
by surprise when Hurst made the proposal and got
rather angry. You remember, my brother was last
seen alive at Hurst's house—but there, I oughtn't to
talk like that, and I oughtn't to pester you with my
confounded affairs when you come in for a friendly
chat, though I gave you fair warning, you remember."
"Oh, but you have been highly entertaining. You
don't realize what an interest I take in your case."
Mr. Bellingham laughed somewhat grimly. "My
case!" he repeated. "You speak as if I were some
rare and curious sort of criminal lunatic. However,
I'm glad you find me amusing. It's more than I find
myself."
"I didn't say amusing; I said interesting. I view
you with deep respect as the central figure of a stirring
drama. And I am not the only person who regards
you in that light. Do you remember my speaking to
you of Doctor Thorndyke?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"Well, oddly enough, I met him this afternoon and
we had a long talk at his chambers. I took the liberty
of mentioning that I had made your acquaintance. Did
I do wrong?"
"No. Certainly not. Why shouldn't you tell him?
Did he remember my infernal case, as you call it?"
"Perfectly, in all its details. He is quite an enthu-
siast, you know, and uncommonly keen to hear how
the case develops."
"So am I, for that matter," said Mr. Bellingham.
"I wonder," said I, "if you would mind my telling
him what you have told me to-night? It would in-
terest him enormously."
Mr. Bellingham reflected for a while with his eyes


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 45
fixed on the empty grate. Presently he looked up, and
said slowly:
"I don't know why I should. It's no secret; and if
it were, I hold no monopoly in it. No; tell him, if you
think he'd care to hear about it."
"You needn't be afraid of his talking," I said. "He's
as close as an oyster; and the facts may mean more
to him than they do to us. He may be able to give
a useful hint or two."
"Oh, I'm not going to pick his brains," Mr. Belling-
ham said quickly and with some wrath. "I'm not the
sort of man who goes round cadging for free profes-
sional advice. Understand that, Doctor."
"I do," I answered hastily. "That wasn't what I
meant at all. Is that Miss Bellingham coming in? I
heard the front door shut."
"Yes, that will be my girl, I expect; but don't run
away. You're not afraid of her, are you?" he added
as I hurriedly picked up my hat.
"I'm not sure that I'm not," I answered. "She is
rather a majestic young lady."
Mr. Bellingham chuckled and smothered a yawn,
and at that moment his daughter entered the room;
and, in spite of her shabby black dress and a shabbier
handbag that she carried, I thought her appearance
and manner fully justified my description.
"You come in, Miss Bellingham," I said as she shook
my hand with cool civility, "to find your father yawn-
ing and me taking my departure. So I have my uses,
you see. My conversation is the infallible cure for
insomnia."
Miss Bellingham smiled. "I believe I am driving
you away," she said.
s


46 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Not at all," I replied hastily. "My mission was
accomplished, that was all."
"Sit down for a few moments, Doctor," urged Mr.
Bellingham, "and let Ruth sample the remedy. She
will be affronted if you run away as soon as she comes
in."
"Well, you mustn't let me keep you up," I said.
"Oh, I'll let you know when I fall asleep," he replied,
with a chuckle; and with this understanding I sat down
again—not at all unwillingly.
At this moment Miss Oman entered with a small
tray and a smile of which I should not have supposed
her capable.
"You'll take your toast and cocoa while they're hot,
dear, won't you?" she said coaxingly.
"Yes, I will, Phyllis, thank you," Miss Bellingham
answered. "I am only just going to take off my hat,"
and she left the room, followed by the astonishingly
transfigured spinster.
"She returned almost immediately as Mr. Belling-
ham was in the midst of a profound yawn, and sat
down to her frugal meal, when her father mystified
me considerably by remarking:
"You're late to-night, chick. Have the Shepherd
Kings been giving trouble?"
"No," she replied; "but I thought I might as well
get them done. So I dropped in at the Ormond Street
library on my way home and finished them."
"Then they are ready for stuffing now?"
"Yes." As she answered she caught my astonished
eye (for a stuffed Shepherd King is undoubtedly a
somewhat surprising phenomenon) and laughed softly.
"We mustn't talk in riddles like this," she said, "be-
fore Doctor Berkeley, or he will turn us both into


48 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Mr. Bellingham, "and got tripped up by a specialist
who did, and then got shirty"
"Nothing of the kind," said Miss Bellingham. "He
knew as much as venerable archdeacons ought to
know; but the expert knew more. So the archdeacon
commissioned me to collect the literature on the state
of Egypt at the end of the seventeenth dynasty, which
I have done; and to-morrow I shall go and stuff him,
as my father expresses it, and then"
"And then," Mr. Bellingham interrupted, "the arch-
deacon will rush forth and pelt that expert with Shep-
herd Kings and Sequenen-Ra and the whole tag-rag
and bobtail of the seventeenth dynasty. Oh, there'll
be wigs on the green, I can tell you."
"Yes, I expect there will be quite a skirmish," said
Miss Bellingham. And thus dismissing the subject she
made an energetic attack on the toast while her father
refreshed himself with a colossal yawn.
I watched her with furtive admiration and deep and
growing interest. In spite of her pallor, her weary
eyes, and her drawn and almost haggard face, she was
an exceedingly handsome girl; and there was in her
aspect a suggestion of purpose, of strength and char-
acter that marked her off from the rank and file of
womanhood. I noted this as I stole an occasional
glance at her or turned to answer some remark ad-
dressed to me; and I noted, too, that her speech, de-
spite a general undertone of depression, was yet not
without a certain caustic, ironical humor. She was
certainly a rather enigmatical young person, but very
decidedly interesting.
When she had finished her repast she put aside the
tray and, opening the shabby handbag, asked:
"Do you take any interest in Egyptian history? We


LEGAL COMPLICATIONS AND A JACKAL 49
are as mad as hatters on the subject. It seems to be
a family complaint."
"I don't know much about it," I answered. "Medi-
cal studies are rather engrossing and don't leave much
time for general reading."
"Naturally," she said. "You can't specialize in
everything. But if you would care to see how the busi-
ness of a literary jackal is conducted, I will show you
my notes."
I accepted the offer eagerly (not, I fear, from pure
enthusiasm for the subject), and she brought forth
from the bag four blue-covered, quarto notebooks, each
dealing with one of the four dynasties from the four-
teenth to the seventeenth. As I glanced through the
neat and orderly extracts with which they were filled
we discussed the intricacies of the peculiarly difficult
and confused period that they covered, gradually low-
ering our voices as Mr. Bellingham's eyes closed and
his head fell against the back of his chair. We had
just reached the critical reign of Apepa II when a
resounding snore broke in upon the studious quiet of
the room and sent us both into a fit of silent laughter.
"Your conversation has done its work," she whis-
pered as I stealthily picked up my hat, and together
we stole on tiptoe to the door, which she opened with-
out a sound. Once outside, she suddenly dropped her
bantering manner and said quite earnestly:
"How kind it was of you to come and see him to-
night. You have done him a world of good, and I am
most grateful. Good-night!"
She shook hands with me really cordially, and I
took my way down the creaking stairs in a whirl of
happiness that I was quite at a loss to account for.


CHAPTER V
THE WATERCRESS-BED
Barnard's practise, like most others, was subject to
those fluctuations that fill the struggling practitioner
alternately with hope and despair. The work came in
paroxysms with intervals of almost complete stagnation.
One of these intermissions occurred on the day after
my visit to NevilPs Court, with the result that by half-
past eleven I found myself wondering what I should
do with the remainder of the day. The better to con-
sider this weighty problem, I strolled down to the Em-
bankment, and, leaning on the parapet, contemplated
the view across the river; the gray stone bridge with
its perspective of arches, the picturesque pile of the
shot-towers, and beyond, the shadowy shapes of the
Abbey and St. Stephen's.
It was a pleasant scene, restful and quiet, with a
touch of life and a hint of sober romance, when a
barge swept down through the middle arch of the
bridge with a lugsail hoisted to a jury mast and a
white-aproned woman at the tiller. Dreamily I
watched the craft creep by upon the moving tide, noted
the low freeboard, almost awash, the careful helms-
woman, and the dog on the forecastle yapping at the
distant shore—and thought of Ruth Bellingham.
What was there about this strange girl that had made
so deep an impression on me? That was the question
that I propounded to myself, and not for the first time,
50


THE WATERCRESS-BED 51
Of the fact itself there was no doubt. But what was
the explanation? Was it her unusual surroundings?
Her occupation and rather recondite learning? Her
striking personality and exceptional good looks? Or
her connection with the dramatic mystery of her lost
uncle?
I concluded that it was all of these. Everything
connected with her was unusual and arresting; but
over and above these circumstances there was a cer-
tain sympathy and personal affinity of which I was
strongly conscious and of which I dimly hoped that she,
perhaps, was a little conscious too. At any rate, I
was deeply interested in her; of that there was no
doubt whatever. Short as our acquaintance had been,
she held a place in my thoughts that had never been
held by any other woman.
From Ruth Bellingham my reflections passed by a
natural transition to the curious story that her father
had told me. It was a queer affair, that ill-drawn
will, with the baffled lawyer protesting in the back-
ground. It almost seemed as if there must be some-
thing behind it all, especially when I remembered Mr.
Hurst's very singular proposal. But it was out of my
depth; it was a case for a lawyer, and to a lawyer
it should go. This very night, I resolved, I would go
to Thorndyke and give him the whole story as it had
been told to me.
And then there happened one of those coincidences
at which we all wonder when they occur, but which
are so frequent as to have become enshrined in a
proverb. For even as I formed the resolution, I ob-
served two men approaching from the direction of
Blackfriars, and recognized in them my quondam
teacher and his junior.


52 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I was just thinking about you," I said as they came
up.
"Very flattering," replied Jervis; "but I thought you
had to talk of the devil."
"Perhaps," suggested Thorndyke, "he was talking
to himself. But why were you thinking of us, and
what was the nature of your thoughts?"
"My thoughts had reference to the Bellingham case.
I spent the whole of last evening at Nevill's Court."
"Ha! And are there any fresh developments?"
"Yes, by Jove! there are. Bellingham gave me a
full detailed description of the will; and a pretty doc-
ument it seems to be."
"Did he give you permission to repeat the details
to me?"
"Yes. I asked specifically if I might, and he had
no objection whatever."
"Good. We are lunching at Soho to-day as Polton
has his hands full. Come with us and share our table
and tell us your story as we go. Will that suit you?"
It suited me admirably in the present state of the
practise, and I accepted the invitation with undis-
sembled glee.
"Very well," said Thorndyke; "then let us walk
slowly and finish with matters confidential before we
plunge into the maddening crowd."
We set forth at a leisurely pace along the broad
pavement and I commenced my narration. As well as
I could remember, I related the circumstances that
had led up to the present disposition of the property
and then proceeded to the actual provisions of the will;
to all of which my two friends listened with rapt in-
terest, Thorndyke occasionally stopping me to jot down
a memorandum in his pocket-book.
'


THE WATERCRESS-BED S3
"Why, the fellow must have been a stark lunatic!"
Jervis exclaimed, when I had finished. "He seems to
have laid himself out with the most devilish ingenuity
to defeat his own ends."
"That is not an uncommon peculiarity with testa-
tors," Thorndyke remarked. "A direct and perfectly
intelligible will is rather the exception. But we can
hardly judge until we have seen the actual document.
I suppose Bellingham hasn't a copy?"
"I don't know," said I; "but I will ask him."
"If he has one, I should like to look through it," said
Thorndyke. "The provisions are very peculiar, and,
as Jervis says, admirably calculated to defeat the tes-
tator's wishes if they have been correctly reported.
And, apart from that, they have a remarkable bearing
on the circumstances of the disappearance. I daresay
you noticed that."
"I noticed that it is very much to Hurst's advantage
that the body has not been found."
"Yes, of course. But there are some other points
that are very significant. However, it would be pre-
mature to discuss the terms of the will until we have
seen the actual document or a certified copy."
"If there is a copy extant," I said, "I will try to get
hold of it. But Bellingham is terribly afraid of being
suspected of a desire to get professional advice gratis."
"That," said Thorndyke, "is natural enough, and not
discreditable. But you must overcome his scruples
somehow. I expect you will be able to. You are a
plausible young gentleman, as I remember of old, and
you seem to have established yourself as quite the
friend of the family."
"They are rather interesting people," I explained;


54 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"very cultivated and with a strong leaning toward
archeology. It seems to be in the blood."
"Yes," said Thorndyke; a family tendency, prob-
ably due to contact and common surroundings rather
than heredity. So you like Godfrey Bellingham?"
"Yes. He is a trifle peppery and impulsive but
quite an agreeable, genial old buffer."
"And the daughter," said Jervis, "what is she like?"
"Oh, she is a learned lady; works up bibliographies
and references at the Museum."
"Ah!" Jervis exclaimed, with disfavor, "I know the
breed. Inky fingers; no chest to speak of; all side
and spectacles."
I rose artlessly at the gross and palpable bait.
"You're quite wrong," I exclaimed indignantly, con-
trasting Jervis's hideous presentment with the comely
original. "She is an exceedingly good-looking girl,
and her manners all that a lady's should be. A little
stiff, perhaps, but then I am only an acquaintance—
almost a stranger."
"But," Jervis persisted, "what is she like, in appear-
ance I mean. Short? fat? sandy? Give us intelligible
details."
I made a rapid mental inventory, assisted by my
recent cogitations.
"She is about five feet seven, slim but rather plump,
very erect in carriage and graceful in movements;
black hair, loosely parted in the middle and falling very
prettily away from the forehead; pale, clear com-
plexion, dark gray eyes, straight eyebrows, straight,
well-shaped nose, short mouth, rather full; round chin
—what the deuce are you grinning at, Jervis?" For
my friend had suddenly unmasked his batteries and


THE WATERCRESS-BED 55
now threatened, like the Cheshire cat, to dissolve into
a mere abstraction of amusement.
"If there is a copy of that will, Thorndyke," he
said, "we shall get it. I think you agree with me,
reverend senior?"
"I have already said," was the reply, "that I put
my trust in Berkeley. And now let us dismiss profes-
sional topics. This is our hostelry."
He pushed open an unpretentious glazed door, and
we followed him into the restaurant, whereof the at-
mosphere was pervaded by an appetizing meatiness
mingled with less agreeable suggestions of the destruc-
tive distillation of fat.
It was some two hours later when I wished my
friends adieu under the golden-leaved plane trees of
King's Bench Walk.
"I won't ask you to come in now," said Thorndyke,
"as we have some consultations this afternoon. But
come in and see us soon; don't wait for that copy of
the will."
"No," said Jervis. "Drop in in the evening when
your work is done; unless, of course, there is more
attractive society elsewhere. Oh, you needn't turn that
color, my dear child; we have all been young once;
there is even a tradition that Thorndyke was young
some time back in the pre-dynastic period."
"Don't take any notice of him, Berkeley," said
Thorndyke. "The egg-shell is sticking to his head
still. He'll know better when he is my age."
"Methuselah!" exclaimed Jervis. "I hope I shan't
have to wait as long as that!"
Thorndyke smiled benevolently at his irrepressible
junior, and, shaking my hand cordially, turned into
the entry.


56 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
From the Temple I wended northward, to the ad-
jacent College of Surgeons, where I spent a couple of
profitable hours examining the "pickles" and refresh-
ing my memory on the subjects of pathology and anat-
omy; marveling afresh (as every practical anatomist
must marvel) at the incredibly perfect technique of
the dissections, and inwardly paying tribute to the
founder of the collection. At length the warning of
the clock, combined with an increasing craving for
tea, drove me forth and bore me toward the scene of
my not very strenuous labors. My mind was still oc-
cupied with the contents of the cases and the great
glass jars, so that I found myself at the corner of
Fetter Lane without a very clear idea of how I had
got there. But at that point I was aroused from my
reflections rather abruptly by a raucous voice in my
ear.
"'Orrible discovery at Sidcup!"
I turned wrathfully—for a London street-boy's yell,
let off at point-blank range, is, in effect, like the smack
of an open hand—but the inscription on the staring
yellow poster that was held up for my inspection
changed my anger to curiosity.
"Horrible discovery in a watercress-bed!"
Now, let prigs deny it if they will, but there is some-
thing very attractive in a "horrible discovery." It
hints at tragedy, at mystery, at romance. It promises
to bring into our gray and commonplace life that ele-
ment of the dramatic which is the salt that our exist-
ence is savored withal. "In a watercress-bed," too!
The rusticity of the background seemed to emphasize
the horror of the discovery, whatever it might be.
I bought a copy of the paper, and, tucking it under
my arm, hurried on to the surgery, promising myself


THE WATERCRESS-BED 57
a mental feast of watercress; but as I opened the door
I found myself confronted by a corpulent woman of
piebald and pimply aspect who saluted me with a deep
groan. It was the lady from the coal shop in Fleur-
de-Lys Court.
"Good evening, Mrs. Jablett," I said briskly; "not
come about yourself, I hope."
"Yes, I have," she answered, rising and following me
gloomily into the consulting-room; and then, when I
had seated her in the patient's chair and myself at the
writing table, she continued: "It's my inside, you
know, doctor."
The statement lacked anatomical precision and
merely excluded the domain of the skin specialist. I
accordingly waited for enlightenment and speculated
on the watercress-beds, while Mrs. Jablett regarded
me expectantly with a dim and watery eye.
"Ah!" I said at length; "it's your—your inside, is
it, Mrs. Jablett?"
"Yus. And my 'ead," she added, with a voluminous
sigh that filled the apartment with odorous reminis-
cences of ^'unsweetened."
"Your head aches, does it?"
"Somethink chronic!" said Mrs. Jablett. "Feels as
if it was a-opening and a-shutting, a-opening and
a-shutting, and when I sit down I feel as if I should
bust."
This picturesque description of her sensations—not
wholly inconsistent with her figure—gave the clue to
Mrs. Jablett's sufferings. Resisting a frivolous impulse
to reassure her as to the elasticity of the human in-
tegument, I considered her case in exhaustive detail,
coasting delicately round the subject of "unsweetened"
and finally sent her away, revived in spirits and grasp-


58 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
ing a bottle of Mist. Sodae cum Bismutho from Bar-
nard's big stock-jar. Then I went back to investi-
gate the Horrible Discovery; but before I could open
the paper, another patient arrived (Impetigo contagi-
osa, this time, affecting the "wide and arched-front
sublime" of a juvenile Fetter Laner), and then yet
another, and so on through the evening until at last
I forgot the watercress-beds altogether. It was only
when I had purified myself from the evening consulta-
tions with hot water and a nail-brush and was about to
sit down to a frugal supper, that I remembered the
newspaper and fetched it from the drawer of the
consulting-room table, where it had been hastily thrust
out of sight. I folded it into a convenient form, and,
standing it upright against the water-jug, read the re-
port at my ease as I supped.
There was plenty of it. Evidently the reporter had
regarded it as a "scoop," and the editor had backed him
up with ample space and hair-raising head-lines.
"HORRIBLE DISCOVERY
IN A WATERCRESS-BED
ATSIDCUP!"
"A startling discovery was made yesterday afternoon
in the course of clearing out a watercress-bed near the
erstwhile rural village of Sidcup in Kent; a discovery
that will occasion many a disagreeable qualm to those
persons who have been in the habit of regaling them-
selves with this refreshing esculent. But before pro-
ceeding to a description of the circumstances of the
actual discovery or of the objects found—which, how-
ever, it may be stated at once, are nothing more or
less than the fragments of a dismembered human body
—it will be interesting to trace the remarkable chain of


THE WATERCRESS-BED 59
coincidences by virtue of which the discovery was
made.
"The beds in question have been laid out in a small
artificial lake fed by a tiny streamlet which forms one
of the numerous tributaries of the River Cray. Its
depth is greater than usual in the watercress-beds,
otherwise the gruesome relics could never have been
concealed beneath its surface, and the flow of water
through it, though continuous is slow. The tributary
streamlet meanders through a succession of pasture
meadows, in one of which the beds themselves are situ-
ated, and here throughout most of the year the fleecy
victims of the human carnivore carry on the industry
of converting grass into mutton. Now it happened
some years ago that the sheep frequenting these pas-
tures became affected with the disease known as 'liver-
rot'; and here we must make a short digression into
the domain of pathology.
"'Liver-rot' is a disease of quite romantic antece-
dents. Its cause is a small, flat worm—the liver-fluke
—which infests the liver and bile-ducts of the affected
sheep.
"Now how does the worm get into the sheep's liver?
That is where the romance comes in. Let us see.
"The cycle of transformation begins with the deposit
of the eggs of the fluke in some shallow stream or ditch
running through pasture lands. Now each egg has a
sort of lid, which presently opens and lets out a minute,
hairy creature who swims away in search of a particu-
lar kind of water-snail—the kind called by naturalists
LimnoRa truncattda. If he finds a snail, he bores his
way into its flesh and soon begins to grow and wax fat.
Then he brings forth a family—of tiny worms quite
unlike himself, little creatures called redus, which soon


60 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
give birth to families of young redice. So they go on
for several generations, but at last there comes a genera-
tion of redice which, instead of giving birth to fresh
redice, produce families of totally different offspring;
big-headed, long-tailed creatures like miniature tad-
poles, called by the learned cercarice. The cercarlo,
soon wriggle their way out of the body of the snail, and
then complications arise: for it is the habit of this par-
ticular snail to leave the water occasionally and take
a stroll in the fields. Thus the cercarice, escaping from
the snail find themselves on the grass whereupon they
promptly drop their tails and stick themselves to the
grass-blades. Then comes the unsuspecting sheep to
take his frugal meal, and, cropping the grass swallows
it, cercarice and all. But the latter, when they find
themselves in the sheep's stomach, make their way
straight to the bile-ducts, up which they travel to the
liver. Here, in a few weeks, they grow up into full-
blown flukes and begin the important business of pro-
ducing eggs.
"Such is the pathological romance of the 'liver-rot';
and now what is its connection with this mysterious dis-
covery? It is this. After the outbreak of 'liver-rot'
above referred to, the ground landlord, a Mr. John
Bellingham, instructed his solicitor to insert a clause
in the lease of the beds directing that the latter should
be periodically cleared and examined by an expert to
make sure that they were free from the noxious water-
snails. The last lease expired about two years ago,
and since then the beds have been out of cultivation;
but, for the safety of the adjacent pastures, it was con-
sidered necessary to make the customary periodical
inspection, and it was in the course of cleaning the


THE WATERCRESS-BED 61
beds for this purpose that the present discovery was
made.
"The operation began two days ago. A gang of three
men proceeded systematically to grub up the plants
and collect the multitudes of water-snails that they
might be examined by the expert to see if any obnoxious
species were present. They had cleared nearly half of
the beds when, yesterday afternoon, one of the men
working in the deepest part came upon some bones,
the appearance of which excited his suspicion. There-
upon he called his mates, and they carefully picked
away the plants piece-meal, a process that soon laid
bare an unmistakable human hand lying on the mud
amongst the roots. Fortunately they had the wisdom
not to disturb the remains, but at once sent off a mes-
sage to the police. Very soon, an inspector and a
sergeant, accompanied by the divisional surgeon, ar-
rived on the scene, and were able to view the remains
lying as they had been found. And now another very
strange fact came to light; for it was seen that the
hand—a left one—lying on the mud was minus its third
finger. This is regarded by the police as a very im-
portant fact as bearing on the question of identification,
seeing that the number of persons having the third
finger of the left hand missing must be quite small.
After a thorough examination on the spot, the bones
were carefully collected and conveyed to the mortuary,
where they now lie awaiting further inquiries.
"The divisional surgeon, Dr. Brandon, in an inter-
view with our representative, made the following state-
ments:
"'The bones are those of the left arm of a middle-
aged or elderly man about five feet eight inches in
height. All the bones of the arm are present, in-


62 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
eluding the scapula, or shoulder-blade, and the clavicle,
or collar-bone, but the three bones of the third finger
are missing.'
"'Is this a deformity or has the finger been cut off?'
our correspondent asked.
"'The finger has been amputated,' was the reply.
'If it had been absent from birth, the corresponding
hand bone, or metacarpal, would have been wanting or
deformed, whereas it is present and quite normal.'
"'How long have the bones been in the water?' was
the next question.
"'More than a year, I should say. They are quite
clean; there is not a vestige of the soft structures
left.'
"Have you any theory as to how the arm came to be
deposited where it was found?'
"'I should rather not answer that question,' was the
guarded response.
"'One more question,' our correspondent urged.
'The ground landlord, Mr. John Bellingham; is he
not the gentleman who disappeared so mysteriously
some time ago?'
"'So I understand,' Dr. Brandon replied.
"'Can you tell me if Mr. Bellingham had lost the
third finger of his left hand?'
"'I cannot say,' said Dr. Brandon; and he added
with a smile, 'you had better ask the police.'
"That is how the matter stands at present. But we
understand that the police are making active inquiries
for any missing man who has lost the third finger of
his left hand, and if any of our readers know of such
a person, they are earnestly requested to communicate
at once, either with us or the authorities.


THE WATERCRESS-BED 63
"Also we believe that a systematic search is to be
made for further remains."
I laid the newspaper down and fell into a train of
reflection. It was certainly a most mysterious affair.
The thought that had evidently come to the reporter's
mind stole naturally into mine. Could these remains
be those of John Bellingham? It was obviously pos-
sible, though I could not but see that the fact of the
bones having been found on his land, while it undoubt-
edly furnished the suggestion, did not in any way add
to its probability. Then connection was accidental and
in nowise relevant.
Then, too, there was the missing finger. No refer-
ence to any such deformity had been made in the ori-
ginal report of the disappearance, though it could
hardly have been overlooked. But it was useless to
speculate without facts. I should be seeing Thorndyke
in the course of the next few days, and, undoubtedly, if
the discovery had any bearing upon the disappearance
of John Bellingham, I should hear of it. With such a
reflection I rose from the table, and, adopting the advice
contained in the spurious Johnsonian quotation, pro-
ceeded to "take a walk in Fleet Street" before settling
down for the evening.


CHAPTER VI
SIDELIGHTS
The association of coal with potatoes is one upon
which I have frequently speculated, without arriving
at any more satisfactory explanation than that both
products are of the earth, earthy. Of the connection
itself Barnard's practise furnished several instances
besides Mrs. Jablett's establishment in Fleur-de-Lys
Court, one of which was a dark and mysterious cavern
a foot below the level of the street, that burrowed under
an ancient house on the west side of Fetter Lane—a
crinkly, timber house of the three-decker type that
leaned back drunkenly from the road as if about to sit
down in its own back yard.
Passing this repository of the associated products
about ten o'clock in the morning, I perceived in the
shadows of the cavern no less a person than Miss
Oman. She saw me at the same moment, and beckoned
peremptorily with a hand that held a large Spanish
onion. I approached with a deferential smile.
"What a magnificent onion, Miss Oman! and how
generous of you to offer it to me"
"I wasn't offering it to you. But there! Isn't it just
like a man"
"Isn't what just like a man?" I interrupted. "If you
mean the onion"
"I don't!" she snapped; "and I wish you wouldn't
talk such a parcel of nonsense. A grown man and a
64


SIDELIGHTS 65
member of a serious profession, too! You ought to
know better."
"I suppose I ought," I said reflectively. And she
continued:
"I called in at the surgery just now."
"To see me?"
"What else should I come for? Do you suppose
that I called to consult the bottle-boy?"
"Certainly not, Miss Oman. So you find the lady
doctor no use, after all?"
Miss Oman gnashed her teeth at me (and very fine
teeth they were too).
"I called," she said majestically, "on behalf of Miss
Bellingham."
My facetiousness evaporated instantly. "I hope
Miss Bellingham is not ill," I said with a sudden anx-
iety that elicited a sardonic smile from Miss Oman.
"No," was the reply, "she is not ill, but she has cut
her hand rather badly. It's her right hand too, and she
can't afford to lose the use of it, not being a great,
hulky, lazy, lolloping man. So you had better go and
put some stuff on it."
With this advice, Miss Oman whisked to the right-
about and vanished into the depths of the cavern like
the witch of Wokey, while I hurried on to the surgery
to provide myself with the necessary instruments and
materials, and thence proceeded to Nevill's Court.
Miss Oman's juvenile maidservant, who opened the
door to me, stated the existing conditions with epi-
grammatic conciseness.
"Mr. Bellingham is hout, sir; but Miss Bellingham
is hin."
Having thus delivered herself she retreated toward
the kitchen and I ascended the stairs, at the head of


66 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
which I found Miss Bellingham awaiting me with her
right hand encased in what looked like a white box-
ing-glove.
"I'm glad you have come," she said. "Phyllis—Miss
Oman, you know—has kindly bound up my hand, but I
should like you to see that it is all right."
We went into the sitting-room, where I laid out my
paraphernalia on the table while I inquired into the
particulars of the accident.
"It is most unfortunate that it should have hap-
pened just now," she said, as I wrestled with one of
those remarkable feminine knots that, while they seem
to defy the utmost efforts of human ingenuity to untie,
yet have a singular habit of untying themselves at in-
opportune moments.
"Why just now in particular?" I asked.
"Because I have some specially important work to
do. A very learned lady who is writing an historical
book has commissioned me to collect all the literature
relating to the Tell-el-Amarna letters—the cuneiform
tablets, you know, of Amenhotep the Fourth."
"Well," I said soothingly, "I expect your hand will
soon be well."
"Yes, but that won't do. The work has to be done
immediately. I have to send in completed notes not
later than this day week, and it will be quite impos-
sible. I am dreadfully disappointed."
By this time I had unwound the voluminous wrap-
pings and exposed the injury—a deep gash in the palm
that must have narrowly missed a good-sized artery.
Obviously the hand would be useless for fully a week.
"I suppose," she said, "you couldn't patch it up so
that I could write with it?"
I shook my head.


SIDELIGHTS 67
"No, Miss Bellingham. I shall have to put it on a
splint. We can't run any risks with a deep wound
like this."
"Then I shall have to give up the commission, and I
don't know how my client will get the work done in
time. You see, I am pretty well up in the literature
of Ancient Egypt; in fact, I was to receive special pay-
ment on that account. And it would have been such an
interesting task, too. However, it can't be helped."
I proceeded methodically with the application of the
dressings, and meanwhile reflected. It was evident that
she was deeply disappointed. Loss of work meant loss
of money, and it needed but a glance at her rusty
black dress to see that there was little margin for that.
Possibly, too, there was some special need to be met.
Her manner seemed almost to imply that there was.
And at this point I had a brilliant idea.
"I'm not sure that it can't be helped," said I.
She looked at me inquiringly, and I continued: "I
am going to make a proposition, and I shall ask you
to consider it with an open mind."
"That sounds rather portentous," said she; "but
I promise. What is it?"
"It is this: When I was a student I acquired the
useful art of writing shorthand. I am not a lightning
reporter, you understand, but I can take matter down
from dictation at quite respectable speed."
"Yes."
"Well, I have several hours free every day—usually
the whole afternoon up to six or half-past—and it oc-
curs to me that if you were to go to the Museum in
the mornings you could get out your books, look up
passages (you could do that without using your right
hand), and put in bookmarks. Then I could come


68 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
along in the afternoon and you could read out the
selected passages to me, and I could take them down in
shorthand. We should get through as much in a couple
of hours as you could in a day using long-hand."
"Oh, but how kind of you, Dr. Berkeley!" she ex-
claimed. "How very kind! Of course, I couldn't
think of taking up all your leisure in that way; but
I do appreciate your kindness very much."
I was rather chapfallen at this very definite refusal,
but persisted feebly:
"I wish you would. It may seem rather a cheek
for a comparative stranger like me to make such a
proposal to a lady; but if you'd been a man—in those
special circumstances—I should have made it all the
same, and you would have accepted as a matter of
course."
"I doubt that. At any rate, I am not a man. I
sometimes wish I were."
"Oh, I am sure you are much better as you are!"
I exclaimed, with such earnestness that we both
laughed. And at this moment Mr. Bellingham entered
the room carrying several large brand-new books in
a strap.
"Well, I'm sure!" he exclaimed genially; "here are
pretty goings on. Doctor and patient giggling like a
pair of schoolgirls! What's the joke?"
He thumped his parcel of books down on the table
and listened smilingly while my unconscious witticism
was expounded.
"The doctor's quite right," he said. "You'll do as
you are chick; but the Lord knows what sort of man
you would make. You take his advice and let well
alone."
Finding him in this genial frame of mind, I ven-


SIDELIGHTS 69
tured to explain my proposition to him and to enlist
his support. He considered it with attentive approval,
and when I had finished turned to his daughter.
"What is your objection, chick?" he asked.
"It would give Doctor Berkeley such a fearful lot
of work," she answered.
"It would give him a fearful lot of pleasure," I said.
"It would really."
"Then why not?" said Mr. Bellingham. "We don't
mind being under an obligation to the Doctor, do we?"
"Oh, it isn't that!" she exclaimed hastily.
"Then take him at his word. He means it. It is a
kind action and he'll like doing it, I'm sure. That's all
right, Doctor; she accepts, don't you, chick?"
"Yes, if you say so, I do; and most thankfully."
She accompanied the acceptance with a gracious
smile that was in itself a large repayment on account,
and when we had made the necessary arrangements, I
hurried away in a state of the most perfect satisfaction
to finish my morning's work and order an early lunch.
When I called for her a couple of hours later I found
her waiting in the garden with the shabby handbag, of
which I relieved her, and we set forth together, watched
jealously by Miss Oman, who had accompanied her to
the gate.
As I walked up the court with this wonderful maid
by my side I could hardly believe in my good fortune.
By her presence and my own resulting happiness the
mean surroundings became glorified and the commonest
objects transfigured into things of beauty. What a
delightful thoroughfare, for instance, was Fetter Lane,
with its quaint charm and medieval grace! I snuffed
the cabbage-laden atmosphere and seemed to breathe
the scent of the asphodel. Holborn was even as the


70 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Elysian Fields; the omnibus that bore us westward was
a chariot of glory; and the people who swarmed ver-
minously on the pavements bore the semblance of the
children of light.
Love is a foolish thing judged by workaday stan-
dards, and the thoughts and actions of lovers foolish
beyond measure. But the workaday standard is the
wrong one, after all; for the utilitarian mind does but
busy itself with the trivial and transitory interests of
life, behind which looms the great and everlasting
reality of the love of man and woman. There is more
significance in a nightingale's song in the hush of a
summer night than in all the wisdom of Solomon (who,
by the way, was not without his little experiences of the
tender passion).
The janitor in the little glass box by the entrance
to the library inspected us and passed us on, with a
silent benediction, to the lobby, whence (when I had
handed my stick to a bald-headed demigod and received
a talismanic disc in exchange) we entered the enormous
rotunda of the reading-room.
I have often thought that, if some lethal vapor of
highly preservative properties—such as formaldehyde,
for instance—could be shed into the atmosphere of this
apartment, the entire and complete collection of books
and book-worms would be well worth preserving, for
the enlightenment of posterity, as a sort of anthropo-
logical appendix to the main collection of the Museum.
For, surely, nowhere else in the world are so many
strange and abnormal human beings gathered together
in one place. And a curious question that must have
occurred to many observers is: Whence do these singu-
lar creatures come, and whither do they go when the
very distinct-faced clock (adjusted to literary eyesight)


SIDELIGHTS 71
proclaims closing time? The tragic-faced gentleman,
for instance, with the corkscrew ringlets that bob up
and down like spiral springs as he walks? Or the
short, elderly gentleman in the black cassock and
bowler hat, who shatters your nerves by turning sud-
denly and revealing himself at a middle-aged woman?
Whither do they go? One never sees them elsewhere.
Do they steal away at closing time into the depths of
the Museum and hide themselves until morning in
sarcophagi or mummy cases? Or do they creep through
spaces in the book-shelves and spend the night be-
hind the volumes in a congenial atmosphere of leather
and antique paper? Who can say? What I do know
is that when Ruth Bellingham entered the reading-
room she appeared in comparison with these like a
creature of another order; even as the head of Antinous,
which formerly stood (it has since been moved) amidst
the portrait-busts of the Roman Emperors, seemed
like the head of a god set in a portrait gallery of illus-
trious baboons.
"What have we got to do?" I asked when we had
found a vacant seat. "Do you want to look up the
catalogue?"
"No, I have the tickets in my bag. The books are
waiting in the 'kept books' department."
I placed my hat on the leather-covered shelf, dropped
her gloves into it—how delightfully intimate and com-
panionable it seemed!—altered the numbers on the
tickets, and then we proceeded together to the "kept
books" desk to collect the volumes that contained the
material for our day's work.
It was a blissful afternoon. Two and a half hours
of happiness unalloyed did I spend at that shiny,
leather-clad desk, guiding my nimble pen across the


72 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
pages of the notebook. It introduced me to a new
world—a world in which love and learning, sweet in-
timacy and crusted archeology, were mingled into the
oddest, most whimsical and most delicious confection
that the mind of man can conceive. Hitherto, these
recondite histories had been far beyond my ken. Of
the wonderful heretic, Amenhotep the Fourth, I had al-
ready heard—at the most he had been a mere name;
the Hittites a mythical race of undetermined habitat;
while cuneiform tablets had presented themselves to
my mind merely as an uncouth kind of fossil biscuit
suited to the digestion of a prehistoric ostrich.
Now all this was changed. As we sat with our chairs
creaking together and she whispered the story of those
stirring times into my receptive ear—talking is strictly
forbidden in the reading-room—the disjointed frag-
ments arranged themselves into a romance of supreme
fascination. Egyptian, Babylonian, Aramean, Hittite,
Memphis, Babylon, Hamath, Megiddo—I swallowed
them all thankfully, wrote them down, and asked for
more. Only once did I disgrace myself. An elderly
clergyman of ascetic and acidulous aspect had passed
us with a glance of evident disapproval, clearly setting
us down as intruding philanderers; and when I con-
trasted the parson's probable conception of the whis-
pered communications that were being poured into my
ear so tenderly and confidentially with the dry reality,
I chuckled aloud. But my fair taskmistress only
paused, with her finger on the page, smilingly to re-
buke me, and then went on with the dictation. She was
certainly a Tartar for work.
It was a proud moment for me when, in response to
my interrogative "Yes?" my companion said "That is
all" and closed the book. We had extracted the pith


SIDELIGHTS 73
and marrow of six considerable volumes in two and
a half hours.
"You have been better than your word," she said.
"It would have taken me two full days of really hard
work to make the notes that you have written down
since we commenced. I don't know how to thank you."
"There's no need to. I've enjoyed myself and pol-
ished up my shorthand. What is the next thing? We
shall want some books for to-morrow, shan't we?"
"Yes. I have made out a list, so if you will come
with me to the catalogue desk I will look up the num-
bers and ask you to write the tickets."
The selection of a fresh batch of authorities oc-
cupied us for another quarter of an hour, and then,
having handed in the volumes that we had squeezed
dry, we took our way out of the reading-room.
"Which way shall we go?" she asked as we passed
out of the gate, where stood a massive policeman, like
the guardian angel at the gate of Paradise (only, thank
Heaven! he bore no flaming sword forbidding re-entry).
"We are going," I replied, "to Museum Street, where
is a milkshop in which one can get an excellent cup of
tea."
She looked as if she would have demurred, but even-
tually followed obediently, and we were soon settled
side by side at the little marble-topped table, retrac-
ing the ground we had covered in the afternoon's work
and discussing various points of interest over a joint
teapot.
"Have you been doing this sort of work long?" I
asked, as she handed me my second cup of tea.
"Professionally," she answered, "only about two
years; since we broke up our home, in fact. But long
before that I used to come to the Museum with my


74 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Uncle John—the one who disappeared, you know, in
that dreadfully mysterious way—and help him to look
up references. We were good friends, he and I."
"I suppose he was a very learned man?" I sug-
gested.
"Yes, in a certain way; in the way of the better-
class collector he was very learned indeed. He knew
the contents of every museum in the world, in so far
as they were connected with Egyptian antiquities, and
had studied them specimen by specimen. Conse-
quently, as Egyptology is largely a museum science, he
was a learned Egyptologist. But his real interest was
in things rather than events. Of course, he knew a
great deal—a very great deal—about Egyptian history,
but still he was, before all, a collector."
"And what will happen to his collection if he is really
dead?"
"The greater part of it goes to the British Museum
by his will, and the remainder he has left to his solicitor,
Mr. Jellicoe."
"To Mr. Jellicoe! Why, what will Mr. Jellicoe do
with Egyptian antiquities?"
"Oh, he is an Egyptologist too, and quite an enthu-
siast. He has really a fine collection of scarabs and
other small objects such as it is possible to keep in a
private house. I have always thought that it was his
enthusiasm for everything Egyptian that brought him
and my uncle together on terms of such intimacy;
though I believe he is an excellent lawyer, and he is
certainly a very discreet, cautious man."
"Is he? I shouldn't have thought so, judging by
your uncle's will."
"Oh, but that is not Mr. Jellicoe's fault. He as-
sures us that he entreated my uncle to let him draw up


SIDELIGHTS 75
a fresh document with more reasonable provisions.
But he says Uncle John was immovable; and he really
was a rather obstinate man. Mr. Jellicoe repudiates
any responsibility in the matter. He washes his hands
of the whole affair, and says that it is the will of a
lunatic. And so it is, I was glancing through it only
a night or two ago, and really I cannot conceive how
a sane man could have written such nonsense."
"You have a copy then?" I asked eagerly, remem-
bering Thorndyke's parting instructions.
"Yes. Would you like to see it? I know my
father has told you about it, and it is worth reading
as a curiosity of perverseness."
"I should very much like to show it to my friend,
Doctor Thorndyke," I replied. "He said he would be
interested to read it and learn the exact provisions; and
it might be well to let him, and hear what he has to
say about it."
"I see no objection," she rejoined; "but you know
what my father is: his horror, I mean, of what he calls
'cadging for advice gratis.'"
"Oh, but he need have no scruples on that score.
Doctor Thorndyke wants to see the will because the
case interests him. He is an enthusiast, you know,
and he put the request as a personal favor to him-
self."
"That is very nice and delicate of him, and I will
explain the position to my father. If he is willing for
Doctor Thorndyke to see the copy, I will send or bring
it over this evening. Have we finished?"
I regretfully admitted that we had, and, when I had
paid the modest reckoning, we sallied forth, turning
back with one accord into Great Russell Street to avoid
the noise and bustle of the larger thoroughfares.


76 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"What sort of man was your uncle?" I asked pres-
ently, as we walked along the quiet, dignified street.
And then I added hastily: "I hope you don't think me
inquisitive, but, to my mind, he presents himself as
a kind of mysterious abstraction; the unknown quan-
tity of a legal problem."
"My Uncle John," she answered reflectively, "was
a very peculiar man, rather obstinate, very self-willed,
what people call 'masterful,' and decidedly wrong-
headed and unreasonable."
"That is certainly the impression that the terms of
his will convey," I said.
"Yes, and not the will only. There was the absurd
allowance that he made to my father. That was a ridic-
ulous arrangement, and very unfair too. He ought
to have divided the property up as my grandfather in-
tended. And yet he was by no means ungenerous, only
he would have his own way, and his own way was very
commonly the wrong way."
"I remember," she continued, after a short pause,
"a very odd instance of his wrong-headedness and ob-
.stinacy. It was a small matter, but very typical of
him. He had in his collection a beautiful little ring
of the eighteenth dynasty. It was said to have be-
longed to Queen Ti, the mother of our friend Amen-
hotep the Fourth; but I don't think that could have
been so, because the device on it was the Eye of
Osiris, and Ti, as you know, was an Aten-worshiper.
However, it was a very charming ring, and Uncle John,
who had a queer sort of devotion to the mystical eye
of Osiris, commissioned a very clever goldsmith to
make two exact copies of it, one for himself and one
for me. The goldsmith naturally wanted to take the
measurements of our fingers, but this Uncle John


SIDELIGHTS 77
would not hear of; the rings were to be exact copies,
and an exact copy must be the same size as the ori-
ginal. You can imagine the result; my ring was so
loose that I couldn't keep it in my finger, and Uncle
John's was so tight that though he did manage to get
it on, he was never able to get it off. And it was
only the circumstance that his left hand was decidedly
smaller than his right that made it possible for him to
wear it all."
"So you never wore your copy?"
"No. I wanted to have it altered to make it fit,
but he objected strongly; so I put it away, and have
it in a box still."
"He must have been an extraordinarily pig-headed
old fellow," I remarked.
"Yes; he was very tenacious. He annoyed my father
a good deal, too, by making unnecessary alterations in
the house in Queen Square when he fitted up his mu-
seum. We have a certain sentiment with regard to
that house. Our people have lived in it ever since it
was built, when the square was first laid out in the
reign of Queen Anne, after whom it was named. It is
a dear old house. Would you like to see it? We are
quite near it now."
I assented eagerly. If it had been a coal-shed or a
fried-fish shop I would still have visited it with plea-
sure, for the sake of prolonging our walk; but I was
also really interested in this old house as a part of the
background of the mystery of the vanished John Bel-
lingham.
We crossed into Cosmo Place, with its quaint row
of the now rare, cannon-shaped iron posts, and passing
through stood for a few moments looking into the peace-
ful, stately old square. A party of boys disported


78 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
themselves noisily on the range of stone posts that
form a bodyguard round the ancient lamp-surmounted
pump, but otherwise the place was wrapped in dignified
repose suited to its age and station. And very pleasant
it looked on this summer afternoon with the sunlight
gilding the foliage of its widespreading plane trees
and lighting up the warm-toned brick of the house-
fronts. We walked slowly down the shady west side,
near the middle of which my companion halted.
"This is the house," she said. "It looks gloomy
and forsaken now; but it must have been a delightful
house in the days when my ancestors could look out
of the windows through the open end of the square
across the fields of meadows to the heights of Hamp-
stead and Highgate."
She stood at the edge of the pavement looking up
with a curious wistfulness at the old house; a very
pathetic figure I thought, with her handsome face and
proud carriage, her threadbare dress and shabby gloves,
standing at the threshold of the home that had been
her family's for generations, that should now have been
hers, and that was shortly to pass away into the hands
of strangers.
I, too, looked up at it with a strange interest, im-
pressed by something gloomy and forbidding in its
aspect. The windows were shuttered from basement
to attic, and no sign of life was visible. Silent, ne-
glected, desolate, it breathed an air of tragedy. It
seemed to mourn in sackcloth and ashes for its lost
master. The massive door within the splendid carven
portico was crusted with grime, and seemed to have
passed out of use as completely as the ancient lamp-
irons or the rusted extinguishers wherein the footmen
were wont to quench their torches when some Belling-


SIDELIGHTS 79
ham dame was borne up the steps in her gilded chair,
in the days of good Queen Anne.
It was in a somewhat sobered frame of mind that we
presently turned away and started homeward by way
of Great Ormond Street. My companion was deeply
thoughtful, relapsing for a while into that somberness
of manner that had so impressed me when I first met
her. Nor was I without a certain sympathetic pen-
siveness; as if, from the great, silent house, the spirit
of the vanished man had issued forth to bear us com-
pany.
But still it was a delightful walk, and I was sorry
when at last we arrived at the entrance to Nevill's
Court, and Miss Bellingham halted and held out her
hand.
"Good-by," she said; "and many, many thanks for
your invaluable help. Shall I take the bag?"
"If you want it. But I must take out the note-
books."
"Why must you take them?" she asked.
"Why, haven't I got to copy the notes out into long-
hand?"
An expression of utter consternation spread over her
face; in fact, she was so completely taken aback that
she forgot to release my hand.
"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "How idiotic of me!
But it is impossible, Doctor Berkeley! It will take
you hours!"
"It is perfectly possible, and it is going to be done;
otherwise the notes would be useless. Do you want the
bag?"
"No, of course not. But I am positively appalled.
Hadn't you better give up the idea?"
"And this is the end of our collaboration?" I ex-


80 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
claimed tragically, giving her hand a final squeeze
(whereby she became suddenly aware of its position,
and withdrew it rather hastily). "Would you throw
away a whole afternoon's work? I won't certainly; so,
good-by until to-morrow. I shall turn up in the read-
ing-room as early as I can. You had better take the
tickets. Oh, and you won't forget about the copy of
the will for Doctor Thorndyke, will you?"
"No; if my father agrees, you shall have it this
evening."
She took the tickets from me, and, thanking me yet
again, retired into the court.


CHAPTER VII
JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL
The task upon which I had embarked so light-heart-
edly, when considered in cold blood, did certainly ap-
pear, as Miss Bellingham had said, rather appalling.
The result of two and a half hours' pretty steady work
at an average speed of nearly a hundred words a min-
ute, would take some time to transcribe into long-
hand; and if the notes were to be delivered punctually
on the morrow, the sooner I got to work the better.
Recognizing this truth, I lost no time, but, within
five minutes of my arrival at the surgery, was seated
at the writing-table with my copy before me busily
converting the sprawling, inexpressive characters into
good, legible round-hand.
The occupation was by no means unpleasant, apart
from the fact that it was a labor of love; for the sen-
tences, as I picked them up, were fragrant with the
reminiscences of the gracious whisper in which they
had first come to me. And then the matter itself was
full of interest. I was gaining a fresh outlook on life,
was crossing the threshold of a new world (which was
her world); and so the occasional interruptions from
the patients, while they gave me intervals of en-
forced rest, were far from welcome.
The evening wore on without any sign from Nevill's
Court, and I began to fear that Mr. Bellingham's
scruples had proved insurmountable. Not, I am afraid,
81


82 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
that I was so much concerned for the copy of the will
as for the possibility of a visit, no matter howsoever
brief, from my fair employer; and when, on the stroke
of half-past seven, the surgery door flew open with
startling abruptness, my fears were allayed and my
hopes shattered simultaneously. For it was Miss Oman
who stalked in, holding out a blue foolscap envelope
with a warlike air as if it were an ultimatum.
"I've brought you this from Mr. Bellingham," she
said. "There's a note inside."
"May I read the note, Miss Oman?" I asked.
"Bless the man!" she exclaimed. "What else would
you do with it? Isn't that what it's brought for?"
I supposed it was; and, thanking her for her gracious
permission, I glanced through the note—a few lines
authorizing me to show the copy of the will to Dr.
Thorndyke. When I looked up from the paper I found
her eyes fixed on me with an expression critical and
rather disapproving.
"You seem to be making yourself mighty agreeable
in a certain quarter," she remarked.
"I make myself universally agreeable. It is my na-
ture to."
"Ha!" she snorted.
"Don't you find me rather agreeable?" I asked.
"Oily," said Miss Oman. And then with a sour
smile at the open notebooks, she remarked:
"You've got some work to do now; quite a change for
you."
"A delightful change, Miss Oman. 'For Satan find-
eth'—but no doubt you are acquainted with the philo-
sophical works of Dr. Watts?"
"If you are referring to 'idle hands,'" she replied,
"I'll give you a bit of advice. Don't you keep that


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 83
hand idle any longer than is really necessary. I have
my suspicions about that splint—oh, you know what
I mean," and before I had time to reply, she had taken
advantage of the entrance of a couple of patients to
whisk out of the surgery with the abruptness that had
distinguished her arrival.
The evening consultations were considered to be over
by half-past eight; at which time Adolphus was wont
with exemplary punctuality to close the outer door of
the surgery. To-night he was not less prompt than
usual; and having performed this, his last daily office,
and turned down the surgery gas, he reported the fact
and took his departure.
As his retreating footsteps died away and the slam-
ming of the outer door announced his final disappear-
ance, I sat up and stretched myself. The envelope
containing the copy of the will lay on the table, and
I considered it thoughtfully. It ought to be conveyed
to Thorndyke with as little delay as possible, and, as
it certainly could not be trusted out of my hands, it
ought to be conveyed by me.
I looked at the notebooks. Nearly two hours' work
had made a considerable impression on the matter that
I had to transcribe, but still, a great deal of the task
yet remained to be done. However, I reflected, I could
put in a couple of hours or more before going to bed
and there would be an hour or two to spare in the morn-
ing. Finally I locked the notebooks, open as they were,
in the writing-table drawer, and slipping the envelope
into my pocket, set out for the Temple.
The soft chime of the Treasury clock was telling
out, in confidential tones, the third quarter as I rapped
with my stick on the forbidding "oak" of my friends'
chambers. There was no response, nor had I perceived


84 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
any gleam of light from the windows as I approached,
and I was considering the advisability of trying the
laboratory on the next floor, when footsteps on the
stone stairs and familiar voices gladdened my ear.
"Hallo, Berkeley!" said Thorndyke, "do we find you
waiting like a Peri at the gates of Paradise? Polton is
upstairs, you know, tinkering at one of his inventions.
If you ever find the nest empty, you had better go
up and bang at the laboratory door. He's always there
in the evenings."
"I haven't been waiting long," said I, "and I was just
thinking of rousing him up when you came."
"That was right," said Thorndyke, turning up the
gas. "And what news do you bring? Do I see a blue
envelope sticking out of your pocket?"
"You do."
"Is it a copy of the will?" he asked.
I answered "yes," and added that I had full permis-
sion to show it to him.
"What did I tell you?" exclaimed Jervis. "Didn't I
say that he would get the copy for us if it existed?"
"We admit the excellence of your prognosis," said
Thorndyke, "but there is no need to be boastful. Have
you read through the document, Berkeley?"
"No, I haven't taken it out of the envelope."
"Then it will be equally new to us all, and we shall
see if it tallies with your description."
He placed three easy-chairs at a convenient distance
from the light, and Jervis, watching him with a smile,
remarked:
"Now Thorndyke is going to enjoy himself. To him,
a perfectly unintelligible will is a thing of beauty and a
joy for ever; especially if associated with some kind of
recondite knavery."
^


86 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
pounds free of legacy duty and unto my brother God-
frey Bellingham or if he should die before the oc-
currence of my death unto his daughter Ruth Belling-
ham the residue of my estate and effects real and per-
sonal subject to the conditions set forth hereinafter
namely:
"2. That my body shall be deposited with those of
my ancestors in the churchyard appertaining to the
church and parish of St. George the Martyr or if
that shall not be possible in some other churchyard
cemetery burial ground church or chapel or other
authorized place for the reception of the bodies of the
dead situate within or appertaining to the parishes of
St. Andrew above the Bars and St. George the Martyr
or St. George Bloomsbury and St. Giles in the Fields.
But if the conditions in this clause be not carried out
then
"3. I give and devise the said residue of my estate
and effects unto my cousin George Hurst aforesaid and
I hereby revoke all wills and codicils made by me at
any time heretofore and I appoint Arthur Jellicoe afore-
said to be the executor of this my will jointly with the
principal beneficiary and residuary legatee that is to
say with the aforesaid Godfrey Bellingham if the con-
ditions set forth hereinbefore in clause 2 shall be duly
carried out but with the aforesaid George Hurst if the
said conditions in the said clause 2 be not carried
out.
"John Bellingham.
"Signed by the said testator John Bellingham in the
presence of us present at the same time who at his re-
quest and in his presence and in the presence of each
other have subscribed our names as witnesses.


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 87
"Frederick Wilton, 16 Medford Road, London, N.,
clerk.
"James Barber, 32 Wadbury Crescent, London, S.W.,
clerk."
"Well," said Jervis, laying down the document as
Thorndyke detached the last sheet from his writing-pad,
"I have met with a good many idotic wills, but this
one can give them all points. I don't see how it is ever
going to be administered. One of the two executors is
a mere abstraction—a sort of algebraical problem with
no answer."
"I think that difficulty could be overcome," said
Thorndyke.
"I don't see how," retorted Jervis. "If the body
is deposited in a certain place, A is executor; if it is
somewhere else, B is the executor. But as you cannot
produce the body, and no one has the least idea where it
is, it is impossible to prove either that it is or that it is
not in any specified place."
"You are magnifying the difficulty, Jervis," said
Thorndyke. "The body may, of course, be anywhere
in the entire world, but the place where it is lying is
either inside or outside the general boundary of those
two parishes. If it has been deposited within the boun-
dary of those two parishes, the fact must be ascertain-
able by examining the burial certificates issued since the
date when the missing man was last seen alive and by
consulting the registers of those specified places of bur-
ial. I think that if no record can be found of any such
interment within the boundary of those two parishes,
that fact will be taken by the Court as proof that no
such interment has taken place, and that therefore the
body must have been deposited somewhere else. Such


88 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
a decision would constitute George Hurst the co-
executor and residuary legatee."
"That is cheerful for your friends, Berkeley," Jervis
remarked, " for we may take it as pretty certain that
the body has not been deposited in any of the places
named."
"Yes," I agreed gloomily, "I'm afraid there is very
little doubt of that. But what an ass that fellow must
have been to make such a to-do about his beastly car-
cass! What the deuce could it have mattered to him
where it was dumped, when he had done with it?"
Thorndyke chuckled softly. "Thus the irreverent
youth of to-day," said he. "But yours is hardly a fair
comment, Berkeley. Our training makes us material-
ists, and puts us a little out of sympathy with those in
whom primitive beliefs and emotions survive. A
worthy priest who came to look at our dissecting-room
expressed surprise to me that the students, thus con-
stantly in the presence of relics of mortality, should be
able to think of anything but the resurrection and the
life hereafter. He was a bad psychologist. There is
nothing so dead as a dissecting-room 'subject'; and the
contemplation of the human body in the process of
being quietly taken to pieces—being resolved into its
structural units like a worn-out clock or an old engine
in the scrapper's yard—is certainly not conducive to a
vivid realization of the doctrine of the resurrection."
"No; but this absurd anxiety to be buried in some
particular place has nothing to do with religious belief;
it is merely silly sentiment."
"It is sentiment, I admit," said Thorndyke, "but I
wouldn't call it silly. The feeling is so widespread in
time and space that we must look on it with respect as
something inherent in human nature. Think—as


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 89
doubtless John Bellingham did—of the ancient Egyp-
tians, whose chief aspiration was that of everlasting re-
pose for the dead. See the trouble they took to achieve
it. Think of the great Pyramid, or that of Amenhotep
the Fourth with its labyrinth of false passages and its
sealed and hidden sepulchral chambers. Think of
Jacob, borne after death all those hundreds of weary
miles in order that he might sleep with his fathers and
then remember Shakespeare and his solemn adjuration
to posterity to let him rest undisturbed in his grave.
No, Berkeley, it is not a silly sentiment. I am as in-
different as you as to what becomes of my body 'when
I have done with it,' to use your irreverent phrase;
but I recognize the solicitude that some other men dis-
play on the subject as a natural feeling that has to be
taken seriously."
"But even so," I said, "if this man had a hankering
for a freehold residence in some particular bone-yard,
he might have gone about the business in a more rea-
sonable way."
"There I am entirely with you," Thorndyke replied.
"It is the absurd way in which this provision is worded
that not only creates all the trouble but also makes
the whole document so curiously significant in view of
the testator's disappearance."
"How significant?" Jervis demanded eagerly.
"Let us consider the provisions of the will point by
point," said Thorndyke; "and first note that the testa-
tor commanded the services of a very capable lawyer."
"But Mr. Jellicoe disapproved of the will," said I;
"in fact, he protested strongly against the form of it."
"We will bear that in mind too," Thorndyke replied.
"And now with reference to what we may call the con-
tentious clauses: the first thing that strikes us is their


go THE EYE OF OSIRIS
preposterous injustice. Godfrey's inheritance is made
conditional on a particular disposal of the testator's
body. But this is a matter not necessarily under God-
frey's control. The testator might have been lost at
sea, or killed in a fire or explosion, or have died abroad
and been buried where his grave could not have been
identified. There are numerous probable contingencies
besides the improbable one that has happened that
might prevent the body from being recovered.
"But even if the body had been recovered, there is
another difficulty. The places of burial in the parishes
have all been closed for many years. It would be im-
possible to reopen any of them without a special faculty,
and I doubt whether such a faculty would be granted.
Possibly cremation might meet the difficulty, but even
that is doubtful; and, in any case, the matter would
not be in the control of Godfrey Bellingham. Yet,
if the required interment should prove impossible, he
is to be deprived of his legacy."
"It is a monstrous and absurd injustice," I exclaimed.
"It is," Thorndyke agreed; "but this is nothing to the
absurdity that comes to light when we consider clauses
two and three in detail. Observe that the testator pre-
sumably wished to be buried in a certain place; also he
wished his brother should benefit under the will. Let
us take the first point and see how he has set about
securing the accomplishment of what he desired. Now
if we read clauses two and three carefully, we shall see
that he has rendered it virtually impossible that his
wishes can be carried out. He desires to be buried in
a certain place and makes Godfrey responsible for his
being so buried. But he gives Godfrey no power or
authority to carry out the provision, and places in-
superable obstacles in his way. For until Godfrey is


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 91
an executor, he has no power or authority to carry out
the provision; and until the provisions are carried out,
he does not become an executor."
"It is a preposterous muddle," exclaimed Jervis.
"Yes, but that is not the worst of it," Thorndyke
continued. "The moment John Bellingham dies, his
dead body has come into existence; and it is 'deposited,'
for the time being, wherever he happens to have died.
But unless he should happen to have died in one of
the places of burial mentioned—which is in the highest
degree unlikely—his body will be, for the time being,
'deposited' in some place other than those specified. In
that case clause two is—for the time being—not com-
plied with, and consequently George Hurst becomes,
automatically, the co-executor.
"But will George Hurst carry out the provisions of
clause two? Probably not. Why should he? The will
contains no instructions to that effect. It throws the
whole duty on Godfrey. On the other hand, if he
should carry out clause two, what happens? He ceases
to be an executor and he loses some seventy thousand
pounds. We may be pretty certain that he will do
nothing of the kind. So that, on considering the two
clauses, we see that the wishes of the testator could
only be carried out in the unlikely event of his dying
in one of the burial-places mentioned, or his body being
conveyed immediately after death to a public mortuary
in one of the said parishes. In any other event, it is
virtually certain that he will be buried in some place
other than that which he desired, and that his brother
will be left absolutely without provision or recogni-
tion."
"John Bellingham could never have intended that," I
said.


92 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Clearly not," agreed Thorndyke; "the provisions
of the will furnish internal evidence that he did not.
You note that he bequeathed five thousand pounds to
George Hurst, in the event of clause two being carried
out; but he has made no bequest to his brother in the
event of its not being carried out. Obviously, he had
not entertained the possibility of this contingency at
all. He assumed, as a matter of course, that the con-
ditions of clause two would be fulfilled, and regarded
the conditions themselves as a mere formality."
"But," Jervis objected, "Jellicoe must have seen the
danger of a miscarriage and pointed it out to his client."
"Exactly," said Thorndyke. "There is the mystery.
We understand that he objected strenuously, and that
John Bellingham was obdurate. Now it is perfectly
understandable that a man should adhere obstinately
to the most stupid and perverse disposition of his prop-
erty; but that a man should persist in retaining a par-
ticular form of words after it has been proved to him
that the use of such form will almost certainly result
in the defeat of his own wishes; that, I say, is a mystery
that calls for very careful consideration."
"If Jellicoe had been an interested party," said Jer-
vis, "one would have suspected him of lying low. But
the form of clause two doesn't affect him at all."
"No," said Thorndyke; "the person who stands to
profit by the muddle is George Hurst. But we under-
stand that he was unacquainted with the terms of the
will, and there is certainly nothing to suggest that he
is in any way responsible for it."
"The practical question is," said I, "what is going
to happen? and what can be done for the Belling-
hams?"
"The probability is," Thorndyke replied, "that the


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 93
next move will be made by Hurst. He is the party
immediately interested. He will probably apply to the
Court for permission to presume death and administer
the will."
"And what will the Court do?"
Thorndyke smiled dryly. "Now you are asking a
very pretty conundrum. The decisions of Courts de-
pend on idiosyncrasies of temperament that no one can
foresee. But one may say that a Court does not lightly
grant permission to presume death. There will be a
rigorous inquiry—and a decidedly unpleasant one, I
suspect—and the evidence will be reviewed by the
judge with a strong predisposition to regard the testa-
tor as being still alive. On the other hand, the known
facts point very distinctly to the probability that he is
dead; and, if the will were less complicated and all the
parties interested were unanimous in supporting the
application, I don't see why it might not be granted.
But it will clearly be to the interest of Godfrey to
oppose the application, unless he can show that the con-
ditions of clause two have been complied with—which
it is virtually certain he cannot; and he may be able to
bring forward reasons for believing John to be still
alive. But even if he is unable to do this, inasmuch as
it is pretty clear that he was intended to be the chief
beneficiary, his opposition is likely to have considerable
weight with the Court."
"Oh, is it?" I exclaimed eagerly. "Then that ac-
counts for a very peculiar proceeding on the part of
Hurst. I have stupidly forgotten to tell you about it.
He has been trying to come to a private agreement
with Godfrey Bellingham."
"Indeed!" said Thorndyke. "What sort of agree-
ment?"


94 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"His proposal was this: that Godfrey should sup-
port him and Jellicoe in an application to the Court
for permission to presume death and to administer the
will, that if it was successful, Hurst should pay him
four hundred pounds a year for life: the arrangement
to hold good in all eventualities."
"By which he means?"
"That if the body should be discovered at any future
time, so that the conditions of clause two could be car-
ried out, Hurst should still retain the property and con-
tinue to pay Godfrey the four hundred a year for life."
"Hey, ho!" exclaimed Thorndyke; "that is a queer
proposal; a very queer proposal indeed."
"Not to say fishy," added Jervis. "I don't fancy the
Court would look with approval on that little arrange-
ment."
"The law does not look with much favor on any
little arrangements that aim at getting behind the pro-
visions of a will," Thorndyke replied; "though there
would be nothing to complain of in this proposal if
it were not for the reference to 'all eventualities.' If
a will is hopelessly impracticable, it is not unreason-
able or improper for the various beneficiaries to make
such private arrangements among themselves as may
seem necessary to avoid useless litigation and delay
in administering the will. If, for instance, Hurst had
proposed to pay four hundred a year to Godfrey so
long as the body remained undiscovered on condition
that, in the event of its discovery, Godfrey should
pay him a like sum for life, there would have been
nothing to comment upon. It would have been an
ordinary sporting chance. But the reference to 'all
eventualities' is an entirely different matter. Of course,


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 95
it may be mere greediness, but all the same it sug-
gests some very curious reflections."
"Yes, it does," said Jervis. "I wonder if he has any
reason to expect that the body will be found? Of
course it doesn't follow that he has. He may be
merely taking the opportunity offered by the other
man's poverty to make sure of the bulk of the prop-
erty whatever happens. But it is uncommonly sharp
practice, to say the least."
"Do I understand that Godfrey declined the pro-
posal?" Thorndyke asked.
"Yes, he did, very emphatically; and I fancy the
two gentlemen proceeded to exchange opinions on
the circumstances of the disappearance with more
frankness than delicacy."
"Ah," said Thorndyke, "that is a pity. If the case
comes into Court, there is bound to be a good deal of
unpleasant discussion and still more unpleasant com-
ment in the newspapers. But if the parties themselves
begin to express suspicions of one another there is no
telling where the matter will end."
"No, by Jove!" said Jervis. "If they begin flinging
accusations of murder about, the fat will be in the
fire with a vengeance. That way lies the Old Bailey."
"We must try to prevent them from making an un-
necessary scandal," said Thorndyke. "It may be that
an exposure will be unavoidable, and that must be
ascertained in advance. But to return to your ques-
tion, Berkeley, as to what is to be done. Hurst will
probably make some move pretty soon. Do you know
if Jellicoe will act with him?"
"No, he won't. He declines to take any steps with-
out Godfrey's assent—at least, that is what he says
at present. His attitude is one of correct neutrality."


96 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"That is satisfactory so far," said Thorndyke,
"though he may alter his tone when the case comes
into Court. From what you said just now I gathered
that Jellicoe would prefer to have the will administered
and be quit of the whole business; which is natural
enough, especially as he benefits under the will to the
extent of two thousand pounds and a valuable col-
lection. Consequently, we may fairly assume that,
even if he maintains an apparent neutrality, his in-
fluence will be exerted in favor of Hurst rather than
of Bellingham; from which it follows that Bellingham
ought certainly to be properly advised, and, when the
case goes into Court, properly represented."
"He can't afford either the one or the other," said I.
"He's as poor as an insolvent church mouse and as
proud as the devil. He wouldn't accept professional
aid that he couldn't pay for."
"H'm," grunted Thorndyke, "that's awkward. But
we can't allow the case to go 'by default,' so to speak—
to fail for the mere lack of technical assistance. Be-
sides, it is one of the most interesting cases that I
have ever met with, and I am not going to see it bun-
gled. He couldn't object to a little general advice in
a friendly, informal way—amicus curia, as old Brod-
ribb is so fond of saying; and there is nothing to pre-
vent us from pushing forward the preliminary in-
quiries."
"Of what nature would they be?"
"Well, to begin with, we have to satisfy ourselves
that the conditions of clause two have not been com-
plied with: that John Bellingham has not been buried
within the parish boundaries mentioned. Of course he
has not, but we must not take anything for granted.
Then we have to satisfy ourselves that he is not still


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 97
alive and accessible. It is perfectly possible that he
is, after all, and it is our business to trace him, if
he is still in the land of the living. Jervis and I can
carry out these investigations without saying anything
to Bellingham; my learned brother will look through
the register of burials—not forgetting the cremations
—in the metropolitan area, and I will take the other
matter in hand."
"You really think that John Bellingham may still
be alive?" said I.
"Since his body has not been found, it is obviously a
possibility. I think it in the highest degree improb-
able, but the improbable has to be investigated before
it can be excluded."
"It sounds a rather hopeless quest," I remarked.
"How do you propose to begin?"
"I think of beginning at the British Museum. The
people there may be able to throw some light on his
movements. I know that there are some important
excavations in progress at Heliopolis—in fact, the
Director of the Egyptian Department is out there at
the present moment; and Doctor Norbury, who is
taking his place temporarily, is an old friend of Bel-
lingham's. I shall call on him and try to discover if
there is anything that might have induced Bellingham
suddenly to go abroad to Heliopolis, f6r instance. Also
he may be able to tell me what it was that took the
missing man to Paris on that last, rather mysterious
journey. That might turn out to be an important
clue. And meanwhile, Berkeley, you must endeavor
tactfully to reconcile your friend to the idea of letting
us give an eye to the case. Make it clear to him that
I am doing this entirely for the enlargement of my
own knowledge."


98 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"But won't you have to be instructed by a solicitor?"
I asked.
"Yes, nominally; but only as a matter of etiquette.
We shall do all the actual work. Why do you ask?"
"I was thinking of the solicitor's costs, and I was
going to mention that I have a little money of my own
"Then you keep it, my dear fellow. You'll want it
when you go into practice. There will be no difficulty
about the solicitor; I shall ask one of my friends to
act nominally as a personal favor to me—Marchmont
would take the case for us, Jervis, I am sure."
"Yes," said Jervis. "Or old Brodribb, if we put it
to him amicus curia."
"It is excessively kind of both of you to take this
benevolent interest in the case of my friends," I said;
"and it is to be hoped that they won't be foolishly proud
and stiff-necked about it. It's rather the way with poor
gentlefolk."
"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Jervis. "I have a
most brilliant idea. You shall give us a little supper
at your rooms and invite the Bellinghams to meet us.
Then you and I will attack the old gentleman, and
Thorndyke shall exercise his persuasive powers on the
lady. These chronic incurable old bachelors, you know,
are quite irresistible."
"You observe that my respected junior condemns
me to lifelong celibacy," Thorndyke remarked. "But,"
he added, "his suggestion is quite a good one. Of
course, we mustn't put any sort of pressure on Belling-
ham to employ us—for that is what it amounts to, even
if we accept no payment—but a friendly talk over the
supper-table would enable us to put the matter deli-
cately and yet convincingly."


JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL 99
"Yes," said I, "I see that, and I like the idea im-
mensely. But it won't be possible for several days, be-
cause I've got a job that takes up all my spare time—
and that I ought to be at work on now," I added, with a
sudden qualm at the way in which I had forgotten the
passage of time in the interest of Thorndyke's analysis.
My two friends looked at me inquiringly, and I felt
it necessary to explain about the injured hand and the
Tell-el-Amarna tablets; which I accordingly did rather
shyly and with a nervous eye upon Jervis. The slow
grin, however, for which I was watching, never came;
on the contrary, he not only heard me through quite
gravely, but when I had finished said with some
warmth, and using my old hospital pet name:
"111 say one thing for you, Polly; you're a good
chum, and you always were. I hope your Nevill's
Court friends appreciate the fact."
"They are far more appreciative than the occasion
warrants," I answered. "But to return to this ques-
tion: how will this day week suit you?"
"It will suit me," Thorndyke answered, with a glance
at his junior.
"And me too," said the latter; "so, if it will do for
the Bellinghams, we will consider it settled; but if
they can't come, you must fix another night."
"Very well," I said, rising and knocking out my pipe.
"I will issue the invitation to-morrow. And now I
must be off to have another slog at those notes."
As I walked homeward I speculated cheerfully on
the prospect of entertaining my friends under my own
(or rather Barnard's) roof, if they could be lured out
of their eremitical retirement. The idea had, in fact,
occurred to me already, but I had been deterred by the
peculiarities of Barnard's housekeeper. For Mrs.
51367511


ioo THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Gummer was one of those housewives who make up for
an archaic simplicity of production by preparations op
the most portentous and alarming scale. But this time
I would not be deterred. If only the guests could be
enticed into my humble lair it would be easy to furnish
the raw materials of the feast from outside; and the
consideration of ways and means occupied me pleas-
antly until I found myself once more at my writing-
table, confronted by my voluminous notes on the in-
cidents of the North Syrian War.


CHAPTER VIII
A MUSEUM IDYLL
Whether it was that practise revived a forgotten
skill on my part, or that Miss Bellingham had over-
estimated the amount of work to be done, I am unable
to say. But whichever may have been the explana-
tion, the fact is that the fourth afternoon saw our task
so nearly completed that I was fain to plead that a
small remainder might be left over to form an excuse
for yet one more visit to the reading-room.
Short, however, as had been the period of our col-
laboration, it had been long enough to produce a great
change in our relations to one another. For there is
no friendship so intimate and satisfying as that en-
gendered by community of work, and none—between
man and woman, at any rate—so frank and whole-
some.
Every day had arrived to find a pile of books with
the places duly marked and the blue-covered quarto
notebooks in readiness. Every day we had worked
steadily at the allotted task, had then handed in the
books and gone forth together to enjoy a most com-
panionable tea in the milkshop; thereafter to walk
home by way of Queen Square, talking over the day's
work and discussing the state of the world in the far-
off days when Ahkhenaten was kind and the Tell-el-
Amarna tablets were a-writing.
It had been a pleasant time, so pleasant, that as I


102 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
handed in the books for the last time, I sighed to think
that it was over; that not only was the task finished,
but that the recovery of my fair patient's hand, from
which I had that morning removed the splint, had
put an end to the need of my help.
"What shall we do?" I asked, as we came out into
the central hall. "It is too early for tea. Shall we go
and look at some of the galleries?"
"Why not?" she answered. "We might look over
some of the things connected with what we have been
doing. For instance, there is a relief of Ahkhenaten
upstairs in the Third Egyptian Room; we might go
and look at it."
I fell in eagerly with the suggestion, placing myself
under her experienced guidance, and we started by way
of the Roman Gallery, past the long row of extremely
commonplace and modern-looking Roman Emperors.
"I don't know," she said, pausing for a moment op-
posite a bust labelled "Trajan" (but obviously a por-
trait of Phil May), "how I am ever even to thank you
for all that you have done, to say nothing of repay-
ment."
"There is no need to do either," I replied. "I have
enjoyed working with you so I have had my reward.
But still," I added, "if you want to do me a great
kindness, you have it in your power."
"How?"
"In connection with my friend, Doctor Thorndyke. I
told you he was an enthusiast. Now he is, for some
reason, most keenly interested in everything relating
to your uncle, and I happen to know that, if any legal
proceedings should take place, he would very much
like to keep a friendly eye on the case."
"And what do you want me to do?"


104 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Of course I should."
"Then we will go and look at them first." She
paused, and then, rather shyly and with a rising color,
she continued: "And I think I should like to intro-
duce you to a very dear friend of mine—with your
permission, of course."
This last addition she made hastily, seeing, I sup-
pose, that I looked rather glum at the suggestion. In-
wardly I consigned her friend to the devil, especially
if of the masculine gender; outwardly I expressed my
felicity at making the acquaintance of any person
whom she should honor with her friendship. Whereat,
to my discomfiture, she laughed enigmatically; a very
soft laugh, low-pitched and musical, like the cooing of
a glorified pigeon.
I strolled on by her side, speculating a little anxiously
on the coming introduction. Was I being conducted
to the lair of one of the savants attached to the estab-
lishment? and would he add a superfluous third to our
little party of two, so complete and companionable,
solus cum sola, in this populated wilderness? Above
all, would he turn out to be a young man, and bring
my aerial castles tumbling about my ears? The shy
look and the blush with which she had suggested the
introduction were ominous indications, upon which I
mused gloomily as we ascended the stairs and passed
through the wide doorway. I glanced apprehensively
at my companion, and met a quiet, inscrutable smile;
and at that moment she halted opposite a wall-case and
faced me.
"This is my friend," she said. "Let me present you
to Artemidorus, late of the Fayyum. Oh, don't smile!"
she pleaded. "I am quite serious. Have you never
heard of pious Catholics who cherish a devotion to


A MUSEUM IDYLL 105
some long-departed saint? That is my feeling toward
Artemidorus, and if you only knew what comfort he
has shed into the heart of a lonely woman; what a
quiet, unobtrusive friend he has been to me in my
solitary, friendless days, always ready with a kindly
greeting on his gentle, thoughtful face, you would like
him for that alone. And I want you to like him and
to share our silent friendship. Am I very silly, very
sentimental?"
A wave of relief swept over me, and the mercury of
my emotional thermometer, which had shrunk almost
into the bulb, leaped up to summer heat. How charm-
ing it was of her and how sweetly intimate, to wish
to share this mystical friendship with me! And what
a pretty conceit it was, too, and how like this strange,
inscrutable maiden, to come here and hold silent con-
verse with this long-departed Greek. And the pathos
of it all touched me deeply amidst the joy of this new-
born intimacy.
"Are you scornful?" she asked, with a shade of dis-
appointment, as I made no reply.
"No, indeed I am not," I answered earnestly. "I
want to make you aware of my sympathy and my ap-
preciation without offending you by seeming to exag-
gerate, and I don't know how to express it."
"Oh, never mind about the expression, so long as
you feel it. I thought you would understand," and
she gave me a smile that made me tingle to my finger-
tips.
We stood awhile gazing in silence at the mummy—
for such, indeed, was her friend Artemidorus. But not
an ordinary mummy. Egyptian in form, it was entirely
Greek in feeling; and brightly colored as it was, in
accordance with the racial love of color, the tasteful


A MUSEUM IDYLL 107
"Yes," I said, "it is very dignified and very human."
"And so sincere and full of real emotion," she added.
"I find it unspeakably touching. 'O Artemidorus,
farewell!' There is the real note of human grief, the
sorrow of eternal parting. How much finer it is than
the vulgar boastfulness of the Semitic epitaphs, or our
own miserable, insincere make-believe of the 'Not lost
but gone before' type. He was gone from them for
ever; they would look on his face and hear his voice
no more; they realized that this was their last farewell.
Oh, there is a world of love and sorrow in those two
simple words!"
For some time neither of us spoke. The glamour of
this touching memorial of a long-buried grief had sto-
len over me, and I was content to stand silent by my
beloved companion and revive, with a certain pensive
pleasure, the ghosts of human emotions over which so
many centuries had rolled. Presently she turned to
me with a frank smile. "You have been weighed in
the balance of friendship," she said, "and not found
wanting. You have the gift of sympathy, even with a
woman's sentimental fancies."
I suspected that a good many men would have de-
veloped this precious quality under the circumstances,
but I refrained from saying so. There is no use in
crying down one's own wares. I was glad enough to
have earned her good opinion so easily, and when she
at length turned away from the case and passed
through into the adjoining room, it was a very com-
placent young man who bore her company.
"Here is Ahkhenaten—or Khu-en-aten, as the au-
thorities here render the hieroglyphics. She indi-
cated a fragment of a colored relief labeled: 'Portion
of a painted stone tablet with a portrait figure of


108 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Amen-hotep IV," and we stopped to look at the frail,
effeminate figure of the great king, with his large
cranium, his queer, pointed chin, and the Aten rays
stretching out their weird hands as if caressing him.
"We mustn't stay here if you want to see my uncle's
gift, because this room closes at four to-day." With
this admonition she moved on to the other end of the
room, where she halted before a large floor-case con-
taining a mummy and a large number of other objects.
A black label with white lettering set forth the vari-
ous contents with a brief explanation as follows:
"Mummy of Sebek-hotep, a scribe of the twenty-
second dynasty, together with the objects found in
the tomb. These include the four Canopic jars, in
which the internal organs were deposited, the Ushabti
figures, tomb provisions and various articles that
had belonged to the deceased; his favorite chair, his
head-rest, his ink-palette, inscribed with his name
and the name of the king, Osorkon I, in whose reign
he lived, and other smaller articles. Presented by
John Bellingham, Esq."
"They have put all the objects together in one case,"
Miss Bellingham explained, "to show the contents of
an ordinary tomb of the better class. You see that
the dead man was provided with all his ordinary com-
forts; provisions, furniture, the ink-palette that he had
been accustomed to use in writing on papyri, and a
staff of servants to wait on him."
"Where are the servants?" I asked.
"The little Ushabti figures," she answered; "they
were the attendants of the dead, you know, his servants
in the under-world. It was a quaint idea, wasn't it?


A MUSEUM IDYLL 109
But it was all very complete and consistent, and quite
reasonable, too, if one once accepts the belief in the per-
sistence of the individual apart from the body."
"Yes," I agreed, "and that is the only fair way to
judge a religious system, by taking the main beliefs for
granted. But what a business it must have been,
bringing all these things from Egypt to London."
"It is worth the trouble, though, for it is a fine and
instructive collection. And the work is all very good
of its kind. You notice that the Ushabti figures and
the heads that form the stoppers of the Canopic jars
are quite finely modeled. The mummy itself, too, is
rather handsome, though that coat of bitumen on the
back doesn't improve it. But Sebek-hotep must have
been a fine-looking man."
"The mask on the face is a portrait, I suppose?"
"Yes; in fact, it's rather more. To some extent it is
the actual face of the man himself. This mummy is en-
closed in what is called a cartonnage, that is a case
molded on the figure. The cartonnage was formed
of a number of layers of linen or papyrus united by
glue or cement, and when the case had been fitted to a
mummy it was molded to the body, so that the general
form of the features and limbs was often apparent.
After the cement was dry the case was covered with a
thin layer of stucco and the face modeled more com-
pletely, and then decorations and inscriptions were
painted on. So that, you see, in a cartonnage, the body
was sealed up like a nut in its shell, unlike the more
ancient forms in which the mummy was merely rolled
up and enclosed in a wooden coffin."
At this moment there smote upon our ears a politely
protesting voice announcing in sing-song tones that it
was closing time; and simultaneously a desire for tea


no THE EYE OF OSIRIS
suggested the hospitable milk-shop. With leisurely
dignity that ignored the official who shepherded us
along the galleries, we made our way to the entrance,
still immersed in conversation on matters sepulchral.
It was rather earlier than our usual hour for leaving
the Museum and, moreover, it was our last day—for
the present. Wherefore we lingered over our tea to an
extent that caused the milk-shop lady to view us with
some disfavor, and when at length we started home-
ward, we took so many short cuts that six o'clock found
us no nearer our destination than Lincoln's Inn Fields;
whither we had journeyed by a slightly indirect route
that traversed (among other places) Russell Square,
Red Lion Square, with the quaint passage of the same
name, Bedford Row, Jockey's Fields, Hand Court, and
Great Turnstile.
It was in the last thoroughfare that our attention
was attracted by a flaring poster outside a newsven-
dor's bearing the startling inscription:
"MORE MEMENTOES
OF MURDERED MAN."
Miss Bellingham glanced at the poster and shud-
dered.
"Horrible, isn't it?" she said. "Have you read about
them?"
"I haven't been noticing the papers the last few
days," I replied.
"No, of course you haven't. You've been slaving at
those wretched notes. We don't very often see the
papers, at least we don't take them in, but Miss Oman
has kept us supplied during the last day or two. She
X


A MUSEUM IDYLL in
is a perfect little ghoul; she delights in horrors of
every kind, and the more horrible the better."
"But," I asked, "what is it they have found?"
"Oh, they are the remains of some poor creature who
seems to have been murdered and cut into pieces. It is
dreadful. It made me shudder to read of it, for I
couldn't help thinking of poor Uncle John, and, as for
my father, he was really quite upset."
"Are these the bones that were found in a watercress-
bed at Sidcup?"
"Yes, but they have found several more. The police
have been most energetic. They seem to have been
making a systematic search, and the result has been
that they have discovered several portions of the body,
scattered about in very widely separated places—Sid-
cup, Lee, St. Mary Cray; and yesterday it was re-
ported that an arm had been found in one of the ponds
called 'the Cuckoo Pits,' close to our old home."
"What! in Essex?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, in Epping Forest, quite near Woodford. Isn't
it dreadful to think of it? They were probably hidden
when we were living there. I think it was that tha£
horrified my father so much. When he read it he was
so upset that he gathered up the whole bundle of news-
papers and tossed them out of the window; and they
blew over the wall, and poor Miss Oman had to rush
and pursue them up the court."
"Do you think he suspects that these remains may
be those of your uncle?"
"I think so, though he has said nothing to that effect
and, of course, I have not made any suggestion to
him. We always preserve the fiction between ourselves
of believing that Uncle John is still alive."
"But you don't think he is, do you?"


112 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"No, I'm afraid I don't; and I feel pretty sure that
my father doesn't think so either, but he doesn't like
to admit it to me."
"Do you happen to remember what bones have been
found?"
"No, I don't. I know that an arm was found in the
Cuckoo Pits, and I think a thigh-bone was dredged up
out of a pond near St. Mary Cray. But Miss Oman
will be able to tell you all about it, if you are inter-
ested. She will be delighted to meet a kindred spirit,"
Miss Bellingham added, with a smile.
"I don't know that I claim spiritual kinship with a
ghoul," said I; "especially such a very sharp-tempered
ghoul."
"Oh, don't disparage her, Doctor Berkeley!" Miss
Bellingham pleaded. "She isn't really bad-tempered;
only a little prickly on the surface. I oughn't to have
called her a ghoul; she is just the sweetest, most affec-
tionate, most unselfish little angelic human hedgehog
that you could find if you traveled the wide world
through. Do you know that she has been working her
fingers to the bone making an old dress of mine present-
able because she is so anxious that I shall look nice
at your little supper party."
"You are sure to do that, in any case," I said; "but
I withdraw my remark as to her temper unreservedly.
And I really didn't mean it, you know; I have always
liked the little lady."
"That's right; and now won't you come in and have
a few minutes' chat with my father? We are quite
early in spite of the short cuts."
I accepted readily, and the more so inasmuch as I
wanted a few words with Miss Oman on the subject of
catering and did not want to discuss it before my


A MUSEUM IDYLL 113
friends. Accordingly I went in and gossiped with Mr.
Bellingham, chiefly about the work we had done at
the Museum, until it was time for me to return to the
surgery.
Having taken my leave, I walked down the stairs
with reflective slowness and as much creaking of my
boots as I could manage; with the result, hopefully
anticipated, that as I approached the door of Miss
Oman's room it opened and the lady's head protruded.
"I'd change my cobbler if I were you," she said.
I thought of the "angelic human hedgehog," and
nearly sniggered in her face.
"I am sure you would, Miss Oman, instantly;
though, mind you, the poor fellow can't help his looks."
"You are a very flippant young man," she said se-
verely. Whereat I grinned, and she regarded me si-
lently with a baleful glare. Suddenly I remembered
my mission and became serious and sober.
"Miss Oman," I said. "I very much want to take
your advice on a matter of some importance—to me,
at least." (That ought to fetch her, I thought. The
"advice fly"—strangely neglected by Izaak Walton—
is guaranteed to kill in any weather.) And it did fetch
her. She rose in a flash and gorged it, cock's feathers,
worsted body and all.
"What is it about?" she asked eagerly. "But don't
stand out there where everybody can hear but me.
Come in and sit down."
Now I didn't want to discuss the matter here, and,
besides, there was not time. I therefore assumed an
air of mystery.
"I can't, Miss Oman. I'm due at the surgery now.
But if you should be passing and should have a few


.114 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
minutes to spare, I should be greatly obliged if you
would look in. I really don't quite know how to act."
"No, I expect not. Men very seldom do. But
you're better than most, for you know when you are
in difficulties and have the sense to consult a woman.
But what is it about? Perhaps I might be thinking
it over."
"Well, you know," I began evasively, "it's a simple
matter, but I can't very well—no, by Jove!" I added,
looking at my watch, "I must run, or I shall keep the
multitude waiting." And with this I bustled away,
leaving her literally dancing with curiosity.


CHAPTER IX
THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN
At the age of twenty-six one cannot claim to have
attained to the position of a person of experience.
Nevertheless, the knowledge of human nature accu-
mulated in that brief period sufficed to make me feel
confident that, at some time during the evening, I
should receive a visit from Miss Oman. And circum-
stances justified my confidence; for the clock yet stood
at two minutes to seven when a premonitory tap at
the surgery door heralded her arrival.
"I happened to be passing," she explained, and I
forbore to smile at the coincidence, "so I thought I
might as well drop in and hear what you wanted to
ask me about."
She seated herself in the patients' chair and laying a
bundle of newspapers on the table, glared at me ex-
pectantly.
"Thank you, Miss Oman," said I. "It is very good
of you to look in on me. I am ashamed to give you
all this trouble about such a trifling matter."
She rapped her knuckles impatiently on the table.
"Never mind about the trouble," she exclaimed tart-
ly. "What—is—it—that—you—want—to—ask—me
about?"
I stated my difficulties in respect of the supper-party,
and, as I proceeded, an expression of disgust and dis-
appointment spread over her countenance.
"5


n6 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I don't see why you need have been so mysterious
about it," she said glumly.
"I didn't mean to be mysterious; I was only anxious
not to make a mess of the affair. It's all very fine
to assume a lofty scorn of the pleasures of the table,
but there is great virtue in a really good feed, espe-
cially when low-living and high-thinking have been the
order of the day."
"Coarsely put," said Miss Oman, "but perfectly
true."
"Very well. Now, if I leave the management to
Mrs. Gummer, she will probably provide a tepid Irish
stew with flakes of congealed fat on it, and a plastic
suet-pudding or something of that kind, and turn the
house upside down in getting it ready. So I thought
of having a cold spread and getting the things from
outside. But I don't want it to look as if I had been
making enormous preparations."
"They won't think the things came down from
heaven," said Miss Oman.
"No, I suppose they won't. But you know what I
mean. Now, where do you advise me to go for the
raw materials of conviviality?"
Miss Oman reflected. "You had better let me do
your shopping and manage the whole business," was
her final verdict.
This was precisely what I wanted, and I accepted
thankfully, regardless of the feelings of Mrs. Gummer.
I handed her two pounds, and, after some protests at
my extravagance, she bestowed them in her purse; a
process that occupied time, since that receptacle, be-
sides being a sort of miniature Record Office of frayed
and time-stained bills, already bulged with a lading
of draper's samples, ends of tape, a card of linen but-


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 117
tons, another of hooks and eyes, a lump of beeswax, a
rat-eaten stump of leadpencil, and other trifles that I
have forgotten. As she closed the purse at the im-
minent risk of wrenching off its fastenings she looked
at me severely and pursed her lips.
"You're a very plausible young man," she remarked.
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
"Philandering about museums," she continued, "with
handsome young ladies on the pretense of work.
Work, indeed! Oh, I heard her telling her father
about it. She thinks you were perfectly enthralled by
the mummies and dried cats and chunks of stone and
all the other trash. She doesn't know what humbugs
men are."
"Really, Miss Oman," I began.
"Oh, don't talk to me!" she snapped. "I can see it
all. You can't impose upon me. I can see you staring
into those glass cases, egging her on to talk and listen-
ing open-mouthed and bulging-eyed and sitting at her
feet—now, didn't you?"
"I don't know about sitting at her feet," I said,
"though it might easily have come to that with those
infernal slippery floors; but I had a very jolly time,
and I mean to go again if I can. Miss Bellingham is
the cleverest and most accomplished woman I have
ever spoken to."
This was a poser for Miss Oman, whose admiration
and loyalty, I knew, were only equaled by my own.
She would have liked to contradict me, but the thing
was impossible. To cover her defeat she snatched up
the bundle of newspapers and began to open them out.
"What sort of stuff is 'hibernation'?" she demanded
suddenly.
"Hibernation!" I exclaimed.


n8 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Yes. They found a patch of it on a bone that was
discovered in a pond at St. Mary Cray, and a similar
patch on one that was found at some other place in
Essex. Now, I want to know what 'hibernation' is."
"You must mean 'eburnation,' " I said, after a mo-
ment's reflection.
"The newspapers say 'hibernation,' and I suppose
they know what they are talking about. If you don't
know what it is, don't be ashamed to say so."
"Well, then, I don't."
"In that case you had better read the papers and find
out," she said, a little illogically. And then: "Are
you fond of murders? I am, awfully."
"What a shocking little ghoul you must be!" I ex-
claimed.
She stuck out her chin at me. "I'll trouble you," she
said, "to be a little more respectful in your language.
Do you realize that I am old enough to be your
mother?"
"Impossible!" I ejaculated.
"Fact," said Miss Oman.
"Well, anyhow," said I, "age is not the only qualifi-
cation. And besides, you are too late for the billet.
The vacancy's filled."
Miss Oman slapped the papers down on the table
and rose abruptly.
"You had better read the papers and see if you can
learn a little sense," she said severely as she turned to
go. "Oh, and don't forget the finger!" she added
eagerly. "That is really thrilling."
"The finger?" I repeated.
"Yes. They found a hand with one missing. The
police think it is an important clue. I don't know


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 119
what they mean; but you read the account and tell me
what you think."
With this parting injunction she bustled out through
the surgery, and I followed to bid her a ceremonious
adieu on the doorstep. I watched her little figure trip-
ping with quick, bird-like steps down Fetter Lane, and
was about to turn back into the surgery when my
attention was attracted by the evolutions of an elderly
gentleman on the opposite side of the street. He was
a somewhat peculiar-looking man, tall, gaunt, and
bony, and the way in which he carried his head sug-
gested to the medical mind a pronounced degree of
near sight and a pair of "deep" spectacle glasses. Sud-
denly he espied me and crossed the road with his chin
thrust forward and a pair of keen blue eyes directed
at me through the centers of his spectacles.
"I wonder if you can and will help me," said he,
with a courteous salute. "I wish to call on an ac-
quaintance, and I have forgotten his address. It is
in some court, but the name of that court has escaped
me for the moment. My friend's name is Bellingham.
I suppose you don't chance to know it? Doctors know
a great many people, as a rule."
"Do you mean Mr. Godfrey Bellingham?"
"Ah! Then you do know him. I have not consulted
the oracle in vain. He is a patient of yours, no doubt?"
"A patient and a personal friend. His address is
Forty-nine Nevill's Court."
"Thank you, thank you. Oh, and as you are a
friend, perhaps you can inform me as to the customs of
the household. I am not expected, and I do not wish
to make an untimely visit. What are Mr. Belling-
ham's habits as to his evening meal? Would this be
a convenient time to call?"


120 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I generally make my evening visits a little later
than this—say about half-past eight; they have finished
their meal by then."
"Ah! Half-past eight, then? Then I suppose I had
better take a walk until that time. I don't want to
disturb them."
"Would you care to come in and smoke a cigar until
it is time to make your call? If you would, I could
walk over with you and show you the house."
"That is very kind of you," said my new acquaint-
ance, with an inquisitive glance at me through his
spectacles. "I think I should like to sit down. It's
a dull affair, mooning about the streets, and there isn't
time to go back to my chambers—in Lincoln's Inn."
"I wonder," said I, as I ushered him into the room
lately vacated by Miss Oman, "if you happen to be
Mr. Jellicoe."
He turned his spectacles full on me with a keen, sus-
picious glance. "What makes you think I am Mr.
Jellicoe?" he asked.
"Oh, only that you live in Lincoln's Inn."
"Ha! I see. I live in Lincoln's Inn; Mr. Jellicoe
lives in Lincoln's Inn; therefore I am Mr. Jellicoe.
Hal ha! Bad logic, but a correct conclusion. Yes, I
am Mr. Jellicoe. What do you know about me?"
"Mighty little, excepting that you were the late
John Bellingham's man of business."
"The 'late John Bellingham/ hey! How do you
know he is the late John Bellingham?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't; only I rather under-
stood that that was your own belief."
"You understood! Now from whom did you 'un-
derstand' that? From Godfrey Bellingham? H'm!
And how did he know what I believe? I never told


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 121
him. It is a very unsafe thing, my dear sir, to expound
another man's beliefs."
"Then you think that John Bellingham is alive?"
"Do I? Who said so? I did not, you know."
"But he must be either dead or alive."
"There," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I am entirely with you.
You have stated an undeniable truth."
"It is not a very illuminating one, however," I re-
plied, laughing.
"Undeniable truths often are not," he retorted.
"They are apt to be extremely general. In fact, I
would affirm that the certainty of the truth of a given
proposition is directly proportional to its generality."
"I suppose that is so," said I.
"Undoubtedly. Take an instance from your own
profession. Given a million normal human beings
under twenty, and you can say with certainty that a
majority of them will die before reaching a certain
age, that they will die in certain circumstances and of
certain diseases. Then take a single unit from that
million, and what can you predict concerning him?
Nothing. He may die to-morrow; he may live to be
a couple of hundred. He may die of a cold in the
head or a cut finger, or from falling off the cross of
St. Paul's. In a particular case you can predict
nothing." i
"That is perfectly true," said I. And then realizing
that I had been led away from the topic of John Belling-
ham, I ventured to return to it.
"That was a very mysterious affair—the disappear-
ance of John Bellingham, I mean."
"Why mysterious?" asked Mr. Jellicoe. "Men dis-
appear from time to time, and when they reappear, the


122 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
explanations that they give (when they give any) seem
more or less adequate."
"But the circumstances were surely rather mys-
terious."
"What circumstances?" asked Mr. Jellicoe.
"I mean the way in which he vanished from Mr.
Hurst's house."
"In what way did he vanish from it?"
"Well, of course, I don't know."
"Precisely. Neither do I. Therefore I can't say
whether that way was a mysterious one or not."
"It is not even certain that he did leave it," I re-
marked, rather recklessly.
"Exactly," said Mr. Jellicoe. "And if he did not,
he is there still. And if he is there still, he has not
disappeared—in the sense understood. And if he has
not disappeared, there is no mystery."
I laughed heartily, but Mr. Jellicoe preserved a
wooden solemnity and continued to examine me through
his spectacles (which I, in my turn, inspected and es-
timated at about minus five dioptres). There was
something highly diverting about this grim lawyer,
with his dry contentiousness and almost farcical cau-
tion. His ostentatious reserve encouraged me to ply
him with fresh questions, the more indiscreet the better.
"I suppose," said I, "that, under these circum-
stances, you would hardly favor Mr. Hurst's proposal
to apply for permission to presume death?"
"Under what circumstances?" he inquired.
"I was referring to the doubt you have expressed as
to whether John Bellingham is, after all, really dead."
"My dear sir," said he, "I fail to see your point. If
it were certain that the man was alive, it would be im-
possible to presume that he was dead; and if it were


124 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"In science, no doubt. Not in law. A court of law
must decide according to the evidence which is before
it; and that evidence is of the nature of sworn testi-
mony. If a witness is prepared to swear that black
is white and no evidence to the contrary is offered, the
evidence before the Court is that black is white, and
the Court must decide accordingly. The judge and
the jury may think otherwise—they may even have
private knowledge to the contrary—but they have to
decide according to the evidence."
"Do you mean to say that a judge would be justified
in giving a decision which he knew to be contrary to
the facts? Or that he might sentence a man whom
he knew to be innocent?"
"Certainly. It has been done. There is a case of a
judge who sentenced a man to death and allowed the
execution to take place, notwithstanding that he—the
judge—had actually seen the murder committed by an-
other man. But that was carrying correctness of pro-
cedure to the verge of pedantry."
"It was, with a vengeance," I agreed. "But to re-
turn to the case of John Bellingham. Supposing that
after the Court has decided that he is dead he should
return alive? What then?"
"Ah! It would then be his turn to make an applica-
tion, and the Court, having fresh evidence laid before
it, would probably decide that he was alive."
"And meantime his property would have been dis-
persed?"
"Probably. But you will observe that the presump-
tion of death would have arisen out of his own pro-
ceedings. If a man acts in such a way as to create a
belief that he is dead, he must put up with the con-
sequences."


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 125
"Yes, that is reasonable enough," said I. And then,
after a pause, I asked: "Is there any immediate like-
lihood of proceedings of the kind being commenced?"
"I understood from what you said just now that Mr.
Hurst was contemplating some action of the kind. No
doubt you had your information from a reliable quar-
ter." This answer Mr. Jellicoe delivered without mov-
ing a muscle, regarding me with the fixity of a spec-
tacled figurehead.
I smiled feebly. The operation of pumping Mr. Jel-
licoe was rather like the sport of boxing with a porcu-
pine, being chiefly remarkable as a demonstration of
the power of passive resistance. I determined, how-
ever, to make one more effort, rather, I think, for the
pleasure of witnessing his defensive maneuvers than
with the expectation of getting anything out of him.
I accordingly "opened out" on the subject of the
"remains."
"Have you been following these remarkable discov-
eries of human bones that have been appearing in the
papers?" I asked.
He looked at me stonily for some moments, and then
replied:
"Human bones are rather more within your province
than mine, but, now that you mention it, I think I
recall having read of some such discoveries. They
were disconnected bones, I believe."
"Yes; evidently parts of a dismembered body."
"So I should suppose. No, I have not followed the
accounts. As we get on in life our interests tend to
settle into grooves, and my groove is chiefly connected
with conveyancing. These discoveries would be of
more interest to a criminal lawyer."


126 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I thought you might, perhaps, have connected them
with the disappearance of your client?"
"Why should I? What could be the nature of the
connection?"
"Well," I said, "these are the bones of a man"
"Yes; and my client was a man with bones. That
is a connection, certainly, though not a very specific
or distinctive one. But perhaps you had something
more particular in your mind?"
"I had," I replied. "The fact that some of the bones
were actually found on land belonging to your client
seemed to me rather significant."
"Did it, indeed?" said Mr. Jellicoe. He reflected
for a few moments, gazing steadily at me the while,
and then continued: "In that I am unable to follow
you. It would have seemed to me that the finding of
human remains upon a certain piece of land might
conceivably throw a prima facie suspicion upon the
owner or occupant of the land as being the person who
deposited them. But the case that you suggest is the
one case in which this would be impossible. A man
cannot deposit his own dismembered remains."
"No, of course not. I was not suggesting that he
deposited them himself, but merely that the fact of
their being deposited on his land, in a way, connected
these remains with him."
"Again," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I fail to follow you,
unless you are suggesting that it is customary for mur-
derers who mutilate bodies to be punctilious in de-
positing the dismembered remains upon land belonging
to their victims. In which case I am skeptical as to
your facts. I am not aware of the existence of any such
custom. Moreover, it appears that only a portion of
the body was deposited on Mr. Bellingham's land, the


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 127
remaining portions having been scattered broadcast
over a wide area. How does that agree with your sug-
gestion?"
"It doesn't, of course," I admitted. "But there is
another fact that I think you will admit to be more
significant. The first remains that were discovered
were found at Sidcup. Now, Sidcup is close to El-
tham; and Eltham is the place where Mr. Bellingham
was last seen alive."
"And what is the significance of this? Why do you
connect the remains with one locality rather than the
various other localities in which other portions of the
body were found?"
"Well," I replied, rather graveled by this very per-
tinent question, "the appearances seem to suggest that
the person who deposited these remains started from
the neighborhood of Eltham, where the missing man
was last seen."
Mr. Jellicoe shook his head. "You appear," said
he, "to be confusing the order of deposition with the
order of discovery. What evidence is there that the
remains found at Sidcup were deposited before those
found elsewhere?"
"I don't know that there is any," I admitted.
"Then," said he, "I don't see how you support your
suggestion that the person started from the neighbor-
hood of Eltham."
On consideration, I had to admit that I had nothing
to offer in support of my theory; and having thus shot
my last arrow in this very unequal contest, I thought
it time to change the subject.
"I called in at the British Museum the other day,"
said I, "and had a look at Mr. Bellingham's last gift


128 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
to the nation. The things are very well shown in that
central case."
"Yes. I was very pleased with the position they
have given to the exhibit, and so would my poor old
friend have been. I wished, as I looked at the case,
that he could have seen it. But perhaps he may, after
all."
"I am sure I hope he will," said I, with more sincer-
ity, perhaps, than the lawyer gave me credit for. For
the return of John Bellingham would most effectually
have cut the Gordian knot of my friend Godfrey's diffi-
culties. "You are a good deal interested in Egyptol-
ogy yourself, aren't you?" I added.
"Greatly interested," replied Mr. Jellicoe, with more
animation than I had thought possible in his wooden
face. "It is a fascinating subject, the study of this
venerable civilization, extending back to the childhood
of the human race, preserved for ever for our instruc-
tion in its own unchanging monuments like a fly in a
block of amber. Everything connected with Egypt is
full of an impressive solemnity. A feeling of perma-
nence, of stability, defying time and change, pervades
it. The place, the people, and the monuments alike
breathe of eternity."
I was mightily surprised at this rhetorical outburst
on the part of this dry, taciturn lawyer. But I liked
him the better for the touch of enthusiasm that made
him human, and determined to keep him astride of his
hobby.
"Yet," said I, "the people must have changed in the
course of centuries."
"Yes, that is so. The people who fought against
Cambyses were not the race who marched into Egypt
five thousand years before—the dynastic people whose


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 129
portraits we see on the early monuments. In those fifty
centuries the blood of Hyksos and Syrians and Ethio-
pians and Hittites, and who can say how many more
races, must have mingled with that of the old Egyptians.
But still the national life went on without a break; the
old culture leavened the new peoples, and the immigrant
strangers ended by becoming Egyptians. It is a won-
derful phenomenon. Looking back on it from our
own time, it seems more like a geological period than
the life history of a single nation. Are you at all
interested in the subject?"
"Yes, decidedly, though I am completely ignorant of
it. The fact is that my interest is of quite recent
growth. It is only of late that I have been sensible of
the glamor of things Egyptian."
"Since you made Miss Bellingham's acquaintance,
perhaps?" suggested Mr. Jellicoe, himself as unchang-
ing in aspect as an Egyptian effigy.
I suppose I must have reddened—I certainly resented
the remark—for he continued in the same even tone:
"I made the suggestion because I know that she takes
an intelligent interest in the subject and is, in fact,
quite well informed on it."
"Yes; she seems to know a great deal about the an-
tiquities of Egypt, and I may as well admit that your
surmise was correct. It was she who showed me her
uncle's collection."
"So I had supposed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "And a
very instructive collection it is, in a popular sense; very
suitable for exhibition in a public museum, though there
is nothing in it of unusual interest to the expert. The
tomb furniture is excellent of its kind and the carton-
nage case of the mummy is well made and rather finely
decorated."


130 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Yes, I thought it quite handsome. But can you
explain to me why, after taking all that trouble to deco-
rate it, they should have disfigured it with those great
smears of bitumen?"
"Ah!" said Mr. Jellicoe, "that is quite an interesting
question. It is not unusual to find mummy cases
smeared with bitumen; there is a mummy of a priestess
in the next gallery which is completely coated with
bitumen except the gilded face. Now, this bitumen was
put on for a purpose—for the purpose of obliterating
the inscriptions and thus concealing the identity of the
deceased from the robbers and desecrators of tombs.
And there is the oddity of this mummy of Sebek-hotep.
Evidently there was an intention of obliterating the
inscriptions. The whole of the back is covered thickly
with bitumen, and so are the feet. Then the workers
seem to have changed their minds and left the inscrip-
tions and decoration untouched. Why they intended to
cover it, and why, having commenced, they left it par-
tially covered only, is a mystery. The mummy was
found in its original tomb and quite undisturbed, so
far as tomb-robbers are concerned. Poor Bellingham
was greatly puzzled as to what the explanation could
be."
"Speaking of bitumen," said I, "reminds me of a
question that has occurred to me. You know that this
substance has been used a good deal by modern paint-
ers and that it has a very dangerous peculiarity; I mean
its tendency to liquefy, without any obvious reason,
long after it has dried."
"Yes, I know. Isn't there some story about a pic-
ture of Reynolds's in which bitumen had been used? A
portrait of a lady, I think. The bitumen softened, and
one of the lady's eyes slipped down on to her cheek;


THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN 131
and they had to hang the portrait upside down and keep
it warm until the eye slipped back again into its place.
But what was your question?"
"I was wondering whether the bitumen used by the
Egyptian artists has ever been known to soften after
this great lapse of time."
"Yes, I think it has. I have heard of instances in
which the bitumen coatings have softened under cer-
tain circumstances and become quite 'tacky.' But,
bless my soul! here am I gossiping with you and wast-
ing your time, and it is nearly a quarter to nine!"
My guest rose hastily, and I, with many apologies
for having detained him, proceeded to fulfil my prom-
ise to guide him to his destination. As we sallied forth
together the glamour of Egypt faded by degrees, and
when he shook my hand stiffly at the gate of the Bel-
linghams' house, all his vivacity and enthusiasm had
vanished, leaving the taciturn lawyer, dry, uncommu-
nicative, and not a little suspicious.


CHAPTER X
THE NEW ALLIANCE
The "Great Lexicographer"—tutelary deity of my
adopted habitat—has handed down to shuddering pos-
terity a definition of the act of eating which might have
been framed by a dyspeptic ghoul. "Eat: to devour
with the mouth." It is a shocking view to take of so
genial a function: cynical, indelicate, and finally unfor-
givable by reason of its very accuracy. For, after all,
that is what eating amounts to, if one must needs
express it with such crude brutality. But if "the in-
gestion of alimentary substances"—to ring a modern
change upon the older formula—is in itself a process
material even unto carnality, it is undeniable that it
forms a highly agreeable accompaniment to more psy-
chic manifestations.
And so, as the lamplight, reinforced by accessory
candles, falls on the little table in the first-floor room
looking on Fetter Lane—only now the curtains are
drawn—the conversation is not the less friendly and
bright for a running accompaniment executed with
knives and forks, for clink of goblet, and jovial gurgle
of wine-flask. On the contrary, to one of us, at least—
to wit, Godfrey Bellingham—the occasion is one of un-
common festivity, and his boyish enjoyment of the sim-
ple feast makes pathetic suggestions of hard times,
faced uncomplainingly, but keenly felt nevertheless.
The talk flitted from topic to topic, mainly concern-
132


THE NEW ALLIANCE 133
ing itself with matters artistic, and never for one mo-
ment approaching the critical subject of John Belling-
ham's will. From the stepped pyramid of Sakkara with
its encaustic tiles to medieval church floors; from Eliz-
abethan woodwork to Mycenean pottery, and thence to
the industrial arts of the Stone Age and the civilization
of the Aztecs. I began to suspect that my two legal
friends were so carried away by the interest of the
conversation that they had forgotten the secret purpose
of the meeting, for the dessert had been placed on the
table (by Mrs. Gummer with the manner of a bereaved
dependent dispensing funeral bakemeats), and still no
reference had been made to the "case." But it seemed
that Thorndyke was but playing a waiting game; was
only allowing the intimacy to ripen while he watched
for the opportunity. And that opportunity came, even
as Mrs. Gummer vanished spectrally with a tray of
plates and glasses.
"So you had a visitor last night, Doctor," said Mr.
Bellingham. "I mean my friend Jellicoe. He told us
he had seen you, and mighty curious he was about you.
I have never known Jellicoe to be so inquisitive before.
What did you think of him?"
"A quaint old cock. I found him highly amusing.
We entertained one another for quite a long time with
cross-questions and crooked answers; I affecting eager
curiosity, he replying with a defensive attitude of uni-
versal ignorance. It was a most diverting encounter."
"He needn't have been so close," Miss Bellingham
remarked, "seeing that all the world will be regaled
with our affairs before long."
"They are proposing to take the case into Court,
then?" said Thorndyke.
"Yes," said Mr. Bellingham. "Jellicoe came to tell


134 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
me that my cousin, Hurst, has instructed his solicitors
to make the application and to invite me to join him.
Actually he came to deliver an ultimatum from Hurst—
but I mustn't disturb the harmony of this festive gath-
ering with litigious discords."
"Now, why mustn't you?" asked Thorndyke. "Why
is a subject in which we are all keenly interested to be
taboo? You don't mind telling us about it, do you?"
"No, of course not. But what do you think of a man
who button-holes a doctor at a dinner-party to retail a
list of ailments?"
"It depends on what his ailments are," replied Thorn-
dyke. "If he is a chronic dyspeptic and wishes to ex-
pound the virtues of Doctor Snaffler's Purple Pills for
Pimply People, he is merely a bore. But if he chances
to suffer from some rare and choice disease such as
Trypanosomiasis or Acromegaly, the doctor will be
delighted to listen."
"Then are we to understand," Miss Bellingham
asked, "that we are rare and choice products, in a
legal sense?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Thorndyke. "The case of
John Bellingham is, in many respects, unique. It will
be followed with the deepest interest by the profession
at large, and especially by medical jurists."
"How gratifying that should be to us!" said Miss
Bellingham. "We may even attain undying fame in
textbooks and treatises; and yet we are not so very
much puffed up with our importance."
"No," said her father; "we could do without the
fame quite well, and so, I think, could Hurst. Did
Berkeley tell you of the proposal that he made?"
"Yes," said Thorndyke; "and I gather from what
you say that he has repeated it."


THE NEW ALLIANCE 135
"Yes. He sent Jellicoe to give me another chance,
and I was tempted to take it; but my daughter was
strongly against any compromise, and probably she is
right. At any rate, she is more concerned than I am."
"What view did Mr. Jellicoe take?" Thorndyke
asked.
"Oh, he was very cautious and reserved, but he
didn't disguise his feeling that I should be wise to take
a certainty in lieu of a very problematical fortune. He
would certainly like me to agree, for he naturally wishes
to get the affair settled and pocket his legacy."
"And have you definitely refused?"
"Yes; quite definitely. So Hurst will apply for per-
mission to presume death and prove the will, and Jel-
licoe will support him; he says he has no choice."
"And you?"
"I suppose I shall oppose the application, though I
don't quite know on what grounds."
"Before you take definite steps," said Thorndyke,
"you ought to give the matter very careful considera-
tion. I take it that you have very little doubt that
your brother is dead. And if he is dead, any benefit
that you may receive under the will must be conditional
on the previous presumption or proof of death. But
perhaps you have taken advice?"
"No, I have not. As our friend the Doctor has
probably told you, my means—or rather, the lack of
them—do not admit of my getting professional advice.
Hence my delicacy about discussing the case with you."
"Then do you propose to conduct your case in per-
son?"
"Yes; if it is necessary for me to appear in Court, as
I suppose it will be, if I oppose the application."


136 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Thorndyke reflected for a few moments and then
said gravely:
"You had much better not appear in person to con-
duct your case, Mr. Bellingham, for several reasons.
To begin with, Mr. Hurst is sure to be represented by
a capable counsel, and you will find yourself quite un-
able to meet the sudden exigencies of a contest in Court.
You will be out-maneuvered. Then there is the judge
to be considered."
"But surely one can rely on the judge dealing fairly
with a man who is unable to afford a solicitor and
counsel?"
"Undoubtedly, as a rule, a judge will give an unrep-
resented litigant every assistance and consideration.
English judges in general are high-minded men with a
deep sense of their great responsibilities. But you
cannot afford to take any chances. You must consider
the exceptions. A judge has been a counsel, and he
may carry to the bench some of the professional prej-
udices of the bar. Indeed, if you consider the absurd
license permitted to counsel in their treatment of wit-
nesses, and the hostile attitude adopted by some judges
toward medical and other scientific men who have to
give their evidence, you will see that the judicial mind
is not always quite as judicial as one would wish, es-
pecially when the privileges and immunities of the pro-
fession are concerned. Now, your appearance in per-
son to conduct your case must, unavoidably, cause some
inconvenience to the Court. Your ignorance of pro-
cedure and legal details must occasion some delay;
and if the judge should happen to be an irritable man
he might resent the inconvenience and delay. I don't
say that would affect his decision—I don't think it
would—but I am sure it would be wise to avoid giving


THE NEW ALLIANCE 137
offense to the judge. And, above all, it is most desirable
to be able to detect and reply to any maneuvers on
the part of the opposing counsel, which you certainly
would not be able to do."
"This is excellent advice, Doctor Thorndyke," said
Bellingham, with a grim smile; "but I'm afraid I shall
have to take my chance."
"Not necessarily," said Thorndyke. "I am going to
make a little proposal, which I will ask you to consider
without prejudice as a mutual accommodation. You
see, your case is one of exceptional interest—it will
become a textbook case, as Miss Bellingham prophe-
sied; and, since it lies within my specialty, it will be
necessary for me to follow it in the closest detail.
Now, it would be much more satisfactory to me to
study it from within than from without, to say noth-
ing of the credit which would accrue to me if I should
be able to conduct it to a successful issue. I am there-
fore going to ask you to put your case in my hands
and let me see what can be done with it. I know this
is an unusual course for a professional man to take,
but I think it is not improper under the circumstances."
Mr. Bellingham pondered in silence for a few mo-
ments, and then, after a glance at his daughter, began
rather hesitatingly: "It's very generous of you, Doctor
Thorndyke"
"Pardon me," interrupted Thorndyke, "it is not.
My motives, as I have explained, are purely egoistic."
Mr. Bellingham laughed uneasily and again glanced
at his daughter, who, however, pursued her occupation
of peeling a pear with calm deliberation and without
lifting her eyes. Getting no help from her he asked:
"Do you think that there is any possibility whatever
of a successful issue?"


138 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Yes, a remote possibility—very remote, I fear, as
things look at present; but if I thought the case abso-
lutely hopeless I should advise you to stand aside and
let events take their course."
"Supposing the case should come to a favorable ter-
mination, would you allow me to settle your fees in the
ordinary way?"
"If the choice lay with me," replied Thorndyke, "I
should say 'yes' with pleasure. But it does not. The
attitude of the profession is very definitely unfavorable
to 'speculative' practise. You may remember the well-
known firm of Dodson and Fogg, who gained thereby
much profit, but little credit. But why discuss con-
tingencies of this kind? If I bring your case to a suc-
cessful issue I shall have done very well for myself.
We shall have benefited one another mutually. Come
now, Miss Bellingham, I appeal to you. We have eaten
salt together, to say nothing of pigeon pie and other
cates. Won't you back me up, and at the same time do
a kindness to Doctor Berkeley?"
"Why, is Doctor Berkeley interested in our deci-
sion?"
"Certainly he is, as you will appreciate when I tell
you that he actually tried to bribe me secretly out of
his own pocket."
"Did you?" she asked, looking at me with an expres-
sion that rather alarmed me.
"Well, not exactly," I replied, mighty hot and un-
comfortable, and wishing Thorndyke at the devil with
his confidences. "I merely mentioned that the—the—
solicitor's costs, you know, and that sort of thing—but
you needn't jump on me, Miss Bellingham; Doctor
Thorndyke did all that was necessary in that way."
She continued to look at me thoughtfully as I stam-


THE NEW ALLIANCE 139
mered out my excuses, and then said: "I wasn't going
to. I was only thinking that poverty has its compensa-
tions. You are all so very good to us; and, for my part,
I should accept Doctor Thorndyke's generous offer most
gratefully, and thank him for making it so easy for us."
"Very well, my dear, said Mr. Bellingham; "we will
enjoy the sweets of poverty, as you say—we have
sampled the other kind of thing pretty freely—and do
ourselves the pleasure of accepting a great kindness,
most delicately offered."
"Thank you," said Thorndyke. "You have justified
my faith in you, Miss Bellingham, and in the power
of Dr. Berkeley's salt. I understand that you place
your affairs in my hands?"
"Entirely and thankfully," replied Mr. Bellingham.
"Whatever you think best to be done we agree to
beforehand."
"Then," said I, "let us drink success to the cause.
Port, if you please, Miss Bellingham; the vintage is not
recorded, but it is quite wholesome, and a suitable medi-
um for the sodium chloride of friendship." I filled
her glass, and when the bottle had made its circuit, we
stood up and solemnly pledged the new alliance.
"There is just one thing I would say before we dis-
miss the subject for the present," said Thorndyke. "It
is a good thing to keep one's own counsel. When you
get formal notice from Mr. Hurst's solicitors that pro-
ceedings are being commenced, you may refer them to
Mr. Marchmont of Gray's Inn, who will nominally act
for you. He will actually have nothing to do, but we
must preserve the fiction that I am instructed by a so-
licitor. Meanwhile, and until the case goes into court,
I think it very necessary that neither Mr. Jellicoe nor


140 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
anyone else should know that I am connected with it.
We must keep the other side in the dark, if we can."
"We will be as secret as the grave," said Mr. Belling-
ham; "and, as a matter of fact, it will be quite easy,
since it happens, by a curious coincidence, that I am
already acquainted with Mr. Marchmont. He acted
for Stephen Blackmore, you remember, in that case
that you unraveled so wonderfully. I knew the Black-
mores."
"Did you?" said Thorndyke. "What a small world
it is. And what a remarkable affair that was! The
intricacies and cross-issues made it quite absorbingly
interesting; and it is noteworthy for me in another
respect, for it was one of the first cases in which I was
associated with Doctor Jervis."
"Yes, and a mighty useful associate I was," remarked
Jervis, "though I did pick up one or two facts by acci-
dent. And, by the way, the Blackmore case had certain
points in common with your case, Mr. Bellingham.
There was a disappearance and a disputed will, and
the man who vanished was a scholar and an antiquar-
ian."
"Cases in our specialty are apt to have certain
general resemblances," Thorndyke said; and as he
spoke he directed a keen glance at his junior, the sig-
nificance of which I partly understood when he abruptly
changed the subject.
"The newspaper reports of your brother's disappear-
ance, Mr. Bellingham, were remarkably full of detail.
There were even plans of your house and that of Mr.
Hurst. Do you know who supplied the information?"
"No, I don't," replied Mr. Bellingham. "I know
that I didn't. Some newspaper men came to me for
information, but I sent them packing. So, I under-


THE NEW ALLIANCE 141
stand, did Hurst; and as for Jellicoe, you might as well
cross-examine an oyster."
"Well," said Thorndyke, "the pressmen have queer
methods of getting 'copy'; but still, some one must
have given them that description of your brother and
those plans. It would be interesting to know who it
was. However, we don't know; and now let us dismisss
these legal topics, with suitable apologies for having
introduced them."
"And perhaps," said I, "we may as well adjourn to
what we call the drawing-room—it is really Barnard's
den—and leave the housekeeper to wrestle with the
debris."
We migrated to the cheerfully shabby little apart-
ment, and, when Mrs. Gummer had served coffee, with
gloomy resignation (as who should say: "If you will
drink this sort of stuff I suppose you must, but don't
blame me for the consequences"), I settled Mr. Belling-
ham in Barnard's favorite lop-sided easy chair—the
depressed seat of which suggested its customary use by
an elephant of sedentary habits—and opened the dimin-
utive piano.
"I wonder if Miss Bellingham would give us a little
music?" I said.
"I wonder if she could?" was the smiling response.
"Do you know," she continued, "I have not touched a
piano for nearly two years? It will be quite an inter-
esting experiment—to me; but if it fails, you will be
the sufferers. So you must choose."
"My verdict," said Mr. Bellingham, "is fiat experi-
mentum, though I won't complete the quotation, as that
would seem to disparage Doctor Barnard's piano. But
before you begin, Ruth, there is one rather disagree-


142 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
able matter that I want to dispose of, so that I may not
disturb the harmony with it later."
He paused and we all looked at him expectantly.
"I suppose, Doctor Thorndyke," he said, "you read
the newspapers?"
"I don't," replied Dr. Thorndyke. "But I ascertain,
for purely business purposes, what they contain."
"Then," said Mr. Bellingham, "you have probably
met with some accounts of the finding of certain human
remains, apparently portions of a mutilated body."
"Yes, I have seen those reports and filed them for
future reference."
"Exactly. Well, now, it can hardly be necessary for
me to tell you that those remains—the mutilated re-
mains of some poor murdered creature, as there can be
no doubt they are—have seemed to have a very dread-
ful significance for me. You will understand what I
mean; and I want to ask you if—if they have made
a similar suggestion to you?"
Thorndyke paused before replying, with his eyes
bent thoughtfully on the floor, and we all looked at
him anxiously.
"It's very natural," he said at length, "that you
should associate these remains with the mystery of your
brother's disappearance. I should like to say that you
are wrong in doing so, but if I did I should be un-
candid. There are certain facts that do, undoubtedly,
seem to suggest a connection, and, up to the present,
there are no definite facts of a contrary significance."
Mr. Bellingham sighed deeply and shifted uncom-
fortably in his chair.
"It is a horrible affair!" he said huskily; "horrible!
Would you mind, Doctor Thorndyke, telling us just


THE NEW ALLIANCE 143
how the matter stands in your opinion—what the prob-
abilities are, for and against?"
Again Thorndyke reflected awhile, and it seemed to
me that he was not very willing to discuss the subject.
However, the question had been asked pointedly, and
eventually he answered:
"At the present stage of the investigation it is not
very easy to state the balance of probabilities. The
matter is still quite speculative. The bones which have
been found hitherto (for we are dealing with a skeleton,
not with a body) have been exclusively those which are
useless for personal identification; which is, in itself,
a rather curious and striking fact. The general char-
acter and dimensions of the bones seem to suggest a
middle-aged man of about your brother's height, and
the date of deposition appears to be in agreement with
the date of his disappearance."
"Is it known, then, when they were deposited?" asked
Mr. Bellingham.
"In the case of those found at Sidcup it seems pos-
sible to deduce an approximate date. The watercress-
bed was cleaned out about two years ago, so they could
not have been lying there longer than that; and their
condition suggests that they could not have been there
much less than two years, as there is apparently no
vestige of the soft structures left. Of course, I am
speaking from the newspaper reports only; I have no
direct knowledge of the matter."
"Have they found any considerable part of the body
yet? I haven't been reading the papers myself. My
little friend, Miss Oman, brought a great bundle of
'em for me to read, but I couldn't stand it; I pitched
the whole boiling of 'em out of the window."


THE NEW ALLIANCE 145
"The next discovery," continued Thorndyke, "was
made near Lee, by the police this time. They seem to
have developed sudden activity in the matter, and in
searching the neighborhood of West Kent they dragged
out of a pond near Lee the bones of a right foot. Now,
if it had been the left instead of the right we might
have a clue, as I understand your brother had frac-
tured his left ankle, and there might have been some
traces of the injury on the foot itself."
"Yes," said Mr. Bellingham. "I suppose there might.
The injury was described as a Pott's fracture."
"Exactly. Well, now, after this discovery at Lee it
seems that the police set on foot a systematic search of
all the ponds and small pieces of water around London,
and, on the twenty-third, they found in the Cuckoo
Pits in Epping Forest, not far from Woodford, the
bones of a right arm (including those of the shoulder,
as before), which seem to be part of the same body."
"Yes," said Mr. Bellingham, "I heard of that. Quite
close to my old house. Horrible! horrible! It gave
me the shudders to think of it—to think that poor old
John may have been waylaid and murdered when he
was actually coming to see me. He may even have got
into the grounds by the back gate, if it was left un-
fastened, and been followed in there and murdered.
You remember that a scarab from his watch-chain was
found there? But is it clear that this arm was the
fellow of the arm that was found at Sidcup?"
"It seems to agree in character and dimensions," said
Thorndyke, "and the agreement is strongly supported
by a discovery made two days later."
"What is that?" Mr. Bellingham demanded.
"It is the lower half of a trunk which the police
dragged out of a rather deep pond on the skirts of the


146 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
forest at Loughton—Staple's Pond, it is called. The
bones found were the pelvis—that is, the two hip-bones
—and six vertebrae, or joints of the backbone. Having
discovered these, the police dammed the stream and
pumped the pond dry, but no other bones were found;
which is rather odd, as there should have been a pair
of ribs belonging to the upper vertebra—the twelfth
dorsal vertebra. It suggests some curious questions as
to the method of dismemberment; but I mustn't go
into unpleasant details. The point is that the cavity
of the right hip-joint showed a patch of eburnation cor-
responding to that on the head of the right thigh-bone
that was found at St. Mary Cray. So there can be
very little doubt that these bones are all part of the
same body."
"I see," grunted Mr. Bellingham; and he added, after
a moment's thought: "Now, the question is, Are these
bones the remains of my brother John? What do you
say, Doctor Thorndyke?"
"I say that the question cannot be answered on the
facts at present known to us. It can only be said that
they may be, and that some of the circumstances sug-
gest that they are. But we can only wait for further
discoveries. At any moment the police may light upon
some portion of the skeleton which will settle the ques-
tion definitely one way or the other."
"I suppose," said Mr. Bellingham, "I can't be of any
service to you in the matter of identification?"
"Indeed you can," said Thorndyke, "and I was going
to ask you to assist me. What I want you to do is this:
Write down a full description of your brother, includ-
ing every detail known to you, together with an ac-
count of every illness or injury from which you know
him to have suffered; also the names and, if possible,


THE NEW ALLIANCE 147
the addresses of any doctors, surgeons, or dentists who
may have attended him at any time. The dentists
are particularly important, as their information would
be invaluable if the skull belonging to these bones
should be discovered."
Mr. Bellingham shuddered.
"It's a shocking idea," he said, "but, of course you
are right. You must have the facts if you are to form
an opinion. I will write out what you want and send it
to you without delay. And now, for God's sake, let
us throw off this nightmare, for a little while, at least!
What is there, Ruth, among Doctor Barnard's music
that you can manage?"
Barnard's collection in general inclined to the'se-
verely classical, but we disinterred from the heap a few
lighter works of an old-fashioned kind, including a
volume of Mendelssohn's Lieder ohne Worte, and with
one of these Miss Bellingham made trial of her skill,
playing it with excellent taste and quite adequate exe-
cution. That, at least, was her father's verdict; for,
as to me, I found it the perfection of happiness merely
to sit and look at her—a state of mind that would have
been in no wise disturbed even by "Silvery Waves" or
"The Maiden's Prayer."
Thus, with simple, homely music, and conversation
always cheerful and sometimes brilliant, slipped away
one of the pleasantest evenings of my life, and slipped
away all too soon. St. Dunstan's clock was the fly in
the ointment, for it boomed out intrusively the hour
of eleven just as my guests were beginning thoroughly
to appreciate one another, and thereby carried the sun
(with a minor paternal satellite) out of the firmament
of my heaven. For I had, in my professional capacity,
given strict injunctions that Mr. Bellingham should on


148 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
no account sit up late; and now, in my social capacity,
I had smilingly to hear "the doctor's orders" quoted.
It was a scurvy return for all my care.
When Mr. and Miss Bellingham departed, Thorn-
dyke and Jervis would have gone too; but noting my
bereaved condition, and being withal compassionate and
tender of heart, they were persuaded to stay awhile and
bear me company in a consolatory pipe.


CHAPTER XI
THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED
"So the game has opened," observed Thorndyke, as
he struck a match. "The play has begun with a cau-
tious lead off by the other side. Very cautious and not
very confident."
"Why do you say 'not very confident' ?" I asked.
"Well, it is evident that Hurst—and, I fancy, Jellicoe
too—is anxious to buy off Bellingham's opposition, and
at a pretty long price, under the circumstances. And
when we consider how very little Bellingham has to
offer against the presumption of his brother's death, it
looks as if Hurst hadn't much to say on his side."
"No," said Jervis, "he can't hold many trumps or he
wouldn't be willing to pay four hundred a year for his
opponent's chance; and that is just as well, for it seems
to me that our own hand is a pretty poor one."
"We must look through our hand and see what we do
hold," said Thorndyke. "Our trump card at present—
a rather small one, I'm afraid—is the obvious intention
of the testator that the bulk of the property should go
to his brother."
"I suppose you will begin your inquiries now?" I said.
"We began them some time ago—the day after you
brought us the will, in fact. Jervis has been through the
registers and has ascertained that no interment under
the name of John Bellingham has taken place since the
disappearance; which was just what we expected. He
149


150 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
has also discovered that some other person has been
making similar inquiries; which, again, is what we ex-
pected."
"And your own investigations?"
"Have given negative results for the most part. I
found Doctor Norbury, at the British Museum, very
friendly and helpful; so friendly, in fact, that I am
thinking whether I may not be able to enlist his help
in certain private researches of my own, with reference
to the change effected by time in the physical properties
of certain substances."
"Oh; you haven't told me about that," said Jervis.
"No; I haven't really commenced to plan my experi-
ments yet, and they will probably lead to nothing when
I do. It occurred to me that, possibly, in the course of
time, certain molecular changes might take place in
substances such as wood, bone, pottery, stucco, and
other common materials, and that these changes might
alter their power of conducting or transmitting molec-
ular vibrations. Now, if this should turn out to be the
case, it would be a fact of considerable importance,
medico-legally and otherwise; for it would be possible
to determine approximately the age of any object of
known composition by testing its reactions to elec-
tricity, heat, light and other molecular vibrations. I
thought of seeking Doctor Norbury's assistance because
he can furnish me with materials for experiment of such
great age that the reactions, if any, should be ex-
tremely easy to demonstrate. But to return to our case.
I learned from him that John Bellingham had certain
friends in Paris—collectors and museum officials—
whom he was in the habit of visiting for the purpose
of study and exchange of specimens. I have made in-
quiries of all these, and none of them had seen him


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 151
during his last visit. In fact, I have not yet dis-
covered anyone who had seen Bellingham in Paris on
this occasion. So his visit there remains a mystery for
the present."
"It doesn't seem to be of much importance, since he
undoubtedly came back," I remarked; but to this
Thorndyke demurred.
"It is impossible to estimate the importance of the
unknown," said he.
"Well, how does the matter stand," asked Jervis,
"on the evidence that we have? John Bellingham dis-
appeared on a certain date. Is there anything to show
what was the manner of his disappearance?"
"The facts in our possession," said Thorndyke,
"which are mainly those set forth in the newspaper
report, suggest several alternative possibilities; and in
view of the coming inquiry—for they will, no doubt,
have to be gone into in Court, to some extent—it may
be worth while to consider them. There are five con-
ceivable hypotheses"—here Thorndyke checked them
on his fingers as he proceeded—"First, he may still be
alive. Second, he may have died and been buried with-
out identification. Third, he may have been murdered
by some unknown person. Fourth, he may have been
murdered by Hurst and his body concealed. Fifth, he
may have been murdered by his brother. Let us ex-
amine these possibilities seriatim.
"First, he may still be alive. If he is, he must either
have disappeared voluntarily, have lost his memory
suddenly and not been identified, or have been im-
prisoned—on a false charge or otherwise. Let us take
the first case—that of voluntary disappearance. Ob-
viously, its improbability is extreme."
"Jellicoe doesn't think so," said I. "He thinks it


152 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
quite on the cards that John Bellingham is alive. He
says that it is not a very unusual thing for a man to
disappear for a time."
"Then why is he applying for a presumption of
death?"
"Just what I asked him. He says that it is the
correct thing to do; that the entire responsibility rests
on the Court."
"That is all nonsense," said Thorndyke. "Jellicoe
is the trustee for his absent client, and, if he thinks that
client is alive, it is his duty to keep the estate intact;
and he knows that perfectly well. We may take it that
Jellicoe is of the same opinion as I am: that John Bel-
lingham is dead."
"Still," I urged, "men do disappear from time to
time, and turn up again after years of absence."
"Yes, but for a definite reason. Either they are ir-
responsible vagabounds who take this way of shuffling
off their responsibilities, or they are men who have
been caught in a net of distasteful circumstances. For
instance, a civil servant or a solicitor or a tradesman
finds himself bound for life to a locality and an occu-
pation of intolerable monotony. Perhaps he has an ill-
tempered wife, who after the amiable fashion of a cer-
tain type of woman, thinking that her husband is pinned
down without a chance of escape, gives a free rein to
her temper. The man puts up with it for years, but
at last it becomes unbearable. Then he suddenly dis-
appears; and small blame to him. But this was not
Bellingham's case. He was a wealthy bachelor with
an engrossing interest in life, free to go whither he
would and to do whatsoever he wished. Why should he
disappear? The thing is incredible.
"As to his having lost his memory and remained un-


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 15$
identified, that, also, is incredible in the case of a man
who had visiting-cards and letters in his pocket, whose
linen was marked, and who was being inquired for
everywhere by the police. As to his being in prison,
we may dismiss that possibility, inasmuch as a prisoner,
both before and after conviction, would have full op-
portunity of communicating with his friends.
"The second possibility, that he may have died sud-
denly and been buried without identification, is highly
improbable; but, as it is conceivable that the body
might have been robbed and the means of identification
thus lost, it remains as a possibility that has to be con-
sidered, remote as it is.
"The third hypothesis, that he may have been mur-
dered by some unknown person, is, under the circum-
stances, not wildly improbable; but, as the police were
on the lookout and a detailed description of the missing
man's person was published in the papers, it would in-
volve the complete concealment of the body. But this
would exclude the most probable form of crime—the
casual robbery with violence. It is therefore possible,
but highly improbable.
"The fourth hypothesis is that Bellingham was mur-
dered by Hurst. Now the one fact which militates
against this view is that Hurst apparently had no mo-
tive for committing the murder. We are assured by
Jellicoe that no one but himself knew the contents of
the will, and if this is so—but mind, we have no evi-
dence that it is so—Hurst would have no reason to
suppose that he had anything material to gain by his
cousin's death. Otherwise the hypothesis presents no
inherent improbabilities. The man was last seen alive
at Hurst's house. He was seen to enter it and he was
never seen to leave it—we are still taking the facts as


154 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
stated in the newspapers, remember—and it now ap-
pears that he stands to benefit enormously by that
man's death."
"But," I objected, "you are forgetting that, directly
the man was missed Hurst and the servants together
searched the entire house."
"Yes. What did they search for?"
"Why, for Mr. Bellingham, of course."
"Exactly; for Mr. Bellingham. That is, for a living
man. Now how do you search a house for a living man?
You look in all the rooms. When you look in a room
if he is there, you see him; if you do not see him, you
assume that he is not there. You don't look under the
sofa or behind the piano, you don't pull out large
drawers or open cupboards. You just look into the
rooms. That is what these people seem to have done.
And they did not see Mr. Bellingham. Mr. Belling-
ham's corpse might have been stowed away out of sight
in any one of the rooms that they looked into."
"That is a grim thought," said Jervis; "but it is per-
fectly true. There is no evidence that the man was
not lying dead in the house at the very time of the
search."
"But even so," said I, "there was the body to be dis-
posed of somehow. Now how could he possibly have
got rid of the body without being observed?"
"Ah!" said Thorndyke, "now we are touching on a
point of crucial importance. If anyone should ever
write a treatise on the art of murder—not an exhibition
of literary fireworks like De Quincey's, but a genuine
working treatise—he might leave all other technical
details to take care of themselves if he could describe
some really practicable plan for disposing of the body.
That is, and always has been, the great stumbling-


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 155
block to the murderer: to get rid of the body. The
human body," he continued, thoughtfully regarding his
pipe, just as, in the days of my pupilage, he was wont
to regard the black-board chalk, "is a very remarkable
object. It presents a combination of properties, that
make it singularly difficult to conceal permanently. It
is bulky and of an awkward shape, it is heavy, it is
completely incombustible, it is chemically unstable, and
its decomposition yields great volumes of highly odor-
ous gases, and it nevertheless contains identifiable struc-
tures of the highest degree of permanence. It is ex-
tremely difficult to preserve unchanged, and it is still
more difficult completely to destroy. The essential per-
manence of the human body is well shown in the classi-
cal case of Eugene Aram; but a still more striking in-
stance is that of Sekenen-Ra the Third, one of the last
kings of the seventeenth Egyptian dynasty. Here, after
a lapse of four thousand years, it has been possible to
determine not only the cause of death and the manner
of its occurrence, but the way in which the king fell,
the nature of the weapon with which the fatal wound
was inflicted, and even the position of the assailant.
And the permanence of the body under other conditions
is admirably shown in the case of Doctor Parkman, of
Boston, U. S. A., in which identification was actually
effected by means of remains collected from the ashes
of a furnace."
"Then we may take it," said Jervis, "that the world
has not yet seen the last of John Bellingham."
"I think we may regard that as almost a certainty,"
replied Thorndyke. "The only question—and a very
important one—is as to when the reappearance may
take place. It may be to-morrow or it may be cen-
s


156 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
turies hence, when all the issues involved have been for-
gotten."
"Assuming," said I, "for the sake of argument, that
Hurst did murder him and that the body was concealed
in the study at the time the search was made. How
could it have been disposed of? If you had been in
Hurst's place, how would you have gone to work?"
Thorndyke smiled at the bluntness of my question.
"You are asking me for an incriminating statement,"
said he, "delivered in the presence of a witness too.
But, as a matter of fact, there is no use in speculating
a priori; we should have to reconstruct a purely imagi-
nary situation, the circumstances of which are unknown
to us, and we should almost certainly reconstruct it
wrong. What we may fairly assume is that no reason-
able person, no matter how immoral, would find him-
self in the position that you suggest. Murder is usu-
ally a crime of impulse, and the murderer a person of
feeble self-control. Such persons are most unlikely
to make elaborate and ingenious arrangements for the
disposal of the bodies of their victims. Even the cold-
blooded perpetrators of the most carefully planned mur-
ders appear as I have said, to break down at this point.
The almost insuperable difficulty of getting rid of the
human body is not appreciated until the murderer sud-
denly finds himself face to face with it.
"In the case you are suggesting, the choice would
seem to lie between burial on the premises or dismem-
berment and dispersal of the fragments; and either
method would be pretty certain to lead to discovery."
"As illustrated by the remains of which you were
speaking to Mr. Bellingham," Jervis remarked.
"Exactly," Thorndyke answered, "though we could


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 157
hardly imagine a reasonably intelligent criminal adopt-
ing a watercress-bed as a hiding place.
"No. That was certainly an error of judgment. By
the way, I thought it best to say nothing while you were
talking to Bellingham, but I noticed that, in discussing
the possibility of those being the bones of his brother,
you made no comment on the absence of the third finger
of the left hand. I am sure you didn't overlook it, but
isn't it a point of some importance?"
"As to identification? Under the present circum-
stances, I think not. If there were a man missing who
had lost that finger it would, of course, be an important
fact. But I have not heard of any such man. Or,
again, if there were any evidence that the finger had
been removed before death, it would be highly im-
portant. But there is no such evidence. It may have
been cut off after death, and that is where the real sig-
nificance of its absence lies."
"I don't see quite what you mean," said Jervis.
"I mean that, if there is no report of any missing
man who had lost that particular finger, the probability
is that the finger was removed after death. And then
arises the interesting question of motive. Why should
it have been removed? It could hardly have be-
come detached accidentally. What do you suggest?"
"Well," said Jervis, "it might have been a peculiar
finger; a finger, for instance, with some characteris-
tic deformity such as an ankylosed joint, which would
be easy to identify."
ftYes; but that explanation introduces the same dif-
ficulty. No person with a deformed or ankylosed finger
has been reported as missing."
Jervis puckered up his brows, and looked at me.


158 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I'm hanged if I see any other explanation," he said.
"Do you, Berkeley?"
I shook my head.
"Don't forget which finger it is that is missing," said
Thorndyke. "The third finger of the left hand."
"Oh, I see!" said Jervis. "The ring-finger. You
mean that it may have been removed for the sake of a
ring that wouldn't come off."
"Yes. It would not be the first instance of the kind.
Fingers have been severed from dead hands—and even
from living ones—for the sake of rings that were too
tight to be drawn off. And the fact that it is the left
hand supports the suggestion; for a ring that was in-
conveniently tight would be worn by preference on the
left hand, as that is usually slightly smaller than the
right. What is the matter, Berkeley?"
A sudden light had burst upon me, and I suppose my
countenance betrayed the fact.
"I am a confounded fool!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, don't say that," said Jervis. "Give your friends
a chance."
"I ought to have seen this long ago and told you
about it. John Bellingham did wear a ring, and it
was so tight that, when once he had got it on, he could
never get it off again."
"Do you happen to know on which hand he wore it?"
Thorndyke asked.
"Yes. It was on the left hand; because Miss Belling-
ham, who told me about it, said that he would never
have been able to get the ring on at all but for the
fact that his left hand was slightly smaller than his
right."
"There it is, then," said Thorndyke. "With this new
fact in our possession, the absence of the finger fur-


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 159
nishes the starting-point of some very curious specula-
tions."
"As, for instance," said Jervis.
"Ah, under the circumstances, I must leave you to
pursue those speculations independently. I am now
acting for Mr. Bellingham."
Jervis grinned and was silent for a while, refilling his
pipe thoughtfully; but when he had got it alight he re-
sumed.
"To return to the question of the disappearance; you
don't consider it highly improbable that Bellingham
might have been murdered by Hurst?"
"Oh, don't imagine I am making an accusation. I
am considering the various probabilities merely in the
abstract. The same reasoning applies to the Belling-
hams. As to whether any of them did commit the mur-
der, that is a question of personal character. I certainly
do not suspect the Bellinghams after having seen them,
and with regard to Hurst, I know nothing, or at least
very little, to his disadvantage."
"Do you know anything?" asked Jervis.
"Well," Thorndyke said, with some hesitation, "it
seems a thought unkind to rake up the little details of a
man's past, and yet it has to be done. I have, of
course, made the usual routine inquiries concerning the
parties to this affair, and this is what they have brought
to light:
"Hurst, as you know, is a stockbroker—a man of
good position and reputation; but, about ten years ago,
he seems to have committed an indiscretion, to put it
mildly, which nearly got him into rather serious dif-
ficulties. He appears to have speculated rather heavily
and considerably beyond his means, for when a sudden
spasm of the markets upset his calculations, it turned


160 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
out that he had been employing his clients' capital and
securities. For a time it looked as if there was going
to be serious trouble; then, quite unexpectedly, he
managed to raise the necessary amount in some way and
settle all claims. Whence he got the money has never
been discovered to this day, which is a curious circum-
stance, seeing that the deficiency was rather over five
thousand pounds; but the important fact is that he did
get it and that he paid up all that he owed. So that he
was only a potential defaulter, so to speak; and dis-
creditable as the affair undoubtedly was, it does not
seem to have any direct bearing on this present case."
"No," Jervis agreed, "though it makes one con-
sider his position with more attention than one would
otherwise."
"Undoubtedly," said Thorndyke. "A reckless gam-
bler is a man whose conduct cannot be relied on. He
is subject to vicissitudes of fortune which may force
him into other kinds of wrong-doing. Many an em-
bezzlement has been preceded by an unlucky plunge
on the turf."
"Assuming the responsibility for this disappearance
to lie between Hurst and—and the Bellinghams," said
I, with an uncomfortable gulp as I mentioned the names
of my friends, "to which side does the balance of prob-
ability incline?"
"To the side of Hurst, I should say, without doubt,"
replied Thorndyke. "The case stands thus—on the
facts presented to us: Hurst appears to have had no
motive for killing the deceased (as we will call him);
but the man was seen to enter the house, was never
seen to leave it, and was never again seen alive. Bel-
lingham, on the other hand, had a motive, as he had
believed himself to be the principal beneficiary under


THE EVIDENCE REVIEWED 161
the will. But the deceased was not seen at his house,
and there is no evidence that he went to the house or
to the neighborhood, excepting the scarab that was
found there. But the evidence of the scarab is vitiated
by the fact that Hurst was present when it was picked
up, and that it was found on a spot over which Hurst
had passed only a few minutes previously. Until Hurst
is cleared, it seems to me that the presence of the
scarab proves nothing against the Bellinghams."
"Then your opinions on the case," said I, "are based
entirely on the facts that have been made public?"
"Yes, mainly. I do not necessarily accept those facts
just as they are presented, and I may have certain views
of my own on the case. But if I have, I do not feel in
a position to discuss them. For the present, discussion
has to be limited to the facts and inferences offered by
the parties concerned."
"There!" exclaimed Jervis, rising to knock his pipe
out, "that is where Thorndyke has you. He lets you
think you're in the thick of the 'know' until one fine
morning you wake up and discover that you have only
been a gaping outsider; and then you are mightily as-
tonished—and so are the other side, too, for that mat-
ter. But we must really be off now, mustn't we, rever-
end senior?"
"I suppose we must," replied Thorndyke; and, as he
drew on his gloves, he asked: "Have you heard from
Barnard lately?"
"Oh, yes," I answered. "I wrote to him at Smyrna
to say that the practise was flourishing and that I was
quite happy and contented, and that he might stay
away as long as he liked. He writes by return that he
will prolong his holiday if an opportunity offers, but
will let me know later."


CHAPTER XII
A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY
It was two or three mornings after my little supper
party that, as I stood in the consulting-room brushing
my hat preparatory to starting on my morning round,
Adolphus appeared at the door to announce two gentle-
men waiting in the surgery. I told him to bring them
in, and a moment later Thorndyke entered, accom-
panied by Jervis. I noted that they looked uncom-
monly large in that little apartment, especially Thorn-
dyke, but I had no time to consider this phenomenon,
for the latter, when he had shaken my hand, proceeded
at once to explain the object of their visit.
"We have come to ask a favor, Berkeley," he said;
"to ask you to do us a very great service in the inter-
ests of your friends the Bellinghams."
"You know I shall be delighted," I said warmly.
"What is it?"
"I will explain. You know—or perhaps you don't—
that the police have collected all the bones that have
been discovered and deposited them in the mortuary at
Woodford, where they are to be viewed by the coroner's
jury. Now, it has become imperative that I should
have more definite and reliable information than I can
get from the newspapers. The natural thing for me
would be to go down and examine them myself, but
there are circumstances that make it very desirable
that my connection with the case should not kak out.
163


164 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Consequently, I can't go myself, and, for the same
reason, I can't send Jervis. On the other hand, as it
is now stated pretty openly that the police consider the
bones to be almost certainly those of John Bellingham,
it would seem perfectly natural that you, as Godfrey
Bellingham's doctor, should go down to view them on
his behalf."
"I should like to," I said. "I would give anything
to go; but how is it to be managed? It would mean
a whole day off and leaving the practise to look after
itself."
"I think it could be managed," said Thorndyke; "and
the matter is really important for two reasons. One
is that the inquest opens to-morrow, and some one cer-
tainly ought to be there to watch the proceedings on
Godfrey's behalf; and the other is that our client has
received notice from Hurst's solicitors that the applica-
tion will be heard in the Probate Court in a few days."
"Isn't that rather sudden?" I asked.
"It certainly suggests that there has been a good
deal more activity than we were given to understand.
But you see the importance of the affair. The in-
quest will be a sort of dress rehearsal for the Probate
Court, and it is quite essential that we should have a
chance of estimating the management."
"Yes, I see that. But how are we to manage about
the practise?"
"We shall find you a substitute."
"Through a medical agent?"
"Yes," said Jervis, "Turcival will find us a man;
in fact, he has done it. I saw him this morning; he
has a man who is waiting up in town to negotiate for
the purchase of a practise and who would do the job
for a couple of guineas. Quite a reliable man. Only


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 165
say the word, and I will run off to Adam Street and en-
gage him definitely."
"Very well. You engage the locum tenens, and I
will be prepared to start for Woodford as soon as he
turns up."
"Excellent!" said Thorndyke. "That is a great
weight off my mind. And if you could manage to drop
in this evening and smoke a pipe with us we could talk
over the plan of campaign and let you know what items
of information we are particularly in want of."
I promised to turn up at King's Bench Walk as soon
after half-past eight as possible, and my two friends
then took their departure, leaving me to set out in high
spirits on my scanty round of visits.
It is surprising what different aspects things present
from different points of view; how relative are our esti-
mates of the conditions and circumstances of life. To
the urban workman—the journeyman baker or tailor,
for instance, laboring year in year out in a single build-
ing—a holiday ramble on Hampstead Heath is a veri-
table voyage of discovery; whereas to the sailor the
shifting panorama of the whole wide world is but the
commonplace of the day's work.
So I reflected as I took my place in the train at Liver-
pool Street on the following day. There had been a
time when a trip by rail to the borders of Epping Forest
would have been far from a thrilling experience; now,
after vegetating in the little world of Fetter Lane, it
was quite an adventure.
The enforced inactivity of a railway journey is favor-
able to thought, and I had much to think about. The
last few weeks had witnessed momentous changes in my
outlook. New interests had arisen, new friendships had
grown up, and above all, there had stolen into my life


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 167
"3. Measure the extreme length of the principal
bones and compare those of opposite sides.
"4. Examine the bones with reference to age, sex,
and muscular development of the deceased.
"5. Note the presence or absence of signs of con-
stitutional disease, local disease of bone or adjacent
structures, old or recent injuries, and any other de-
partures from the normal or usual.
"6. Observe the presence or absence of adipocere
and its position, if present.
"7. Note any remains of tendons, ligaments or
other soft structures.
"8. Examine the Sidcup hand with reference to the
question as to whether the finger was separated be-
fore or after death.
"9. Estimate the probable period of submersion
and note any changes (as e.g., mineral or organic
staining) due to the character of the water or mud.
"10. Ascertain the circumstances (immediate and
remote) that led to the discovery of the bones and
the names of the persons concerned in those cir-
cumstances.
"11. Commit all information to writing as soon as
possible, and make plans and diagrams on the spot,
if circumstances permit.
"12. Preserve an impassive exterior: listen atten-
tively but without eagerness; ask as few questions as
possible; pursue any inquiry that your observations
on the spot may suggest."
These were my instructions, and, considering that I
was going merely to inspect a few dry bones, they ap-
peared rather formidable; in fact, the more I read them
v


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 169
day evening in a big pond called Baldwin's Pond in
the Sandpit plain, near Little Monk Wood."
"Is that near here?" I asked.
"In the forest up Loughton way," was the reply.
I made a note of the fact (on which the sergeant
looked as if he was sorry he had mentioned it), and
then turned my attention to a general consideration of
the bones before examining them in detail. Their ap-
pearance would have been improved and examination
facilitated by a thorough scrubbing, for they were just
as they had been taken from their respective resting-
places, and it was difficult to decide whether their red-
dish-yellow color was an actual stain or due to a deposit
on the surface. In any case, as it affected them all
alike, I thought it an interesting feature and made a
note of it. They bore numerous traces of their sojourn
in the various ponds from which they had been re-
covered, but these gave me little help in determining
the length of time during which they had been sub-
merged. They were, of course, encrusted with mud,,
and little wisps of pond-weed stuck to them in places;
but these facts furnished only the vaguest measure of
time.
Some of the traces were, indeed, more informing. To
several of the bones, for instance, there adhered the
dried egg-clusters of the common pond-snail, and in one
of the hollows of the right shoulder-blade (the "infra-
spinous fossa") was a group of the mud-built tubes of
the red river-worm. These remains gave proof of a
considerable period of submersion, and since they could
not have been deposited on the bones until all the flesh
had disappeared they furnished evidence that some
time—a month or two at any rate—had elapsed since
this had happened. Incidentally, too, their distribution


170 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
showed the position in which the bones had lain, and
though this appeared to be of no importance in the
existing circumstances, I made careful notes of the situ-
ation of each adherent body, illustrating their position
by rough sketches.
The sergeant watched my proceedings with an in-
dulgent smile.
"You're making a regular inventory, sir," he re-
marked, "as if you were going to put 'em up for auc-
tion. I shouldn't think those snails' eggs would be
much help in identification. And all that has been
done already," he added as I produced my measuring-
tape.
"No doubt," I replied; "but my business is to make
independent observations, to check the others, if neces-
sary." And I proceeded to measure each of the princi-
pal bones separately and to compare those of the oppo-
site sides. The agreement in dimensions and general
characteristics of the pairs of bones left little doubt
that all were parts of one skeleton, a conclusion that
was confirmed by the eburnated patch on the head of
the right thigh-bone and the corresponding patch in the
socket of the right hip-bone. When I had finished my
measurements I went over the entire series of bones in
detail, examining each with the closest attention for any
of those signs which Thorndyke had indicated, and
eliciting nothing but a monotonously reiterated nega-
tive. They were distressingly and disappointingly nor-
mal.
"Well, sir, what do you make of 'em?" the sergeant
asked cheerfully as I shut up my notebook and straight-
ened my back. "Whose bones are they? Are they Mr.
Bellingham's, think ye?"
"I should be very sorry to say whose bones they are,"


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 171
I replied. "One bone is very much like another, you
know."
"I suppose it is," he agreed; "but I thought that,
with all that measuring and all those notes, you might
have arrived at something definite." Evidently he was
disappointed in me; and I was somewhat disappointed
in myself when I contrasted Thorndyke's elaborate in-
structions with the meager result of my investigations.
For what did my discoveries amount to? And how
much was the inquiry advanced by the few entries in
my notebook?
The bones were apparently those of a man of fair
though not remarkable muscular development; over
thirty years of age, but how much older I was unable
to say. His height I judged roughly to be five feet
eight inches, but my measurements would furnish data
for a more exact estimate by Thorndyke. Beyond this
the bones were quite uncharacteristic. There were no
signs of disease either local or general, no indications
of injuries either old or recent, no departures of any
kind from the normal or usual; and the dismemberment
had been effected with such care that there was not a
single scratch on any of the separate surfaces. Of adi-
pocere (the peculiar waxy or soapy substance that is
commonly found in bodies that have slowly decayed in
damp situations) there was not a trace; and the only
remnant of the soft structures was a faint indication,
like a spot of dried glue, of the tendon on the tip of the
right elbow.
The sergeant was in the act of replacing the sheet,
with the air of a showman who has just given an exhi-
bition, when there came a sharp rapping on the mortu-
ary door. The officer finished spreading the sheet with
official precision, and having ushered me out into the


172 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
lobby turned the key and admitted three persons, hold-
ing the door open after they had entered for me to
go out. But the appearance of the newcomers in-
clined me to linger. One of them was a local constable,
evidently in official charge; a second was a laboring
man, very wet and muddy, who carried a small sack;
while in the third I thought I scented a professional
brother.
The sergeant continued to hold the door open.
"Nothing more I can do for you, sir?" he asked
genially.
"Is that the divisional surgeon?" I inquired.
"Yes. I am the divisional surgeon," the newcomer
answered. "Did you want anything of me?"
"This," said the sergeant, "is a medical gentleman
who has got permission from the coroner to inspect the
remains. He is acting for the family of the deceased—
I mean, for the family of Mr. Bellingham," he added in
answer to an inquiring glance from the surgeon.
"I see," said the latter. "Well, they have found the
rest of the trunk, including, I understand, the ribs that
were missing from the other part. Isn't that so,
Davis?"
"Yes, sir," replied the constable. "Inspector Badger
says all the ribs is here, and all the bones of the neck
as well."
"The inspector seems to be an anatomist," I re-
marked.
The sergeant grinned. "He is a very knowing gentle-
man, is Mr. Badger. He came down here this morning
quite early and spent a long time looking over the bones
and checking them by some notes in his pocket-book. I
fancy he's got something on, but he was precious close
about it."


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 173
Here the sergeant shut up rather suddenly—perhaps
contrasting his own conduct with that of his superior.
"Let us have these new bones out on the table," said
the police surgeon. "Take the sheet off, and don't shoot
them out as if they were coals. Hand them out care-
fully."
The laborer fished out the wet and muddy bones one
by one from the sack, and as he laid them on the table
the surgeon arranged them in their proper relative posi-
tions.
"This has been a neatly executed job," he remarked;
"none of your clumsy hacking with a chopper or a saw.
The bones have been cleanly separated at the joints.
The fellow who did this must have had some anatomical
knowledge, unless he was a butcher, which by the way,
is not impossible. He has used his knife uncommonly
skilfully, and you notice that each arm was taken off
with the scapula attached, just as a butcher takes off
a shoulder of mutton. Are there any more bones in
that bag?"
"No, sir," replied the laborer, wiping his hands with
an air of finality on the posterior aspect of his trou-
sers; "that's the lot."
The surgeon looked thoughtfully at the bones as he
gave a final touch to their arrangement, and remarked:
"The inspector is right. All the bones of the neck
are there. Very odd. Don't you think so?"
"You mean"
"I mean that this very eccentric murderer seems to
have given himself such an extraordinary amount of
trouble for no reason that one can see. There are these
neck vertebrae, for instance. He must have carefully
separted the skull from the atlas instead of just cutting
through the neck. Then there is the way he divided


174 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
the trunk; the twelfth ribs have just come in with this
lot, but the twelfth dorsal vertebra to which they be-
long was attached to the lower half. Imagine the
trouble he must have taken to do that, and without
cutting or hacking the bones about, either. It is ex-
traordinary. This is rather interesting, by the way.
Handle it carefully."
He picked up the breast-bone daintily—for it was
covered with wet mud—and handed it to me with the
remark:
"That is the most definite piece of evidence we have."
"You mean," I said, "that the union of the two parts
into a single mass fixes this as the skeleton of an elderly
man?"
"Yes, that is the obvious suggestion, which is con-
firmed by the deposit of bone in the rib-cartilages. You
can tell the inspector, Davis, that I have checked this
lot of bones and that they are all here."
"Would you mind writing it down, sir?" said the
constable. "Inspector Badger said I was to have every-
thing in writing."
The surgeon took out his pocket-book, and, while he
was selecting a suitable piece of paper, he asked: "Did
you form any opinion as to the height of the deceased?"
"Yes, I thought he would be about five feet eight"
(here I caught the sergeant's eyes, fixed on me with a
knowing leer).
"I made it five eight and a half," said the police sur-
geon; "but we shall know better when we have seen the
lower leg-bones. Where was this lot found, Davis?"
"In the pond just off the road in Lord's Bushes, sir,
and the inspector has gone off now to"
"Never mind where he's gone," interrupted the ser-


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 175
geant. "You just answer questions and attend to your
business."
The sergeant's reproof conveyed a hint to me on
which I was not slow to act. Friendly as my profes-
sional colleague was, it was clear that the police were
disposed to treat me as an interloper who was to be
kept out of the "know" as far as possible. Accordingly
I thanked my colleague and the sergeant for their cour-
tesy, and bidding them adieu until we should meet at
the inquest, took my departure and walked away
quickly until I found an inconspicuous position from
which I could keep the door of the mortuary in view.
A few moments later I saw Constable Davis emerge
and stride away up the road.
I watched his rapidly diminishing figure until he had
gone as far as I considered desirable, and then I set
forth in his wake. The road led straight away from the
village, and in less than half a mile entered the outskirts
of the forest. Here I quickened my pace to close up
somewhat, and it was well that I did so, for suddenly
he diverged from the road into a green lane, where for
a while I lost sight of him. Still hurrying forward, I
again caught sight of him just as he turned off into a
narrow path that entered a beech wood with a thickish
undergrowth of holly, along which I followed him for
several minutes, gradually decreasing the distance be-
tween us, until suddenly there fell on my ear a rhythmi-
cal sound like the clank of a pump. Soon after I
caught the sound of men's voices, and then the con-
stable struck off the path into the wood.
I now advanced more cautiously, endeavoring to lo-
cate the search party by the sound of the pump, and
when I had done this I made a little detour so that I


176 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
might approach from the opposite direction to that from
which the constable had appeared.
Still guided by the noise of the pump, I at length
came out into a small opening among the trees and
halted to survey the scene. The center of the opening
was occupied by a small pond, not more than a dozen
yards across, by the side of which stood a builder's
handcart. The little two-wheeled vehicle had evidently
been used to convey the appliances which were de-
posited on the ground near it, and which consisted of
a large tub—now filled with water—a shovel, a rake, a
sieve, and a portable pump, the latter being fitted with
a long delivery hose. There were three men besides
the constable, one of whom was working the handle of
the pump, while another was glancing at a paper that
the constable had just delivered to him. He looked
up sharply as I appeared, and viewed me with uncon-
cealed disfavor.
"Hallo, sir!" said he. "You can't come here."
Now, seeing that I was actually here, this was clearly
a mistake, and I ventured to point out the fallacy.
"Well, I can't allow you to stay here. Our business
is of a private nature."
"I know exactly what your business is, Inspector
Badger."
"Oh, do you?" said he, surveying me with a foxy
smile. "And I expect I know what yours is, too. But
we can't have any of you newspaper gentry spying on us
just at present, so you just be off."
I thought it best to undeceive him at once, and ac-
cordingly, having explained who I was, I showed him
the coroner's permit, which he read with manifest an-
noyance.
"This is all very well, sir," said he as he handed me


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 177
back the paper, "but it doesn't authorize you to come
spying on the proceedings of the police. Any remains
that we discover will be deposited in the mortuary,
where you can inspect them to your heart's content; but
you can't stay here and watch us."
I had no defined object in keeping a watch on the
inspector's proceedings; but the sergeant's indiscreet
hint had aroused my curiosity, which was further ex-
cited by Mr. Badger's evident desire to get rid of me.
Moreover, while we had been talking, the pump had
stopped (the muddy floor of the pond being now pretty
fully exposed), and the inspector's assistant was
handling the shovel impatiently.
"Now I put it to you, Inspector," said I, persuasively,
"is it politic of you to allow it to be said that you re-
fused an authorized representative of the family facili-
ties for verifying any statements that you may make
hereafter?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean that if you should happen to find some bone
which could be identified as part of the body of Mr.
Bellingham, that fact would be of more importance to
his family than to anyone else. You know that there
is a very valuable estate and a rather difficult will."
"I didn't know it, and I don't see the bearing of it
now" (neither did I for that matter); "but if you make
such a point of being present at the search, I can't
very well refuse. Only you mustn't get in our way,
that's all."
On hearing this conclusion, his assistant, who looked
like a plain-clothes officer, took up his shovel and
stepped into the mud that formed the bottom of the
pond, stooping as he went and peering among the
masses of weed that had been left stranded by the with-


178 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
drawal of the water. The inspector watched him
anxiously, cautioning him from time to time to "look
out where he was treading"; the laborer left the pump
and craned forward from the margin of the mud, and
the constable and I looked on from our respective points
of vantage. For some time the search was fruitless.
Once the searcher stooped and picked up what turned
out to be a fragment of decayed wood; then the re-
mains of a long-deceased jay were discovered, ex-
amined, and rejected. Suddenly the man bent down
by the side of a small pool that had been left in one
of the deeper hollows, stared intently into the mud, and
stood up.
"There's something here that looks like a bone, sir,"
he sang out.
"Don't grub about then," said the inspector. "Drive
your shovel right into the mud where you saw it and
bring it to the sieve."
The man followed out these instructions, and as he
came shoreward with a great pile of the slimy mud on
his shovel we all converged on the sieve, which the in-
spector took up and held over the tub, directing the con-
stable and laborer to "lend a hand," meaning thereby
that they were to crowd round the tub and exclude me
as completely as possible. This, in fact, they did very
effectively with his assistance, for, when the shovel-
ful of mud had been deposited on the sieve, the four
men leaned over it and so nearly hid it from view
that it was only by craning over, first on one side and
then on the other, that I was able to catch an occasional
glimpse of it and to observe it gradually melting away
as the sieve, immersed in the water, was shaken to and
fro.
Presently the inspector raised the sieve from the


180 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
sure enough, after filling it twice with the mud from the
bottom of the pool, the entire skeleton of the foot was
brought to light.
"Now you're happy, I suppose," said the inspector
when I had checked the bones and found them all
present.
"I should be more happy," I replied, "if I knew what
you were searching for in this pond. You weren't look-
ing for the foot, were you?"
"I was looking for anything that I might find," he
answered. "I shall go on searching until we have
the whole body. I shall go through all the streams and
ponds around here, excepting Connaught Water. That
I shall leave to the last, as it will be a case of dredging
from a boat and isn't so likely as the smaller ponds.
Perhaps the head will be there; it's deeper than any
of the others."
It now occurred to me that as I had learned all that
I was likely to learn, which was little enough, I might
as well leave the inspector to pursue his researches
unembarrassed by my presence. Accordingly I thanked
him for his assistance and departed by the way I had
come.
But as I retraced my steps along the shady path I
speculated profoundly on the officer's proceedings. My
examinations of the mutilated hand had yielded the
conclusion that the finger had been removed after death
or shortly before, but more probably after. Some one
else had evidently arrived at the same conclusion, and
had communicated his opinion to Inspector Badger;
for it was clear that that gentleman was in full cry
after the missing finger. But why was he searching
for it here when the hand had been found at Sidcup?
And what did he expect to learn from it when he found


A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 181
it? There is nothing particularly characteristic about
a finger, or, at least, the bones of one; and the object
of the present researches was to determine the identity
of the person of whom these bones were the remains.
There was something mysterious about the affair, some-
thing suggesting that Inspector Badger was in posses-
sion of private information of some kind. But what
information could he have? And whence could he
have obtained it? These were questions to which I
could find no answer, and I was still fruitlessly re-
volving them when I arrived at the modest inn where
the inquest was to be held, and where I proposed to for-
tify myself with a correspondingly modest lunch as a
preparation for my attendance at the inquiry.


CHAPTER XIII
THE CORONER'S QUEST
The proceedings of that fine old institution, the cor-
oner's court, are apt to have their dignity impaired by
the somewhat unjudicial surroundings amidst which
they are conducted. The present inquiry was to be
held in a long room attached to the inn, ordinarily de-
voted, as its various appurtenances testified, to gather-
ings of a more convivial character.
Hither I betook myself after a protracted lunch and
a meditative pipe, and being the first to arrive—the
jury having already been sworn and conducted to the
mortuary to view the remains—whiled away the time
by considering the habits of the customary occupants
of the room by the light of the objects contained in
it. A wooden target with one or two darts sticking in
it hung on the end wall and invited the Robin Hoods
of the village to try their skill; a system of incised
marks on the oaken table made sinister suggestions of
shove-halfpenny; and a large open box filled with white
wigs, gaudily colored robes and wooden spears, swords
and regalia, crudely coated with gilded paper, obviously
appertained to the puerile ceremonials of the Order of
Druids.
I had exhausted the interest of these relics and had
transferred my attentions to the picture gallery when
the other spectators and the witnesses began to arrive.
Hastily I seated myself in the only comfortable chair
182


THE CORONER'S QUEST 183
beside the one placed at the head of the table, pre-
sumably for the coroner; and I had hardly done so
when the latter entered accompanied by the jury. Im-
mediately after them came the sergeant, Inspector
Badger, one or two plain-clothes men, and finally the
divisional surgeon.
The coroner took his seat at the head of the table
and opened his book, and the jury seated themselves
on a couple of benches on one side of the long table.
I looked with some interest at the twelve "good men
and true." They were a representative group of British
tradesmen, quiet, attentive, and rather solemn; but my
attention was particularly attracted by a small man
with a very large head and a shock of upstanding hair
whom I had diagnosed, after a glance at his intelligent
but truculent countenance and the shiny knees of his
trousers, as the village cobbler. He sat between the
broad-shouldered foreman, who looked like a black-
smith, and a dogged, red-faced man whose general
aspect of prosperous greasiness suggested the calling of
a butcher.
"The inquiry, gentlemen," the coroner commenced,
"upon which we are now entering concerns itself with
two questions. The first is that of identity: who was
this person whose body we have just viewed? The
second is: How, when, and by what means did he come
by his death? We will take the identity first and be-
gin with the circumstances under which the body was
discovered."
Here the cobbler stood up and raised an excessively
dirty hand.
"I rise, Mr. Chairman," said he, "to a point of
order." The other jurymen looked at him curiously and
some of them, I regret to say, grinned. "You have


184 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
referred, sir," he continued, "to the body which we
have just viewed. I wish to point out that we have not
viewed a body; we have viewed a collection of bones."
"We will refer to them as the remains, if you prefer
it," said the coroner.
"I do prefer it," was the reply, and the objector sat
down.
"Very well," rejoined the coroner, and he proceeded
to call the witnesses, of whom the first was a laborer
who had discovered the bones in the watercress-bed.
"Do you happen to know how long it was since the
watercress-beds had been cleaned out previously?" the
coroner asked, when the witness had told the story of
the discovery.
"They was cleaned out by Mr. Tapper's orders just
before he gave them up. That will be a little better
than two years ago. In May it were. I helped to clean
'em. I worked on this very same place and there wasn't
no bones there then."
The coroner glanced at the jury. "Any questions,
gentlemen," he asked.
The cobbler directed an intimidating scowl at the
witness and demanded:
"Were you searching for bones when you came on
these remains?"
"Me!" exclaimed the witness. "What should I be
searching for bones for?"
"Don't prevaricate," said the cobbler sternly; "an-
swer the question: Yes or no."
"No, of course I wasn't."
The juryman shook his enormous head dubiously as
though implying that he would let it pass this time but
it mustn't happen again; and the examination of the
witnesses continued, without eliciting anything that was


THE CORONER'S QUEST 185
new to me or giving rise to any incident, until the ser-
geant had described the finding of the right arm in the
Cuckoo Pits.
"Was this an accidental discovery?" the coroner
asked.
"No. We had instructions from Scotland Yard to
search any likely ponds in this neighborhood."
The coroner discreetly forbore to press this matter
any further, but my friend the cobbler was evidently
on the qui vive, and I anticipated a brisk cross-
examination for Mr. Badger when his turn came. The
inspector was apparently of the same opinion, for I saw
him cast a glance of the deepest malevolence at the too
inquiring disciple of St. Crispin. In fact, his turn came
next, and the cobbler's hair stood up with unholy joy.
The finding of the lower half of the trunk in Staple's
Pond at Loughton was the inspector's own achievement,
but he was not boastful about it. The discovery, he re-
marked, followed naturally on the previous one in the
Cuckoo Pits.
"Had you any private information that led you to
search this particular neighborhood?" the cobbler
asked.
"We had no private information whatever," replied
Badger.
"Now I put it to you," pursued the juryman, shaking
a forensic, and very dirty, forefinger at the inspector;
"here are certain remains found at Sidcup; here are
certain other remains found at St Mary Cray, and cer-
tain others at Lee. All those places are in Kent. Now
isn't it very remarkable that you should come straight
down to Epping Forest, which is in Essex, and search
for those bones and find 'em?"


186 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"We were making a systematic search of all likely
places," replied Badger.
"Exactly," said the cobbler, with a ferocious grin,
"that's just my point. I say, isn't it very funny that,
after finding the remains in Kent some twenty miles
from here, with the River Thames between, you should
come here to look for the bones and go straight to
Staple's Pond, where they happen to be—and find
'em?"
"It would have been more funny," Badger replied
sourly, "if we'd gone straight to a place where they
happened not to be—and found them."
A gratified snigger arose from the other eleven good
men and true, and the cobbler grinned savagely; but
before he could think of a suitable rejoinder the coroner
interposed.
"The question is not very material," he said, "and
we mustn't embarrass the police by unnecessary in-
quiries."
"It's my belief," said the cobbler, "that he knew they
were there all the time."
"The witness has stated that he had no private infor-
mation," said the coroner; and he proceeded to take
the rest of the inspector's evidence, watched closely by
the critical juror.
The account of the finding of the remains having
been given in full, the police surgeon was called and
sworn; the jurymen straightened their backs with an
air of expectancy, and I turned over a page of my note-
book.
"You have examined the bones at present lying in
the mortuary and forming the subject of this inquiry?"
the coroner asked.
"I have."


THE CORONER'S QUEST 187
"Will you kindly tell us what you have observed?"
"I find that the bones are human bones, and are, in
my opinion, all parts of the same person. They form a
skeleton which is complete with the exception of the
skull, the third finger of the left hand, the knee-caps,
and the leg-bones—I mean the bones between the knees
and the ankles."
"Is there anything to account for the absence of the
missing finger?"
"No. There is no deformity and no sign of its having
been amputated during life. In my opinion it was re-
moved after death."
"Can you give us any description of the deceased?"
"I should say that these are the bones of an elderly
man, probably over sixty years of age, about five feet
eight and a half inches in height, of rather stout build,
fairly muscular, and well preserved. There are no
signs of disease excepting some old-standing rheumatic
gout of the right hip-joint."
"Can you form any opinion as to the cause of death?"
"No. There are no marks of violence or signs of
injury. But it will be impossible to form any opinion
as to the cause of death until we have seen the skull."
"Did you note anything else of importance?"
"Yes. I was struck by the appearance of anatomical
knowledge and skill on the part of the person who dis-
membered the body. The knowledge of anatomy is
proved by the fact that the corpse has been divided
into definite anatomical regions. For instance, the
bones of the neck are complete and include the top joint
of the backbone known as the atlas; whereas a person
without anatomical knowledge would probably take off
the head by cutting through the neck. Then the arms
have been separated with the scapula (or shoulder-


188 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
blade) and clavicle (or collar-bone) attached, just as
an arm would be removed for dissection.
"The skill is shown by the neat way in which the
dismemberment has been carried out The parts have
not been rudely hacked asunder, but have been sepa-
rated at the joints so skilfully that I have not discov-
ered a single scratch or mark of the knife on any of the
bones."
"Can you suggest any class of person who would be
likely to possess the knowledge and skill to which you
refer?"
"It would, of course, be possessed by a surgeon or
medical student, and possibly by a butcher."
"You think that the person who dismembered this
body may have been a surgeon or a medical student?"
"Yes; or a butcher. Some one accustomed to the
dismemberment of bodies and skilful with the knife."
Here the cobbler suddenly rose to his feet
"I rise, Mr. Chairman," said he, "to protest against
the statement that has just been made."
"What statement?" demanded the coroner.
"Against the aspersion," continued the cobbler, with
an oratorical flourish, "that has been cast upon a honor-
able calling."
"I don't understand you," said the coroner.
"Doctor Summers has insinuated that this murder
was committed by a butcher. Now a member of that
honorable calling is sitting on this jury"
"You let me alone," growled the butcher.
"I will not let you alone," persisted the cobbler. "I
desire"
"Oh, shut up, Pope!" This was from the foreman,
who, at the same moment, reached out an enormous
hairy hand with which he grabbed the cobbler's coat-


THE CORONER'S QUEST 189
tails and brought him into a sitting posture with a
thump that shook the room.
But Mr. Pope, though seated, was not silenced. "I
desire," he said, "to have my protest put on record."
"I can't do that," said the coroner, "and I can't allow
you to interrupt the witnesses."
"I am acting," said Mr. Pope, "in the interests of my
friend here and the members of a honorable"
But here the butcher turned on him savagely, and,
in a hoarse stage-whisper, exclaimed:
"Look here, Pope; you've got too much of what the
cat licks"
"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" the coroner protested
sternly; "I cannot permit this unseemly conduct. You
are forgetting the solemnity of the occasion and your
own responsible positions. I must insist on more decent
and decorous behavior."
There was profound silence, in the midst of which
the butcher concluded in the same hoarse whisper:
"—licks 'er paws with."
The coroner cast a withering glance at him, and,
turning to the witness, resumed the examination.
"Can you tell us, Doctor, how long a time has elapsed
since the death of the deceased?"
"I should say not less than eighteen months, but
probably more. How much more it is impossible from
inspection alone to say. The bones are perfectly clean
—that is, clean of all soft structures—and will remain
substantially in their present condition for many
years."
"The evidence of the man who found the remains in
the watercress-bed suggests that they could not have
been there for more than two years. Do the appear-
ances in your opinion agree with that view?"
y


190 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Yes; perfectly."
"There is one more point, Doctor; a very important
one. Do you find anything in any of the bones, or all
of them together, which would enable you to identify
them as the bones of any particular individual?"
"No," replied Dr. Summers; "I found no peculiarity
that could furnish the means of personal identification."
"The description of a missing individual has been
given to us," said the coroner; "a man, fifty-nine years
of age, five feet eight inches in height, healthy, well
preserved, rather broad in build, and having an old
Pott's fracture of the left ankle. Do the remains that
you have examined agree with that description?"
"Yes, so far as agreement is possible. There is no
disagreement."
"The remains might be those of that individual?"
"They might; but there is no positive evidence that
they are. The description would apply to a large pro-
portion of elderly men, except as to the fracture."
"You found no signs of such a fracture?"
"No. Pott's fracture affects the bone called the
fibula. That is one of the bones that has not yet been
found, so there is no evidence on that point. The left
foot was quite normal, but then it would be in any case,
unless the fracture had resulted in great deformity."
"You estimated the height of the deceased as half
an inch greater than that of the missing person. Does
that constitute a disagreement?"
"No; my estimate is only approximate. As the arms
are complete and the legs are not, I have based my cal-
culations on the width across the two arms. But
measurement of the thigh-bones gives the same result.
The length of the thigh-bones is one foot seven inches
and five-eighths."


THE CORONER'S QUEST 191
"So the deceased might not have been taller than five
feet eight?"
"That is so; from five feet eight to five feet nine."
"Thank you. I think that is all we want to ask you,
Doctor; unless the jury wish to put any questions."
He glanced uneasily at that august body, and in-
stantly the irrepressible Pope rose to the occasion.
"About that finger that is missing," said the cobbler.
"You say that it was cut off after death?"
"That is my opinion."
"Now can you tell us why it was cut off?"
"No, I cannot."
"Oh, come now, Doctor Summers, you must have
formed some opinion on the subject."
Here the coroner interposed. "The Doctor is only
concerned with the evidence arising out of the actual
examination of the remains. Any personal opinions or
conjectures that he may have formed are not evidence,
and he must not be asked about them."
"But, sir," objected Pope, "we want to know why
that finger was cut off. It couldn't have been took off
for no reason. May I ask, sir, if the person who is
missing had anything peculiar about that finger?"
"Nothing is stated to that effect in the written de-
scription," replied the coroner.
"Perhaps," suggested Pope, "Inspector Badger can
tell us."
"I think," said the coroner, "we had better not ask
the police too many questions. They will tell us any-
thing that they wish to be made public."
"Oh, very well," snapped the cobbler. "If it's a
matter of hushing it up I've got no more to say; only I
don't see how we are to arrive at a verdict if we ffaut
have the facts put before us."


192 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
All the witnesses having now been examined, the
coroner proceeded to sum up and address the jury.
"You have heard the evidence, gentlemen, of the
various witnesses, and you will have perceived that it
does not enable us to answer either of die questions that
form the subject of this inquiry. We now know that
the deceased was an elderly man, about sixty years of
age, and about five feet eight to nine in height; and
that his death took place from eighteen months to two
years ago. That is all we know. From the treatment
to which the body has been subjected we may form con-
jectures as to the circumstances of his death. But we
have no actual knowledge. We do not know who the
deceased was or how he came by his death. Conse-
quently, it will be necessary to adjourn this inquiry
until fresh facts are available, and as soon as that is
the case, you will receive due notice that your attend-
ance is required."
The silence of the Court gave place to the confused
noise of moving chairs and a general outbreak of eager
talk amidst which I rose and made my way out into the
street. At the door I encountered Dr. Summers, whose
dog-cart was waiting close by.
"Are you going back to town now?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered; "as soon as I can catch a train."
"If you jump into my cart I'll run you down in time
for the five-one. You'll miss it if you walk."
I accepted his offer thankfully, and a minute later
was spinning briskly down the road to the station.
"Queer little devil, that man Pope," Dr. Summers
remarked. "Quite a character; a socialist, laborite,
agitator, general crank; anything for a row."
"Yes," I answered; "that was what his appearance


194 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
at the laboratory door in his white apron, with a pair of
flat-nosed pliers in his hands.
"The Doctor had to go down to Bristol to consult
over an urgent case," he explained, "and Doctor Jervis
has gone with him. They'll be away a day or two, I
expect, but the Doctor left this note for you."
He took a letter from the shelf, where it had been
stood conspicuously on edge, and handed it to me. It
was a short note from Thorndyke apologizing for his
sudden departure and asking me to give Polton my
notes with any comments that I had to make.
"You will be interested to learn," he added, "that the
application will be heard in the Probate Court the day
after to-morrow. I shall not be present, of course, nor
will Jervis, so I should like you to attend and keep your
eyes open for anything that may happen during the
hearing and that may not appear in the notes that
Marchmont's clerk will be instructed to take. I have
retained Dr. Payne to stand by and help you with the
practise, so that you can attend the Court with a clear
conscience."
This was highly flattering and quite atoned for the
small disappointment; with deep gratification at the
trust that Thorndyke had reposed in me, I pocketed
the letter, handed my notes to Polton, wished him
"Good-evening," and betook myself to Fetter Lane.


CHAPTER XIV
WHICH CARRIES THE READER INTO THE PROBATE COURT
The Probate Court wore an air of studious repose
when I entered with Miss Bellingham and her father.
Apparently the great and inquisitive public had not be-
come aware of the proceedings that were about to take
place, or had not realized their connection with the sen-
sational "Mutilation Case"; but barristers and Press-
men, better informed, had gathered in some strength,
and the hum of their conversation filled the air like the
droning of the voluntary that ushers in a cathedral
service.
As we entered, a pleasant-faced, elderly gentleman
rose and came forward to meet us, shaking Mr. Belling-
ham's hand cordially and saluting Miss Bellingham with
a courtly bow.
"This is Mr. Marchmont, Doctor," said the former,
introducing me; and the solicitor, having thanked me
fo» the trouble I had taken in attending at the inquest,
led us to a bench, at the farther end of which was
seated a gentleman whom I recognized as Mr. Hurst.
Mr. Bellingham recognized him at the same moment
and glared at him wrathfully.
"I see that scoundrel is here I" he exclaimed in a
distinctly audible voice, "pretending that he doesn't see
me, because he is ashamed to look me in the face,
but"
"Hush I hush I my dear sir," exclaimed the horrified
195


196 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
solicitor; "we mustn't talk like that, especially in this
place. Let me beg you—let me entreat you to control
your feelings, to make no indiscreet remarks; in fact,
to make no remarks at all," he added, with the evident
conviction that any remarks that Mr. Bellingham might
make would be certain to be indiscreet.
"Forgive me, Marchmont," Mr. Bellingham replied
contritely. "I will control myself: I will really be quite
discreet. I won't even look at him again—because, if
I do, I shall probably go over and pull his nose."
This form of discretion did not appear to be quite to
Mr. Marchmont's liking, for he took the precaution of
insisting that Miss Bellingham and I should sit on the
farther side of his client, and thus effectually separate
him from his enemy.
"Who's the long-nosed fellow talking to Jellicoe?"
Mr. Bellingham asked.
"That is Mr. Loram, K.C., Mr. Hurst's counsel; and
the convivial-looking gentleman next to him is our
counsel, Mr. Heath, a most able man and"—here Mr.
Marchmont whispered behind his hand—"fully in-
structed by Doctor Thorndyke."
At this juncture the judge entered and took his seat;
the usher proceeded with great rapidity to swear in the
jury, and the Court gradually settled down into that
state of academic quiet which it maintained throughout
the proceedings, excepting when the noisy swing-doors
were set oscillating by some bustling clerk or reporter.
The judge was a somewhat singular-looking old gen-
tleman, very short as to his face and very long as to his
mouth; which peculiarities, together with a pair of
large and bulging eyes (which ha. usually kept closed),
suggested a certain resemblance to a frog. And he had
a curious frog-like trick of flattening his eyelids—as if


198 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
With this preamble Mr. Loram proceeded to give a
narrative of the events connected with the disappear-
ance of John Bellingham, which was substantially
identical with that which I had read in the newspapers;
and having laid the actual facts before the jury, he went
on to discuss their probable import.
"Now, what conclusion," he asked, "will this strange,
this most mysterious train of events suggest to an in-
telligent person who shall consider it impartially?
Here is a man who steps forth from the house of his
cousin or his brother, as the case may be, and forth-
with, in the twinkling of an eye, vanishes from human
ken. What is the explanation? Did he steal forth and,
without notice or hint of his intention, take train to
some seaport, thence to embark for some distant land,
leaving his affairs to take care of themselves and his
friends to speculate vainly as to his whereabouts? Is
he now hiding abroad, or even at home, indifferent alike
to the safety of his own considerable property and the
peace of mind of his friends? Or is it that death has
come upon him unawares by sickness, by accident, or,
more probably, by the hand of some unknown criminal?
Let us consider the probabilities.
"Can he have disappeared by his own deliberate act?
Why not? it may be asked. Men undoubtedly do dis-
appear from time to time, to be discovered by chance
or to reappear voluntarily after intervals of years and
find their names almost forgotten and their places filled
by new-comers. Yes; but there is always some reason
for a disapearance of this kind, even though it be a bad
one. Family discords that make life a weariness;
pecuniary difficulties that make life a succession of
anxieties; distaste for particular circumstances and sur-


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 199
roundings from which there seems no escape; inherent
restlessness and vagabond tendencies, and so on.
"Do any of these explanations apply to the present
case? No, they do not. Family discords—at least
those capable of producing chronic misery—appertain
exclusively to a married state. But the testator was a
bachelor with no encumbrances whatever. Pecuniary
anxieties can be equally excluded. The testator was in
easy, in fact, in affluent circumstances. His mode of
life was apparently agreeable and full of interest and
activity, and he had full liberty of change if he wished.
He had been accustomed to travel, and could do so
again without absconding. He had reached an age
when radical changes do not seem desirable. He was a
man of fixed and regular habits, and his regularity was
of his own choice and not due to compulsion or neces-
sity. When last seen by his friends, as I shall prove, he
was proceeding to a definite destination with the ex-
pressed intention of returning for purposes of his own
appointing. He did return and then vanished, leaving
those purposes unachieved.
"If we conclude that he has voluntarily disappeared
and is at present in hiding, we adopt an opinion that is
entirely at variance with all these weighty facts. If,
on the other hand, we conclude that he has died sud-
denly, or has been killed by an accident or otherwise,
we are adopting a view that involves no inherent im-
probabilities and that is entirely congruous with the
known facts; facts that will be proved by the testimony
of the witnesses whom I shall call. The supposition
that the testator is dead is not only more probable than
that he is alive; I submit it is the only reasonable ex-
planation of the circumstances of his disappearance.
"But this is not all. The presumption of death which


200 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
arises so inevitably out of the mysterious and abrupt
manner in which the testator disappeared has recently
received most conclusive and dreadful confirmation.
On the fifteenth of July last there were discovered at
Sidcup the remains of a human arm—a left arm, gentle-
men, from the hand of which the third, or ring, finger
was missing. The doctor who has examined that arm
will tell you that the finger was cut off either after
death or immediately before; and his evidence will
prove conclusively that that arm must have been de-
posited in the place where it was found just about the
time when the testator disappeared. Since that first
discovery, other portions of the same mutilated body
have come to light; and it is a strange and significant
iaCt that they have all been found in the immediate
neighborhood of Eltham or Woodford. You will re-
member, gentlemen, that it was either at Eltham or
Woodford that the testator was last seen alive.
"And now observe the completeness of the coinci-
dence. These human remains, as you will be told pres-
ently by the experienced and learned medical gentleman
who has examined them most exhaustively, are those of
a man of about sixty years of age, about five feet eight
inches in height, fairly muscular and well preserved,
apparently healthy, and rather stoutly built. Another
witness will tell you that the missing man was about
sixty years of age, about five feet eight inches in height,
fairly muscular and well preserved, apparently healthy,
and rather stoutly built And—another most signifi-
cant and striking fact—the testator was accustomed to
wear upon the third finger of his left hand—the very
finger that is missing from the remains that were found
—a most peculiar ring, which fitted so tightly that he
was unable to get it off after once putting it on; a ring,


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 203
The testator accordingly gave me certain instructions
concerning the delivery of the gift, as he was leaving
England that evening."
"Are those instructions relevant to the subject of this
inquiry?"
"I think they are. The testator was going to Paris,
and perhaps from thence to Vienna. He instructed me
to receive and unpack the tomb-furniture on its arrival,
and to store it, with the mummy, in a particular room,
where it was to remain for three weeks. If he returned
within that time he was to hand it over in person to the
Museum authorities; if he had not returned within that
time, he desired me to notify the Museum authorities
that they were at liberty to take possession of and
remove the collection at their convenience. From these
instructions I gathered that the testator was uncertain
as to the length of his absence from England and the
extent of his journey."
"Did he state precisely where he was going?"
"No. He said he was going to Paris and perhaps to
Vienna, but he gave no particulars and I asked for
none."
"Do you, in fact, know where he went?"
"No. He left the house at six o'clock wearing a long,
heavy overcoat and carrying a suit-case and an um-
brella. I wished him 'Good-by' at the door and watched
him walk away as if going toward Southampton Row.
I have no idea where he went, and I never saw him
again."
"Had he no other luggage than the suit-case?"
"I do not know, but I believe not. He was accus-
tomed to travel with the bare necessaries, and to buy
anything further he wanted en route."


204 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Did he say nothing to the servants as to the prob-
able date of his return?"
"There were no servants excepting the caretaker.
The house was not used for residential purposes. The
testator slept and took his meals at his club, though he
kept his clothes at the house."
"Did you receive any communication from him after
he left?"
"No. I never heard from him again in any way. I
waited for three weeks as he had instructed me, and
then notified the Museum authorities that the collection
was ready for removal. Five days later Doctor Nor-
bury came and took formal possession of it, and it was
transferred to the Museum forthwith."
"When did you next hear of the testator?"
"On the twenty-third of November following at a
quarter-past seven in the evening. Mr. George Hurst
came to my rooms, which are over my office, and in-
formed me that the testator had called at his house
during his absence and had been shown into the study
to wait for him. That on his—Mr. Hurst's—arrival
it was found that the testator had disappeared with-
out acquainting the servants of his intended departure,
and without being seen by anyone to leave the house.
Mr. Hurst thought this so remarkable that he had
hastened up to town to inform me. I also thought it
a remarkable circumstance, especially as I had received
no communication from the testator, and we both de-
cided that it was advisable to inform the testator's
brother, Godfrey, of what had happened.
"Accordingly Mr. Hurst and I proceeded as quickly
as possible to Liverpool Street and took the first train
available to Woodford, where Mr. Godfrey Bellingham
then resided. We arrived at his house at five minutes


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 205
to nine, and were informed by the servant that he was
not at home, but that his daughter was in the library,
which was a detached building situated in the grounds.
The servant lighted a lantern and conducted us through
the grounds to the library, where we found Mr. God-
frey Bellingham and Miss Bellingham. Mr. Godfrey
had only just come in and had entered by the back
gate, which had a bell that rang in the library. Mr.
Hurst informed Mr. Godfrey of what had occurred,
and then we left the library to walk up to the house.
A few paces from the library I noticed by the light of
the lantern, which Mr. Godfrey was carrying, a small
object lying on the lawn. I pointed it out to him and he
picked it up, and then we all recognized it as a scarab
that the testator was accustomed to wear on his watch-
chain. It was fitted with a gold wire passed through
the suspension hole and a gold ring. Both the wire
and the ring were in position, but the ring was broken.
We went to the house and questioned the servants as
to visitors; but none of them had seen the testator,
and they all agreed that no visitor whatsoever had come
to the house during the afternoon or evening. Mr. God-
frey and Miss Bellingham both declared that they had
neither seen nor heard anything of the testator, and
were both unaware that he had returned to England.
As the circumstances were somewhat disquieting, I
communicated, on the following morning, with the po-
lice and requested them to make inquiries; which they
did, with the result that a suit-case bearing the initials
'J. B.', was found to be lying unclaimed in the cloak-
room at Charing Cross Station. I was able to identify
the suit-case as that which I had seen the testator
carry away from Queen Square. I was also able to
identify some of the contents. I interviewed the cloak-


206 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
room attendant, who informed me that the suit-case
had been deposited on the twenty-third about 4:15 p. m.
He had no recollection of the person who deposited it.
It remained unclaimed in the possession of the railway
company for three months, and was then surrendered
to me."
"Were there any marks or labels on it showing the
route by which it had traveled?"
"There were no labels on it and no marks other than
the initials 'J. B.'"
"Do you happen to know the testator's age?"
"Yes. He was fifty-nine on the eleventh of October,
nineteen hundred and two."
"Can you tell us what his height was?"
"Yes. He was exactly five feet eight inches."
"What sort of health had he?"
"So far as I know his health was good. I am not
aware that he suffered from any disease. I am only
judging by his appearance, which was that of a healthy
man."
"Should you describe him as well preserved or other-
wise?"
"I should describe him as a well preserved man for
his age."
"How should you describe his figure?"
"I should describe him as rather broad and stout in
build, and fairly muscular, though not exceptionally
so."
Mr. Loram made a rapid note of these answers and
then said:
"You have told us, Mr. Jellicoe, that you have known
the testator intimately for twenty-seven years. Now,
did you ever notice whether he was accustomed to wear
any rings upon his fingers?"


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 207
"He wore upon the third finger of his left hand a
copy of an antique ring which bore the device of the
Eye of Osiris. That was the only ring he ever wore as
far as I know."
"Did he wear it constantly?"
"Yes, necessarily; because it was too small for him,
and having once squeezed it on he was never able to get
it off again."
This was the sum of Mr. Jellicoe's evidence, and at
its conclusion the witness glanced inquiringly at Mr.
Bellingham's counsel. But Mr. Heath remained seated,
attentively considering the notes that he had just made,
and finding that there was to be no cross-examination,
Mr. Jellicoe stepped down from the box. I leaned back
on my bench, and, turning my head, observed Miss
Bellingham deep in thought.
"What do you think of it?" I asked.
"It seems very complete and conclusive," she re-
plied. And then, with a sigh, she murmured: "Poor old
Uncle John! How horrid it sounds to talk of him in
this cold-blooded, business-like way, as 'the testator,'
as if he were nothing but a sort of algebraical sign."
"There isn't much room for sentiment, I suppose, in
the proceedings of the Probate Court," I replied. To
which she assented, and then asked: "Who is this
lady?"
"This lady" was a fashionably dressed young woman
who had just bounced into the witness-box and was now
being sworn. The preliminaries being finished, she
answered Miss Bellingham's question and Mr. Loram's
by stating that her name was Augustina Gwendoline
Dobbs, and that she was housemaid to Mr. George
Hurst, of "The Poplars," Eltham.
"Mr. Hurst lives alone, I believe?" said Mr. Loram.


2oS THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"I don't know what you mean by that," Miss Dobbs
began; but the barrister explained:
"I mean that I believe he is unmarried?"
"Well, and what about it?" the witness demanded
tartly.
"I am asking you a question."
"I know that," said the witness viciously; "and I
say that you've no business to make any such insinu-
ations to a respectable young lady when there's a cook-
housekeeper and a kitchenmaid living in the house, and
him old enough to be my father"
Here his lordship flattened his eyelids with startling
effect, and Mr. Loram interrupted: "I make no insinua-
tions. I merely ask, Is your employer, Mr. Hurst, an
unmarried man, or is he not?"
"I never asked him," said the witness sulkily.
"Please answer my question—yes or no."
"How can I answer your question? He may be mar-
ried or he may not. How do I know? I'm no private
detective."
Mr. Loram directed a stupefied gaze at the witness,
and in the ensuing silence a plaintiff voice came from
the bench:
"Is that point material?"
"Certainly, my lord," replied Mr. Loram.
"Then, as I see that you are calling Mr. Hurst, per-
haps you had better put the question to him. He will
probably know."
Mr. Loram bowed, and as the judge subsided into his
normal state of coma he turned to the triumphant wit-
ness.
"Do you remember anything remarkable occurring on
the twenty-third of November the year before last?'*
"Yes. Mr. John Bellingham called at our house."


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 209
"How did you know he was Mr. John Bellingham?"
"I didn't; but he said he was, and I supposed he
knew."
"At what time did he arrive?"
"At twenty minutes past five in the evening."
"What happened then?"
"I told him that Mr. Hurst had not come home yet,
and he said he would wait for him in the study and
write some letters^ so I showed him into the study and
shut the door."
"What happened next?"
"Nothing. Then Mr. Hurst came home at his usual
time—a quarter to six—and let himself in with his key.
He went straight into the study where I supposed Mr.
Bellingham still was, so I took no notice, but laid the
table for two. At six o'clock Mr. Hurst came into the
dining-room—he has tea in the City and dines at
six—and when he saw the table laid for two he asked
the reason. I said I thought Mr. Bellingham was stay-
ing to dinner.
"'Mr. Bellingham!' says he. 'I didn't know he was
here. Why didn't you tell me?' he says. 'I thought
he was with you, sir,' I said. 'I showed him into the
study,' I said. 'Well, he wasn't there when I came in,'
he said, 'and he isn't there now,' he said. 'Perhaps he
has gone to wait in the drawing-room,' he said. So he
went and looked in the drawing-room, but he wasn't
there. Then Mr. Hurst said he thought Mr. Belling-
ham must have got tired of waiting and gone away;
but I told him I was quite sure he hadn't, because I
had been watching all the time. Then he asked me
if Mr. Bellingham was alone or whether his daughter
was with him, and I said that it wasn't Mr. Belling-
ham at all, but Mr. John Bellingham, and then he was


2io THE EYE OF OSIRIS
more surprised than ever. I said we had better search
the house to make sure whether he was there or not,
and Mr. Hurst said he would come with me; so we all
went over the house and looked in all the rooms, but
there was not a sign of Mr. Bellingham in any of them.
Then Mr. Hurst got very nervous and upset, and when
he had just snatched a little dinner he ran off to catch
the six thirty-one train up to town."
"You say that Mr. Bellingham could not have left
the house because you were watching all the time.
Where were you while you were watching?"
"I was in the kitchen. I could see the front gate
from the kitchen window."
"You say that you laid the table for two. Where did
you lay it?"
"In the dining-room, of course."
"Could you see the front gate from the dining-room?"
"No, but I could see the study door. The study is
opposite the dining-room."
"Do you have to come upstairs to get from the kit-
chen to the dining-room?"
"Yes, of course you do!"
"Then, might not Mr. Bellingham have left the house
while you were coming up the stairs?"
"No, he couldn't have done."
"Why not?"
"Because it would have been impossible."
"But why would it have been impossible?"
"Because he couldn't have done it."
"I suggest that Mr. Bellingham left the house quietly
while you were on the stairs?"
"No, he didn't."
"How do you know he did not?"
"I am quite sure he didn't."


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 211
"But how can you be certain?"
"Because I should have seen him if he had."
"But I mean when you were on the stairs."
"He was in the study when I was on the stairs."
"How do you know he was in the study?"
"Because I showed him in there and he hadn't come
out."
Mr. Loram paused and took a deep breath, and his
lordship flattened his eyelids.
"Is there a side gate to the premises?" the barrister
resumed wearily.
"Yes. It opens into a narrow lane at the side of
the house."
"And there is a French window in the study, is there
not?"
"Yes. It opens on to the small grass plot opposite the
side gate."
"The windowd and the gate both have catches on the
have been possible for Mr. Bellingham to let himself
out into the lane?"
"The window and gate both have catches on the
inside. He could have got out that way, but, of course
he didn't."
"Why not?"
"Well, no gentleman would go creeping out the back
way like a thief."
"Did you look to see if the French window was shut
and fastened after you missed Mr. Bellingham?"
"I looked at it when we shut the house up for the
night. It was then shut and fastened on the inside."
"And the side gate?"
"That gate was shut and latched. You have to slam
the gate to make the latch fasten, so no one could
have gone out of the gate without being heard."


ai2 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Here the examination-in-chief ended, and Mr. Loram
sat down with an audible sigh of relief. Miss Dobbs
was about to step down from the witness-box when Mr.
Heath rose to cross-examine.
"Did you see Mr. Bellingham in a good light?" he
asked.
"Pretty good. It was dark outside, but the hall-lamp
was alight."
"Kindly look at this"—here a small object was
passed across to the witness. "It is a trinket that Mr.
Bellingham is stated to have carried suspended from
his watch-guard. Can you remember if he was wearing
it in that manner when he came to the house?"
"No, he was not."
"You are sure of that."
"Quite sure."
"Thank you. And now I want to ask you about
the search that you have mentioned. You say that you
went all over the house. Did you go into the study?"
"No—at least, not until Mr. Hurst had gone to
London."
"When, you did go in, was the window fastened?"
"Yes."
"Could it have been fastened from the outside?"
"No; there is no handle outside."
"What furniture is there in the study?"
"There is a writing-table, a revolving-chair, two easy
chairs, two large book-cases, and a wardrobe that Mr.
Hurst keeps his overcoats and hats in."
"Does lie wardrobe lock?"
"Yes."
"Was it locked when you went in?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I don't go about trying the
cupboards and drawers."


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 213
"What furniture is there in the drawing-room?"
"A cabinet, six or seven chairs, a Chesterfield sofa, a
piano, a silver-table, and one or two occasional tables."
"Is the piano a grand or upright?"
"It is an upright grand."
"In what position is it placed?"
"It stands across a corner near the window."
"Is there sufficient room behind it for a man to con-
ceal himself?"
Miss Dobbs was amused and did not dissemble.
"Oh, yes," she sniggered, "there's plenty of room for
a man to hide behind it."
"When you searched the drawing-room, did you look
behind the piano?"
"No, I didn't," Miss Dobbs replied scornfully.
"Did you look under the sofa?"
"Certainly not!"
"What did you do then?"
"We opened the door and looked into the room. We
were not looking for a cat or a monkey; we were look-
ing for a middle-aged gentleman."
"And am I to take it that your search over the rest
of the house was conducted in a similar manner?"
"Certainly. We looked into the rooms, but we did
not search under the beds or in the cupboards."
"Are all the rooms in the house in use as living or
sleeping rooms?"
"No; there is one room on the second floor that
is used as a store and lumber-room, and one on the first
floor that Mr. Hurst uses to store trunks and things
that he is not using."
"Did you look in those rooms when you searched the
house?"
"No."
s


214 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"Have you looked in them since?"
"I have been in the lumber-room since, but not in the
other. It is always kept locked."
At this point an ominous flattening became apparent
in his lordship's eyelids, but these symptoms passed
when Mr. Heath sat down and indicated that he had
no further questions to ask.
Miss Dobbs once more prepared to step down from
the witness box, when Mr. Loram shot up like a jack-
in-the-box.
"You have made certain statements," said he, "con-
cerning the scarab which Mr. Bellingham was accus-
tomed to wear suspended from his watch-guard. You
say that he was not wearing it when he came to Mr.
Hurst's house on the twenty-third of November, nine-
teen hundred and two. Are you quite sure of that?"
"Quite sure."
"I must ask you to be very careful in your statement
on this point. The question is a highly important one.
Do you swear that the scarab was not hanging from
his watch-guard?"
"Yes, I do."
"Did you notice the watch-guard particularly?"
"No; not particularly."
"Then what makes you sure that the scarab was not
attached to it?"
"It couldn't have been."
"Why could it not?"
"Because if it had been there I should have seen it."
"What kind of watch-guard was Mr. Bellingham
wearing?"
"Oh, an ordinary sort of watch-guard."
"I mean was it a chain or a ribbon or a strap?"


218 THE EYE GF OSIRIS
of a man whose affairs are, as they have been for many
years, in the hands of a highly capable, completely
trustworthy agent who is better acquainted with them
than the testator himself? Clearly it cannot.
"To conclude this part of the argument: I submit
that the circumstances of the so-called disappearance
of the testator present nothing out of the ordinary.
The testator is a man of ample means, without any
responsibilities to fetter his movements, and has been
in the constant habit of traveling, often into remote
and distant regions. The mere fact that he has been
absent somewhat longer than usual affords no ground
whatever for the drastic proceeding of presumption of
death and taking possession of his property.
"With reference to the human remains which have
been mentioned in connection with the case I need say
but little. The attempt to connect them with the tes-
tator has failed completely. You yourselves have heard
Doctor Summers state on oath that they cannot be
identified as the remains of any particular person.
That would seem to dispose of them effectually. I must
remark upon a very singular point that has been raised
by the learned counsel for the petitioner, which is this:
"My learned friend points out that these remains
were discovered near Eltham and near Woodford and
that the testator was last seen alive at one of these
two places. This he considers for some reason to be
a highly significant fact. But I cannot agree with
him. If the testator had been last seen alive at Wood-
ford and the remains had been found at Woodford,
or if he had disappeared from Eltham, and the remains
had been found at Eltham, that would have had some
significance. But he can only have been last seen at
one of the places, whereas the remains have been found


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 219
at both places. Here again my learned friend seems
to have proved too much.
"But I need not occupy your time further. I re-
peat that, in order to justify us in presuming the death
of the testator, clear and positive evidence would be
necessary. That no such evidence has been brought
forward. Accordingly, seeing that the testator may re-
turn at any time and is entitled to find his property in-
tact. I shall ask you for a verdict that will secure to
him this measure of ordinary justice."
At the conclusion of Mr. Heath's speech the judge,
as if awakening from a refreshing nap, opened his eyes;
and uncommonly shrewd, intelligent eyes they were
when the expressive eyelids were duly tucked up out
of the way. He commenced by reading over a part of
the will and certain notes—which he appeared to have
made in some miraculous fashion with his eyes shut—
and then proceeded to review the evidence and the
counsels' arguments for the instruction of the jury.
"Before considering the evidence which you have
heard, gentlemen," he said, "it will be well for me to
say a few words to you on the general aspects of the
case which is occupying our attention.
"If a person goes abroad or disappears from his
home and his ordinary places of resort and is absent
for a long period of time, the presumption of death
arises at the expiration of seven years from the date
on which he was last heard of. That is to say, that
the total disappearance of an individual for seven years
constitutes presumptive evidence that the said individ-
ual is dead; and the presumption can be set aside only
by the production of evidence that he was alive at some
time within that period of seven years. But if, on the
other hand, it is sought to presume the death of a


220 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
person who has been absent for a shorter period than
seven years, it is necessary to produce such evidence
as shall make it highly probable that the said person
is dead. Of course, presumption implies supposition
as opposed to actual demonstration; but, nevertheless,
the evidence in such a case must be of a kind that
tends to create a very strong belief that death has oc-
curred; and I need hardly say that the shorter the
period of absence, the more convincing must be the
evidence.
"In the present case, the testator, John Bellingham,
has been absent somewhat under two years. This is
a relatively short period, and in itself gives rise to
no presumption of death. Nevertheless, death has been
presumed in a case where the period of absence was
even shorter and the insurance recovered; but here the
evidence supporting the belief in the occurrence of
death was exceedingly weighty.
"The testator in this case was a shipmaster, and his
disappearance was accompanied by the disappearance
of the ship and the entire ship's company in the course
of a voyage from London to Marseilles. The loss of
the ship and her crew was the only reasonable explana-
tion of the disappearance, and, short of actual demon-
stration, the facts offered convincing evidence of the
death of all persons on board. I mention this case as
an illustration. You are not dealing with speculative
probabilities. You are contemplating a very momen-
tous proceeding, and you must be very sure of your
ground. Consider what it is that you are asked to do.
"The petitioner asks permission to presume the
death of the testator in order that the testator's prop-
erty may be distributed among the beneficiaries under
the will. The granting of such permission involves


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 221
us in the gravest responsibility. An ill-considered
decision might be productive of a serious injustice to
the testator, an injustice that could never be remedied.
Hence it is incumbent upon you to weigh the evi-
dence with the greatest care, to come to no deci-
sion without the profoundest consideration of all the
facts.
"The evidence that you have heard divides itself into
two parts—that relating to the circumstances of the
testator's disappearance, and that relating to certain
human remains. In connection with the latter I can
only express my surprise and regret that the applica-
tion was not postponed until the completion of the
coroner's inquest, and leave you to consider the evi-
dence. You will bear in mind that Doctor Summers
has stated explicitly that the remains cannot be iden-
tified as those of any particular individual, but that
the testator and the unknown deceased had so many
points of resemblance that they might possibly be one
and the same person.
"With reference to the circumstances of the disap-
pearance, you have heard the evidence of Mr. Jellicoe
to the effect that the testator has on no previous oc-
casion gone abroad without informing him as to his
proposed destination. But in considering what weight
you are to give to this statement you will bear in mind
that when the testator set out for Paris after his inter-
view with Doctor Norbury he left Mr. Jellicoe without
any information as to his specific destination, his ad-
dress in Paris, or the precise date when he should
return, and that Mr. Jellicoe was unable to tell us
where the testator went or what was his business. Mr.
Jellicoe was, in fact, for a time without any means of
tracing the testator or ascertaining his whereabouts.


222 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"The evidence of the housemaid, Dobbs, and of Mr.
Hurst is rather confusing. It appears that the testa-
tor came to the house, and when looked for later was
not to be found. A search of the premises showed
that he was not in the house, whence it seems to fol-
low that he must have left it; but since no one was
informed of his intention to leave, and he had ex-
pressed the intention of staying to see Mr. Hurst, his
conduct in thus going away surreptitiously must ap-
pear somewhat eccentric. The point that you have
to consider, therefore, is whether a person who is
capable of thus departing in a surreptitious and eccen-
tric manner from a house, without giving notice to the
servants, is capable also of departing in a surreptitious
and eccentric manner from his usual places of resort
without giving notice to his friends or thereafter in-
forming them of his whereabouts.
"The questions, then, gentlemen, that you have to
ask yourselves before deciding on your verdict are
two: first, Are the circumstances of the testator's dis-
appearance and his continued absence incongruous with
his habits and personal peculiarities as they are known
to you? and second, Are there any facts which indicate
in a positive manner that the testator is dead? Ask
yourselves these questions, gentlemen, and the answers
to them, furnished by the evidence that you have heard,
will guide you to your decision."
Having delivered himself of the above instructions,
the judge applied himself to the perusal of the will with
professional gusto, in which occupation he was pres-
ently disturbed by the announcement of the foreman
of the jury that a verdict had been agreed upon.
The judge sat up and glanced at the jury-box, and
when the foreman proceeded to state that "We find


CARRIES THE READER INTO COURT 223
no sufficient reason for presuming the testator, John
Bellingham, to be dead," he nodded approvingly. Evi-
dently that was his opinion, too, as he was careful to
explain when he conveyed to Mr. Loram the refusal of
the Court to grant the permission applied for.
The decision was a great relief to me, and also, I
think, to Miss Bellingham; but most of all to her
father, who, with instinctive good manners, since he
could not suppress a smile of triumph, rose and hastily
stumped out of the Court, so that the discomfited Hurst
should not see him. His daughter and I followed, and
as we left the Court she remarked, with a smile:
"So our pauperism is not, after all, made absolute.
There is still a chance for us in the Chapter of Acci-
dents—and perhaps even for poor old Uncle John."


CHAPTER XV
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
The morning after the hearing saw me setting forth
on my round in more than usually good spirits. The
round itself was but a short one, for my list con-
tained only a couple of "chronics," and this, perhaps,
contributed to my cheerful outlook on life. But there
were other reasons. The decision of the Court had
come as an unexpected reprieve and the ruin of my
friends' prospects was at least postponed. Then, I
had learned that Thorndyke was back from Bristol
and wished me to look in on him; and, finally, Miss
Bellingham had agreed to spend this very afternoon
with me, browsing round the galleries at the British
Museum.
I had disposed of my two patients by a quarter to
eleven, and three minutes later was striding down Mitre
Court, all agog to hear what Thorndyke had to say
with reference to my notes on the inquest. The "oak"
was open when I arrived at his chambers, and a modest
flourish on the little brass knocker of the inner door
was answered by my quondam teacher himself.
"How good of you, Berkeley," he said, shaking
hands genially, "to look me up so early. I am alone,
just looking through the report of the evidence of yes-
terday's proceedings."
He placed an easy chair for me, and, gathering up
a bundle of typewritten papers, laid them aside on the
table.
224


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 225
"Were you surprised at the decision?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "Two years is a short period
of absence; but still, it might easily have gone the
other way. I am greatly relieved. The respite gives
us time to carry out our investigations without undue
hurry."
"Did you find my notes of any use?" I asked.
"Heath did. Polton handed them to him, and they
were invaluable to him for his cross-examination. I
haven't seen them yet; in fact, I have only just got
them back from him. Let us go through them together
now."
He opened a drawer and taking from it my note-
book, seated himself, and began to read through my
notes with grave attention, while I stood and looked
shyly over his shoulder. On the page that contained
my sketches of the Sidcup arm, showing the distribu-
tion of the snails' eggs on the bones, he lingered with
a faint smile that made me turn hot and red.
"Those sketches look rather footy," I said; "but I
had to put something in my notebook."
"You did not attach any importance, then, to the
facts that they illustrated?"
"No. The egg-patches were there, so I noted the
fact. That's all."
"I congratulate you, Berkeley. There is not one
man in twenty who would have had the sense to make
a careful note of what he considers an unimportant or
irrelevant fact; and the investigator who notes only
those things that appear significant is perfectly use-
less. He gives himself no material for reconsideration.
But you don't mean that these egg-patches and worm-
tubes appeared to you to have no significance at all?"


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 227
the palmar surface, showing that the bones were still
in their normal relative positions. No, Berkeley, that
hand was thrown into the pond separately from the
arm."
"But why should it have been?" I asked.
"Ah, there is a very pretty little problem for you
to consider. And, meantime, let me tell you that your
expedition has been a brilliant success. You are an
excellent observer. Your only fault is that when you
have noted certain facts you don't seem fully to ap-
preciate their significance—which is merely a matter
of inexperience. As to the facts that you have col-
lected, several of them are of prime importance."
"I am glad you are satisfied," said I, "though I don't
see that I have discovered much excepting those snail's
eggs; and they don't seem to have advanced matters
very much."
"A definite fact, Berkeley, is a definite asset. Per-
haps we may presently find a little space in our Chinese
puzzle which this fact of the detached hand will just
drop into. But, tell me, did you find nothing unex-
pected or suggestive about those bones—as to their
number and condition, for instance?"
"Well, I thought it a little queer that the scapula
and clavicle should be there. I should have expected
him to cut the arm off at the shoulder-joint."
"Yes," said Thorndyke; "so should I; and so it has
been done in every case of dismemberment that I am
acquainted with. To an ordinary person, the arm
seems to join on to the trunk at the shoulder-joint, and
that is where he would naturally sever it What
explanation do you suggest of this unusual mode of
severing the arm?"
"Do you think the fellow could have been a but-


228 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
cher?" I asked, remembering Dr. Summers' remark.
"This is the way a shoulder of mutton is taken off."
"No," replied Thorndyke. "A butcher includes the
scapula in a shoulder of mutton for a specific purpose,
namely, to take off a given quantity of meat. And
also, as a sheep has no clavicle, it is the easiest way
to detach the limb. But I imagine a butcher would
find himself in difficulties if he attempted to take off
a man's arm in that way. The clavicle would be a
new and perplexing feature. Then, too, a butcher
does not deal very delicately with his subject; if he
has to divide a joint, he just cuts through it and does
not trouble himself to avoid, marking the bones. But
you note here that there is not a single scratch or
score on any one of the bones, not even where the finger
was removed. Now, if you have ever prepared bones
for a museum, as I have, you will remember the ex-
treme care that is necessary in disarticulating joints
to avoid disfiguring the articular ends of the bones with
cuts and scratches."
"Then you think that the person who dismembered
this body must have had some anatomical knowledge
and skill?"
"That is what has been suggested. The suggestion
is not mine."
"Then I infer that you don't agree?"
Thorndyke smiled. "I am sorry to be so cryptic,
Berkeley, but you understand that I can't make state-
ments. Still, I am trying to lead you to make certain
inferences from the facts that are in your possession."
"If I make the right inference, will you tell me?" I
asked.
"It won't be necessary," he answered, with the same


230 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
knee-cap attached to the thigh. But in this case, the
knee-cap appears to have been left attached to the
shank. Can you explain why this person should have
adopted this unusual and rather inconvenient method?
Can you suggest a motive for this procedure, or can
you think of any circumstances which might lead a
person to adopt this method by preference?"
"It seems as if he wished, for some reason, to divide
the body into definite anatomical regions."
Thorndyke chuckled. "You are not offering that
suggestion as an explanation, are you? Because it
would require more explaining than the original prob-
lem. And it is not even true. Anatomically speaking,
the knee-cap appertains to the thigh rather than to the
shank. It is a sesamoid bone belonging to the thigh
muscles; yet in this case it has been left attached,
apparently to the shank. No, Berkeley, that cat won't
jump. Our unknown operator was not preparing a
skeleton as a museum specimen; he was dividing a
body up into convenient sized portions for the purpose
of conveying them to various ponds. Now what cir-
cumstances might have led him to divide it in this pe-
culiar manner?"
"I am afraid I have no suggestion to offer. Have
you?"
Thorndyke suddenly lapsed into ambiguity. "I
think," he said, "it is possible to conceive such cir-
cumstances, and so, probably, will you if you think it
over."
"Did you gather anything of importance from the
evidence at the inquest?" I asked.
"It is difficult to say," he replied. "The whole of
my conclusions in this case are based on what is vir-
tually circumstantial evidence. I have not one single


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 233
It is a little out of our way, but we are not in a
hurry, are we?"
I, certainly, was not. Any deviation that might pro-
long our walk was welcome, and as to the place—
why, all places were alike to me if only she were by
my side. Besides, the churchyard was really of some
interest, since it was undoubtedly the "exciting cause"
of the obnoxious paragraph two of the will. I accord-
ingly expressed a desire to make its acquaintance, and
we crossed to the entrance to Gray's Inn Road.
"Do you ever try," she asked, as we turned down
the dingy thoroughfare, "to picture familiar places as
they looked a couple of hundred years ago?"
"Yes," I answered, "and very difficult I find it. One
has to manufacture the materials for reconstruction,
and then the present aspect of the place will keep
obtruding itself. But some places are easier to recon-
stitute than others."
"That is what I find," said she. "Now Holborn, for
example, is quite easy to reconstruct, though I dare-
say the imaginary form isn't a bit like the original.
But there are fragments left, like Staple Inn and the
front of Gray's Inn; and then one has seen prints
of the old Middle Row and some of the taverns, so
that one has some material with which to help out
one's imagination. But this road we are walking in
always baffles me. It looks so old and yet is, for the
most part, so new that I find it impossible to make
a satisfactory picture of its appearance, say, when Sir
Roger de Coverley might have strolled in Gray's Inn
Walks, or farther back, when; Francis Bacon had
chambers in the Inn."
"I imagine," said I, "that part of the difficulty is
in the mixed character of the neighborhood. Here


234 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
on the one side, is old Gray's Inn, not much changed
since Bacon's time—his chambers are still to be seen,
I think, over the gateway; and there, on the Clerken-
well side, is a dense and rather squalid neighbor-
hood which has grown up over a region partly rural
and wholly fugitive in character. Places like Bag-
nigge Wells and Hockley in the Hole would not have
had many buildings that were likely to survive; and
in the absence of surviving specimens the imagination
hasn't much to work from."
"I daresay you are right," said she. "Certainly, the
purlieus of old Clerkenwell present a very confused pic-
ture to me; whereas, in the case of an old street like,
say, Great Ormond Street, one has only to sweep away
the modern buildings and replace them with glorious
old houses like the few that remain, dig up the roadway
and pavements and lay down cobble-stones, plant a
few wooden posts, hang up one or two oil-lamps, and
the transformation is complete. And a very delightful
transformation it is."
"Very delightful; which, by the way, is a melancholy
thought. For we ought to be doing better work than
our forefathers; whereas what we actually do is to pull
down the old buildings, clap the doorways, porticoes,
paneling, and mantels in our museums, and then run
up something inexpensive and useful and deadly un-
interesting in their place."
My companion looked at me and laughed softly.
"For a naturally cheerful, and even gay young man,"
said she, "you are most amazingly pessimistic. The
mantle of Jeremiah—if he ever wore one—seems to
have fallen on you, but without in the least impairing
your good spirits excepting in regard to matters
architectural."


238 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
I looked up inquiringly, and she continued: "I no-
tice that an old tombstone seems to set you meditating.
So it does me. When I look at an ancient monument,
and especially an old headstone, I find myself almost
unconsciously retracing the years to the date that is
written on the stone. Why do you think that is?
Why should a monument be so stimulating to the ima-
gination? And why should a common headstone be
more so than any other?"
"I suppose it is," I answered reflectively, "that a
churchyard monument is a peculiarly personal thing
and appertains in a peculiar way to a particular time.
And the circumstance that it has stood untouched by
the passing years while everything around has changed,
helps the imagination to span the interval. And the
common headstone, the memorial of some dead and
gone farmer or laborer who lived and died in the vil-
lage hard by, is still more intimate and suggestive.
The rustic, childish sculpture of the village mason
and the artless doggerel of the village schoolmaster,
bring back the time and place and the conditions of life
more vividly than the more scholarly inscriptions and
the more artistic enrichments of monuments of greater
pretensions. But where are your own family tomb-
stones?"
"They are over in that farther corner. There is an
intelligent, but inopportune, person apparently copy-
ing the epitaphs. I wish he would go away. I want to
show them to you."
I now noticed, for the first time, an individual en-
gaged, notebook in hand, in making a careful survey
of a group of old headstones. Evidently he was mak-
ing a copy of the inscriptions, for not only was he por-
ing attentively over the writing on the face of the


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 239
stone, but now and again he helped out his vision by
running his fingers over the worn lettering.
"That is my grandfather's tombstone that he is copy-
ing now," said Miss Bellingham; and even as she spoke,
the man turned and directed a searching glance at us
with a pair of keen, spectacled eyes.
Simultaneously we uttered an exclamation of sur-
prise; for the investigator was Mr. Jellicoe.


CHAPTER XVI
O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL!
Whether or not Mr. Jellicoe was surprised to see
us, it is impossible to say. His countenance (which
served the ordinary purposes of a face, inasmuch as
it contained the principal organs of special sense, with
inlets to the alimentary and respiratory tracts) was, as
an apparatus for the expression of the emotions, a total
failure. To a thought-reader it would have been about
as helpful as the face carved upon the handle of an
umbrella; a comparison suggested, perhaps, by a cer-
tain resemblance to such an object. He advanced, hold-
ing open his notebook and pencil, and having saluted
us with a stiff bow and an old-fashioned flourish of his
hat, shook hands rheumatically and waited for us to
speak.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Jellicoe," said
Miss Bellingham.
"It is very good of you to say so," he replied.
"And quite a coincidence—that we should all hap-
pen to come here on the same day."
"A coincidence, certainly," he admitted; "and if we
had all happened not to come—which must have oc-
curred frequently—that also would have been a coinci-
dence."
"I suppose it would," said she, "but I hope we are
not interrupting you."
"Thank you, no. I had just finished when I had the
pleasure of perceiving you."
240


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL! 241
"You were making some notes in reference to the
case, I imagine," said I. It was an impertinent ques-
tion, put with malice aforethought for the mere pleasure
of hearing him evade it.
"The case?" he repeated. "You are referring, per-
haps, to Stevens versus the Parish Council?"
"I think Doctor Berkeley was referring to the case
of my uncle's will," Miss Bellingham said quite gravely,
though with a suspicious dimpling about the corners
of her mouth.
"Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "There is a case, is
there; a suit?"
"I mean the proceedings instituted by Mr. Hurst."
"Oh, but that was merely an application to the
Court, and is, moreover, finished and done with. At
least, so I understand. I speak, of course, subject to
correction; I am not acting for Mr. Hurst, you will be
pleased to remember. As a matter of fact," he con-
tinued, after a brief pause, "I was just refreshing my
memory as to the wording of the inscriptions on these
stones, especially that of your grandfather, Francis
Bellingham. It has occurred to me that if it should ap-
pear by the finding of the coroner's jury that your
uncle is deceased, it would be proper and decorous that
some memorial should be placed here. But, as the
burial ground is closed, there might be some difficulty
about erecting a new monument, whereas there would
probably be none in adding an inscription to one al-
ready existing. Hence these investigations. For if the
inscriptions on your grandfather's stone had set forth
that 'here rests the body of Francis Bellingham,' it
would have been manifestly improper to add 'also that
of John Bellingham, son of the above.' Fortunately
the inscription was more discreetly drafted, merely re-
s


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL! 245
By the time we had reached the Museum he had
become almost genial; and, if less amusing in this
frame, he was so much more instructive and entertain-
ing that I refrained from baiting him, and permitted
him to discuss his favorite topic unhindered, especially
since my companion listened with lively interest. Nor,
when we entered the great hall, did he relinquish pos-
session of us, and we followed submissively, as he led
the way past the winged bulls of Nineveh and the
great seated statues, until we found ourselves, almost
without the exercise of our volition, in the upper room
amidst the glaring mummy cases that had witnessed the
birth of my friendship with Ruth Bellingham.
"Before I leave you," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I should
like to show you that mummy that we were discussing
the other evening; the one, you remember, that my
friend, John Bellingham, presented to the Museum a
little time before his disappearance. The point that
I mentioned is only a trivial one, but it may become
of interest hereafter if any plausible explanation should
be forthcoming." He led us along the room until we
arrived at the case containing John Bellingham's gift,
where he halted and gazed in at the mummy with the
affectionate reflectiveness of the connoisseur.
"The bitumen coating was what we were discussing,
Miss Bellingham," said he. "You have seen it, of
course."
"Yes," she answered. "It is a dreadful disfigurement,
isn't it?"
Esthetically it is to be deplored, but it adds a cer-
tain speculative interest to the specimen. You notice
that the black coating leaves the principal decoration
and the whole of the inscription untouched, which is
precisely the part that one would expect to find covered


246 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
up; whereas the feet and the back, which probably
bore no writing, are quite thickly crusted. If you
stoop down, you can see that the bitumen was daubed
freely into the lacings of the back, where it served no
purpose, so that even the strings are embedded." He
stooped as he spoke, and peered up inquisitively at the
back of the mummy, where it was visible between the
supports.
"Has Doctor Norbury any explanation to offer?"
asked Miss Bellingham.
"None whatever," replied Mr. Jellicoe. "He finds
it as great a mystery as I do. But he thinks that we
may get some suggestion from the Director when he
comes back. He is a very great authority, as you
know, and a practical excavator of great experience too.
But I mustn't stay here talking of these things, and
keeping you from your pottery. Perhaps I have stayed
too long already. If I have I ask your pardon, and I
will now wish you a very good afternoon." With a sud-
den return to his customary wooden impassivity, he
shook hands with us, bowed stiffly, and took himself off
toward the curator's office.
"What a strange man that is," said Miss Bellingham,
as Mr. Jellicoe disappeared through the doorway at
the end of the room, "or perhaps I should say, a strange
being, for I can hardly think of him as a man. I have
never met any other human creature at all like him."
"He is certainly a queer old fogey," I agreed.
"Yes, but there is something more than that. He is
so emotionless, so remote and aloof from all mundane
concerns. He moves among ordinary men and women,
but as a mere presence, an unmoved spectator of their
actions, quite dispassionate and impersonal."
"Yes; he is astonishingly self-contained; in fact, he


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL! 247
seems, as you say, to go to and fro among men, envel-
oped in a sort of infernal atmosphere of his own, like
Marley's ghost. But he is lively and human enough as
soon as the subject of Egyptian antiquities is broached."
"Lively, but not human. He is always, to me, quite
unhuman. Even when he is most interested, and even
enthusiastic, he is a mere personification of knowledge.
Nature ought to have furnished him with an ibis's head
like Tahuti; then he would have looked his part."
"He would have made a rare sensation in Lincoln's
Inn if he had," said I; and we both laughed heartily
at the imaginary picture of Tahuti Jellicoe, slender-
beaked and top-hatted, going about his business in
Lincoln's Inn and the Law Courts.
Insensibly, as we talked, we had drawn near to the
mummy of Artemidorus, and now my companion halted
before the case with her thoughtful gray eyes bent
dreamily on the face that looked out at us. I watched
her with reverent admiration. How charming she
looked as she stood with her sweet, grave face turned so
earnestly to the object of her mystical affection! How
dainty and full of womanly dignity and grace! And
then suddenly it was borne in upon me that a great
change had come over her since the day of our first
meeting. She had grown younger, more girlish, and
more gentle. At first she had seemed much older
than I; a sad-faced woman, weary, solemn, enigmatic,
almost gloomy, with a bitter, ironic humor and a bear-
ing distant and cold. Now she was only maidenly and
sweet; tinged, it is true, with a certain seriousness, but
frank and gracious and wholly lovable.
Could the change be due to our friendship? As I
asked myself the question, my heart leaped with a new
hope. I yearned to tell her all that she was to me—all


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL! 249
She laughed gaily. "Then," said she, "I am satisfied,
for I am sure you know. But here is a mighty tele-
pathist who can read the thoughts even of a mummy.
A most formidable companion. But tell me how you
know."
"I know because it is he who gave you to me to be
my friend. Don't you remember?"
"Yes, I remember," she answered softly. "It was
when you were so sympathetic with my foolish whim
that I felt we were really friends."
"And I, when you confided your pretty fancy to me,
thanked you for the gift of your friendship, and treas-
ured it, and do still treasure it, above everything on
earth."
She looked at me quickly with a sort of nervousness
in her manner, and cast down her eyes. Then, after a
few moments' almost embarrassed silence, as if to bring
back our talk to a less emotional plane, she said:
"Do you notice the curious way in which this me-
morial divides itself up into two parts?"
"How do you mean?" I asked a little disconcerted
by the sudden descent.
"I mean that there is a part of it that is purely deco-
rative and a part that is expressive or emotional. You
notice that the general design and scheme of decora-
tion, although really Greek in feeling, follows rigidly
the Egyptian conventions. But the portrait is entirely
in the Greek manner, and when they came to that
pathetic farewell, it had to be spoken in their own
tongue, written in their own familiar characters."
"Yes. I have noticed that and admired the taste
with which they have kept the inscription so inconspicu-
ous as not to clash with the decoration. An obtrusive


250 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
inscription in Greek characters would have spoiled the
consistency of the whole scheme."
"Yes, it would." She assented absently as if she were
thinking of something else, and once more gazed
thoughtfully at the mummy. I watched her with deep
content: noted the lovely contour of her cheek, the soft
masses of hair that strayed away so gracefully from her
brow, and thought her the most wonderful creature that
had ever trod the earth. Suddenly she looked at me
reflectively
"I wonder," she said, "what made me tell you about
Artemidorus. It was a rather silly, childish sort of
make-believe, and I wouldn't have told anyone else for
the world; not even my father. How did I know that
you would sympathize and understand?"
She asked the question in all simplicity with her
serious gray eyes looking inquiringly into mine. And
the answer came to me in a flash, with the beating of
my own heart.
"I will tell you how you know, Ruth," I whispered
passionately. "It was because I loved you more than
anyone else in the world has ever loved you, and you
felt my love in your heart and called it sympathy."
I stopped short, for she had blushed scarlet and then
turned deathly pale. And now she looked at me wildly,
almost with terror.
"Have I shocked you, Ruth dearest?" I exclaimed
penitently, "have I spoken too soon? If I have, for-
give me. But I had to tell you. I have been eating my
heart out for love of you for I don't know how long.
I think I have loved you from the first day we met. Per-
haps I shouldn't have spoken yet, but, Ruth dear, if
you only knew what a sweet girl you are, you wouldn't
blame me."


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL 1 251
"I don't blame you," she said, almost in a whisper;
"I blame myself. I have been a bad friend to you, who
have been so loyal and loving to me. I ought not to
have let this happen. For it can't be, Paul; I can't say
what you want me to say. We can never be anything
more to one another than friends."
A cold hand seemed to grasp my heart—a horrible
fear that I had lost all that I cared for—all that made
life desirable.
"Why can't we?" I asked. "Do you mean that—
that the gods have been gracious to some other man?"
"No, no," she answered hastily—almost indignantly,
"of course I don't mean that."
"Then it is only that you don't love me yet. Of
course you don't. Why should you? But you will, dear,
some day. And I will wait patiently until that day
comes and not trouble you with entreaties. I will wait
for you as Jacob waited for Rachel; and as the long
years seemed to him but as a few days because of the
love he bore her, so it shall be with me, if only you will
not send me away quite without hope."
She was looking down, white-faced, with a harden-
ing of the lips as if she were in bodily pain. "You
don't understand," she whispered. "It can't be—it can
never be. There is something that makes it impossible,
now and always. I can't tell you more than that."
"But, Ruth dearest," I pleaded despairingly, "may
it not become possible some day? Can it not be made
possible? I can wait, but I can't give you up. Is there
no chance whatever that this obstacle may be re-
moved?"
"Very little, I fear. Hardly any. No, Paul; it is
hopeless, and I can't bear to talk about it. Let me go
now. Let us say good-by here and see one another no


252 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
more for a while. Perhaps we may be friends again
some day—when you have forgiven me."
"Forgiven you, dearest!" I exclaimed. "There is
nothing to forgive. And we are friends, Ruth. What-
ever happens, you are the dearest friend I have on
earth, or can ever have."
"Thank you, Paul," she said faintly. "You are very
good to me. But let me go, please. I must be alone."
She held out a trembling hand, and, as I took it, I
was shocked to see how terribly agitated and ill she
looked.
"May I not come with you, dear?" I pleaded.
"No, no!" she exclaimed breathlessly; "I must go
away by myself. I want to be alone. Good-by."
"Before I let you go, Ruth—if you must go—I must
have a most solemn promise from you."
Her sad gray eyes met mine and her lips quivered
with an unspoken question.
"You must promise me," I went on, "that if ever this
barrier that parts us should be removed, you will let me
know instantly. Remember that I love you always, and
that I am waiting for you always on this side of the
grave."
She caught her breath in a quick little sob, and
pressed my hand.
"Yes," she whispered: "I promise. Good-by."
"She pressed my hand again and was gone; and, as I
gazed at the empty doorway through which she had
passed, I caught a glimpse of her reflection in a glass on
the landing, where she had paused for a moment to wipe
her eyes. I felt it, in a manner, indelicate to have seen
her, and turned away my head quickly; and yet I was
conscious of a certain selfish satisfaction in the sweet
sympathy that her grief bespoke.


O ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL 1 253
But now that she was gone a horrible sense of desola-
tion descended on me. Only now, by the consciousness
of irreparable loss, did I begin to realize the meaning
of this passion of love that had stolen unawares into
my life. How it had glorified the present and spread
a glamor of delight over the dimly considered future:
how all pleasures and desires, hopes and ambitions, had
converged upon it as a focus; how it had stood out as
the one great reality behind which the other circum-
stances of life were as a background, shimmering,
half seen, immaterial and unreal. And now it was
gone—lost, as it seemed, beyond hope; and that which
was left to me was but the empty frame from which the
picture had vanished.
I have no idea how long I stood rooted to the spot
where she had left me, wrapped in a dull consciousness
of pain, immersed in a half-numb reverie. Recent
events flitted, dream-like, through my mind; our happy
labors in the reading-room; our first visit to the Mu-
seum; and this present day that had opened so brightly
and with such joyous promise. One by one these phan-
toms of a vanished happiness came and went. Occa-
sional visitors sauntered into the room—but the galler-
ies were mostly empty that day—gazed inquisitively at
my motionless figure, and went their way. And still the
dull, intolerable ache in my breast went on, the only
vivid consciousness that was left to me.
Presently I raised my eyes and met those of the por-
trait. The sweet, pensive face of the old Greek settler
looked out at me wistfully as though he would offer
comfort; as though he would tell me that he, too, had
known sorrow when he lived his life in the sunny Fay-
yum. And a subtle consolation, like the faint scent of
old rose leaves, seemed to exhale from that friendly face


254 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
that had looked on the birth of my happiness and had
seen it wither and fade. I turned away, at last, with a
silent farewell; and when I looked back, he seemed
to speed me on my way with gentle valediction.


CHAPTER XVII
THE ACCUSING FINGER
Of my wanderings after I left the Museum on that
black and dismal dies tree, I have but a dim recollection.
But I must have traveled a quite considerable distance,
since it wanted an hour or two to the time for returning
to the surgery, and I spent the interval walking swiftly
through streets and squares, unmindful of the happen-
ings around, intent only on my present misfortune, and
driven by a natural impulse to seek relief in bodily ex-
ertion. For mental distress sets up, as it were, a sort
of induced current of physical unrest; a beneficent ar-
rangement, by which a dangerous excess of emotional
excitement may be transformed into motor energy, and
so safely got rid of. The motor apparatus acts as a
safety-valve to the psychical; and if the engine races
for a while, with the onset of a bodily fatigue the emo-
tional pressure-gauge returns to a normal reading.
And so it was with me. At first I was conscious of
nothing but a sense of utter bereavement, of the ship-
wreck of all my hopes. But, by degrees, as I threaded
my way among the moving crowds, I came to a better
and more worthy frame of mind. After all, I had lost
nothing that I had ever had. Ruth was still all that
she had ever been to me—perhaps even more; and if
that had been a rich endowment yesterday, why not
to-day also? And how unfair it would be to her if I
should mope and grieve over a disappointment that was
255


256 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
no fault of hers and for which there was no remedy?
Thus I reasoned with myself, and to such purpose that,
by the time I reached Fetter Lane, my dejection had
come to quite manageable proportions and I had formed
the resolution to get back to the status quo ante bellum
as soon as possible.
About eight o'clock, as I was sitting alone in the
consulting-room, gloomily persuading myself that I was
now quite resigned to the inevitable, Adolphus brought
me a registered packet, at the handwriting on which
my heart gave such a bound that I had much ado to
sign the receipt. As soon as Adolphus had retired
(with undissembled contempt of the shaky signature)
I tore open the packet, and as I drew out a letter a
tiny box dropped on the table.
The letter was all too short, and I devoured it over
and over again with the eagerness of a condemned man
reading a reprieve:
"My dear Paul,
"Forgive me for leaving you so abruptly this af-
ternoon, and leaving you so unhappy, too. I am
more sane and reasonable now, and so send you
greeting and beg you not to grieve for that which can
never be. It is quite impossible, dear friend, and I
entreat you, as you care for me, never to speak of it
again; never again to make me feel that I can give
you so little when you have given so much. And do
not try to see me for a little while. I shall miss your
visits, and so will my father, who is very fond of
you; but it is better that we should not meet, until
we can take up our old relations—if that can ever be.
"I am sending you a little keepsake in case we
should drift apart on the eddies of life. It is the ring


THE ACCUSING FINGER 257
thai I told you about—the one that my uncle gave
me. Perhaps you may be able to wear it as you have
a small hand, but in any case keep it in remembrance
of our friendship. The device on it is the Eye of
Osiris, a mystic symbol for which I have a senti-
mentally superstitious affection, as also had my poor
uncle, who actually bore it tattooed in scarlet on his
breast. It signifies that the great judge of the dead
looks down on men to see that justice is done and
that truth prevails. So I commend you to the good
Osiris; may his eye be upon you, ever watchful over
your welfare in the absence of
"Your affectionate friend,
"Ruth."
It was a sweet letter, I thought, even if it carried
little comfort; quiet and reticent like its writer, but
with an undertone of affection. I laid it down at
length, and, taking the ring from its box, examined it
fondly. Though but a copy, it had all the quaintness
and feeling of the antique original, and, above all, it
was fragrant with the spirit of the giver. Dainty and
delicate, wrought of silver and gold, with an inlay of
copper, I would not have exchanged it for the Koh-
i-noor; and when I had slipped it on my finger its tiny
eye of blue enamel looked up at me so friendly and
companionable that I felt the glamour of the old-world
superstition stealing over me too.
Not a single patient came in this evening, which was
well for me (and also for the patient), as I was able
forthwith to write in reply a long letter; but this I
shall spare the long-suffering reader excepting its con-
cluding paragraph:


258 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"And now, dearest, I have said my say; once for
all I have said it, and I will not open my mouth on
the subject again (I am not actually opening it now)
'until the times do alter.' And if the times do never
alter—if it shall come to pass, in due course, that we
two shall sit side by side, white-haired, and crinkly-
nosed, and lean our poor old chins upon our sticks
and mumble and gibber amicably over the things that
might have been if the good Osiris had come up to
the scratch—/ will still be content, because your
friendship, Ruth, is better than another woman's
love. So you see, I have taken my gruel and come up
to time smiling—if you will pardon the pugilistic
metaphor—and I promise you loyally to do your bid-
ding and never again to distress you.
"Your faithful and loving friend,
"Paul."
This letter I addressed and stamped, and then, with
a wry grimace which I palmed off on myself (but not
on Adolphus) as a cheerful smile, I went out and
dropped it into the post-box; after which I further de-
luded myself by murmuring Nunc dimittis and assuring
myself that the incident was now absolutely closed.
But despite this comfortable assurance I was, in the
days that followed, an exceedingly miserable young
man. It is all very well to write down troubles of this
kind as trivial and sentimental. They are nothing of
the kind. When a man of essentially serious nature has
found the one woman of all the world who fulfils hia
highest ideals of womanhood, who is, in fact, a woman
in ten thousand, to whom he has given all that he has
to give of love and worship, the sudden wreck of all
his hopes is no small calamity. And so I found it.


THE ACCUSING FINGER 259
Resign myself as I would to the bitter reality, the ghost
of the might-have-been haunted me night and day, so
that I spent my leisure wandering abstractedly about
the streets, always trying to banish thought and never
for an instant succeeding. A great unrest was upon
me; and when I received a letter from Dick Barnard
announcing his arrival at Madeira, homeward bound, I
breathed a sigh of relief. I had no plans for the fu-
ture, but I longed to be rid of the now irksome, routine
of the practise—to be free to come and go when and
how I pleased.
One evening, as I sat consuming with little appetite
my solitary supper, there fell on me a sudden sense of
loneliness. The desire that I had hitherto felt to be
alone with my own miserable reflections gave place to
a yearning for human companionship. That, indeed,
which I craved for most was forbidden, and I must
abide by my lady's wishes; but there were my friends
in the Temple. It was more than a week since I had
seen them; in fact, we had not met since the morning
of that unhappiest day of my life. They would be
wondering what had become of me. I rose from the
table, and having filled my pouch from a tin of tobacco,
set forth for King's Bench Walk.
As I approached the entry of No. 5A in the gathering
darkness I met Thorndyke himself emerging encum-
bered with two deck-chairs, a reading-lantern, and a
book.
"Why, Berkeley!" he exclaimed, "is it indeed thou?
We have been wondering what had become of you."
"It is a long time since I looked you up," I admitted.
He scrutinized me attentively by the light of the
entry lamp, and then remarked: "Fetter Lane doesn't
-


260 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
seem to be agreeing with you very well, my son. You
are looking quite thin and peaky."
"Well, I've nearly done with it. Barnard will be
back in about ten days. His ship is putting in at
Madeira to coal and take in some cargo, and then he
is coming home. Where are you going with those
chairs?"
"I am going to sit down at the end of the Walk by
the railings. It's cooler there than indoors. If you
will wait a moment I will go and fetch another chair for
Jervis, though he won't be back for a little while."
He ran up the stairs, and presently returned with a
third chair, and we carried our impedimenta down to
the quiet corner of the Walk.
"So your term of servitude is coming to an end," said
he, when we had placed the chairs and hung the lantern
on the railings. "Any other news?"
"No. Have you any?"
"I am afraid I have not. All my inquiries have
yielded negative results. There is, of course, a consid-
erable body of evidence, and it all seems to point one
way. But I am unwilling to make a decisive move
without something more definite. I am really waiting
for confirmation or otherwise of my ideas on the sub-
ject; for some new item of evidence."
"I didn't know there was any evidence."
"Didn't you?" said Thorndyke. "But you know as
much as I know. You have all the essential facts;
but apparently you haven't collated them and extracted
their meaning. If you had, you would have found
them curiously significant."
"I suppose I mustn't ask what their significance is?"
"No, I think not. When I am conducting a case I
mention my surmises to nobody—not even to Jervis.


THE ACCUSING FINGER 261
Then I can say confidently that there has been no leak-
age. Don't think I distrust you. Remember that my
thoughts are my client's property, and that the essence
of strategy is to keep the enemy in the dark."
"Yes, I see that. Of course I ought not to have
asked."
"You ought not to need to ask," Thorndyke replied,
with a smile; "you should put the facts together and
reason from them yourself."
While we had been talking I had noticed Thorndyke
glance at me inquisitively from time to time. Now
after an interval of silence, he asked suddenly:
"Is anything amiss, Berkeley? Are you worrying
about your friends' affairs?"
"No, not particularly; though their prospects don't
look very rosy."
"Perhaps they are not quite so bad as they look,"
said he. "But I am afraid something is troubling you.
All your gay spirits seem to have evaporated." He
paused for a few moments, and then added: "I don't
want to intrude on your private affairs, but if I can help
you by advice or otherwise, remember that we are old
friends and that you are my academic offspring."
Instinctively, with a man's natural reticence, I began
to mumble a half-articulate disclaimer; and then I
stopped. After all, why should I not confide in him?
He was a good man and a wise man, full of human
sympathy, as I knew, though so cryptic and secretive
in his professional capacity. And I wanted a friend
badly just now.
"I'm afraid," I began shyly, "it is not a matter that
admits of much help, and it's hardly the sort of thing
that I ought to worry you by talking about"
"If it is enough to make you unhappy, my dear fel-


THE ACCUSING FINGER 265
may transfer suspicion from him to some one else.
And that some one else will be Miss Bellingham."
I sat for some moments literally paralyzed with hor-
ror. Then my dismay gave place to indignation. "But
damn it!" I exclaimed, starting up—"I beg your par-
don—but could anyone have the infernal audacity to
insinuate that that gentle, refined lady murdered her
uncle?"
"That is what will be hinted, if not plainly asserted;
and she knows it. And that being so, is it difficult to
understand why she should refuse to allow you to be
publicly associated with her? To run the risk of drag-
ging your honorable name into the sordid transactions
of the police-court or the Old Bailey? To invest it,
perhaps, with a dreadful notoriety?"
"Oh, don't! for God's sake! It is too horrible!
Not that I would care for myself. I would be proud to
share her martyrdom of ignominy, if it had to be; but
it is the sacrilege, the blasphemy of even thinking of
her in such terms that enrages me."
"Yes," said Thorndyke; "I understand and sympa-
thize with you. Indeed, I share your righteous indig-
nation at this dastardly affair. So you mustn't think
me brutal for putting the case so plainly."
"I don't. You have only shown me the danger that
I was fool enough not to see. But you seem to imply
that this hideous position has been brought about de-
liberately."
"Certainly I do! This is no chance affair. Either
the appearances indicate the real events—which I am
sure they do not—or they have been created of a set
purpose to lead to false conclusions. But the circum-
stances convince me that there has been a deliberate
plot; and I am waiting—in no spirit of Christian pa-
/""


268 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
warmly from my heart, for I felt sure that the sugges-
tion was made, not for any use that I should be to him,
but for my own peace of mind. I had hardly finished
speaking when a quick step on the paved walk caught
my ear.
"Here is Jervis," said Thorndyke. "We will let him
know that there is a locum tenens ready to step into his
shoes when he wants to be off." He flashed the lan-
tern across the path, and a few moments later his
junior stepped up briskly with a bundle of newspapers
tucked under his arm.
It struck me that Jervis looked at me a little queerly
when he recognized me in the dim light; also he was a
trifle constrained in his manner, as if my presence were
an embarrassment. He listened to Thorndyke's an-
nouncement of our newly made arrangement without
much enthusiasm and with none of his customary face-
tious comments. And again I noticed a quick glance at
me, half curious, half uneasy, and wholly puzzling to
me.
"That's all right," he said when Thorndyke had ex-
plained the situation. "I daresay you'll find Berkeley
as useful as me, and, in any case, he'll be better here
than staying on with Barnard." He spoke with un-
wonted gravity, and there was in his tone a solicitude
for me that attracted my notice and that of Thorndyke
as well, for the latter looked at him curiously, though
he made no comment. After a short silence, however,
he asked: "And what news does my learned brother
bring? There is a mighty shouting among the outer
barbarians and I see a bundle of newspapers under my
learned friend's arm. Has anything in particular hap-
pened?"
Jervis looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Well


THE ACCUSING FINGER 269
—yes," he replied hesitatingly, "something has hap-
pened—there! It's no use beating about the bush;
Berkeley may as well learn it from me as from those
yelling devils outside." He took a couple of papers
from his bundle and silently handed one to me and the
other to Thorndyke.
Jervis's ominous manner, naturally enough, alarmed
me not a little. I opened the paper with a nameless
dread. But whatever my vague fears, they fell far
short of the occasion; and when I saw those yells from
without crystallized into scare head-lines and flaming
capitals I turned for a moment sick and dizzy with fear.
The paragraph was only a short one, and I read it
through in less than a minute.
"THE MISSING FINGER
"DRAMATIC DISCOVERY AT WOODFORD
"The mystery that has surrounded the remains of
a mutilated human body, portions of which have been
found in various places in Kent and Essex, has re-
ceived a partial and very sinister solution. The po-
lice have, all along, suspected that those remains were
those of a Mr. John Bellingham who disappeared
under circumstances of some suspicion about two
years ago. There is now no doubt upon the subject,
for the finger which was missing from the hand that
was found at Sidcup has been discovered at the bot-
tom of a disused well together with a ring, which has
been identified as one habitually worn by Mr. John
Bellingham.
"The house in the garden of which the well is
situated was the property of the murdered man, and
was occupied at the time of the disappearance by his
S


270 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
brother, Mr. Godfrey Bellingham. But the latter
left it very soon after, and it has been empty ever
since. Just lately it has been put in repair, and it was
in this way that the well came to be emptied and
cleaned out. It seems that Detective-Inspector
Badger, who was searching the neighborhood for
further remains, heard of the emptying of the well
and went down in the bucket to examine the bottom,
where he found the three bones and the ring.
"Thus the identity of the body is established be-
yond all doubt, and the question that remains is,
Who killed John Bellingham? It may be remem-
bered that a trinket, apparently broken from his
watch-chain, was found in the grounds of this house
on the day that he disappeared, and that he was nev-
er again seen alive. What may be the import of
these facts time will show."
That was all; but it was enough. I dropped the pa-
per to the ground and glanced round furtively at Jervis,
who sat gazing gloomily at the toes of his boots. It
was horrible! It was incredible I The blow was so
crushing that it left my faculties numb, and for a while
I seemed unable even to think intelligibly.
I was aroused by Thorndyke's voice—calm, business-
like, composed:
"Time will show, indeed 1 But meanwhile we must
go warily. And don't be unduly alarmed, Berkeley.
Go home, take a good dose of bromide with a little
stimulant, and turn in. I am afraid this has been
rather a shock to you."
I rose from my chair like one in a dream and held
out my hand to Thorndyke; and even in the dim light
and in my dazed condition I noticed that his face bore


THE ACCUSING FINGER 271
a look that I had never seen before; the look of a
granite mask of Fate—grim, stern, inexorable.
My two friends walked with me as far as the gateway
at the top of Inner Temple Lane, and as we reached the
entry a stranger, coming quickly up the Lane, overtook
and passed us. In the glare of the lamp outside the
porter's lodge he looked at us quickly over his shoul-
der, and though he passed on without halt or greeting,
I recognized him with a certain dull surprise which I
did not understand then and do not understand now.
It was Mr. Jellicoe.
I shook hands once more with my friends and
strode out into Fleet Street, but as soon as I was out-
side the gate I made direct for NevilPs Court. What
was in my mind I do not know; only that some instinct
of protection led me there, where my lady lay uncon-
scious of the hideous menace that hung over her. At
the entrance to the Court a tall, powerful man was
lounging against the wall, and he seemed to look at me
curiously as I passed; but I hardly noticed him and
strode forward into the narrow passage. By the shabby
gateway of the house I halted and looked up at such
of the windows as I could see over the wall. They were
all dark. All the inmates, then, were in bed. Vaguely
comforted by this, I walked on to the New Street end
of the Court and looked out. Here, too, a man—a
tall, thick-set man—was loitering; and as he looked in-
quisitively into my face I turned and reentered the
Court, slowly retracing my steps. As I again reached
the gate of the house I stopped to look once more at
the windows, and turning I found the man whom I had
last noticed close behind me. Then, in a flash of
dreadful comprehension, I understood. These two
were plainclothes policemen.


273 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
For a moment a blind fury possessed me. An insane
impulse urged me to give battle to this intruder; to
avenge upon this person the insult of his presence.
Fortunately the impulse was but momentary, and I re-
covered myself without making any demonstration.
But the appearance of those two policemen brought the
peril into the immediate present, imparted to it a hor-
rible actuality. A chilly sweat of terror stood on my
forehead, and my ears were ringing when I walked
with faltering steps out into Fetter Lane.


274 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
of mutual recognition, and I thought that they seemed
to be sorry for her and for me, and had no great liking
for their task. Of course, I spent most of my leisure
at the old house, though my heart ached more there
than elsewhere; and I tried, with but poor success, I
fear, to maintain a cheerful, confident manner, crack-
ing my little jokes as of old, and even essaying to skir-
mish with Miss Oman. But this last experiment was a
dead failure; and when she had suddenly broken down
in a stream of brilliant repartee to weep hysterically on
my breast, I abandoned the attempt and did not re-
peat it.
A dreadful gloom had settled down upon the old
house. Poor Miss Oman crept silently but restlessly
up and down the ancient stairs with dim eyes and a
tremulous chin, or moped in her room with a parlia-
mentary petition (demanding, if I remember rightly,
the appointment of a female judge to deal with divorce
and matrimonial causes) which lay on her table lan-
guidly awaiting signatures that never came. Mr. Bel-
lingham, whose mental condition at first alternated be-
tween furious anger and absolute panic, was fast sink-
ing into a state of nervous prostration that I viewed
with no little alarm. In fact the only really self-pos-
sessed person in the entire household was Ruth herself,
and even she could not conceal the ravages of sorrow
and suspense and overshadowing peril. Her manner
was almost unchanged; or rather, I should say, she had
gone back to that which I had first known—quiet, re-
served, taciturn, with a certain bitter humor showing
through her unvarying amiability. When she and I
were alone, indeed, her reserve melted away and she
was all sweetness and gentleness. But it wrung my
heart to look at her, to see how, day by day, she grew


JOHN BELLINGHAM 275
ever more thin and haggard; to watch the growing
pallor of her cheek; to look into her solemn gray eyes,
so sad and tragic and yet so brave and defiant of fate.
It was a terrible time; and through it all the dreadful
questions haunted me continually: When will the blow
fall? What is it that the police are waiting for? And
when they do strike, what will Thorndyke have to say?
So things went on for four dreadful days. But on
the fourth day, just as the evening consultations were
beginning and the surgery was filled with waiting pa-
tients, Polton appeared with a note, which he insisted,
to the indignation of Adolphus, on delivering into my
own hands. It was from Thorndyke, and was to the
following effect:
"I learn from Dr. Norbury that he has recently
heard from Herr Lederbogen, of Berlin—a learned
authority on Oriental antiquities—who makes some
reference to an English Egyptologist whom he met in
Vienna about a year ago. He cannot recall the Eng-
lishman's name, but there are certain expressions
in the letter which make Dr. Norbury suspect that
he is referring to John Bellingham.
"I want you to bring Mr. and Miss Bellingham to
my chambers this evening at 8.30, to meet Dr. Nor-
bury and talk over his letter; and in view of the im-
portance of the matter, I look to you not to fail me."
A wave of hope and relief swept over me. It was
still possible that this Gordian knot might be cut; that
the deliverance might come before it was too late.
I wrote a hasty note to Thorndyke and another to
Ruth, making the appointment; and having given them
both to the trusty Polton, returned somewhat feverishly


JOHN BELLINGHAM 277
of the genuine breed; born in the court, as had been
their fathers before them for generations. And of such
to a great extent was the population of the place.
Miss Oman herself claimed aboriginal descent and so
did the sweet-faced Moravian lady next door—a con-
nection of the famous La Trobes of the old Conventicle,
whose history went back to the Gordon Riots; and as
to the gentleman who lived in the ancient timber-and-
plaster house at the bottom of the court, it was reported
that his ancestors had dwelt in that very house since
the days of James the First.
On these facts I reflected as I sauntered down the
court, on the strange phenomenon of an old-world ham-
let with its ancient population lingering in the very
heart of the noisy city; an island of peace set in an
ocean of unrest, an oasis in a desert of change and
ferment.
My meditations brought me to the shabby gate in
the high wall, and as I raised the latch and pushed it
open, I saw Ruth standing at the door of the house
talking to Miss Oman. She was evidently waiting for
me, for she wore her somber black coat and hat and
a black veil, and when she saw me she came out, clos-
ing the door after her, and holding out her hand.
"You are punctual," said she. "St. Dunstan's clock
is striking now."
"Yes," I answered. "But where is your father?"
"He has gone to bed, poor old dear. He didn't feel
well enough to come, and I did not urge him. He is
really very ill. This dreadful suspense will kill him
if it goes on much longer."
"Let us hope it won't," I said, but with little convic-
tion, I fear, in my tone.
It was harrowing to see her torn by anxiety for her


278 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
father, and I yearned to comfort her. But what was
there to say? Mr. Bellingham was breaking up vis-
ibly under the stress of the terrible menace that hung
over his daughter, and no words of mine could make
the fact less manifest.
We walked silently up the court. The lady at the
window greeted us with a smiling salutation, Mr. Fin-
neymore removed his pipe and raised his cap, receiving
a gracious bow from Ruth in return, and then we passed
through the covered way into Fetter Lane, where my
companion paused and looked about her.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"The detective," she answered quietly. "It would
be a pity if the poor man should miss me after waiting
so long. However, I don't see him." And she turned
away toward Fleet Street. It was an unpleasant sur-
prize to me that her sharp eyes detected the secret spy
upon her movements; and the dry, sardonic tone of her
remark pained me too, recalling, as it did, the frigid
self-possession that had so repelled me in the early days
of our acquaintance. And yet I could not but admire
the cool unconcern with which she faced her horrible
peril.
"Tell me a little more about this conference," she
said, as we walked down Fetter Lane. "Your note was
rather more concise than lucid; but I suppose you
wrote it in a hurry."
"Yes, I did. And I can't give you any details now.
All I know is that Doctor Norbury has had a letter
from a friend of his in Berlin, an Egyptologist, as I
understand, named Lederbogen, who refers to an Eng-
lish acquaintance of his and Norbury's whom he saw
in Vienna about a year ago. He cannot remember the
Englishman's name, but from some of the circumstances


JOHN BELLINGHAM 281
to begin to-night and says he will see Mr. and Miss
Bellingham here, at the Museum. Please bring them
along at once. I think some matters of importance
may transpire at the interview—/. E. T."
"I hope you don't mind," I said apologetically, when
I had read the note to Ruth.
"Of course I don't," she replied. "I am rather
pleased. We have so many associations with the dear
old Museum, haven't we?" She looked at me for a
moment with a strange and touching wistfulness and
then turned to descend the stone stairs.
At the Temple gate I hailed a hansom, and we were
soon speeding westward and north to the soft twinkle
of the horse's bell.
"What are these experiments that Doctor Thorndyke
refers to?" she asked presently.
"I can only answer you vaguely," I replied. "Their
object, I believe, is to ascertain whether the penetra-
bility of organic substances by the X-rays becomes al-
tered by age; whether, for instance, an ancient block
of wood is more or less transparent to the rays than
a new block of the same size."
"And of what use would the knowledge be, if it were
obtained?"
"I can't say. Experiments are made to obtain
knowledge without regard to its utility. The use ap-
pears when the knowledge has been acquired. But in
this case, if it should be possible to determine the age
of any organic substance by its reaction to X-rays, the
discovery might be found of some value in legal prac-
tise—as in demonstrating a new seal on an old docu-
ment, for instance. But I don't know whether Thorn-


JOHN BELLINGHAM 283
Up the great staircase, now wrapped in mysterious
gloom, we passed in silence with bitter-sweet memories
of that day of days when we had first trodden its steps
together; through the Central Saloon, the Medieval
Room and the Asiatic Saloon, and so into the long
range of the Ethnographical Galleries.
It was a weird journey. The swaying lantern shot
its beams abroad into the darkness of the great, dim
galleries, casting instantaneous flashes on the objects
in the cases, so that they leaped into being and vanished
in the twinkling of an eye. Hideous idols with round,
staring eyes started forth from the darkness, glared
at us for an instant and were gone. Grotesque masks,
suddenly revealed by the shimmering light, took on
the semblance of demon faces that seemed to mow and
gibber at us as we passed. As for the life-sized models
—realistic enough by daylight—their aspect was posi-
tively alarming; for the moving light and shadow en-
dowed them with life and movement, so that they
seemed to watch us furtively, to lie in wait and to hold
themselves in readiness to steal out and follow us. The
illusion evidently affected Ruth as well as me, for she
drew nearer to me and whispered:
"These figures are quite startling. Did you see that
Polynesian? I really felt as if he were going to spring
out on us."
"They are rather uncanny," I admitted, "but the dan-
ger is over now. We are passing out of their sphere
of influence."
We came out on a landing as I spoke and then
turned sharply to the left along the North Gallery, from
the center of which we entered the Fourth Egyptian
Room.
Almost immediately, a door in the opposite wall


JOHN BELLINGHAM 285
the foot of the gallows, but though I could make out
an elongated object lying on the floor directly under
the bulb, I could not resolve the dimly seen shape into
anything recognizable. Presently, however, Dr. Nor-
bury supplied the clue.
"I am rather surprized," said he, "that you chose so
composite an object as a mummy to begin on. I should
have thought that a simpler object, such as a coffin
or a wooden figure, would have been more instructive."
"In some ways it would," replied Thorndyke, "but
the variety of materials that the mummy gives us has
its advantages. I hope your father is not ill, Miss Bel-
lingham."
"He is not at all well," said Ruth, "and we agreed
that it was better for me to come alone. I knew Herr
Lederbogen quite well. He stayed with us for a time
when he was in England."
"I trust," said Dr. Norbury, "that I have not troub-
led you for nothing. Herr Lederbogen speaks of 'our
erratic English friend with the long name that I can
never remember,' and it seemed to me that he might
be referring to your uncle."
"I should hardly have called my uncle erratic,"
said Ruth.
"No, no. Certainly not," Dr. Norbury agreed has-
tily. "However, you shall see the letter presently and
judge for yourself. We mustn't introduce irrelevant
topics while the experiment is in progress, must we,
Doctor?"
"You had better wait until we have finished," said
Thorndyke, "because I am going to turn out the light.
Switch off the current, Polton."
The green light vanished from the bulb, the hum of
the interrupter swept down an octave or two and died


286 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
away. Then Thorndyke and Dr. Norbury rose from
their chairs and went toward the mummy, which they
lifted tenderly while Polton drew from beneath it what
presently turned out to be a huge black paper envelope.
The single glow-lamp was switched off, leaving the room
in total darkness until there burst out suddenly a bright
orange red light immediately above one of the trays.
We all gathered round to watch, as Polton—the high
priest of these mysteries—drew from the black envel-
ope a colossal sheet of bromide paper, laid it carefully
in the tray and proceeded to wet it with a large brush
which he had dipped in a pail of water.
"I thought you always used plates for this kind of
work," said Dr. Norbury.
"We do, by preference; but a six-foot plate would be
impossible, so I had a special paper made to the size."
There is something singularly fascinating in the ap-
pearance of a developing photograph; in the gradual,
mysterious emergence of the picture from the blank,
white surface of plate or paper. But a skiagraph, or
X-ray photograph, has a fascination all its own. Un-
like the ordinary photograph, which yields a picture of
things already seen, it gives a presentment of objects
hitherto invisible; and hence, when Polton poured the
developer on the already wet paper, we all craned over
the tray with the keenest curiosity.
The developer was evidently a very slow one. For
fully half a minute no change could be seen in the uni-
form surface. Then, gradually, almost insensibly, the
marginal portion began to darken, leaving the outline of
the mummy in pale relief. The change, once started,
proceeded apace. Darker and darker grew the margin
of the paper until from slaty gray it had turned to
black; and still the shape of the mummy, now in strong


JOHN BELLINGHAM 289
"It is the Eye of Osiris I" she exclaimed in a hushed
voice.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Dr. Norbury, "so it is. You
are quite right. It is the Utchat—the Eye of Horus—
or Osiris, if you prefer to call it so. That, I presume,
will be a gilded device on some of the wrappings."
"No; I should say it is a tattoo mark. It is too in-
definite for a gilded device. And I should say further
that the tattooing is done in vermilion, as carbon tat-
tooing could cast no visible shadow."
"I think you must be mistaken about that," said
Dr. Norbury, "but we shall see, if the Director allows
us to unroll the mummy. By the way, those little ob-
jects in front of the knees are metallic, I suppose?"
"Yes, they are metallic. But they are not in front of
the knees; they are in the knees. They are pieces of
silver wire which have been used to repair fractured
kneecaps."
"Are you sure of that?" exclaimed Dr. Norbury,
peering at the little white marks with ecstasy; "because
if you are, and if these objects are what you say they
are, the mummy of Sebek-hotep is an absolutely unique
specimen."
"I am quite certain of it," said Thorndyke.
"Then," said Dr. Norbury, "we have made a dis-
covery, thanks to your inquiring spirit. Poor John
Bellingham! He little knew what a treasure he was
giving us! How I wish he could have known! How
I wish he could have been here with us to-night!"
He paused once more to gaze in rapture at the photo-
graph. And then Thorndyke, in his quiet, impassive
way, said:
"John Bellingham is here, Doctor Norbury. This
is John Bellingham."
f


290 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
Dr. Norbury started back and stared at Thorndyke
in speechless amazement.
"You don't mean," he exclaimed, after a long pause,
"that this mummy is the body of John Bellingham!"
"I do indeed. There is no doubt of it."
"But it is impossible! The mummy was here in the
gallery a full three weeks before he disappeared."
"Not so," said Thorndyke. "John Bellingham was
last seen alive by you and Mr. Jellicoe on the four-
teenth of October, more than three weeks before the
mummy left Queen Square. After that date he was
never seen alive or dead by any person who knew him
and could identify him.
Dr. Norbury reflected a while in silence. Then, in a
faint voice, he asked:
"How do you suggest that John Bellingham's body
came to be inside that cartonnage?"
"I think Mr. Jellicoe is the most likely person to be
able to answer that question," Thorndyke replied dryly.
There was another interval of silence, and then Dr.
Norbury asked suddenly:
"But what do you suppose has become of Sebek-
hotep? The real Sebek-hotep, I mean?"
"I take it," said Thorndyke, "that the remains of
Sebek-hotep, or at least a portion of them, are at
present lying in the Woodford mortuary awaiting an
adjourned inquest."
As Thorndyke made this statement a flash of belated
intelligence, mingled with self-contempt, fell on me.
Now that the explanation was given, how obvious it
was! And yet I, a competent anatomist and physiolo-
gist and actually a pupil of Thorndyke's, had mistaken
those ancient bones for the remains of a recent body!
Dr. Norbury considered the last statement for some


292 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
"it sounds, as you say, quite conclusive. Well, well,
it is a most horrible affair. Poor old John Bellingham!
it looks uncommonly as if he had met with foul play.
Don't you think so?"
"I do," replied Thorndyke. "There was a mark on
the right side of the skull that looked rather like a
fracture. It was not very clear, being at the side, but
we must develop the negative to show it."
Dr. Norbury drew his breath in sharply through his
teeth. "This is a gruesome business, Doctor," said he.
"A terrible business. Awkward for our people, too.
By the way, what is our position in the matter? What
steps ought we to take?"
"You should give notice to the coroner—I will man-
age the police—and you should communicate with one
of the executors of the will."
"Mr. Jellicoe?"
"No, not Mr. Jellicoe, under the peculiar circum-
stances. You had better write to Mr. Godfrey Belling-
ham."
"But I rather understood that Mr. Hurst was the co-
executor," said Dr. Norbury.
"He is, surely, as matters stand," said Jervis.
"Not at all," replied Thorndyke. "He was as matters
stood; but he is not now. You are forgetting the
condition of clause two. That clause sets forth the
conditions under which Godfrey Bellingham shall in-
herit the bulk of the estate and become the co-executor
and those conditions are: 'that the body of the testa-
tor shall be deposited in some authorized place for the
reception of the bodies of the dead, situate within the
boundaries of, or appertaining to some place of worship
within, the parish of St. George, Bloomsbury, and St.
Giles in the Fields, or St. Andrew above the Bars and


JOHN BELLINGHAM 293
St. George the Martyr.' Now Egyptian mummies are
bodies of the dead, and this Museum is an authorized
place for their reception; and this building is situate
within the boundaries of the parish of St. George,
Bloomsbury. Therefore the provisions of clause two
have been duly carried out and therefore Godfrey Bell-
ingham is the principal beneficiary under the will, and
the co-executor, in accordance with the wishes of the
testator. Is that quite clear?"
"Perfectly," said Dr. Norbury; "and a most aston-
ishing coincidence—but, my dear young lady, had you
not better sit down? You are looking very ill."
He glanced anxiously at Ruth, who was pale to the
lips and was now leaning heavily on my arm.
"I think, Berkeley," said Thorndyke, "you had better
take Miss Bellingham out into the gallery, where there
is more air. This has been a tremendous climax to all
the trials she has borne so bravely. Go out with
Berkeley," he added gently, laying his hand on her
shoulder, "and sit down while we develop the other
negatives. You mustn't break down now, you know,
when the storm has passed and the sun is beginning to
shine." He held the door open and as we passed out
his face softened into a smile of infinite kindness. "You
won't mind my locking you out," said he; "this is a
photographic dark-room at present."
The key grated in the lock and we turned away into
the dim gallery. It was not quite dark, for a beam of
moonlight filtered in here and there through the blinds
that covered the skylights. We walked on slowly, her
arm linked in mine, and for a while neither of us spoke.
The great rooms were very silent and peaceful and
solemn. The hush, the stillness, the mystery of the
half-seen forms in the cases around, were all in harmony


294 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
with the deeply-felt sense of a great deliverance that
filled our hearts.
We had passed through into the next room before
either of us broke the silence. Insensibly our hands
had crept together, and as they met and clasped with
mutual pressure, Ruth exclaimed: "How dreadful and
tragic it is! Poor, poor Uncle John! It seems as if
he had come back from the world of shadows to tell
us of this awful thing. But, O God! what a relief it
is!"
She caught her breath in one or two quick sobs and
pressed my hand passionately.
"It is over, dearest," I said. "It is gone for ever.
Nothing remains but the memory of your sorrow and
your noble courage and patience."
"I can't realize it yet," she murmured. "It has been
like a frightful, interminable dream."
"Let us put it away," said I, "and think only of the
happy life that is opening."
She made no reply, and only a quick catch in her
breath, now and again, told of the long agony that she
had endured with such heroic calm.
We walked on slowly, scarcely disturbing the silence
with our soft footfalls, through the wide doorway into
the second room. The vague shapes of mummy-cases
standing erect in the wall-cases, loomed out dim and
gigantic, silent watchers keeping their vigil with the
memories of untold centuries locked in their shadowy
breasts. They were an awesome company. Reverend
survivors from a vanished world, they looked out from
the gloom of their abiding-place, but with no shade of
menace or of malice in their silent presence; rather with
a solemn benison on the fleeting creatures of to-day.
Half-way along the room a ghostly figure, somewhat


A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM 303
are charged with the murder of Mr. John Bellingham,
whose body has been discovered in the British Mu-
seum."
"By whom?"
"By Doctor Thorndyke."
"Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "Is he here?"
"Yes."
"Ha! and you wish to arrest me, I presume?"
"Yes. That is what I am here for."
"Well, I will agree to surrender myself subject to
certain conditions."
"I can't make any conditions, Mr. Jellicoe."
"No, I will make them, and you will accept them.
Otherwise you will not arrest me."
"It's no use for you to talk like that," said Badger.
"If you don't let me in I shall have to break in. And
I may as well tell you," he added mendaciously, "that
the house is surrounded."
"You may accept my assurance," Mr. Jellicoe replied
calmly, "that you will not arrest me if you do not accept
my conditions."
"Well, what are you conditions?" demanded Badger.
"I desire to make a statement," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"You can do that, but I must caution you that any-
thing you say may be used in evidence against you."
"Naturally. But I wish to make the statement in the
presence of Doctor Thorndyke, and I desire to hear a
statement from him of the method of investigation by
which he discovered the whereabouts of the body. That
is to say, if he is willing."
"If you mean that we should mutually enlighten one
another, I am very willing indeed," said Thorndyke.
"Very well. Then my conditions, Inspector, are that
I shall hear Doctor Thorndyke's statement and that I


A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM 307
the purely academic interest of a specialist in a case
that lies in his particular specialty, I considered it
with deep attention. The newspaper reports contained
no particulars of the relations of the parties that could
furnish any hints as to motives on the part of any of
them, but merely a bare statement of the events. And
this was a distinct advantage, inasmuch as it left one
to consider the facts of the case without regard to
motive—to balance the prima facie probabilities with
an open mind. And it may surprize you to learn that
those prima facie probabilities pointed from the very
first to that solution which has been put to the test of
experiment this evening. Hence it will be well for me
to begin by giving the conclusions that I reached by
reasoning from the facts set forth in the newspapers
before any of the further facts came to my knowledge.
"From the facts as stated in the newspaper reports
it is obvious that there were four possible explanations
of the disappearance.
"1. The man might be alive and in hiding. This
was highly improbable, for the reasons that were stated
by Mr. Loram at the late hearing of the application, and
for a further reason that I shall mention presently.
"2. He might have died by accident or disease, and
his body failed to be identified. This was even more
improbable, seeing that he carried on his person abun-
dant means of identification, including visiting cards.
"3. He might have been murdered by some stranger
for the sake of his portable property. This was highly
improbable for the same reason: his body could hardly
have failed to be identified.
"These three explanations are what we may call the
outside explanations. They touched none of the parties
mentioned; they were all obviously improbable on


312 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
tion: 'What could have been the object of the per-
sonation?'
"What motive could this unknown person have had
in appearing, announcing himself as John Bellingham,
and forthwith vanishing? There could only have been
one motive: that, namely, of fixing the date of John
Bellingham's disappearance—of furnishing a definite
moment at which he was last seen alive.
"But who was likely to have had such a motive?
Let us see.
"I said just now that if Mr. Jellicoe had murdered
John Bellingham and disposed of the body in the
mummy-case, he would have been absolutely safe for
the time being. But there would be a weak spot in his
armor. For a month or more the disappearance of his
client would occasion no remark. But presently, when
he failed to return, inquiries would be set on foot;
and then it would appear that no one had seen him
since he left Queen Square. Then it would be noted
that the last person with whom he was seen was Mr.
Jellicoe. It might, further, be remembered that the
mummy had been delivered to the Musuem some time
after the missing man was last seen alive. And so sus-
picion might arise and be followed by disastrous in-
vestigations. But supposing it should be made to ap-
pear that John Bellingham had been seen alive more
than a month after his interview with Mr. Jellicoe and
some weeks after the mummy had been deposited in the
Museum? Then Mr. Jellicoe would cease to be in any
way connected with the disappearance and henceforth
would be absolutely safe.
"Hence, after carefully considering this part of the
newspaper report, I came to the conclusion that the
mysterious occurrence at Mr. Hurst's house had only


314 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
so that the case against Mr. Jellicoe was not conclu-
sive; but the fact that it was he who found it was highly
significant.
"This completes the analysis of the evidence con-
tained in the original newspaper report describing the
circumstances of the disappearance. The conclusions
that followed from it were, as you will have seen:
"i. That the missing man was almost certainly dead,
as proved by the finding of the scarab after his dis-
appearance.
"2. That he had probably been murdered by one or
more of four persons, as proved by the finding of the
scarab on the premises occupied by two of them and
accessible to the others.
"3. That, of those four persons, one—Mr. Jellicoe—
was the last person who was known to have been in the
company of the missing man; had had an exceptional
opportunity for committing the murder; and was
known to have delivered a dead body to the Museum
subsequently to the disappearance.
"4. That the supposition that Mr. Jellicoe had com-
mitted the murder rendered all the other circumstances
of the disappearance clearly intelligible, whereas on any
other supposition they were quite inexplicable.
"The evidence of the newspaper report, therefore,
clearly pointed to the probability that John Bellingham
had been murdered by Mr. Jellicoe and his body con-
cealed in the mummy-case.
"I do not wish to give you the impression that I,
then and there, believed that Mr. Jellicoe was the
murderer. I did not. There was no reason to suppose
that the report contained all the essential facts, and


A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM 315
I merely considered it speculatively as a study in prob-
abilities. But I did decide that that was the only
probable conclusion from the facts that were given.
"Nearly two years had passed before I heard any-
thing more of the case. Then it was brought to my
notice by my friend, Doctor Berkeley, and I became
acquainted with certain new facts, which I will consider
in the order in which they became known to me.
"The first new light on the case came from the will.
As soon as I had read the document I felt convinced
that there was something wrong. The testator's evi-
dent intention was that his brother should inherit the
property, whereas the construction of the will was such
as almost certainly to defeat that intention. The devo-
lution of the property depended on the burial clause—
clause two; but the burial arrangement would ordi-
narily be decided by the executor, who happened to
be Mr. Jellicoe. Thus the will left the disposition of
the property under the control of Mr. Jellicoe, though
his action could have been contested.
"Now, this will, although drawn up by John Belling-
ham, was executed in Mr. Jellicoe's office as is proved
by the fact that it was witnessed by two of his clerks.
He was the testator's lawyer, and it was his duty to in-
sist on the will being properly drawn. Evidently he did
nothing of the kind, and this fact strongly suggested
some kind of collusion on his part with Hurst, who
stood to benefit by the miscarriage of the will. And
this was the odd feature in the case, for whereas the
party responsible for the defective provisions was Mr.
Jellicoe, the party who benefited was Hurst.
"But the most startling peculiarity of the will was
the way in which it fitted the circumstances of the
disappearance. It looked as if clause two had been
s


A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM 317
Thorndyke's analysis, his unmoved attention, punctu-
ated by little nods of approval at each telling point in
the argument, were the most surprising features of this
astounding interview.
"I did form an opinion," replied Thorndyke, "but
it was merely speculative, and I was never able to
confirm it. I discovered that about ten years ago Mr.
Hurst had been in difficulties and that he had suddenly
raised a considerable sum of money, no one knew how
or on what security. I observed that this even coin-
cided with the execution of the will, and I surmised
that there might be some connection between them.
But that was only a surmise; and, as the proverb has
it, 'He discovers who proves.' I could prove nothing,
so that I never discovered Mr. Jellicoe's motive, and I
don't know it now."
"Don't you really?" said Mr. Jellicoe, in something
approaching a tone of animation. He laid down the
end of his cigarette, and, as he selected another from
the silver case, he continued: "I think that is the most
interesting feature of your really remarkable analysis.
It does you great credit. The absence of motive would
have appeared to most persons a fatal objection to the
theory, of what I may call, the prosecution. Permit
me to congratulate you on the consistency and tenacity
with which you have pursued the actual, visible facts."
He bowed stiffly to Thorndyke (who returned his bow
with equal stiffness), lighted a fresh cigarette, and once
more leaned back in his chair with the calm, attentive
manner of a man who is listening to a lecture or a
musical performance.
"The evidence, then, being insufficient to act upon,"
Thorndyke resumed, "there was nothing for it but to
wait for some new facts. Now, the study of a large


320 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
was lying on the bottom of the pond in a position which
would have been impossible if it had been attached to
the arm."
"You interest me exceedingly," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"It appears that a medico-legal expert finds 'books in
the running brooks, sermons in bones, and evidence in
everything.' But don't let me interrupt you."
"Doctor Berkeley's observations," Thorndyke re-
sumed, "together with the medical evidence at the
inquest, led me to certain conclusions.
"Let me state the facts which were disclosed.
"The remains which had been assembled formed a
complete human skeleton with the exception of the
skull, one finger, and the legs from the knee to the
ankle, including both knee-caps. This was a very im-
pressive fact; for the bones that were missing included
all those which could have been identified as belonging
or not belonging to John Bellingham; and the bones
that were present were the unidentifiable remainder.
"It had a suspicious appearance of selection.
"But the parts that were present were also curiously
suggestive. In all cases the mode of dismemberment
was peculiar; for an ordinary person would have di-
vided the knee-joint leaving the knee-cap attached to
the thigh, whereas it had evidently been left attached
to the shinbone; and the head would most probably
have been removed by cutting through the neck instead
of being neatly detached from the spine. And all
these bones were almost entirely free from marks or
scratches such as would naturally occur in an ordinary
dismemberment and all were quite free from adipocere.
And now as to the conclusions which I drew from
these facts. First, there was the peculiar grouping of
the bones. What was the meaning of that? Well, the


322 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
intact. But this was highly improbable; for there
could be no object in preserving the ligaments. And
the absence of scratches was against this view.
"Then they did not appear to be graveyard bones.
The collection was too complete. It is very rare to find
a graveyard skeleton of which many of the small bones
are not missing. And such bones are usually more or
less weathered and friable.
"They did not appear to be bones such as may be
bought at an osteological dealer's, for these usually
have perforations to admit the macerating fluid to the
marrow cavities. Dealers' bones, too, are very seldom
all from the same body; and the small bones of the
hand are drilled with holes to enable them to be strung
on catgut.
"They were not dissecting-room bones, as there was
no trace of red lead in the openings for the nutrient
arteries.
"What the appearances did suggest was that these
were parts of a body which had decayed in a very dry
atmosphere (in which no adipocere would be formed),
and which had been pulled or broken apart. Also that
the ligaments which held the body—or rather skeleton
—together were brittle and friable as suggested by the
detached hand, which had probably broken off acci-
dentally. But the only kind of body that completely
answered this description is an Egyptian mummy. A
mummy, it is true, has been more or less preserved; but
on exposure to the air of such a climate as ours it per-
ishes rapidly, the ligaments being the last of the soft
parts to disappear.
"The hypothesis that these bones were parts of a
mummy naturally suggested Mr. Jellicoe. If he had
murdered John Bellingham and concealed his body in


324 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
was an additional point tending to implicate Mr. Jel-
licoe.
"And now let us briefly review this mass of evidence.
You will see that it consists of a multitude of items,
each either trivial or speculative. Up to the time of
the actual discovery I had not a single crucial fact, nor
any clue as to motive. But, slight as the individual
points of evidence were, they pointed with impressive
unanimity to one person—Mr. Jellicoe. Thus:
"The person who had the opportunity to commit
murder and dispose of the body was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The deceased was last certainly seen alive with Mr.
Jellicoe.
"An unidentified human body was delivered to the
Museum by Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have a motive for per-
sonating the deceased was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only known person who could possibly have
done so was Mr. Jellicoe.
"One of the two persons who could have had a mo-
tive for dropping the scarab was Mr. Jellicoe. The
person who found that scarab was Mr. Jellicoe, al-
though, owing to his defective'eyesight and his spec-
tacles, he was the most unlikely person of those present
to find it.
"The person who was responsible for the execution
of the defective will was Mr. Jellicoe.
"Then as to the remains. They were apparently not
those of John Bellingham, but parts of a particular kind
of body. But the only person who was known to have
had such a body in his possession was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have had any motive
for substituting those remains for the remains of the
deceased was Mr. Jellicoe.


CHAPTER XX
THE END OF THE CASE
A profound silence had fallen on the room and its
occupants. Mr. Jellicoe sat with his eyes fixed on
the table as if deep in thought, the unlighted cigarette
in one hand, the other grasping the tumbler of water.
Presently Inspector Badger coughed impatiently and
he looked up. "I beg your pardon, gentleman," he
said. "I am keeping you waiting."
He took a sip from the tumbler, opened a match-box
and took out a match, but apparently altering his mind,
laid it down and commenced:
"The unfortunate affair which has brought you here
to-night, had its origin ten years ago. At that time my
friend Hurst became suddenly involved in financial
difficulties—am I speaking too fast for you, Mr.
Badger?"
"No, not at all," replied Badger. "I am taking it
down in shorthand."
"Thank you," said Mr. Jellicoe. "He became in-
volved in serious difficulties and came to me for assist-
ance. He wished to borrow five thousand pounds to
enable him to meet his engagements. I had a certain
amount of money at my disposal, but I did not consider
Hurst's security satisfactory; accordingly I felt com-
pelled to refuse. But on the very next day, John Bel-
lingham called on me with a draft of his will which
he wished me to look over before it was executed.
328


334 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
would cover up not only the cracks but also the new
lacing.
"After careful consideration, I decided to adopt the
plan. I went downstairs and sent the caretaker on
an errand to the Law Courts. Then I returned and
carried the deceased up to one of the third-floor rooms,
where I removed his clothes and laid him out on a
long packing-case in the position in which he would lie
in the mummy-case. I folded his clothes neatly and
packed them, with the exception of his boots, in a
suit-case that he had been taking to Paris and which
contained nothing but his nightclothes, toilet articles,
and a change of linen. By the time I had done this
and thoroughly washed the oilcloth on the stairs and
landing, the caretaker had returned. I informed him
that Mr. Bellingham had started for Paris and then I
went heme. The upper part of the house was, of
course, secured by the Chubb lock, but I had also—ex
abundantia cautela—locked the door of the room in
which I had deposited the deceased.
"I had, of course, some knowledge of the methods of
embalming, but principally of those employed by the
ancients. Hence, on the following day, I went to the
British Museum library and consulted the most recent
works on the subject; and exceedingly interesting they
were, as showing the remarkable improvements that
modern knowledge has effected in this ancient art. I
need not trouble you with details that are familiar to
you. The process that I selected as the simplest for
a beginner was that of formalin injection, and I went
straight from the Museum to purchase the necessary
materials. I did not, however, buy an embalming
syringe: the book stated that an ordinary anatomical


340 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
made the winning move and it remains only for me
to pay my debts like an honest gambler."
He paused and quietly lit his cigarette. Inspector
Badger yawned and put away his notebook.
"Have you done, Mr. Jellicoe?" the inspector asked.
"I want to carry out my contract to the letter, you
know, though it's getting devilish late."
Mr. Jellicoe took his cigarette from his mouth and
drank a glass of water.
"I forgot to ask," he said, "whether you unrolled
the mummy—if I may apply the term to the imper-
fectly treated remains of my deceased client."
"I did not open the mummy-case," replied Thorn-
dyke.
"You did not!" exclaimed Mr. Jellicoe. "Then how
did you verify your suspicions?"
"I took an X-ray photograph."
"Ah! Indeed!" Mr. Jellicoe pondered for some
moments. "Astonishing!" he murmured; "and most
ingenious. The resources of science at the present day
are truly wonderful."
"Is there anything more that you want to say?"
asked Badger; "because if you don't, time's up."
"Anything more?" Mr. Jellicoe repeated slowly;
"anything more? No—I—think—think—the time—is
—up. Yes—the—the—time"
He broke off and sat with a strange look fixed on
Thorndyke.
His face had suddenly undergone a curious change.
It looked shrunken and cadaverous and his lips had
assumed a peculiar cherry-red color.
"Is anything the matter, Mr. Jellicoe?" Badger
asked uneasily. "Are you not feeling well, sir?"
Mr. Jellicoe did not appear to have heard the ques-


342 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
stood with his hands thrust into his pockets scowling
sullenly down at the dead lawyer.
"I was an infernal fool to agree to his blasted condi-
tions," he growled savagely.
"Nonsense," said Thorndyke. "If you had broken
in you would have found a dead man. As it was you
found a live man and obtained an important statement.
You acted quite properly."
"How do you suppose he managed it?" asked
Badger.
Thorndyke held out his hand.
"Let us look at his cigarette case," said he.
Badger extracted the little silver case from the dead
man's pocket and opened it. There were five cigarettes
in it, two of which were plain, while the other three
were gold-tipped. Thorndyke took out one of each
kind and gently pinched their ends. The gold-tipped
one he returned; the plain one he tore through, about
a quarter of an inch from the end; when two little
black tabloids dropped out on to the table. Badger ,
eagerly picked one up and was about to smell it when
Thorndyke grasped his wrist. "Be careful," said he;
and when he had cautiously sniffed at the tabloid—
held at a safe distance from his nose—he added: "Yes,
potassium cyanide. I thought so when his lips turned
that queer color. It was in that last cigarette; you
can see that he has bitten the end off."
For some time we stood silently looking down at the
still form stretched on the floor. Presently Badger
looked up.
"As you pass the porter's lodge on your way out,"
said he, "you might just drop in and tell him to send a
constable to me."
"Very well," said Thorndyke. "And by the way,


344 THE EYE OF OSIRIS
I forgave him; and in his downfall forgot the callous
relentlessness with which he had pursued his evil pur-
pose. For it was he who had brought Ruth into my
life; who had opened for me the Paradise of Love
into which I had just entered. And so my thoughts
turned away from the still shape that lay on the floor
of the stately old room in Lincoln's Inn, away to the
sunny vista of the future, where I should walk hand
in hand with Ruth until my time, too, should come;
until I, too, like the grim lawyer, should hear the
solemn evening bell bidding me put out into the dark-
ness of the silent sea.