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TH€ OLD MAN
IM THE CORN6R


NOVELS BY BARONESS ORCZY
Author of " The Scarlet Pimpernel," etc.
THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
LEATHERFACE
I WILL REPAY
THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
BEAU BROCADE
THE BRONZE EAGLE
ELDORADO
THE NEST OF THE SPARROWHAWK
THE TANGLED SKEIN
BY THE GODS BELOVED
THE EMPEROR'S CANDLESTICKS
UNTO C/ESAR
A SON OF THE PEOPLE
LORD TONY'S WIFE
FLOWER O' THE LILY
HIS MAJESTY'S WELL BELOVED
THE FIRST SIR PERCY
THE HONOURABLE JIM
NICOLETTE, A Tale of Old Provence
THE CELESTIAL CITY
HODDER & STOUGHTON, LTD.
Publishers, London, E.C. 4


TH€ OLD MA>4
MTHerORH€R
By Baroness Orczy

Ho&ier an& Stoughton
Publishers London


TAS. NEW YORK
FTP..7 UPPARY
678.835 Ao
TILD..'.! 10''NDATinNS
R 19^3 L
TO
MY DRAR UNCLE AND AUNT
COUNT AND COUNTESS WASS OF CZEGE
IN REMKMBRANCK
OF If ANY HAPPY DAYS SPENT
IN TRANSYLVANIA
October, igoS

Print'd in Grent Britain at
Tkt Mmjjlmur Press, Plymntth. 'William Brendan & Son, Ltd,


CONTENTS
nurrn »»«
-— I. The Fbnchurch Street Mystery . n
II. A Millionaire in the Dock . . 22
III. His Deduction 3*
— IV. The Robbery in Phillimorb Terrace 43
V. A Night's Adventure . . . 53
VI. All He Knew 64
—VII. The York Mystery .... 70
VIII. The Capital Charge .... 78
IX. A Broken-hearted Woman ... 94
— X. The Mysterious Death on the Under-
ground Railway .... 100
XI. Mr. Errington 117
- XII. The Liverpool Mystery . . . 131
XIII. A Cunning Rascal .... 144
- XIV. The Edinburgh Mystery . . .153
XV. A Terrible Plight .... 160
XVI. Non Proven 16*


CONTENTS
CHArra r»o»
XVII. Undeniable Facts . 175
XVIII. The Theft at the English Provi-
dent Bank 180
XIX. Conflicting Evidence . . .191
XX. An Alibi 197
XXI. The Dublin Mystery . • . 206
XXII. Forgery 21*
XXIII. A Memorable Day ... 224
XXIV. An Unparalleled Outrage . .233
XXV. The Prisoner 238
XXVI. A Sensation 253
XXVII. Two Blackguards . . . .257
XXVIII. The Regent's Park Murder . . 262
XXIX. The Motive 273
XXX. Friends 281
XXXI. The De Gennevillb Peerage . 287
XXXII. A High-bred Gentleman . 294
XXXIII. The Living and the Dead . 303
XXXIV. The Mysterious Death in Percy
Street 313
XXXV. Suicide or Murder? . . .319
XXXVI. The End ..... 338


CHAPTER I
THE FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY
THE man in the corner pushed aside his
glass, and leant across the table."Mysteries!" he commented. "There is no
such thing as a mystery in connection with any
crime, provided intelligence is brought to bear
upon its investigation."
Very much astonished Polly Burton looked
over the top of her newspaper, and fixed a pair
of very severe, coldly inquiring brown eyes upon
him.
She had disapproved of the man from the in-
stant when he shuffled across the shop and sat
down opposite to her, at the same marble-topped table which already held her large coffee
(3d.), her roll and butter (2d.), and plate of
tongue (6d.).
Now this particular corner, this very same
table, that special view of the magnificent marble
it


12 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
hall—known as the Norfolk Street branch of the
Aerated Bread Company's depots—were Polly's
own corner, table, and view. Here she had par-
taken of eleven pennyworth of luncheon and one
pennyworth of daily information ever since that
glorious never-to-be-forgotten day when she was
enrolled on the staff of the Evening Observer
(we'll call it that, if you please), and became a
member of that illustrious and world-famed or-
ganisation known as the British Press.
She was a personality, was Miss Burton of the
Evening Observer. Her cards were printed thus:
Miss Mary J. BURTON Evening Observer.
She had interviewed Miss Ellen Terry and the
Bishop of Madagascar, Mr. Seymour Hicks and
the Chief Commissioner of Police. She had been
present at the last Marlborough House garden
party—in the cloak-room, that is to say, where
she caught sight of Lady Thingummy's hat, Miss
What-you-may-calT* sunshade, and of various 


14 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
Haying carefully studied every detail of the
quaint personality Polly felt more amiable.
"And yet," she remarked kindly but authori-
tatively, "this article, in an otherwise well-informed journal, will tell you that, even within
the last year, no fewer than six crimes have
completely baffled the police, and the perpetra-
tors of them are still at large."
"Pardon me," he said gently, "I never for
a moment ventured to suggest that there were
no mysteries to the police; I merely remarked
that there were none where intelligence was
brought to bear upon the investigation of crime."
"Not even in the Fenchurch Street mystery, I suppose," she asked sarcastically.
"Least of all in the so-called Fenchurch Street
mystery," he replied quietly.
Now the Fenchurch Street mystery, as that
extraordinary crime had popularly been called,
had puzzled—as Polly well knew—the brains of
every thinking man and woman for the last
twelve months. It had puzzled her not incon-
siderably; she had been interested, fascinated;
she had studied the case, formed her own theories,
thought about it all often and often, had even
written one or two letters to the Press on the
subject—suggesting, arguing, hinting at possi-
bilities and probabilities, adducing proofs which
other amateur detectives were equally ready to
refute. The attitude of that timid man in the 


FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY 15
corner, therefore, was peculiarly exasperating,
and she retorted with sarcasm destined to com-
pletely annihilate her self-complacent inter-
locutor.
"What a pity it is, in that case, that you do
not offer your priceless services to our misguided
though well-meaning police."
"Isn't it?" he replied with perfect good-
humour. "Well, you know, for one thing I
doubt if they would accept them; and in the
second place my inclinations and my duty
would—were I to become an active member
of the detective force—nearly always be in
direct conflict. As often as not my sympathies
go to the criminal who is clever and astute
enough to lead our entire police force by the nose.
"I don't know how much of the case you
remember," he went on quietly. "It cer-
tainly, at first, began even to puzzle me. On
the 12th of last December a woman, poorly
dressed, but with an unmistakable air of having
seen better days, gave information at Scotland
Yard of the disappearance of her husband,
William Kershaw, of no occupation, and ap-
parently of no fixed abode. She was accom-
panied by a friend—a fat, oily-looking German—and between them they told a tale which set
the police immediately on the move.
"It appears that on the 10th of December,
at about three o'clock in the afternoon. Karl


16 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
Miiller, the German, called on his friend, William
Kershaw, for the purpose of collecting a small
debt— some ten pounds or so—which the latter
owed him. On arriving at the squalid lodging
in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, he found
William Kershaw in a wild state of excitement,
and his wife in tears. Miiller attempted to
state the object of his visit, but Kershaw, with
wild gestures, waived him aside, and—in his
own words— flabbergasted him by asking him
point-blank for another loan of two pounds,
which sum, he declared, would be the means of
a speedy fortune for himself and the friend who
would help him in his need.
"After a quarter of an hour spent in obscure
hints, Kershaw, finding the cautious German
obdurate, decided to let him into the secret
plan, which, he averred, would place thousands
into their hands."
Instinctively Polly had put down her paper;
the mild stranger, with his nervous air and
timid, watery eyes, had a peculiar way of telling
his tale, which somehow fascinated her.
"I don't know," he resumed, "if you re-
member the story which the German told to
the police, and which was corroborated in every
detail by the wife or widow. Briefly it was
this: Some thirty years previously, Kershaw,
then twenty years of age, and a medical student
at one of the London hospitals, had a chum 


FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY 17
named Barker, with whom he roomed, together
with another.
"The latter, so it appears, brought home
one evening a very considerable sum of money,
which he had won on the turf, and the following
morning he was found murdered in his bed.
Kershaw, fortunately for himself, was able to
prove a conclusive alibi; he had spent the
night on duty at the hospital; as for Barker,
he had disappeared, that is to say, as far as
the police were concerned, but not as far as the
watchful eyes of his friend Kershaw were able
to spy—at least, so the latter said. Barker very
cleverly contrived to get away out of the country,
and, after sundry vicissitudes, finally settled
down at Vladivostok, in Eastern Siberia, where,
under the assumed name of Smethurst, he
built up an enormous fortune by trading in furs.
"Now, mind you, every one knows Smeth-
urst, the Siberian millionaire. Kershaw's story
that he had once been called Barker, and had committed a murder thirty years ago was never proved, was it? I am merely telling you what
Kershaw said to his friend the German and to
his wife on that memorable afternoon of Decem-
ber the 10th.
"According to him Smethurst had made one
gigantic mistake in his clever career—he had
on four occasions written to his late friend,
William Kershaw. Two of these letters had 


18 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
no bearing on the case, since they were written more than twenty-five years ago, and Kershaw,
moreover, had lost them—so he said—long ago. According to him, however, the first of
these letters was written when Smethurst, alias
Barker, had spent all the money he had obtained
from the crime, and found himself destitute in
New York.
"Kershaw, then in fairly prosperous circum-
stances, sent him a £10 note for the sake of old
times. The second, when the tables had turned,
and Kershaw had begun to go downhill, Smeth-
urst, as he then already called himself, sent
his whilom friend £50. After that, as Miiller gathered, Kershaw had made sundry demands
on Smethurst's ever-increasing purse, and had
accompanied these demands by various threats,
which, considering the distant country in which
the millionaire lived, were worse than futile.
"But now the climax had come, and Ker-
shaw, after a final moment of hesitation, handed
over to his German friend the two last letters
purporting to have been written by Smethurst,
and which, if you remember, played such an
important part in the mysterious story of this extraordinary crime. I have a copy of both
these letters here," added the man in the corner,
as he took out a piece of paper from a very
worn-out pocket-book, and, unfolding it very
deliberately, he began to read:—


FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY 19
"' Sib,—Your preposterous demands for money
are wholly unwarrantable. I have already helped
you quite as much as you deserve. However,
for the sake of old times, and because you once
helped me when I was in a terrible difficulty,
I am willing to once more let you impose upon
my good nature. A friend of mine here, a
Russian merchant, to whom I have sold my
business, starts in a few days for an extended
tour to many European and Asiatic ports in
his yacht, and has invited me to accompany
him as far as England. Being tired of foreign
parts, and desirous of seeing the old country
once again after thirty years' absence, I have
decided to accept his invitation. I don't know
when we may actually be in Europe, but I
promise you that as soon as we touch a suitable
port I will write to you again, making an ap-
pointment for you to see me in London. But
remember that if your demands are too prepos-
terous I will not for a moment listen to them,
and that I am the last man in the world to
submit to persistent and unwarrantable black-
mail.
"' I am, sir,
"'Yours truly,
"'Francis Smethurst.'
"The second letter was dated from South-
ampton," continued the man in the corner


20 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
oalmly, "and, curiously enough, was the only letter
which Kershaw professed to have received from
Smethurst of which he had kept the envelope, and
which was dated. It was quite brief," he added,
referring once more to his piece of paper.
"' Dear Sir,—Referring to my letter of a
few weeks ago, I wish to inform you that th«
Taarskoe Selo will touch at Tilbury on Tuesday
next, the 10th. I shall land there, and imme-
diately go up to London by the first train I can
get. If you like, you may meet me at Fenchurch
Street Station, in the first-class waiting-room,
in the late afternoon. Since I surmise that after
thirty years' absence my face may not be familiar
to you, I may as well tell you that you will
recognize me by a heavy Astrakhan fur coat,
which I shall wear, together with a cap of the
same. You may then introduce yourself to me,
and I will personally listen to what you may
have to say.
"' Yours faithfully,
"' Francis Smethurst.'"It was this last letter which had caused
William Kershaw's excitement and his wife's
tears. In the German's own words, he was
walking up and down the room like a wild
beast, gesticulating wildly, and muttering sun-
dry exclamations. Mrs. Kershaw, however, was 


FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY 21
full of apprehension. She mistrusted the man
from foreign parts—who, according to her
husband's story, had already one crime upon
his conscience —who might, she feared, risk
another, in order to be rid of a dangerous enemy.
Woman-like, she thought the scheme a dis-
honourable one, for the law, she knew, is severe
on the blackmailer.
"The assignation might be a cunning trap,
in any case it was a curious one; why, she
argued, did not Smethurst elect to see Kershaw
at his hotel the following day? A thousand
whys and wherefores made her anxious, but
the fat German had been won over by Kershaw's
visions of untold gold, held tantalisingly before
his eyes. He had lent the necessary £2, with
which his friend intended to tidy himself up
a bit before he went to meet his friend the
millionaire. Half an hour afterwards Kershaw
had left his lodgings, and that was the last the
unfortunate woman saw of her husband, or
Miiller, the German, of his friend.
"Anxiously his wife waited that night, but
he did not return; the next day she seems to
have spent in making purposeless and futile
inquiries about the neighbourhood of Fenchurch
Street; and on the 12th she went to Scotland
Yard, gave what particulars she knew, and
placed in the hands of the police the two letters
written by Smethurst."


CHAPTER II
A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK
THE man in the corner had finished his glass
of milk. His watery blue eyes looked across
at Miss Polly Burton's eager little face, from
which all traces of severity had now been chased
away by an obvious and intense excitement.
"It was only on the 31st," he resumed after
a while, "that a body, decomposed past all
recognition, was found by two lightermen in
the bottom of a disused barge. She had been
moored at one time at the foot of one of those
dark flights of steps which lead down between
tall warehouses to the river in the East End of
London. I have a photograph of the place
here," he added, selecting one out of his pocket,
and placing it before Polly.
"The actual barge, you see, had already
been removed when I took this snapshot, but
you will realise what a perfect place this alley
is for the purpose of one man cutting another's
throat in comfort, and without fear of detec-
tion. The body, as I said, was decomposed
beyond all recognition; it had probably been S3


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 23
there eleven days, but sundry articles, such as
a silver ring and a tie pin, were recognisable, and were identified by Mrs. Kershaw as belonging
to her husband.
"She, of course, was loud in denouncing
Smethurst, and the police had no doubt a very
strong case against him, for two days after
the discovery of the body in the barge, the
Siberian millionaire, as he was already popularly
called by enterprising interviewers, was arrested
in his luxurious suite of rooms at the Hotel Cecil.
"To confess the truth, at this point I was
not a little puzzled. Mrs. Kershaw's story and
Smethurst's letters had both found their way
into the papers, and following my usual method
— mind you, I am only an amateur, I try
to reason out a case for the love of the thing—I sought about for a motive for the crime,
which the police declared Smethurst had com-
mitted. To effectually get rid of a dangerous
blackmailer was the generally accepted theory.
Well! did it ever strike you how paltry that
motive really was?"
Miss Polly had to confess, however, that it had
never struck her in that light.
"Surely a man who had succeeded in build-
ing up an immense fortune by his own individual
efforts, was not the sort of fool to believe that
he had anything to fear from a man like Ker-
shaw. He must have known that Kershaw 


24 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
held no damning proofs against him—not enough
to hang him, anyway. Have you ever seen
Smethurst?" he added, as he once more fumbled
in his pocket-book.
Polly replied that she had seen Smethurst's picture in the illustrated papers at the time.
Then he added, placing a small photograph
before her:
"What strikes you most about the face?"
"Well, I think its strange, astonished ex-
pression, due to the total absence of eye-
brows, and the funny foreign cut of the
hair."
"So close that it almost looks as if it had been
shaved. Exactly. That is what struck me most
when I elbowed my way into the court that
morning and first caught sight of the millionaire
in the dock. He was a tall, soldierly-looking
man, upright in stature, his face very bronzed
and tanned. He wore neither moustache nor
beard, his hair was cropped quite close to his
head, like a Frenchman's; but, of course,
what was so very remarkable about him was
that total absence of eyebrows and even eye-
lashes, which gave the face such a peculiar
appearance—as you say, a perpetually astonished
look.
"He seemed, however, wonderfully calm;
he had been accommodated with a chair in
the dock —being a millionaire—and chatted 


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 28
pleasantly with his lawyer, Sir Arthur Inglewood, in the intervals between the calling of
the several witnesses for the prosecution; whilst
during the examination of these witnesses he
sat quite placidly, with his head shaded by his hand.
"Muller and Mrs. Kershaw repeated the story
which they had already told to the police. I think
you said that you were not able, owing to pres-
sure of work, to go to the court that day, and
hear the case, so perhaps you have no recollec-
tion of Mrs. Kershaw. No? Ah, well! Here is
a snapshot I managed to get of her once. That
is her. Exactly as she stood in the box—over-
dressed—in elaborate crape, with a bonnet which
once had contained pink roses, and to which a
remnant of pink petals still clung obtrusively
amidst the deep black.
"She would not look at the prisoner, and
turned her head resolutely towards the magis-
trate. I fancy she had been fond of that vaga-
bond husband of hers: an enormous wedding-
ring encircled her finger, and that, too, was
swathed in black. She firmly believed that
Kershaw's murderer sat there in the dock, and
she literally flaunted her grief before him.
"I was indescribably sorry for her. As for
Muller, he was just fat, oily, pompous, con-
scious of his own importance as a witness;
his fat fingers, covered with brass rings, gripped 


26 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
the two incriminating letters, which he had identified. They were his passports, as it were, to a delightful land of importance and notoriety. Sir Arthur Inglewood, I think, disappointed him by stating that he had no questions to ask of him. Miiller had been brimful of answers, ready with the most perfeet indictment, the most elaborate accusations against the bloated millionaire who had destroyed his dear friend Kershaw, and murdered him in Heaven knows what an out-of-the-way corner of the East End.
"After this, however, the excitement grew apace. Miiller had been dismissed, and had retired from the court altogether, leading away Mrs. Kershaw, who had completely broken down.
"Constable D 21 was giving evidence as to the arrest in the meanwhile. The prisoner, he
said, had seemed completely taken by surprise,
not understanding the cause or history of the
accusation against him; however, when put
in full possession of the facts, and realising, no
doubt, the absolute futility of any resistance,
he had quietly enough followed the constable
into the cab. No one at the fashionable and
crowded Hotel Cecil had even suspected that
anything unusual had occurred.
"Then a gigantic sigh of expectancy came
from every one of the spectators. The 'fun


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 27
was about to begin. James Buckland, a porter
at Fenchurch Street railway station, had just
sworn to tell all the truth, etc. After all, it
did not amount to much. He said that at
six o'clock in the afternoon of December the
10th, in the midst of one of the densest fogs
he ever remembers, the 5.5 from Tilbury steamed
into the station, being just about an hour late.
He was on the arrival platform, and was hailed
by a passenger in a first-class carriage. He
could see very little of him beyond an enor-
mous black fur coat and a travelling cap of fur
also.
"The passenger had a quantity of luggage,
all marked F. S., and he directed James Buckland to place it all upon a four-wheeled cab, with
the exception of a small hand-bag, which he
carried himself. Having seen that all his luggage
was safely bestowed, the stranger in the fur
coat paid the porter, and, telling the cabman
to wait until he returned, he walked away in
the direction of the waiting-rooms, still carrying
his small handbag.
"'I stayed for a bit,' added James Buckland, 'talking to the driver about the fog and
that; then I went about my business, seein'
that the local from Southend 'ad been sig-
nalled.'
"The prosecution insisted most strongly upon
the hour when the stranger in the fur coat.


28 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
having seen to his luggage, walked away towards
the waiting-rooms. The porter was emphatic.
'It was not a minute later than 6.15,' he averred.
"Sir Arthur Inglewood still had no questions
to ask, and the driver of the cab was called.
"He corroborated the evidence of James
Buckland as to the hour when the gentleman
in the fur coat had engaged him, and having
filled his cab in and out with luggage, had told
him to wait. And cabby did wait. He waited
in the dense fog—until he was tired, until he seriously thought of depositing all the luggage
in the lost property office, and of looking out
for another fare— waited until at last, at a
quarter before nine, whom should he see walking
hurriedly towards his cab but the gentleman in
the fur coat and cap, who got in quickly and
told the driver to take him at once to the Hotel
Cecil. This, cabby declared, had occurred at
a quarter before nine. Still Sir Arthur Inglewood
made no comment, and Mr. Francis Smethurst,
in the crowded, stuffy court, had calmly dropped
to sleep.
"The next witness, Constable Thomas Taylor,
had noticed a shabbily-dressed individual, with
shaggy hair and beard, loafing about the station
and waiting-rooms in the afternoon of December
the 10th. He seemed to be watching the arrival
platform of the Tilbury and Southend trains.


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 20
"Two separate and independent witnesses, cleverly unearthed by the police, had seen this
same shabbily-dressed individual stroll into the
first-class waiting-room at about 6.15 on Wed-
nesday, December the 10th, and go straight
up to a gentleman in a heavy fur coat and
cap, who had also just come into the room. The
two talked together for a while; no one heard
what they said, but presently they walked off
together. No one seemed to know in which
direction.
"Francis Smethurst was rousing himself from
his apathy; he whispered to his lawyer, who
nodded with a bland smile of encouragement.
The employes of the Hotel Cecil gave evidence
as to the arrival of Mr. Smethurst at about
9.30 p.m. on Tuesday, December the 10th,
in a cab, with a quantity of luggage; and this
closed the case for the prosecution.
"Everybody in that court already saw Smeth-
urst mounting the gallows. It was uninterested
curiosity which caused the elegant audience
to wait and hear what Sir Arthur Inglewood
had to say. He, of course, is the most fashion-
able man in the law at the present moment.
His lolling attitudes, his drawling speech, are
quite the rage, and imitated by the gilded youth
of society.
"Even at this moment, when the Siberian
millionaire's neck literally and metaphorically 


30 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
hung in the balance, an expectant titter went round the fair spectators as Sir Arthur stretched out his long loose limbs and lounged across the table. He waited to make his effect—Sir Arthur is a born actor—and there is no doubt that he made it, when in his slowest, most drawly tones he said quietly:
"' With regard to this alleged murder of one
William Kershaw, on Wednesday, December
the 10th, between 6.15 and 8.45 p.m., your
Honour, I now propose to call two witnesses,
who saw this same William Kershaw alive on
Tuesday afternoon, December the 16th, that
is to say, six days after the supposed murder.'
"It was as if a bombshell had exploded in
the court. Even his Honour was aghast, and I am
sure the lady next to me only recovered from the
shock of surprise in order to wonder whether
she need put off her dinner party after all.
"As for me," added the man in the corner,
with that strange mixture of nervousness and
self-complacency which had set Miss Polly Burton
wondering, "well, you see, / had made up my
mind long ago where the hitch lay in this par-
ticular case, and I was not so surprised as some
of the others.
"Perhaps you remember the wonderful de-
velopment of the case, which so completely
mystified the police—and in fact everybody
except myself. Torriani and a waiter at his 


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 31
hotel in the Commercial Road both deposed
that at about 3.30 p.m. on December the 10th a shabbily-dressed individual lolled into the
coffee-room and ordered some tea. He was
pleasant enough and talkative, told the waiter
that his name was William Kershaw, that very
soon all London would be talking about him,
as he was about, through an unexpected stroke
of good fortune, to become a very rich man,
and so on, and so on, nonsense without end.
"When he had finished his tea he lolled out
again, but no sooner had he disappeared down
a turning of the road than the waiter discovered
an old umbrella, left behind accidentally by
the shabby, talkative individual. As is the
custom in his highly respectable restaurant,
Signor Torriani put the umbrella carefully away
in his office, on the chance of his customer
calling to claim it when he discovered his
loss. And sure enough nearly a week later, on
Tuesday, the 16th, at about 1 p.m., the same
shabbily-dressed individual called and asked
for his umbrella. He had some lunch, and
chatted once again to the waiter. Signor Tor-
riani and the waiter gave a description of William
Kershaw, which coincided exactly with that
given by Mrs. Kershaw of her husband.
"Oddly enough he seemed to be a very absent-
minded sort of person, for on this second occasion, no sooner had he left than the waiter found 


32 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
a pocket-book in the coffee-room, underneath
the table. It contained sundry letters and bills,
all addressed to William Kershaw. This pocket-
book was produced, and Karl Miiller, who had
returned to the court, easily identified it as
having belonged to his dear and lamented friend
'Villiam.'
"This was the first blow to the case against
the accused. It was a pretty stiff one, you
will admit. Already it had begun to collapse
like a house of cards. Still, there was the
assignation, and the undisputed meeting between
Smethurst and Kershaw, and those two and a
half hours of a foggy evening to satisfactorily
account for."
The man in the corner made a long pause,
keeping the girl on tenterhooks. He had fidgeted
with his bit of string till there was not an inch
of it free from the most complicated and elaborate
knots.
"I assure you," he resumed at last, "that
at that very moment the whole mystery was,
to me, as clear as daylight. I only marvelled
how his Honour could waste his time and mine
by putting what he thought were searching
questions to the accused relating to his past.
Francis Smethurst, who had quite shaken off
his somnolence, spoke with a curious nasal
twang, and with an almost imperceptible soupgon of foreign accent. He calmly denied Kershaw'"


44 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"A fresh mystery had cropped up. Who, then, had made the assignation with William
Kershaw at Fenchurch Street railway station?
The prisoner gave a fairly satisfactory account
of the employment of his time since his landing
in England.
"' I came over on the Tsarskoe Selo,' he said,
'a yacht belonging to a friend of mine. When
we arrived at the mouth of the Thames there
was such a dense fog that it was twenty-four
hours before it was thought safe for me to land.
My friend, who is a Russian, would not land at
all; he was regularly frightened at this land of
fogs. He was going on to Madeira immediately.
"' I actually landed on Tuesday, the 10th,
and took a train at once for town. I did see
to my luggage and a cab, as the porter and
driver told your Honour; then I tried to find
my way to a refreshment-room, where I could
get a glass of wine. I drifted into the waiting-room, and there I was accosted by a shabbily-dressed individual, who began telling me a
piteous tale. Who he was I do not know. He
said he was an old soldier who had served his
country faithfully, and then been left to starve.
He begged of me to accompany him to his
lodgings, where I could see his wife and starving
children, and verify the truth and piteousness
of his tale.
"' Well, your Honour,' added the prisoner 


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 35
with noble frankness, 'it was my first day in
the old country. I had come back after thirty
years with my pockets full of gold, and this
was the first sad tale I had heard; but I am
a business man, and did not want to be exactly
"done" in the eye. I followed my man through
the fog, out into the streets. He walked silently
by my side for a time. I had not a notion where
I was.
"' Suddenly I turned to him with some ques-
tion, and realised in a moment that my gentle-
man had given me the slip. Finding, probably,
that I would not part with my money till I
had seen the starving wife and children, he left
me to my fate, and went in search of more willing
bait.
"' The place where I found myself was dismal
and deserted. I could see no trace of cab or
omnibus. I retraced my steps and tried to
find my way back to the station, only to find
myself in worse and more deserted neighbour-
hoods. I became hopelessly lost and fogged.
I don't wonder that two and a half hours elapsed
while I thus wandered on in the dark and de-
serted streets; my sole astonishment is that
I ever found the station at all that night, or
rather close to it a policeman, who showed me
the way.'
"' But how do you account for Kershaw
knowing all your movements?' still persisted


A MILLIONAIRE IN THE DOCK 37
murdered on the 10th was seen to be alive and
well on the 16th. But then, who in the world
was the mysterious individual who had apprised
Kershaw of the movements of Smethurst, the
millionaire ?"
B


CHAPTER III
HIS DEDUCTION
THE man in the corner cocked his funny thin
head on one side and looked at Polly; then he
took up his beloved bit of string and deliberately
united every knot he had made in it. When
it was quite smooth he laid it out upon the
table.
"I will take you, if you like, point by point
along the line of reasoning which I followed
myself, and which will inevitably lead you, as
it led me, to the only possible solution of the
mystery.
"First take this point," he said with nervous
restlessness, once more taking up his bit of string,
and forming with each point raised a series of
knots which would have shamed a navigating
instructor, "obviously it was impossible for
Kershaw not to have been acquainted with
Smethurst, since he was fully apprised of the
latter's arrival in England by two letters. Now
it was clear to me from the first that no one could
have written those two letters except Smethurst.
You will argue that those letters were proved 38


HIS DEDUCTION
59
not to have been written by the man in the dock.
Exactly. Remember, Kershaw was a careless
man—he had lost both envelopes. To him they
were insignificant. Now it was never disproved
that those letters were written by Smethuret."
«But "suggested Polly.
"Wait a minute," he interrupted, while knot
number two appeared upon the scene; "it was
proved that six days after the murder William
Kershaw was alive, and visited the Torriani
Hotel, where already he was known, and where
he conveniently left a pocket-book behind, so
that there should be no mistake as to his identity;
but it was never questioned where Mr. Francis
Smethurst, the millionaire, happened to spend
that very same afternoon."
"Surely, you don't mean ?" gasped the
girl.
"One moment, please," he added trium-
phantly. "How did it come about that the
landlord of the Torriani Hotel was brought into
court at all? How did Sir Arthur Inglewood,
or rather his client, know that William Kershaw
had on those two memorable occasions visited
the hotel, and that its landlord could bring such
convincing evidence forward that would for ever
exonerate the millionaire from the imputation of
murder?"
"Surely," I argued, "the usual means, the
police"


40 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"The police had kept the whole affair very
dark until the arrest at the Hotel Cecil. They
did not put into the papers the usual: 'If any-
one happens to know of the whereabouts, etc., etc.' Had the landlord of that hotel heard of
the disappearance of Kershaw through the
usual channels, he would have put himself in
communication with the police. Sir Arthur
Inglewood produced him. How did Sir Arthur
Inglewood come on his track?"
"Surely, you don't mean?"
"Point number four," he resumed imper-
turbably, "Mrs. Kershaw was never requested
to produce a specimen of her husband's hand-
writing. Why? Because the police, clever as
you say they are, never started on the right
tack. They believed William Kershaw to have
been murdered; they looked for William Ker-
shaw."
"On December the 31st, what was presumed
to be the body of William Kershaw was found
by two lightermen: I have shown you a photo-
graph of the place where it was found. Dark
and deserted it is in all conscience, is it not?
Just the place where a bully and a coward would
decoy an unsuspecting stranger, murder him
first, then rob him of his valuables, his papers,
his very identity, and leave him there to rot.
The body was found in a disused barge which
had been moored some time against the wall, 


HIS DEDUCTION 41
at the foot of these steps. It was in the last
stages of decomposition, and, of course, could
not be identified; but the police would have it
that it was the body of William Kershaw.
"It never entered their heads that it was the
body of Francis Smethurst, and that William
Kershaw was his murderer.
"Ah! it was cleverly, artistically conceived!
Kershaw is a genius. Think of it all! His
disguise! Kershaw had a shaggy beard, hair,
and moustache. He shaved up to his very eye-
brows! No wonder that even his wife did not
recognise him across the court; and remember
she never saw much of his face while he stood
in the dock. Kershaw was shabby, slouchy,
he stooped. Smethurst, the millionaire, might
have served in the Prussian Army.
"Then that lovely trait about going to revisit
the Torriani Hotel. Just a few days' grace, in
order to purchase moustache and beard and wig,
exactly similar to what he had himself shaved
off. Making up to look like himself 4 Splendid I
Then leaving the pocket-book behind! He! he I
he! Kershaw was not murdered! Of course
not. He called at the Torriani Hotel six days
after the murder, whilst Mr. Smethurst, the mil-
lionaire, hobnobbed in the park with duchesses!
Hang such a man! Fie!"
He fumbled for his hat. With nervous,
trembling fingers he held it deferentially in his 


42 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
hand whilst he rose from the table. Polly watched
him as he strode up to the desk, and paid two-
pence for his glass of milk and his bun. Soon
he disappeared through the shop, whilst she still
found herself hopelessly bewildered, with a num-
ber of snap-shot photographs before her, still
staring at a long piece of string, smothered from
end to end in a series of knots, as bewildering,
as irritating, as puzzling as the man who had
lately sat in the corner.


CHAPTER IV
THE ROBBERY IN PHILLIMORE
TERRACE
TXTHETHER Miss Polly Burton really did
T texpect to see the man in the corner that
Saturday afternoon, 'twere difficult to say;
certain it is that when she found her way to the
table close by the window and realised that he
was not there, she felt conscious of an over-
whelming sense of disappointment. And yet
during the whole of the week she had, with
more pride than wisdom, avoided this particular
A.B.C. shop.
"I thought you would not keep away very
long," said a quiet voice close to her ear.
She nearly lost her balance—where in the world
had he come from? She certainly had not heard
the slightest sound, and yet there he sat, in
the corner, like a veritable Jack-in-the-box,
his mild blue eyes staring apologetically at her,
his nervous fingers toying with the inevitable
bit of siring.
The waitress brought him his glass of milk
and a cheese-cake. He ate it in silence, while 43


44 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
his piece of string lay idly beside him on the
table. When he had finished he fumbled in
his capacious pockets, and drew out the in-
evitable pocket-book.
Placing a small photograph before the girl, he
said quietly:
"That is the back of the houses in Phillimore
Terrace, which overlook Adam and Eve mews."
She looked at the photograph, then at him,
with a kindly look of indulgent expectancy.
"You will notice that the row of back gardens
have each an exit into the mews. These mews
are built in the shape of a capital F. The
photograph is taken looking straight down the
short horizontal line, which ends, as you see,
in a cul-de-sac. The bottom of the vertical
line turns into Phillimore Terrace, and the end
of the upper long horizontal line into High
Street, Kensington. Now, on that particular
night, or rather early morning, of January 15th,
Constable D 21, having turned into the mews
from Phillimore Terrace, stood for a moment at
the angle formed by the long vertical artery
of the mews and the short horizontal one which,
as I observed before, looks on to the back gardens
of the Terrace houses, and ends in a cul-de-sac.
"How long D 21 stood at that particular
corner he could not exactly say, but he thinks
it must have been three or four minutes before
he noticed a suspicious-looking individual sham*


ROBBERY IN PHILLIMORE TERRACE 46
bling along under the shadow of the garden walls.
He was working his way cautiously in the direc-
tion of the cul-de-sac, and D 21, also keeping
well within the shadow, went noiselessly after
him.
"He had almost overtaken him—was, in
fact, not more than thirty yards from him—when from out of one of the two end houses—No. 22, Phillimore Terrace, in fact—a man, in
nothing but his night-shirt, rushed out excitedly,
and, before D 21 had time to intervene, literally
threw himself upon the suspected individual,
rolling over and over with him on the hard
cobble-stones, and frantically shrieking, 'Thief!
Thief i Police!'
"It was some time before the constable
succeeded in rescuing the tramp from the excited
grip of his assailant, and several minutes before
he could make himself heard.
"' There! there! that'll do!' he managed
to say at last, as he gave the man in the shirt
a vigorous shove, which silenced him for the
moment. 'Leave the man alone now, you
mustn't make that noise this time o' night,
wakin' up all the folks.' The unfortunate
tramp, who in the meanwhile had managed to
get on to his feet again, made no attempt to get
away; probably he thought he would stand
but a poor chance. But the man in the shirt
had partly recovered his power of speech and


46 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
was now blurting out jerky, half-intelligible sentences:
"'I have been robbed—robbed—I—that is—my master—Mr. Knopf. The desk is open—the diamonds gone—all in my charge—and—now they are stolen! That's the thief—I'll
swear—I heard him—not three minutes ago—I rushed downstairs—the door into the garden
was smashed —I ran across the garden—he was
sneaking about here still—Thief! Thief! Police!
Diamonds! Constable, don't let him go—I'll
make you responsible if you let him go'
"'Now then—that'll do!' admonished D 21
as soon as he could get a word in, 'stop that row,
will you?'
"The man in the shirt was gradually recover-
ing from his excitement.
"' Can I give this man in charge?' he asked.
"'What for ? *
"' Burglary and housebreaking. I heard him,
I tell you. He must have Mr. Knopf's diamonds
about him at this moment.'
"'Where is Mr. Knopf?'
"'Out of town,' groaned the man in the shirt.
"' He went to Brighton last night, and left me
in charge, and now this thief has been and'
"The tramp shrugged his shoulders and
suddenly, without a word, he quietly began
taking off his coat and waistcoat. These he
handed across to the constable. Eagerly the 


BOBBERY IN PHILUMORE TERRACE 47
man in the shirt fell on them, and turned the
ragged pockets inside out. From one of the
windows a hilarious voice made some facetious
remark, as the tramp with equal solemnity
began divesting himself of his nether garments.
"' Now then, stop that nonsense,' pronounced
D 21 severely, 'what were you doing here this
time o' night, anyway T'
"' The streets o' London is free to the public,
ain't they?' queried the tramp.
"' This don't lead nowhere, my man.'
"' Then I've lost my way, that's all,' growled
the man surlily, 'and p'raps you'll let me get
along now.'
"By this time a couple of constables had
appeared upon the scene. D 21 had no inten-
tion of losing sight of his friend the tramp, and
the man in the shirt had again made a dash for
the latter's collar at the bare idea that he should
be allowed to 'get along.'
"I think D 21 was alive to the humour of the
situation. He suggested that Roberston (the
man in the night-shirt) should go in and get
some clothes on, whilst he himself would wait
for the inspector and the detective, whom D 15
would send round from the station immediately.
"Poor Robertson's teeth were chattering with
cold. He had a violent fit of sneezing as D 21
hurried him into the house. The latter, with
another constable, remained to watch the bur-


48 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
glared premises both back and front, and D 15 took the wretched tramp to the station with a
view to sending an inspector and a detective
round immediately.
"When the two latter gentlemen arrived at
No. 22 Phillimore Terrace, they found poor
old Robertson in bed, shivering, and still quite
blue. He had got himself a hot drink, but his
eyes were streaming and his voice was terribly
husky. D 21 had stationed himself in the
dining-room, where Robertson had pointed the
desk out to him, with its broken lock and scat-
tered contents.
"Robertson, between his sneezes, gave what
account he could of the events which happened
immediately before the robbery.
"His master, Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, he said,
was a diamond merchant, and a bachelor. He
himself had been in Mr. Knopf's employ over
fifteen years, and was his only indoor servant.
A charwoman came every day to do the housework.
"Last night Mr. Knopf dined at the house
of Mr. Shipman, at No. 26, lower down. Mr.
Shipman is the great jeweller who has his place
of business in South Audley Street. By the
last post there came a letter with the Brighton
postmark, and marked 'urgent,' for Mr. Knopf,
and he (Robertson) was just wondering if he
should run over to No. 26 with it, when his
master returned. He gave one glance at the 


ROBBERY m PHILLIMORE TERRACE 49
contents of the letter, asked for his A.B.C. Rail-
way Guide, and ordered him (Robertson) to
pack his bag at once and fetch him a cab.
"' I guessed what it was,' continued Robert-
son after another violent fit of sneezing. 'Mr.
Knopf has a brother, Mr. Emile Knopf, to whom
he is very much attached, and who is a great
invalid. He generally goes about from one
seaside place to another. He is now at Brighton,
and has recently been very ill.
"' If you will take the trouble to go down-
stairs I think you will still find the letter lying
on the hall table.
"'I read it after Mr. Knopf left; it was not
from his brother, but from a gentleman who
signed himself J. Collins, M.D. I don't re-
member the exact words, but, of course, you'll
be able to read the letter—Mr. J. Collins said
he had been called in very suddenly to see
Mr. Emile Knopf, who, he added, had not many
hours to live, and had begged of the doctor to
communicate at once with his brother in London.
"' Before leaving, Mr. Knopf warned me that
there were some valuables in his desk—diamonds
mostly, and told me to be particularly careful
about locking up the house. He often has left
me like this in charge of his premises, and usually
there have been diamonds in his desk, for Mr.
Knopf has no regular city office, as he is a com-
mercial traveller.'


50 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"This, briefly, was the gist of the matter
which Robertson related to the inspector with
many repetitions and persistent volubility.
"The detective and inspector, before return-
ing to the station with their report, thought
they would call at No. 26, on Mr. Shipman, the
great jeweller.
"You remember, of course," added the man
in the corner, dreamily contemplating his bit
of string, "the exciting developments of this
extraordinary case. Mr. Arthur Shipman is
the head of the firm of Shipman and Co., the
wealthy jewellers. He is a widower, and lives
very quietly by himself in his own old-fashioned
way in the small Kensington house, leaving it
to his two married sons to keep up the style
and swagger befitting the representatives of so
wealthy a firm.
"' I have only known Mr. Knopf a very little
while,' he explained to the detectives. 'He
sold me two or three stones once or twice, I
think; but we are both single men, and we
have often dined together. Last night he dined
with me. He had that afternoon received a
very fine consignment of Brazilian diamonds,
as he told me, and knowing how beset I am
with callers at my business place, he had brought
the stones with him, hoping, perhaps, to do
a bit of trade over the nuts and wine.
"' I bought £25,000 worth of him,' added the 


ROBBERY IN PRTTJJMORE TERRACE 51
jeweller, as if he were speaking of so many
farthings, 'and gave him a cheque across the
dinner table for that amount. I think we were
both pleased with our bargain, and we had a
final bottle of '48 port over it together. Mr.
Knopf left me at about 9.30, for he knows I go
very early to bed, and I took my new stock
upstairs with me, and locked it up in the safe.
I certainly heard nothing of the noise in the
mews last night. I sleep on the second floor,
in the front of the house, and this is the first I
have heard of poor Mr. Knopf's loss'
"At this point of his narrative Mr. Shipman
very suddenly paused, and his face became very
pale. With a hasty word of excuse he uncere-
moniously left the room, and the detective heard
him running quickly upstairs.
"Less than two minutes later Mr. Shipman
returned. There was no need for him to speak;
both the detective and the inspector guessed the
truth in a moment by the look upon his face.
"'The diamonds 'he gasped. 'I have
been robbed.'"


CHAPTER V
A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE
N "YTOW I must tell you," continued the man in
the corner, "that after I had read the ac-
count of the double robbery, which appeared in the
early afternoon papers, I set to work and had a
good think—yes!" he added with a smile, noting
Polly's look at the bit of string, on which he was
still at work, "yes! aided by this small adjunct
to continued thought—I made notes as to how
I should proceed to discover the clever thief, who
had carried off a small fortune in a single night.
Of course, my methods are not those of a London
detective! he had his own way of going to work.
The one who was conducting this case questioned
the unfortunate jeweller very closely about his
servants and his household generally.
"'I have three servants,' explained Mr.
Shipman, 'two of whom have been with me for
many years; one, the housemaid, is a fairly
new comer —she has been here about six months.
She came recommended by a friend, and bore
an excellent character. She and the parlour-
maid room together. The cook, who knew me 5*


A NIGHTS ADVENTURE 63
when I was a schoolboy, sleeps alone; all three
servants sleep on the floor above. I locked the
jewels up in the safe which stands in the dressing-room. My keys and watch I placed, as usual,
beside my bed. As a rule, I am a fairly light
sleeper.
"'I cannot understand how it could have
happened—but—you had better come up and
have a look at the safe. The key must have been abstracted from my bedside, the safe
opened, and the keys replaced—all while I was
fast asleep. Though I had no occasion to look
into the safe until just now, I should have
discovered my loss before going to business, for
I intended to take the diamonds away with
me'
"The detective and the inspector went up to
have a look at the safe. The lock had in no
way been tampered with—it had been opened
with its own key. The detective spoke of chloro-
form, but Mr. Shipman declared that when he
woke in the morning at about half-past seven
there was no smell of chloroform in the room.
However, the proceedings of the daring thief
certainly pointed to the use of an anaesthetic.
An examination of the premises brought to light
the fact that the burglar had, as in Mr. Knopf's
house, used the glass-panelled door from the
garden as a means of entrance, but in this in-
stance he had carefully cut out the pane of glass 


04 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
with a diamond, slipped the bolts, turned the
key, and walked in.
"'Which among your servants knew that you
had the diamonds in your house last night, Mr.
Shipman?' asked the detective.
"' Not one, I should say,' replied the jeweller,
'though, perhaps, the parlourmaid, whilst wait-
ing at table, may have heard me and Mr. Knopf
discussing our bargain.'
"'Would you object to my searching all your
servants' boxes?'
"' Certainly not. They would not object,
either, I am sure. They are perfectly honest.'
"The searching of servants' belongings is invari-
ably a useless proceeding," added the man in
the corner, with a shrug of the shoulders. "No
one, not even a latter-day domestic, would be
fool enough to keep stolen property in the house.
However, the usual farce was gone through, with
more or less protest on the part of Mr. Shipman's servants, and with the usual result.
"The jeweller could give no further informa-
tion; the detective and inspector, to do them
justice, did their work of investigation minutely
and, what is more, intelligently. It seemed
evident, from their deductions, that the burglar
had commenced proceedings on No. 26, Philli-more Terrace, and had then gone on, probably
climbing over the garden walls between the
houses to No. 22, where he was almost caught in 


A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE 55
the act by Robertson. The facts were simple
enough, but the mystery remained as to the
individual who had managed to glean the in-
formation of the presence of the diamonds in
both the houses, and the means which he had
adopted to get that information. It was obvious
that the thief or thieves knew more about Mr.
Knopf's affairs than Mr. Shipman's, since they
had known how to use Mr. Emile Knopf's name
in order to get his brother out of the way.
"It was now nearly ten o'clock, and the
detectives, having taken leave of Mr. Shipman,
went back to No. 22, in order to ascertain whether
Mr. Knopf had come back; the door was opened
by the old charwoman, who said that her master
had returned, and was having some breakfast in
the dining-room.
"Mr. Ferdinand Knopf was a middle-aged
man, with sallow complexion, black hair and
beard, of obviously Hebrew extraction. He
spoke with a marked foreign accent, but very
courteously, to the two officials, who, he begged,
would excuse him if he went on with his breakfast.
"' I was fully prepared to hear the bad news,'
he explained, 'which my man Robertson told
me when I arrived. The letter I got last night
was a bogus one; there is no such person as
J. Collins, M.D. My brother had never felt
better in his life. You will, I am sure, very
soon trace the cunning writer of that epistle—


66 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
ah! but I was in a rage, I can tell you, when
I got to the Metropole at Brighton, and found
that Emile, my brother, had never heard of any
Doctor Collins.
"' The last train to town had gone, although
I raced back to the station as hard as I could.
Poor old Robertson, he has a terrible cold.
Ah yes! my loss! it is for me a very serious
one; if I had not made that lucky bargain with
Mr. Shipman last night I should, perhaps, at this
moment be a ruined man.
"' The stones I had yesterday were, firstly,
some magnificent Brazilians; these I sold to
Mr. Shipman mostly. Then I had some very
good Cape diamonds—all gone; and some quite
special Parisians, of wonderful work and finish,
entrusted to me for sale by a great French
house. I tell you, sir, my loss will be nearly
£10,000 altogether. I sell on commission, and,
of course, have to make good the loss.'
"He was evidently trying to bear up man-
fully, and as a business man should, under his
sad fate. He refused in any way to attach the
slightest blame to his old and faithful servant
Robertson, who had caught, perhaps, his death
of cold in his zeal for his absent master. As for
any hint of suspicion falling even remotely upon
the man, the very idea appeared to Mr. Knopf
absolutely preposterous.
"With regard to the old charwoman, Mr. 


A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE 57
Knopf certainly knew nothing about her, be-
yond the fact that she had been recommended
to him by one of the tradespeople in the neigh-
bourhood, and seemed perfectly honest, respect-
able, and sober.
"About the tramp Mr. Knopf knew still
less, nor could he imagine how he, or in fact
anybody else, could possibly know that he
happened to have diamonds in his house that
night.
"This certainly seemed the great hitch in the
case.
"Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, at the instance of the
police, later on went to the station and had a
look at the suspected tramp. He declared that
he had never set eyes on him before.
"Mr. Shipman, on his way home from busi-
ness in the afternoon, had done likewise, and
made a similar statement.
"Brought before the magistrate, the tramp
gave but a poor account of himself. He gave
a name and address, which latter, of course,
proved to be false. After that he absolutely
refused to speak. He seemed not to care whether
he was kept in custody or not. Very soon even
the police realised that, for the present, at any
rate, nothing could be got out of the suspected
tramp.
"Mr. Francis Howard, the detective, who
had charge of the case, though he would not 


A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE 59
name, wrote a totally different and absolutely
uneducated hand.
"Matters stood, however, in the same per-
sistently mysterious state when a small dis-
covery was made, which suggested to Mr. Francis
Howard an idea, which, if properly carried out,
would, he hoped, inevitably bring the cunning
burglar safely within the grasp of the police.
"That was the discovery of a few of Mr.
Knopf's diamonds," continued the man in the
corner after a slight pause, "evidently trampled
into the ground by the thief whilst making his
hurried exit through the garden of No. 22 Philli-
more Terrace.
"At the end of this garden there is a small
studio which had been built by a former owner
of the house, and behind it a small piece of
waste ground about seven feet square which had
once been a rockery, and is still filled with large
loose stones, in the shadow of which earwigs and
woodlice innumerable have made a happy hunt-
ing ground.
"It was Robertson who, two days after the
robbery, having need of a large stone, for
some household purpose or other, dislodged one
from that piece of waste ground, and found
a few shining pebbles beneath it. Mr. Knopf
took them round to the police-station himself
immediately, and identified the stones as some
of his Parisian ones.


60 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Later on the detective went to view the place where the find had been made, and there conceived the plan upon which he built his cherished hopes.
"Acting upon the advice of Mr. Francis Howard, the police decided to let the anonymous tramp out of his safe retreat within the station, and to allow him to wander whithersoever he chose. A good idea, perhaps—the presumption being that, sooner or later, if the
man was in any way mixed up with the cunning
thieves, he would either rejoin his comrades or even lead the police to where the remnant of his hoard lay hidden; needless to say, his foot-
steps were to be literally dogged.
"The wretched tramp, on his discharge, wan-
dered out of the yard, wrapping his thin coat
round his shoulders, for it was a bitterly cold
afternoon. He began operations by turning into
the Town Hall Tavern for a good feed and a
copious drink. Mr. Francis Howard noted that
he seemed to eye every passer-by with suspicion,
but he seemed to enjoy his dinner, and sat some
time over his bottle of wine.
"It was close upon four o'clock when he
left the tavern, and then began for the inde-
fatigable Mr. Howard one of the most weari-
some and uninteresting chases, through the
mazes of the London streets, he ever remembers
to have made. Up Notting Hill, down the 


A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE 61
slums of Notting Dale, along the High Street,
beyond Hammersmith, and through Shepherd's
Bush did that anonymous tramp lead the un-
fortunate detective, never hurrying himself, stop-
ping every now and then at a public-house to
get a drink, whither Mr. Howard did not always
care to follow him.
"In spite of his fatigue, Mr. Francis Howard's
hopes rose with every half-hour of this weary
tramp. The man was obviously striving to kill
time; he seemed to feel no weariness, but walked
on and on, perhaps suspecting that he was being
followed.
"At last, with a beating heart, though half
perished with cold, and with terribly sore feet,
the detective began to realise that the tramp
was gradually working his way back towards
Kensington. It was then close upon eleven
o'clock at night; once or twice the man had
walked up and down the High Street, from St.
Paul's School to Derry and Toms' shops and
back again, he had looked down one or two of
the side streets and—at last—he turned into
Phillimore Terrace. He seemed in no hurry, he
even stopped once in the middle of the road,
trying to light a pipe, which, as there was a high
east wind, took him some considerable time.
Then he leisurely sauntered down the street, and
turned into Adam and Eve mews, with Mr.
Francis Howard now close at his heels.


62 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Acting upon the detective's instructions,
there were several men in plain clothes ready
to his call in the immediate neighbourhood.
Two stood within the shadow of the steps of
the Congregational Church at the corner of the
mews, others were stationed well within a
soft call.
"Hardly, therefore, had the hare turned into
the cul-de-sac at the back of Phillimore Terrace
than, at a slight sound from Mr. Francis Howard,
every egress was barred to him, and he was
caught like a rat in a trap.
"As soon as the tramp had advanced some
thirty yards or so (the whole length of this
part of the mews is about one hundred yards)
and was lost in the shadow, Mr. Francis Howard
directed four or five of his men to proceed cau-
tiously up the mews, whilst the same number
were to form a line all along the front of Phillimore
Terrace between the mews and the High Street.
"Remember, the back-garden walls threw
long and dense shadows, but the silhouette of
the man would be clearly outlined if he made
any attempt at climbing over them. Mr. Howard
felt quite sure that the thief was bent on re-
covering the stolen goods, which, no doubt, he
had hidden in the rear of one of the houses.
He would be caught in flagrante delicto, and, with
a heavy sentence hovering over him, he would
probably be induced to name his accomplice*


A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE 83
Mr. Francis Howard was thoroughly enjoying
himself.
"The minutes sped on; absolute silence, in
spite of the presence of so many men, reigned in
the dark and deserted mews.
"Of course, this night's adventure was never
allowed to get into the papers," added the man
in the corner with his mild smile. "Had the plan
been successful, we should have heard all about
it, with a long eulogistic article as to the astute-
ness of our police; but as it was—well, the
tramp sauntered up the mews—and—there he
remained for aught Mr. Franois Howard or the
other constables could ever explain. The earth
or the shadows swallowed him up. No one saw
him climb one of the garden walls, no one heard
him break open a door; he had retreated within
the shadow of the garden walls, and was seen
or heard of no more."
"One of the servants in the Phillimore Terrace
nouses must have belonged to the gang," said
Polly with quick decision.
"Ah, yes! but which ?" said the man in the
corner, making a beautiful knot in his bit ol
string. "I can assure you that the police left
not a stone unturned once more to catch sight
of that tramp whom they had had in custody
for two days, but not a trace of him could they
find, nor of the diamonds, from that day to this."


CHAPTER VI
ALL HE KNEW
M rTlHE tramp was missing," continued the man
in the corner, "and Mr. Francis Howard
tried to find the missing tramp. Going round to
the front, and seeing the lights at No. 26 still in,
he called upon Mr. Shipman. The jeweller had
had a few friends to dinner, and was giving them
whiskies-and-sodas before saying good-night.
The servants had just finished washing up, and
were waiting to go to bed; neither they nor Mr.
Shipman nor his guests had seen or heard any-
thing of the suspicious individual.
"Mr. Francis Howard went on to see Mr.
Ferdinand Knopf. This gentleman was having
his warm bath, preparatory to going to bed. So
Robertson told the detective. However, Mr.
Knopf insisted on talking to Mr. Howard through
his bath-room door. Mr. Knopf thanked him
for all the trouble he was taking, and felt sure
that he and Mr. Shipman would soon recover
possession of their diamonds, thanks to the
persevering detective.
"He! he! he!" laughed the man in the 64


ALL HE KNEW
88
corner. "Poor Mr. Howard. He persevered—
but got no farther; no, nor anyone else, for
that matter. Even I might not be able to
convict the thieves if I told all I knew to the
police.
"Now, follow my reasoning, point by point,"
he added eagerly.
"Who knew of the presence of the diamonds
in the house of Mr. Shipman and Mr. Knopf?
Firstly," he said, putting up an ugly clawlike
finger, "Mr. Shipman, then Mr. Knopf, then presumably, the man Robertson."
"And the tramp?" said Polly.
"Leave the tramp alone for the present since he has vanished, and take point number two.
Mr. Shipman was drugged. That was pretty
obvious; no man under ordinary circumstances
would, without waking, have his keys abstracted
and then replaced at his own bedside. Mr.
Howard suggested that the thief was armed with
some anaesthetic; but how did the thief get into
Mr. Shipman's room without waking him from
his natural sleep? Is it not simpler to suppose
that the thief had taken the precaution to drug
the jeweller before the latter went to bed?"
"But"
"Wait a moment, and take point number
three. Though there was every proof that Mr.
Shipman had been in possession of £25,000
worth of goods since Mr. Knopf had a cheque 


66 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
from him for that amount, there was no proof
that in Mr. Knopf's house there was even an odd
stone worth a sovereign.
"And then again," went on the scarecrow,
getting more and more excited, "did it ever
strike you, or anybody else, that at no time,
while the tramp was in custody, while all that
searching examination was being gone on with,
no one ever saw Mr. Knopf and his man Robert-
son together at the same time?
"Ah !" he continued, whilst suddenly the young
girl seemed to see the whole thing as in a vision,
"they did not forget a single detail—follow them
with me, point by point. Two cunning scoundrels
—geniuses they should be called—well provided
with some ill-gotten funds—but determined on
a grand coup. They play at respectability, for
six months, say. One is the master, the other
the servant; they take a house in the same
street as their intended victim, make friends with
him, accomplish one or two creditable but very
small business transactions, always drawing on
the reserve funds, which might even have
amounted to a few hundred—and a bit of
credit.
"Then the Brazilian diamonds, and the
Parisians—which, remember, were so perfect
that they required chemical testing to be de-
tected. The Parisian stones are sold—not in
business, of course —in the evening, after dinner 


ALL HE KNEW
67
and a good deal of wine. Mr. Knopf's Brazilians
were beautiful; perfect! Mr. Knopf was a well-known diamond merchant.
"Mr. Shipman bought—but with the morn-
ing would have come sober sense, the cheque
stopped before it could have been presented, the
swindler caught. No! those exquisite Parisians
were never intended to rest in Mr. Shipman's
safe until the morning. That last bottle of '48
port, with the aid of a powerful soporific, insured that Mr. Shipman would sleep undisturbed
during the night.
"Ah! remember all the details, they were so
admirable! the letter posted in Brighton by
the cunning rogue to himself, the smashed desk,
the broken pane of glass in his own house. The
man Robertson on the watch, while Knopf him-
self in ragged clothing found his way into No. 26.
If Constable D 21 had not appeared upon the
scene that exciting comedy in the early morning
would not have been enacted. As it was, in the
supposed fight, Mr. Shipman's diamonds passed
from the hands of the tramp into those of his
accomplice.
"Then, later on, Robertson, ill in bed, while
his master was supposed to have returned—by
the way, it never struck anybody that no one
saw Mr. Knopf come home, though he surely
would have driven up in a cab. Then the double
part played by one man for the next two days. 


68 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
It certainly never struck either the police or the
inspector. Remember they only saw Robertson
when in bed with a streaming cold. But Knopf
had to be got out of gaol as soon as possible;
the dual role could not have been kept up for
long. Hence the story of the diamonds found
in the garden of No, 22. The cunning rogues
guessed that the usual plan would be acted upon,
and the suspected thief allowed to visit the scene
where his hoard lay hidden.
"It had all been foreseen, and Robertson
must have been constantly on the watch. The
tramp stopped, mind you, in Phillimore Terrace
for some moments, lighting a pipe. The accom-
plice, then, was fully on the alert; he slipped the
bolts of the back garden gate. Five minutes
later Knopf was in the house, in a hot bath,
getting rid of the disguise of our friend the
tramp. Remember that again here the detective
did not actually see him.
"The next morning Mr. Knopf, black hair and
beard and all, was himself again. The whole
trick lay in one simple art, which those two
cunning rascals knew to absolute perfection, the
art of impersonating one another.
"They are brothers, presumably—twin bro-
thers, I should say."
"But Mr. Knopf "suggested Polly.
"Well, look in the Trades' Directory; you
will see F. Knopf & Co., diamond merchants, of 


ALL HE KNEW
69
some city address. Ask about the firm among
the trade; you will hear that it is firmly
established on a sound financial basis. He! he!
he! and it deserves to be," added the man in the
corner, as, calling for the waitress, he received his
ticket, and taking up his shabby hat, took himself
and his bit of string rapidly out of the room.
c


CHAPTER VII
THE YORK MYSTERY
THE man in the corner looked quite cheerful
that morning; he had had two glasses of
milk and had even gone to the extravagance of
an extra cheese-cake. Polly knew that he was
itching to talk police and murders, for he cast
furtive glances at her from time to time, produced
a bit of string, tied and untied it into scores of
complicated knots, and finally, bringing out his
pocket-book, he placed two or three photographs
before her.
"Do you know who that is?" he asked,
pointing to one of these.
The girl looked at the face on the picture. It
was that of a woman, not exactly pretty, but very
gentle and childlike, with a strange pathetic look in the large eyes which was wonderfully
appealing.
"That was Lady Arthur Skelmerton," he said,
and in a flash there flitted before Polly's mind the
weird and tragic history which had broken this
loving woman's heart. Lady Arthur Skelmerton!
That name recalled one of the most bewildering,
TO


THE YORK MYSTERY 71
most mysterious passages in the annals of undis-
covered crimes.
"Yes. It was sad, wasn't it?" he com-
mented, in answer to Polly's thoughts. "Another
case which but for idiotic blunders on the part
of the police must have stood clear as daylight
before the public and satisfied general anxiety.
Would you object to my recapitulating its pre-
liminary details?"
She said nothing, so he continued without
waiting further for a reply.
"It all occurred during the York racing week,
a time which brings to the quiet cathedral
city its quota of shady characters, who congre-
gate wherever money and wits happen to fly
away from their owners. Lord Arthur Skel-
merton, a very well-known figure in London
society and in racing circles, had rented one of
the fine houses which overlook the racecourse.
He had entered Peppercorn, by St. Armand—
Notre Dame, for the Great Ebor Handicap.
Peppercorn was the winner of the Newmarket,
and his chances for the Ebor were considered a
practical certainty.
"If you have ever been to York you will have
noticed the fine houses which have their drive
and front entrances in the road called. 'The
Mount,' and the gardens of which extend as far
an the racecourse, commanding a lovely view
over the entire track. It was one of these houses.


72 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
called 'The Elms,' which Lord Arthur Skelmerton
had rented for the summer.
"Lady Arthur came down some little time
before the racing week with her servants—she
had no children; but she had many relatives
and friends in York, since she was the daughter
of old Sir John Etty, the cocoa manufacturer, a
rigid Quaker, who, it was generally said, kept
the tightest possible hold on his own pursestrings and looked with marked disfavour upon
his aristocratic son-in-law's fondness for gaming
tables and betting books.
"As a matter of fact, Maud Etty had married
the handsome young lieutenant in the th
Hussars, quite against her father's wishes. But
she was an only child, and after a good deal of
demur and grumbling, Sir John, who idolised his daughter, gave way to her whim, and a re-
luctant consent to the marriage was wrung from
him.
"But, as a Yorkshireman, he was far too
shrewd a man of the world not to know that love played but a very small part in persuading
a Duke's son to marry the daughter of a cocoa
manufacturer, and as long as he lived he deter-
mined that since his daughter was being wed
because of her wealth, that wealth should at
least secure her own happiness. He refused to
give Lady Arthur any capital, which, in spite
of the most carefully-worded settlements, would 


THE YORK MYSTERY 73
inevitably, sooner or later, have found its way
into the pockets of Lord Arthur's racing friends.
But he made his daughter a very handsome
allowance, amounting to over £3,000 a year,
which enabled her to keep up an establishment
befitting her new rank.
"A great many of these facts, intimate enough
as they are, leaked out, you see, during that
period of intense excitement which followed the
murder of Charles Lavender, and when the public
eye was fixed searchingly upon Lord Arthur
Skelmerton, probing all the inner details of his
idle, useless life.
"It soon became a matter of common gossip
that poor little Lady Arthur continued to worship
her handsome husband in spite of his obvious
neglect, and not having as yet presented him
with an heir, she settled herself down into a life
of humble apology for her plebeian existence,
atoning for it by condoning all his faults and
forgiving all his vices, even to the extent of
cloaking them before the prying eyes of Sir John,
who was persuaded to look upon his son-in-law
as a paragon of all the domestic virtues and a
perfect model of a husband.
"Among Lord Arthur Skelmerton's many ex-
pensive tastes there was certainly that for horse-
flesh and cards. After some successful betting
at the beginning of his married life, he had
started a racing-stable which it was generally 


74 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
believed— as he was very lucky—was a regular
source of income to him.
"Peppercorn, however, after his brilliant per-
formances at Newmarket, did not continue to
fulfil his master's expectations. His collapse at
York was attributed to the hardness of the
course and to various other causes, but its im-
mediate effect was to put Lord Arthur Skelmerton
in what is popularly called a tight place, for he
had backed his horse for all he was worth, and
must have stood to lose considerably over £5,000 on that one day.
"The collapse of the favourite and the grand
victory of King Cole, a rank outsider, on the
other hand, had proved a golden harvest for the
bookmakers, and all the York hotels were busy with dinners and suppers given by the confra-
ternity of the Turf to celebrate the happy occa-
sion. The next day was Friday, one of few
important racing events, after which the brilliant
and the shady throng which had flocked into the
venerable city for the week would fly to more
congenial climes, and leave it, with its fine old
Minster and its ancient walls, as sleepy, as quiet
as before.
"Lord Arthur Skelmerton also intended to
leave York on the Saturday, and on the Friday
night he gave a farewell bachelor dinner party at
'The Elms,' at which Lady Arthur did not
appear. After dinner the gentlemen settled 


THE YOEK MYSTERY 75
down to bridge, with pretty stiff points, you may be sure. It had just struck eleven at the
Minster Tower, when constables McNaught and
Murphy, who were patrolling the racecourse, were
startled by loud cries of 'murder ' and ' police.'
"Quickly ascertaining whence these cries pro-
ceeded, they hurried on at a gallop, and came up
—quite close to the boundary of Lord Arthur
Skelmerton's grounds—upon a group of three
men, two of whom seemed to be wrestling vigor-
ously with one another, whilst the third was lying
face downwards on the ground. As soon as the
constables drew near, one of the wrestlers shouted
more vigorously, and with a certain tone of
authority:
"'Here, you fellows, hurry up, sharp; the
brute is giving me the slip!'
"But the brute did not seem inclined to do
anything of the sort; he certainly extricated
himself with a violent jerk from his assailant's
grasp, but made no attempt to run away. The
constables had quickly dismounted, whilst he
who had shouted for help originally added more
quietly:
"' My name is Skelmerton. This is the
boundary of my property. I was smoking a
cigar at the pavilion over there with a friend
when I heard loud voices, followed by a cry and
a groan. I hurried down the steps, and saw this
poor fellow lying on the ground, with a knife 


16 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
sticking between his shoulder-blades, and his
murderer,' he added, pointing to the man who
stood quietly by with Constable McNaught's firm
grip upon his shoulder, 'still stooping over the
body of his victim. I was too late, I fear, to
save the latter, but just in time to grapple with
the assassin'
"' It's a lie!' here interrupted the man
hoarsely. 'I didn't do it, constable; I swear
I didn't do it. I saw him fall—I was coming
along a couple of hundred yards away, and I
tried to see if the poor fellow was dead. I swear
I didn't do it."
"' You'll have to explain that to the inspector
presently, my man,' was Constable McNaught's
quiet comment, and, still vigorously protesting
his innocence, the accused allowed himself to be
led away, and the body was conveyed to the
station, pending fuller identification.
"The next morning the papers were full of
the tragedy; a column and a half of the York
Herald was devoted to an account of Lord Arthur
Skelmerton's plucky capture of the assassin.
The latter had continued to declare his innocence,
but had remarked, it appears, with grim humour,
that he quite saw he was in a tight place, out of which, however, he would find it easy to extricate
himself. He had stated to the police that the
deceased's name was Charles Lavender, a well-
known bookmaker, which fact was soon verified, 


THE YORK MYSTERY 77
for many of the murdered man's 'pals' were
still in the city.
"So far the most pushing of newspaper re-
porters had been unable to glean further informa-
tion from the police; no one doubted, however,
but that the man in charge, who gave his name
as George Higgins, had killed the bookmaker for
purposes of robbery. The inquest had been fixed
for the Tuesday after the murder.
"Lord Arthur had been obliged to stay in
York a few days, as his evidence would be
needed. That fact gave the case, perhaps, a
certain amount of interest as far as York and
London 'society' were concerned. Charles
Lavender, moreover, was well known on the
turf; but no bombshell exploding beneath the
walls of the ancient cathedral city could more
have astonished its inhabitants than the news
which, at about five in the afternoon on the day
of the inquest, spread like wildfire throughout
the town. That news was that the inquest had
concluded at three o'clock with a verdict of
'Wilful murder against some person or persons
unknown,' and that two hours later the police
had arrested Lord Arthur Skelmerton at his
private residence, 'The Elms,' and charged him
on a warrant with the murder of Charles Laven-
der, the bookmaker."


CHAPTER VIII
THE CAPITAL CHARGE
"The police, it appears, instinctively feeling
that some mystery lurked round the death
of the bookmaker and his supposed murderer's
quiet protestations of innocence, had taken a
very considerable amount of trouble in collect-
ing all the evidence they could for the inquest
which might throw some light upon Charles
Lavender's life, previous to his tragic end. Thus
it was that a very large array of witnesses was
brought before the coroner, chief among whom
was, of course, Lord Arthur Skelmerton.
"The first witnesses called were the two con-
stables, who deposed that, just as the church
clocks in the neighbourhood were striking eleven,
they had heard the cries for help, had ridden to
the spot whence the sounds proceeded, and had
found the prisoner in the tight grasp of Lord
Arthur Skelmerton, who at once accused the
man of murder, and gave him in charge. Both
constables gave the same version of the incident,
and both were positive as to the time when it
occurred,
7S


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 79
"Medical evidence went to prove that the
deceased had been stabbed from behind between
the shoulder-blades whilst he was walking, that
the wound was inflicted by a large hunting knife,
which was produced, and which had been left
sticking in the wound.
"Lord Arthur Skelmerton was then called
and substantially repeated what he had already
told the constables. He stated, namely, that
on the night in question he had some gentlemen
friends to dinner, and afterwards bridge was
played. He himself was not playing much, and
at a few minutes before eleven he strolled out
with a cigar as far as the pavilion at the end of
his garden; he then heard the voices, the cry
and the groan previously described by him, and
managed to hold the murderer down until the
arrival of the constables.
"At this point the police proposed to call a
witness, James Terry by name and a bookmaker
by profession, who had been chiefly instrumental
in identifying the deceased, a 'pal' of his. It
was his evidence which first introduced that
element of sensation into the case which culmi-
nated in the wildly exciting arrest of a Duke's son upon a capital charge.
"It appears that on the evening after the
Ebor, Terry and Lavender were in the bar of
the Black Swan Hotel having drinks.
'''1 had done pretty well over Peppercorn's 


80 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
fiasco,' he explained, 'but poor old Lavender
was very much down in the dumps; he had
held only a few very small bets against the
favourite, and the rest of the day had been a
poor one with him. I asked him if he had any
bets with the owner of Peppercorn, and he told
me that he only held one for less than £500.
"' I laughed and said that if he held one for
£5000 it would make no difference, as from
what I had heard from the other fellows, Lord
Arthur Skelmerton must be about stumped.
Lavender seemed terribly put out at this, and
swore he would get that £500 out of Lord Arthur,
if no one else got another penny from him.
"' It's the only money I've made to-day,'
he says to me. 'I mean to get it.'
"' You won't,' I says.
"'I will,' he says.
"' You will have to look pretty sharp about
it then,' I says, 'for every one will be wanting
to get something, and first come first served.'
"' Oh! He'll serve me right enough, never
you mind!' says Lavender to me with a laugh.
'If he don't pay up willingly, I've got that in
my pocket which will make him sit up and open
my lady's eyes and Sir John Etty's too about
their precious noble lord.'
"' Then he seemed to think he had gone
too far, and wouldn't say anything more to
me about that affair. I saw him on the course 


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 81
the next day. I asked him if he had got his
£500. He said: "No, but I shall get it to-day."'
"Lord Arthur Skelmerton, after having given
his own evidence, had left the court; it was
therefore impossible to know how he would take
this account, which threw so serious a light upon
an association with the dead man, of which he
himself had said nothing.
"Nothing could shake James Terry's account
of the facts he had placed before the jury, and
when the police informed the coroner that they
proposed to place George Higgins himself in the
witness-box, as his evidence would prove, as it
were, a complement and corollary of that of
Terry, the jury very eagerly assented.
"If James Terry, the bookmaker, loud, florid,
vulgar, was an unprepossessing individual, certainly
George Higgins, who was still under the accusation
of murder, was ten thousand times more so.
"None too clean, slouchy, obsequious yet in-
solent, he was the very personification of the cad
who haunts the racecourse and who lives not
so much by his own wits as by the lack of them
in/others. He described himself as a turf com-
mission agent, whatever that may be. t
"He stated that at about six o'clock on the
Friday afternoon, when the racecourse was still
full/of people, all hurrying after the day's excite-
ments, he himself happened to be standing close
to the hedge which marks the boundary of Lord 


82 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
Arthur Skelmerton's grounds. There is a pavilion
there at the end of the garden, he explained, on
slightly elevated ground, and he could hear and
see a group of ladies and gentlemen having tea.
Some steps lead down a little to the left of the
garden on to the course, and presently he noticed
at the bottom of these steps Lord Arthur Skel-
merton and Charles Lavender standing talking
together. He knew both gentlemen by sight,
but he could not see them very well as they were
both partly hidden by the hedge. He was quite
sure that the gentlemen had not seen him, and
he could not help overhearing some of their
conversation.
"' That's my last word, Lavender,' Lord
Arthur was saying very quietly. 'I haven't got
the money and I can't pay you now. You'll
have to wait.'
"'Wait? I can't wait,' said old Lavender
in reply. 'I've got my engagements to meet,
same as you. I'm not going to risk being posted
up as a defaulter while you hold £500 of my money. You'd better give it me now or'
"But Lord Arthur interrupted him very
quietly, and said:
"'Yes, my good man .... or?'
"' Or I'll let Sir John have a good look at
that little bill I had of yours a couple of years ago. If you'll remember, my lord, it has got
at the bottom of it Sir John's signature in your 


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 83
handwriting. Perhaps Sir John, or perhaps my
lady, would pay me something for that little
bill. If not, the police can have a squint at it.
I've held my tongue long enough, and'
"' Look here, Lavender,' said Lord Arthur,
'do you know what this little game of yours is
called in law?'
"' Yes, and I don't care,' says Lavender.
'If I don't have that £500 I am a ruined man.
If you ruin me I'll do for you, and we shall be
quits. That's my last word.'
"He was talking very loudly, and I thought
some of Lord Arthur's friends up in the pavilion
must have heard. He thought so, too, I think, for he said quickly:
"' If you don't hold your confounded tongue,
I'll give you in charge for blackmail this
instant.'
"' You wouldn't dare,' says Lavender, and he
began to laugh. But just then a lady from the
top of the steps said: 'Your tea is getting cold,'
and Lord Arthur turned to go; but just before
he went Lavender says to him: 'I'll come back
tonight. You'll have the money then.'
"George Higgins, it appears, after he had
heard this interesting conversation, pondered
as to whether he could not turn what he knew
into some sort of profit. Being a gentleman
who lives entirely by his wits, this type of know-
ledge forms his chief source of income. As a pre-


84 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNEE
liminary to future moves, he decided not t<
sight of Lavender for the rest of the day.
"' Lavender went and had dinner at The I
Swan,' explained Mr. George Higgins, 'and I,
I had had a bite myself, waited outside till I
him come out. At about ten o'clock I was
rewarded for my trouble. He told the hall porter to get him a fly and he jumped into it. I could not hear what direction he gave the driver,
the fly certainly drove off towards the racecourse.
"' Now, I was interested in this little affair,' continued the witness, 'and I couldn't affoi
fly. I started to run. Of course, I couldn't keep up with it, but I thought I knew which way my gentleman had gone. I made straight
the racecourse, and for the hedge at the bottom of Lord Arthur Skelmerton's grounds.
"' It was rather a dark night and there was a slight drizzle. I couldn't see more than about a hundred yards before me. All at once
seemed to me as if I heard Lavender's voice talking loudly in the distance. I hurried forward, and suddenly saw a group of two figures—mere blurs in the darkness—for one instant,
a distance of about fifty yards from where I was.
"' The next moment one figure had fallen forward and the other had disappeared. I ran to the spot, only to find the body of the murdered man lying on the ground. I stooped to see if I could be of any use to him, and immediate!


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 85
I was collared from behind by Lord Arthur him-
self.'
"You may imagine," said the man in the
corner, "how keen was the excitement of that
moment in court. Coroner and jury alike liter-
ally hung breathless on every word that shabby,
vulgar individual uttered. You see, by itself
his evidence would have been worth very little,
but coming on the top of that given by James
Terry, its significance—more, its truth—had
become glaringly apparent. Closely cross-ex-
amined, he adhered strictly to his statement;
and having finished his evidence, George
Higgins remained in charge of the constables,
and the next witness of importance was called
up.
"This was Mr. Chipps, the senior footman
in the employment of Lord Arthur Skelmerton.
He deposed that about 10.30 on the Friday
evening a 'party' drove up to 'The Elms' in a
fly, and asked to see Lord Arthur. On being
told that his lordship had company he seemed
terribly put out.
"' I hasked the party to give me 'is card,'
continued Mr. Chipps, 'as I didn't know, per-
haps, that 'is lordship might wish to see 'im,
but I kept 'im standing at the 'all door, as I
didn't altogether like his looks. I took the card
in. His lordship and the gentlemen was playin' cards in the smoking-room, and as soon as I 


86 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
could do so without disturbing 'is lordship, I
give 'im the party's card.'
"'What name was there on the card?' here
interrupted the coroner.
"' I couldn't say now, sir,' replied Mr. Chipps;
'I don't really remember. It was a name I had
never seen before. But I see so many visiting
cards one way and the other in 'is lordship's 'all
that I can't remember all the names.'
"' Then, after a few minutes' waiting, you gave
his lordship the card? What happened then?'
"' 'Is lordship didn't seem at all pleased,'
said Mr. Chipps with much guarded dignity;
'but finally he said: "Show him into the
library, Chipps, I'll see him," and he got up
from the card table, saying to the gentlemen:
"Go on without me; I'll be back in a minute
or two."
"' I was about to open the door for 'is lord-
ship when my lady came into the room, and
then 'is lordship suddenly changed 'is mind like,
and said to me: "Tell that man I'm busy and
can't see him," and 'e sat down again at the
card table. I went back to the 'all, and told the
party 'is lordship wouldn't see 'im. 'E said:
"Oh! it doesn't matter," and went away quite
quiet like.'
"' Do you recollect at all at what time that
was?' asked one of the jury.
"' Yes, sir, while I was waiting to speak to 'is 


88 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNE
"The sensation, of course, was tremendous. Hours before he was brought up befor
magistrate the approach to the court
thronged. His friends, mostly ladies, we;
eager, you see, to watch the dashing society
in so terrible a position. There was universal sympathy for Lady Arthur, who was in a
precarious state of health. Her worship Oj worthless husband was well known; small wonder that his final and awful misdeed had practically broken her heart. The latest bulletin issued
after his arrest stated that her ladyship was
expected to live. She was then in a comatose condition, and all hope had perforce to be abandoned.
"At last the prisoner was brought in.
looked very pale, perhaps, but otherwise kept up the bearing of a high-bred gentleman,
was accompanied by his solicitor, Sir Marmaduke Ingersoll, who was evidently talking to him
quiet, reassuring tones.
"Mr. Buchanan prosecuted for the Treasury, and certainly his indictment was terrific. According to him but one decision could be arrived at, namely, that the accused in the dock had, in a moment of passion, and perhaps of fear, killed the blackmailer who threatened him with disclosures which might for ever have ruined him socially, and, having committed the deed and fearing its consequences, probably realising that the patrolling constables might o&tch sigh


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 89
of his retreating figure, he had availed himself of
George Higgins's presence on the spot to loudly
accuse him of the murder.
"Having concluded his able speech, Mr.
Buchanan called his witnesses, and the evidence,
which on second hearing seemed more damning
than ever, was all gone through again.
"Sir Marmaduke had no question to ask of
the witnesses for the prosecution; he stared at
them placidly through his gold-rimmed spectacles. Then he was ready to call his own for
the defence. Colonel McIntosh, R.A., was the
first. He was present at the bachelors' party
given by Lord Arthur the night of the murder.
His evidence tended at first to corroborate that
of Chipps, the footman, with regard to Lord
Arthur's orders to show the visitor into the
library, and his counter-order as soon as his wife
came into the room.
"'Did you not think it strange, Colonel ? *
asked Mr. Buchanan, 'that Lord Arthur should
so suddenly have changed his mind about seeing
his visitor?'
"' Well, not exactly strange,' said the Colonel,
a fine, manly, soldierly figure who looked curi-
ously out of his element in the witness-box. 'I
don't think that it is a very rare occurrence for
racing men to have certain acquaintances whom
they would not wish their wives to know any-
thing about.'


90 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"' Then it did not strike you that Lord Arthur
Skelmerton had some reason for not wishing his
wife to know of that particular visitor's presence
in his house?'
"' I don't think that I gave the matter the
slightest serious consideration,' was the Colonel's
guarded reply.
"Mr. Buchanan did not press the point, and
allowed the witness to conclude his statements.
"'I had finished my turn at bridge,' he
«aid, 'and went out into the garden to smoke
a cigar. Lord Arthur Skelmerton joined me
a few minutes later, and we were sitting in
the pavilion when I heard a loud and, as I
thought, threatening voice from the other side
of the hedge.
"' I did not catch the words, but Lord Arthur
said to me: "There seems to be a row down
there. I'll go and have a look and see what it
is." I tried to dissuade him, and certainly made
no attempt to follow him, but not more than
half a minute could have elapsed before I heard
a cry and a groan, then Lord Arthur's footsteps
hurrying down the wooden stairs which lead on
to the racecourse.'
"You may imagine," said the man in the
corner, "what severe cross-examination the
gallant Colonel had to undergo in order that
his assertions might in some way be shaken
by the prosecution, but with military precision 


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 91
and frigid calm he repeated his important state-
ments amidst a general silence, through which
you could have heard the proverbial pin.
"He had heard the threatening voice while
sitting with Lord Arthur Skelmerton; then
came the cry and groan, and, after that, Lord
Arthur's steps down the stairs. He himself
thought of following to see what had happened,
but it was a very dark night and he did not
know the grounds very well. While trying to
find his way to the garden steps he heard Lord
Arthur's cry for help, the tramp of the patrolling
constables' horses, and subsequently the whole
scene between Lord Arthur, the man Higgins,
and the constables. When he finally found his
way to the stairs, Lord Arthur was returning in
order to send a groom for police assistance.
"The witness stuck to his points as he had
to his guns at Beckfontein a year ago; nothing
could shake him, and Sir Marmaduke looked
triumphantly across at his opposing colleague.
"With the gallant Colonel's statements the
edifice of the prosecution certainly began to
collapse. You see, there was not a particle of
evidence to show that the accused had met and
spoken to the deceased after the latter's visit
at the front door of 'The Elms.' He told Chipps that he wouldn't see the visitor, and Chipps went
into the hall directly and showed Lavender out
the way he came. No assignation could have been 


82 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
made, no hint could have been given by the mur-
dered man to Lord Arthur that he would go round
to the back entrance and wished to see him there.
"Two other guests of Lord Arthur's swore
positively that after Chipps had announced the
visitor, their host stayed at the card-table until
a quarter to eleven, when evidently he went out
to join Colonel Mcintosh in the garden. Sir
Marmaduke's speech was clever in the extreme.
Bit by bit he demolished that tower of strength,
the case against the accused, basing his defence
entirely upon the evidence of Lord Arthur Skel-
merton's guests that night.
"Until 10.45 Lord Arthur was playing cards;
a quarter of an hour later the police were on
the scene, and the murder had been committed.
In the meanwhile Colonel McIntosh's evidence
proved conclusively that the accused had been
sitting with him, smoking a cigar. It was
obvious, therefore, clear as daylight, concluded
the great lawyer, that his client was entitled to
a full discharge; nay, more, he thought that
the police should have been more careful before
they harrowed up public feeling by arresting a
high-born gentleman on such insufficient evidence
as they had brought forward.
"The question of the knife remained certainly,
but Sir Marmaduke passed over it with guarded
eloquence, placing that strange question in the
category of those inexplicable coincidences which


THE CAPITAL CHARGE 93
tend to puzzle the ablest detectives, and cause
them to commit such unpardonable blunders as
the present one had been. After all, the footman
may have been mistaken. The pattern of that
knife was not an exclusive one, and he, on be-
half of his client, flatly denied that it had ever
belonged to him.
"Well," continued the man in the corner, with the chuckle peculiar to him in moments
of excitement, "the noble prisoner was dis-
charged. Perhaps it would be invidious to say
that he left the court without a stain on his
character, for I daresay you know from experience
that the crime known as the York Mystery has
never been satisfactorily cleared up.
"Many people shook their heads dubiously
when they remembered that, after all, Charles
Lavender was killed with a knife which one
witness had sworn belonged to Lord Arthur;
others, again, reverted to the original theory that
George Higgins was the murderer, that he and
James Terry had concocted the story of Laven-
der's attempt at blackmail on Lord Arthur, and
that the murder had been committed for the
sole purpose of robbery.
"Be that as it may, the police have not so
far been able to collect sufficient evidence against
Higgins or Terry, and the crime has been classed
by press and public alike in the category of so-called impenetrable mysteries."


CHAPTER IX
A BROKEN-HEARTED WOMAN
THE man in the corner called for another
glass of milk, and drank it down slowly
before he resumed:
"Now Lord Arthur lives mostly abroad," he
said. "His poor, suffering wife died the day
after he was liberated by the magistrate. She
never recovered consciousness even sufficiently
to hear the joyful news that the man she loved
so well was innocent after all.
"Mystery !" he added as if in answer to Polly's
own thoughts. "The murder of that man was
never a mystery to me. I cannot understand
how the police could have been so blind when
every one of the witnesses, both for the prosecu-
tion and defence, practically pointed all the time
to the one guilty person. What do you think
of it all yourself?"
"I think the whole case so bewildering," she
replied, "that I do not see one single clear
point in it."
"You don't?" he said excitedly, while the
bony fingers fidgeted again with that inevi94


A BROKEN-HEARTED WOMAN 95
table bit of string. "You don't see that there
is one point clear which to me was the key of the whole thing.
"Lavender was murdered, wasn't he? Lord
Arthur did not kill him. He had, at least, in
Colonel Mcintosh an unimpeachable witness to
prove that he could not have committed that
murder—and yet," he added with slow, excited
emphasis, marking each sentence with a knot,
"and yet he deliberately tries to throw the guilt
upon a man who obviously was also innocent. Now why?"
"He may have thought him guilty."
"Or wished to shield or cover the retreat of
one he knew to be guilty."
"I don't understand."
"Think of someone," he said excitedly, "some-
one whose desire would be as great as that of
Lord Arthur to silence a scandal round that
gentleman's name. Someone who, unknown
perhaps to Lord Arthur, had overheard the same
conversation which George Higgins related to
the police and the magistrate, someone who,
whilst Chipps was taking Lavender's card in to
his master had a few minutes' time wherein to
make an assignation with Lavender, promising
him money, no doubt, in exchange for the com-
promising bills."
"Surely you don't mean "gasped Polly.
"Point number one," he interrupted quietly, 


06 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNI
"utterly missed by the police. George Hi£
his deposition stated that at the most animated stage of Lavender's conversation with Lord Arthur, and when the bookmaker's tone of voice became loud and threatening, a voice from the i
the steps interrupted that conversation, saying: 'Your tea is getting cold.'"
"Yes—but "she argued.
"Wait a moment, for there is point nn.
two. That voice was a lady's voice. No
did exactly what the police should have done, but did not do. I went to have a look from the racecourse side at those garden steps which to my mind are such important factors in
discovery of this crime. I found only about a dozen rather low steps; anyone standing
the top must have heard every word Charles Lavender uttered the moment he raised his voice."
"Even then"
"Very well, you grant that," he said excitedly. "Then there was the great, the all-important point which, oddly enough, the prosecution never for a moment took into consideration. When Chipps, the footman, first told Lavender that Lord Arthur could not see him the book-
maker was terribly put out; Chipps then goes
to speak to his master; a few minutes elapse,
and when the footman once again tells Lavender
that his lordship won't see him, the latter says 


A BROKEN-HEARTED WOMAN 97
'Very well,' and seems to treat the matter with
complete indifference.
"Obviously, therefore, something must have
happened in between to alter the bookmaker's
frame of mind. Well! What had happened?
Think over all the evidence, and you will see
that one thing only had occurred in the interval,
namely, Lady Arthur's advent into the room.
"In order to go into the smoking-room she
must have crossed the hall; she must have
seen Lavender. In that brief interval she must
have realised that the man was persistent, and
therefore a living danger to her husband. Re-
member, women have done strange things; they
are a far greater puzzle to the student of human
nature than the sterner, less complex sex has
ever been. As I argued before—as the police
should have argued all along—why did Lord
Arthur deliberately accuse an innocent man of
murder if not to shield the guilty one?
"Remember, Lady Arthur may have been
discovered; the man, George Higgins, may
have caught sight of her before she had time
to make good her retreat. His attention, as well
as that of the constables, had to be diverted.
Lord Arthur acted on the blind impulse of saving
his wife at any cost."
"She may have been met by Colonel Mc-
intosh," argued Polly.
"Perhaps she was," he said. "Who knows!


98 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
The gallant colonel had to swear to his friend's
innocence. He could do that in all conscience—
after that his duty was accomplished. No in-
nocent man was suffering for the guilty. The knife which had belonged to Lord Arthur would
always save George Higgins. For a time it had pointed to the husband; fortunately never to
the wife. Poor thing, she died probably of a
broken heart, but women when they love, think
only of one object on earth—the one who is
beloved.
"To me the whole thing was clear from the
very first. When I read the account of the
murder—the knife! stabbing!—bah! Don't I
know enough of English crime not to be certain
at once that no Englishman, be he ruffian from
the gutter or be he Duke's son, ever stabs his
victim in the back. Italians, French, Spaniards
do it, if you will, and women of most nations.
An Englishman's instinct is to strike and not to
stab. George Higgins or Lord Arthur Skelmerton would have knocked their victim down;
the woman only would lie in wait till the enemy's back was turned. She knows her weakness, and
she does not mean to miss.
"Think it over. There is not one flaw in
my argument, but the police never thought
the matter out—perhaps in this case it was as well."
He had gone and left Miss Polly Burton still 


A BROKEN-HEARTED WOMAN 99
staring at the photograph of a pretty, gentle-looking woman, with a decided wilful curve round the mouth, and a strange unaccountable
look in the large pathetic eyes; and the little
journalist felt quite thankful that in this case
the murder of Charles Lavender the bookmaker—cowardly, wicked as it was—had remained a
mystery to the police and the public.
678825 A


CHAPTER X
THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH ON THE
UNDERGROUND RAILWAY
It was all very well for Mr. Richard Frobisher
(of the London Mail) to cut up rough about
it. Polly did not altogether blame him.
She liked him all the better for that frank out-
burst of manlike ill-temper which, after all said
and done, was only a very flattering form of
masculine jealousy.
Moreover, Polly distinctly felt guilty about
the whole thing. She had promised to meet
Dickie— that is Mr. Richard Frobisher—at two
o'clock sharp outside the Palace Theatre, be-
cause she wanted to go to a Maud Allan matinee,
and because he naturally wished to go with her.
But at two o'clock sharp she was still in
Norfolk Street, Strand, inside an A.B.C. shop,
sipping cold coffee opposite a grotesque old man
who was fiddling with a bit of string.
How could she be expected to remember Maud
Allan or the Palace Theatre, or Dickie himself
for a matter of that? The man in the corner
had begun to talk of that mysterious death on MM


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 101
the underground railway, and Polly had lost
count of time, of place, and circumstance.
She had gone to lunch quite early, for she was
looking forward to the matinee at the Palace.
The old scarecrow was sitting in his accus-
tomed place when she came into the A.B.C. shop,
but he had made no remark all the time that the
young girl was munching her scone and butter.
She was just busy thinking how rude he was not
even to have said "Good morning," when an
abrupt remark from him caused her to look
up.
"Will you be good enough," he said suddenly,
"to give me a description of the man who sat
next to you just now, while you were having
your cup of coffee and scone."
Involuntarily Polly turned her head towards
the distant door, through which a man in a light
overcoat was even now quickly passing. That
man had certainly sat at the next table to hers,
when she first sat down to her coffee and scone:
he had finished his luncheon—whatever it was—a moment ago, had paid at the desk and gone
out. The incident did not appear to Polly as
being of the slightest consequence.
Therefore she did not reply to the rude old
man, but shrugged her shoulders, and called to
the waitress to bring her bill.
"Do you know if he was tall or short, dark or
fair?" continued the man in the corner, seemingly D


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTER1 103
the same striking peculiarity—he was neither
short nor tall—his nose was neither aquiline nor snub "he recapitulated sarcastically.
"No," she retorted; "he was just ordinary-
looking."
"Would you know him again—say to-morrow,
and among a number of other men who were
'neither tall nor short, dark nor fair, aquiline nor
snub-nosed,' etc.?"
"I don't know—I might—he was certainly not
striking enough to be specially remembered."
"Exactly," he said, while he leant forward
excitedly, for all the world like a Jack-in-the-box
let loose. "Precisely; and you are a journalist—call yourself one, at least—and it should be part of your business to notice and describe people.
I don't mean only the wonderful personage with
the clear Saxon features, the fine blue eyes, the
noble brow and classic face, but the ordinary
person— the person who represents ninety out of
every hundred of his own kind—the average
Englishman, say, of the middle classes, who is
neither very tall nor very short, who wears a
moustache which is neither fair nor dark, but
which masks his mouth, and a top hat which
hides the shape of his head and brow, a man, in
fact, who dresses like hundreds of his fellow-creatures, moves like them, speaks like them, has
no peculiarity.
"Try to describe him, to recognise him, say 


104 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
a week hence, among his other eighty-nine
doubles; worse still, to swear his life away, if
he happened to be implicated in some crime,
wherein your recognition of him would place the
halter round his neck.
"Try that, I say, and having utterly failed
you will more readily understand how one of
the greatest scoundrels unhung is still at large,
and why the mystery on the Underground Rail-
way was never cleared up.
"I think it was the only time in my life that
I was seriously tempted to give the police the
benefit of my own views upon the matter. You see, though I admire the brute for his cleverness,
I did not see that his being unpunished could
possibly benefit anyone.
"In these days of tubes and motor traction of
all kinds the old-fashioned 'best, cheapest, and
quickest route to City and West End' is often
deserted, and the good old Metropolitan Railway
carriages cannot at any time be said to be over-
crowded. Anyway, when that particular train
steamed into Aldgate at about 4 p.m. on March
18th last, the first-class carriages were all but
empty.
"The guard marched up and down the plat-
form looking into all the carriages to see if any-
one had left a halfpenny evening paper behind
for him, and opening the door of one of the
first-class compartments, he noticed a lady sit-


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 105
ting in the further corner, with her head turned
away towards the window, evidently oblivious
of the fact that on this line Aldgate is the ter-
minal station.
"' Where are you for, lady 7' he said.
"The lady did not move, and the guard
stepped into the carriage, thinking that perhaps
the lady was asleep. He touched her arm lightly
and looked into her face. In his own poetic
language, he was 'struck all of a 'eap.' In the
glassy eyes, the ashen colour of the cheeks, the
rigidity of the head, there was the unmistakable
look of death.
"Hastily the guard, having carefully locked
the carriage door, summoned a couple of porters,
and sent one of them off to the police-station,
and the other in search of the station-master.
"Fortunately at this time of day the up
platform is not very crowded, all the traffic tend-
ing westward in the afternoon. It was only
when an inspector and two police constables,
accompanied by a detective in plain clothes and
a medical officer, appeared upon the scene, and
stood round a first-class railway compartment,
that a few idlers realised that something unusual
had occurred, and crowded round, eager and
curious.
"Thus it was that the later editions of the
evening papers, under the sensational heading,
'Mysterious Suicide on the Underground Rail-


106 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
way,' had already an account of the extra-
ordinary event. The medical officer had very
soon come to the decision that the guard had
not been mistaken, and that life was indeed
extinct.
"The lady was young, and must have been
very pretty before the look of fright and horror
had so terribly distorted her features. She was
very elegantly dressed, and the more frivolous
papers were able to give their feminine readers
a detailed account of the unfortunate woman's
gown, her shoes, hat, and gloves.
"It appears that one of the latter, the one
on the right hand, was partly off, leaving the
thumb and wrist bare. That hand held a small
satchel, which the police opened, with a view
to the possible identification of the deceased,
but which was found to contain only a little
loose silver, some smelling-salts, and a small
empty bottle, which was handed over to the
medical officer for purposes of analysis.
"It was the presence of that small bottle
which had caused the report to circulate freely
that the mysterious case on the Underground
Railway was one of suicide. Certain it was that
neither about the lady's person, nor in the ap-
pearance of the railway carriage, was there the
slightest sign of struggle or even of resistance.
Only the look in the poor woman's eyes spoke
of sudden terror, of the rapid vision of an un-


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 107
expected and violent death, which probably only
lasted an infinitesimal fraction of a second, but
which had left its indelible mark upon the face,
otherwise so placid and so still.
"The body of the deceased was conveyed to
the mortuary. So far, of course, not a soul had
been able to identify her, or to throw the slightest
light upon the mystery which hung around her
death.
"Against that, quite a crowd of idlers—
genuinely interested or not—obtained admission
to view the body, on the pretext of having lost
or mislaid a relative or a friend. At about
8.30 p.m. a young man, very well dressed, drove
up to the station in a hansom, and sent in his
card to the superintendent. It was Mr. Hazeldene, shipping agent, of 11, Crown Lane, E.C.,
and No. 19 Addison Row, Kensington.
"The young man looked in a pitiable state
of mental distress; his hand clutched nervously
a copy of the St. James Gazette, which contained
the fatal news. He said very little to the super-
intendent except that a person who was very
dear to him had not returned home that
evening.
"He had not felt really anxious until half an
hour ago, when suddenly he thought of looking
at his paper. The description of the deceased
lady, though vague, had terribly alarmed him.
He had jumped into a hansom, and now begged 


108 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
permission to view the body, in order that his
worst fears might be allayed.
"You know what followed, of course," con-
tinued the man in the corner, "the grief of the
young man was truly pitiable. In the woman
lying there in a public mortuary before him, Mr.
Hazeldene had recognised his wife.
"I am waxing melodramatic," said the man
in the corner, who looked up at Polly with a
mild and gentle smile, while his nervous fingers
vainly endeavoured to add another knot on the
scrappy bit of string with which he was con-
tinually playing, "and I fear that the whole
story savours of the penny novelette, but
you must admit, and no doubt you remember,
that it was an intensely pathetic and truly
dramatic moment.
"The unfortunate young husband of the de-
ceased lady was not much worried with questions
that night. As a matter of fact, he was not in
a fit condition to make any coherent statement.
It was at the coroner's inquest on the following
day that certain facts came to light, which, for
the time being, seemed to clear up the mystery
surrounding Mrs. Hazeldene's death, only to
plunge that same mystery, later on, into denser
gloom than before.
"The first witness at the inquest was, of course,
Mr. Hazeldene himself. I think everyone's sym-
pathy went out to the young man as he stood 


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 109
before the coroner and tried to throw what light
he could upon the mystery. He was well dressed,
as he had been the day before, but he looked
terribly ill and worried, and no doubt the fact
that he had not shaved gave his face a careworn
and neglected air.
"It appears that he and the deceased had been
married some six years or so, and that they had
always been happy in their married life. They
had no children. Mrs. Hazeldene seemed to enjoy
the best of health till lately, when she had had
a slight attack of influenza, in which Dr. Arthur
Jones had attended her. The doctor was present
at this moment, and would no doubt explain to
the coroner and the jury whether he thought that
Mrs. Hazeldene had the slightest tendency to
heart disease, which might have had a sudden
and fatal ending.
"The coroner was, of course, very considerate
to the bereaved husband. He tried by circum-
locution to get at the point he wanted, namely,
Mrs. Hazeldene's mental condition lately. Mr.
Hazeldene seemed loath to talk about this. No
doubt he had been warned as to the existence of
the small bottle found in his wife's satchel.
"'It certainly did seem to me at times,' he
at last reluctantly admitted, 'that my wife did
not seem quite herself. She used to be very gay
and bright, and lately I often saw her in the
evening sitting, as if brooding over some matters,


110 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
which evidently she did not care to communicate
to me.'
"Still the coroner insisted, and suggested the
small bottle.
"'I know, I know,' replied the young man,
with a short, heavy sigh. 'You mean—the
question of suicide—I cannot understand it at
all —it seems so sudden and so terrible—she
certainly had seemed listless and troubled lately—but only at times—and yesterday morning,
when I went to business, she appeared quite her-
self again, and I suggested that we should go
to the opera in the evening. She was delighted,
I know, and told me she would do some shop-
ping, and pay a few calls in the afternoon.'
"' Do you know at all where she intended
to go when she got into the Underground Rail-
way?'
"' Well, not with certainty. You see, she
may have meant to get out at Baker Street,
and go down to Bond Street to do her shop-
ping. Then, again, she sometimes goes to a
shop in St. Paul's Churchyard, in which case she
would take a ticket to Aldersgate Street; but
I cannot say.'
"' Now, Mr. Hazeldene,' said the coroner at
last very kindly, 'will you try to tell me if there
was anything in Mrs. Hazeldene's life which you
know of, and which might in some measure ex-
plain the cause of the distressed state of mind.


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 111
which you yourself had noticed? Did there
exist any financial difficulty which might have
preyed upon Mrs. Hazeldene's mind; was there
any friend—to whose intercourse with Mrs.
Hazeldene—you—er—at any time took excep-
tion? In fact,' added the coroner, as if thank-
ful that he had got over an unpleasant moment,
'can you give me the slightest indication which
would tend to confirm the suspicion that the
unfortunate lady, in a moment of mental anxiety
or derangement, may have wished to take her
own life?'
"There was silence in the court for a few
moments. Mr. Hazeldene seemed to everyone
there present to be labouring under some terrible
moral doubt. He looked very pale and wretched,
and twice attempted to speak before he at last
said in scarcely audible tones:
"' No; there were no financial difficulties of
any sort. My wife had an independent fortune
of her own—she had no extravagant tastes'
"' Nor any friend you at any time objected
to?' insisted the coroner.
"' Nor any friend, I—at any time objected
to,' stammered the unfortunate young man,
evidently speaking with an effort.
"I was present at the inquest," resumed the
man in the corner, after he had drunk a glass of
milk and ordered another, "and I can assure
you that the most obtuse person there plainly


llz THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
realized that Mr. Hazeldene was telling a lie.
It was pretty plain to the meanest intelligence
that the unfortunate lady had not fallen into a
state of morbid dejection for nothing, and that
perhaps there existed a third person who could
throw more light on her strange and sudden death
than the unhappy, bereaved young widower.
"That the death was more mysterious even
than it had at first appeared became very soon
apparent. You read the case at the time, no
doubt, and must remember the excitement in
the public mind caused by the evidence of the
two doctors. Dr. Arthur Jones, the lady's
usual medical man, who had attended her
in a last very slight illness, and who had seen
her in a professional capacity fairly recently,
declared most emphatically that Mrs. Hazeldene
suffered from no organic complaint which could
possibly have been the cause of sudden death.
Moreover, he had assisted Mr. Andrew Thornton,
the district medical officer, in making a post-
mortem examination, and together they had
come to the conclusion that death was due to
the action of prussic acid, which had caused in-
stantaneous failure of the heart, but how the
drug had been administered neither he nor his
colleague were at present able to state.
"' Do I understand, then, Dr. Jones, that
the deceased died, poisoned with prussic acid?'


114 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
no one knew how or when. She had been tra-
velling in a first-class railway carriage in a busy
time of the day. That young and elegant woman
must have had singular nerve and coolness to go
through the process of a self-inflicted injection
of a deadly poison in the presence of perhaps
two or three other persons.
"Mind you, when I say that no one there
realised the importance of the doctor's state-
ment at that moment, I am wrong; there were
three persons who fully understood at once the
gravity of the situation, and the astounding
development which the case was beginning to assume.
"Of course, I should have put myself out of
the question," added the weird old man, with
that inimitable self-conceit peculiar to him-
self. "I guessed then and there in a moment
where the police were going wrong, and where
they would go on going wrong until the mysteri-
ous death on the Underground Railway had
sunk into oblivion, together with the other cases
which they mismanage from time to time.
"I said there were three persons who under-
stood the gravity of the two doctors' statements
—the other two were, firstly, the detective
who had originally examined the railway carriage, a young man of energy and plenty of
misguided intelligence, the other was Mr. Hazeldene.


UNDERGROUND RAIL. MYSTERY 116
"At this point the interesting element of the
whole story was first introduced into the pro-
ceedings, and this was done through the humble
channel of Emma Funnel, Mrs. Hazeldene's maid,
who, as far as was known then, was the last
person who had seen the unfortunate lady alive
and had spoken to her.
"' Mrs. Hazeldene lunched at home,' explained
Emma, who was shy, and spoke almost in a
whisper; 'she seemed well and cheerful. She
went out at about half-past three, and told me
she was going to Spence's, in St. Paul's Church-
yard, to try on her new tailor-made gown. Mrs.
Hazeldene had meant to go there in the morning,
but was prevented as Mr. Errington called.'
"' Mr. Errington?' asked the coroner casually.
'Who is Mr. Errington?'
"But this Emma found difficult to explain.
'Mr. Errington was—Mr. Errington, that's all.'
"' Mr. Errington was a friend of the family.
He lived in a flat in the Albert Mansions. He
very often came to Addison Row, and generally
stayed late.'
"Pressed still further with questions, Emma at
last stated that latterly Mrs. Hazeldene had been
to the theatre several times with Mr. Errington,
and that on those nights the master looked very
gloomy, and was very cross.
"Recalled, the young widower was strangely
reticent. He gave forth his answers very grudg-


116 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
ingly, and the coroner was evidently absolutely
satisfied with himself at the marvellous way in
which, after a quarter of an hour of firm yet very
kind questionings, he had elicited from the witness
what information he wanted.
"Mr. Errington was a friend of his wife.
He was a gentleman of means, and seemed
to have a great deal of time at his command.
He himself did not particularly care about Mr.
Errington, but he certainly had never made any
observations to his wife on the subject.
"' But who is Mr. Errington?' repeated the
coroner once more. 'What does he do? What
is his business or profession?'
"' He has no business or profession.'
"'What is his occupation, then?'
"' He has no special occupation. He has
ample private means. But he has a great and
very absorbing hobby.'
"'What is that?'
"' He spends all his time in chemical experi-
ments, and is, I believe, as an amateur, a very
distinguished toxicologist.'"


CHAPTER XI
MR. ERRINGTON
"TPVID you ever see Mr. Errington, the gentle-
-M-Sman so closely connected with the mysteri-
ous death on the Underground Railway?" asked
the man in the corner as he placed one or two
of his little snap-shot photos before Miss Polly
Burton."There he is, to the very life. Fairly good-looking, a pleasant face enough, but ordinary,
absolutely ordinary.
"It was this absence of any peculiarity which
very nearly, but not quite, placed the halter
round Mr. Errington's neck.
"But I am going too fast, and you will lose
the thread.
"The public, of course, never heard how it
actually came about that Mr. Errington, the
wealthy bachelor of Albert Mansions, of the
Grosvenor, and other young dandies' clubs, one
fine day found himself before the magistrates at
Bow Street, charged with being concerned in the
death of Mary Beatrice Hazeldene, late of No. 19 Addison Row.
117


118 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"I can assure you both press and public were
literally flabbergasted. You see, Mr. Errington
was a well-known and very popular member of
a certain smart section of London society. He
was a constant visitor at the opera, the race-
course, the Park, and the Carlton, he had a
great many friends, and there was consequently
quite a large attendance at the police court that
morning.
"What had transpired was this:
"After the very scrappy bits of evidence
which came to light at the inquest, two gentle-
men bethought themselves that perhaps they
had some duty to perform toward the State
and the public generally. Accordingly they had
come forward, offering to throw what light they
could upon the mysterious affair on the Under-
ground Railway.
"The police naturally felt that their information, such as it was, came rather late in the day,
but as it proved of paramount importance, and
the two gentlemen, moreover, were of undoubt-
edly good position in the world, they were
thankful for what they could get, and acted ac-
cordingly; they accordingly brought Mr. Errington up before the magistrate on a charge of
murder.
"The accused looked pale and worried when
I first caught sight of him in the court that
day, which was not to be wondered at. con-


MR. ERRINGTON 119
sideling the terrible position in which he found
himself.
"He had been arrested at Marseilles, where he
was preparing to start for Colombo.
"I don't think he realised how terrible his
position really was until later in the proceedings,
when all the evidence relating to the arrest had
been heard, and Emma Funnel had repeated her
statement as to Mr. Errington's call at 19, Addison
Row, in the morning, and Mrs. Hazeldene starting
off for St. Paul's Churchyard at 3.30 in the after-
noon.
"Mr. Hazeldene had nothing to add to the
statements he had made at the coroner's in-
quest. He had last seen his wife alive on the
morning of the fatal day. She had seemed very
well and cheerful.
"I think everyone present understood that he
was trying to say as little as possible that could
in any way couple his deceased wife's name with
that of the accused.
"And yet, from the servant's evidence, it
undoubtedly leaked out that Mrs. Hazeldene,
who was young, pretty, and evidently fond of
admiration, had once or twice annoyed her hus-
band by her somewhat open, yet perfectly inno-
cent, flirtation with Mr. Errington.
"I think everyone was most agreeably im-
pressed by the widower's moderate and dignified
attitude. You will see his photo there, among 


120 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
this bundle. That is just how he appeared in
court. In deep black, of course, but without any
sign of ostentation in his mourning. He had
allowed his beard to grow lately, and wore it
closely cut in a point.
"After his evidence, the sensation of the day
occurred. A tall, dark-haired man, with the
word 'city' written metaphorically all over
him, had kissed the book, and was waiting to
tell the truth, and nothing but the truth.
"He gave his name as Andrew Campbell, head
of the firm of Campbell & Co., brokers, of Throg-
morton Street.
"In the afternoon of March 18th Mr. Campbell,
travelling on the Underground Railway, had
noticed a very pretty woman in the same carriage
as himself. She had asked him if she was in
the right train for Aldersgate. Mr. Campbell
replied in the affirmative, and then buried him-
self in the Stock Exchange quotations of his
evening paper.
"At Gower Street, a gentleman in a tweed suit
and bowler hat got into the carriage, and took a seat opposite the lady.
"She seemed very much astonished at seeing
him, but Mr. Andrew Campbell did not recollect
the exact words she said.
"The two talked to one another a good deal,
and certainly the lady appeared animated and
cheerful. Witness took no notice of them; he 


MR. ERRINGTOW 121
was very much engrossed in some calculations,
and finally got out at Farringdon Street. He
noticed that the man in the tweed suit also
got out close behind him, having shaken hands
with the lady, and said in a pleasant way:
'Au revoirl Don't be late to-night.' Mr. Camp-
bell did not hear the lady's reply, and soon lost
sight of the man in the crowd.
"Everyone was on tenter-hooks, and eagerly
waiting for the palpitating moment when witness
would describe and identify the man who last
had seen and spoken to the unfortunate woman,
within five minutes probably of her strange and
unaccountable death.
"Personally I knew what was coming before
the Scotch stockbroker spoke.
"I could have jotted down the graphic and
life-like description he would give of a probable
murderer. It would have fitted equally well
the man who sat and had luncheon at this table
just now; it would certainly have described
five out of every ten young Englishmen you
know.
"The individual was of medium height, he
wore a moustache which was not very fair nor
yet very dark, his hair was between colours. He wore a bowler hat, and a tweed suit—and—and—that was all—Mr. Campbell might per-
haps know him again, but then again, he might
not—he was not paying much attention—the 


122 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
gentleman was sitting on the same side of the
carriage as himself— and he had his hat on all
the time. He himself was busy with his news-
paper—yes—he might know him again—but he
really could not say.
"Mr. Andrew Campbell's evidence was not
worth very much, you will say. No, it was not
in itself, and would not have justified any arrest
were it not for the additional statements made
by Mr. James Verner, manager of Messrs. Rodney
& Co., colour printers.
"Mr. Verner is a personal friend of Mr. Andrew
Campbell, and it appears that at Farringdon
Street, where he was waiting for his train, he
saw Mr. Campbell get out of a first-class railway
carriage. Mr. Verner spoke to him for a second,
and then, just as the train was moving off, he
stepped into the same compartment which had
just been vacated by the stock-broker and the
man in the tweed suit. He vaguely recollects
a lady sitting in the opposite corner to his own,
with her face turned away from him, apparently
asleep, but he paid no special attention to her.
He was like nearly all business men when they
are travelling—engrossed in his paper. Pre-
sently a special quotation interested him; he
wished to make a note of it, took out a pencil
from his waistcoat pocket, and seeing a clean piece of paste-board on the floor, he picked it up, and scribbled on it the memorandum, which


124 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
absolutely incapable of proving an alibi. The
crime —if crime there was—had been committed
three weeks ago. A man about town like Mr.
Frank Errington might remember that he spent
certain hours of a special afternoon at his club,
or in the Park, but it is very doubtful in nine
cases out of ten if he can find a friend who could
positively swear as to having seen him there.
No! no! Mr. Errington was in a tight corner,
and he knew it. You see, there were—besides
the evidence—two or three circumstances which
did not improve matters for him. His hobby
in the direction of toxicology, to begin with.
The police had found in his room every descrip-
tion of poisonous substances, including prussic
acid.
"Then, again, that journey to Marseilles,
the start for Colombo, was, though perfectly
innocent, a very unfortunate one. Mr. Errington
had gone on an aimless voyage, but the public thought that he had fled, terrified at his own
crime. Sir Arthur Inglewood, however, here
again displayed his marvellous skill on behalf
of his client by the masterly way in which he
literally turned all the witnesses for the Crown
inside out.
"Having first got Mr. Andrew Campbell to
state positively that in the accused he certainly
did not recognise the man in the tweed suit,
the eminent lawyer, after twenty minutes' cross-


MR. ERRINGTON 125
examination, had so completely upset the stock-
broker's equanimity that it is very likely he
would not have recognised his own office-boy.
"But through all his flurry and all his annoyance
Mr. Andrew Campbell remained very sure of one
thing; namely, that the lady was alive and
cheerful, and talking pleasantly with the man
in the tweed suit up to the moment when the
latter, having shaken hands with her, left her
with a pleasant 'Au revoir! Don't be late to-
night.' He had heard neither scream nor struggle,
and in his opinion, if the individual in the tweed
suit had administered a dose of poison to his
companion, it must have been with her own
knowledge and free will; and the lady in the
train most emphatically neither looked nor
spoke like a woman prepared for a sudden and
violent death.
"Mr. James Verner, against that, swore
equally positively that he had stood in full view
of the carriage door from the moment that Mr.
Campbell got out until he himself stepped into
the compartment, that there was no one else
in that carriage between Farringdon Street and
Aldgate, and that the lady, to the best of his
belief, had made no movement during the whole
of that journey.
"No; Frank Errington was not committed
for trial on the capital charge," said the man
in the corner with one of his sardonio smiles,


126 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"thanks to the cleverness of Sir Arthur Inglewood, his lawyer. He absolutely denied his
identity with the man in the tweed suit, and
swore he had not seen Mrs. Hazeldene since
eleven o'clock in the morning of that fatal day.
There was no proof that he had; moreover,
according to Mr. Campbell's opinion, the man
in the tweed suit was in all probability not the
murderer. Common sense would not admit that
a woman could have a deadly poison injected
into her without her knowledge, while chatting
pleasantly to her murderer.
"Mr. Errington lives abroad now. He is
about to marry. I don't think any of his real
friends for a moment believed that he com-
mitted the dastardly crime. The police think
they know better. They do know this much,
that it could not have been a case of suicide,
that if the man who undoubtedly travelled
with Mrs. Hazeldene on that fatal afternoon had
no crime upon his conscience he would long ago
have come forward and thrown what light he
could upon the mystery.
"As to who that man was, the police in their
blindness have not the faintest doubt. Under
the unshakable belief that Errington is guilty
they have spent the last few months in unceas-
ing labour to try and find further and stronger
proofs of his guilt. But they won't find them,
because there are none. There are no positive 


MR. ERRINGTON 127
proofs against the actual murderer, for he was
one of those clever blackguards who think of
everything, foresee every eventuality, who know
human nature well, and can foretell exactly
what evidence will be brought against them,
and act accordingly.
"This blackguard from the first kept the
figure, the personality, of Frank Errington
before his mind. Frank Errington was the
dust which the scoundrel threw metaphorically
in the eyes of the police, and you must admit
that he succeeded in blinding them—to the
extent even of making them entirely forget
the one simple little sentence, overheard by
Mr. Andrew Campbell, and which was, of course,
the clue to the whole thing—the only slip the
cunning rogue made—' Au revoir! Don't be
late to-night.' Mrs. Hazeldene was going that
night to the opera with her husband
"You are astonished?" he added, with a
shrug of the shoulders, "you do not see the
tragedy yet, as I have seen it before me all along.
The frivolous young wife, the flirtation with
the friend?—all a blind, all pretence. I took
the trouble which the police should have taken
immediately, of finding out something about
the finances of the Hazeldene menage. Money
is in nine cases out of ten the keynote to a
crime.
"I found that the will of Mary Beatrice Hazel-


128 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
dene had been proved by the husband, her
sole executor, the estate being sworn at £15,000.
I found out, moreover, that Mr. Edward Sholto
Hazeldene was a poor shipper's clerk when he
married the daughter of a wealthy builder in
Kensington—and then I made note of the fact
that the disconsolate widower had allowed his
beard to grow since the death of his wife.
"There's no doubt that he was a clever rogue,"
added the strange creature, leaning excitedly
over the table, and peering into Polly's face. "Do
you know how that deadly poison was injected
into the poor woman's system? By the sim-
plest of all means, one known to every scoundrel
in Southern Europe. A ring—yes! a ring,
which has a tiny hollow needle capable of holding
a sufficient quantity of prussic acid to have
killed two persons instead of one. The man in
the tweed suit shook hands with his fair com-
panion—probably she hardly felt the prick,
not sufficiently in any case to make her utter
a scream. And, mind you, the scoundrel had
every facility, through his friendship with Mr.
Errington, of procuring what poison he required,
not to mention his friend's visiting card. We
cannot gauge how many months ago he began
to try and copy Frank Errington in his style
of dress, the cut of his moustache, his general
appearance, making the change probably so gradual, that no one in his own entourage would 


MR. ERRINGTON 129
notice it. He selected for his model a man his own height and build, with the same coloured
hair."
"But there was the terrible risk of being
identified by his fellow-traveller in the Under-
ground," suggested Polly.
"Yes, there certainly was that risk; he chose
to take it, and he was wise. He reckoned that
several days would in any case elapse before
that person, who, by the way, was a business
man absorbed in his newspaper, would actually
see him again. The great secret of successful
crime is to study human nature," added the
man in the corner, as he began looking for his
hat and coat. "Edward Hazeldene knew it
well."
"But the ring?"
"He may have bought that when he was on
his honeymoon," he suggested with a grim
chuckle; "the tragedy was not planned in a
week, it may have taken years to mature. But
you will own that there goes a frightful scoundrel
unhung. I have left you his photograph as
he was a year ago, and as he is now. You will see he has shaved his beard again, but also his
moustache. I fancy he is a friend now of Mr.
Andrew Campbell."
He left Miss Polly Burton wondering, not
knowing what to believe.
And that is why she missed her appointment 


ISO THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
with Mr. Richard Frobisher (of the London Mail) to go and see Maud Allan dance at the Palace Theatre that afternoon.


CHAPTER XII
THE LIVERPOOL MYSTERY
"A TITLE—a foreign title, I mean—is always
very useful for purposes of swindles and
frauds," remarked the man in the corner to Polly
one day. "The cleverest robberies of modern
times were perpetrated lately in Vienna by a
man who dubbed himself Lord Seymour; whilst
over here the same class of thief calls himself
Count Something ending in 'o,' or Prince the
other, ending in 'off.'"
"Fortunately for our hotel and lodging-house
keepers over here," she replied, "they are begin-
ning to be more alive to the ways of foreign
swindlers, and look upon all titled gentry who
speak broken English as possible swindlers or
thieves."
"The result sometimes being exceedingly un-
pleasant to the real grands seigneurs who honour
this country at times with their visits," replied
the man in the corner. "Now, take the case of
Prince Semionicz, a man whose sixteen quarterings are duly recorded in Gotha, who carried
enough luggage with him to pay for the use of »3i


132 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
every room in an hotel for at least a week,
whose gold cigarette case with diamond and
turquoise ornament was actually stolen with-
out his taking the slightest trouble to try and
recover it; that same man was undoubtedly
looked upon with suspicion by the manager of
the Liverpool North-Western Hotel from the
moment that his secretary—a dapper, somewhat
vulgar, little Frenchman—bespoke on behalf of
his employer, with himself and a valet, the best
suite of rooms the hotel contained.
"Obviously those suspicions were unfounded,
for the little secretary, as soon as Prince Semionicz
had arrived, deposited with the manager a pile
of bank notes, also papers and bonds, the value
of which would exceed tenfold the most out-
rageous bill that could possibly be placed before
the noble visitor. Moreover, M. Albert Lambert
explained that the Prince, who only meant to
stay in Liverpool a few days, was on his way
to Chicago, where he wished to visit Princess
Anna Semionicz, his sister, who was married to
Mr. Girwan, the great copper king and multi-
millionaire.
"Yet, as I told you before, in spite of all
these undoubted securities, suspicion of the
wealthy Russian Prince lurked in the minds of
most Liverpudlians who came in business con-
tact with him. He had been at the North-
-Western two days when he sent his secretary to 


134 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
draft, without having cashed it previously to
giving up the jewels.
"Then there was the question of the probable
necessity of conferring in a foreign tongue. The
head assistant, Charles Needham, who had been
in the employ of Winslow and Vassall for over
twelve years, was, in true British fashion, ignorant
of any language save his own; it was therefore de-
cided to dispatch Mr. Schwarz, a young German
clerk lately arrived, on the delicate errand.
"Mr. Schwarz was Mr. Winslow's nephew
and godson, a sister of that gentleman having
married the head of the great German firm of
Schwarz & Co., silversmiths, of Hamburg and
Berlin.
"The young man had soon become a great
favourite with his uncle, whose heir he would
presumably be, as Mr. Winslow had no children.
"At first Mr. Vassall made some demur about
sending Mr. Schwarz with so many valuable
jewels alone in a city which he had not yet
had the time to study thoroughly; but finally
he allowed himself to be persuaded by his senior
partner, and a fine selection of necklaces, pen-
dants, bracelets, and rings, amounting in value
to over £16,000, having been made, it was de-
cided that Mr. Schwarz should go to the North-
-Western in a cab the next day at about three
o'clock in the afternoon. This he accordingly
did, the following day being a Thursday.


THE LIVERPOOL MYSTERY 130
"Business went on in the shop as usual under
the direction of the head assistant, until about
seven o'clock, when Mr. Winslow returned from
his club, where he usually spent an hour over
the papers every afternoon, and at once asked
for his nephew. To his astonishment Mr. Needham informed him that Mr. Schwarz had not yet
returned. This seemed a little strange, and Mr.
Winslow, with a slightly anxious look in his face,
went into the inner office in order to consult his
junior partner. Mr. Vassall offered to go round
to the hotel and interview Mr. Pettitt.
"'I was beginning to get anxious myself,' he
said, 'but did not quite like to say so. I have
been in over half an hour, hoping every moment
that you would come in, and that perhaps you
could give me some reassuring news. I thought
that perhaps you had met Mr. Schwarz, and were
coming back together.'
"However, Mr. Vassall walked round to the
hotel and interviewed the hall porter. The latter
perfectly well remembered Mr. Schwarz sending
in his card to Prince Semionicz.
"'At what time was that ?' asked Mr. Vassall.
"' About ten minutes past three, sir, when he
came; it was about an hour later when he left.'
"' When he left?' gasped, more than said,
Mr. Vassall.
"' Yes, sir. Mr. Schwarz left here about a
quarter before four, sir.' 


136 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"' Are you quite sure ? *
"'Quite sure. Mr. Pettitt was in the hall
when he left, and he asked him something about
business. Mr. Schwarz laughed and said, "not
bad." I hope there's nothing wrong, sir,' added
the man.
"' Oh—er—nothing—thank you. Can I see Mr. Pettitt ? *
"' Certainly, sir.'
"Mr. Pettitt, the manager of the hotel, shared
Mr. Vassall's anxiety, immediately he heard that
the young German had not yet returned home.
"'I spoke to him a little before four o'clock.
We had just switched on the electric light, which
we always do these winter months at that hour.
But I shouldn't worry myself, Mr. Vassall; the
young man may have seen to some business on
his way home. You'll probably find him in when
you go back.'
"Apparently somewhat reassurred, Mr. Vassall
thanked Mr. Pettitt and hurried back to the shop,
only to find that Mr. Schwarz had not returned,
though it was now close on eight o'clock.
"Mr. Winslow looked so haggard and upset
that it would have been cruel to heap reproaches
upon his other troubles or to utter so much as
the faintest suspicion that young Schwarz's per-
manent disappearance with £16,000 in jewels and
money was within the bounds of probability.
"There was one chance left, but under the


THE LIVERPOOL MYSTERY 137
circumstances a very slight one indeed. The
Windows' private house was up the Birkenhead
end of the town. Young Schwarz had been
living with them ever since his arrival in Liver-
pool, and he may have—either not feeling well
or for some other reason—gone straight home
without calling at the shop. It was unlikely, as
valuable jewellery was never kept at the private
house, but—it just might have happened.
"It would be useless," continued the man in
the corner, "and decidedly uninteresting were I
to relate to you Messrs. Winslow's and Vassall's
further anxieties with regard to the missing young
man. Suffice it to say that on reaching his private
house Mr. Winslow found that his godson had
neither returned nor sent any telegraphic message
of any kind.
"Not wishing to needlessly alarm his wife, Mr.
Winslow made an attempt at eating his dinner,
but directly after that he hurried back to the
North-Western Hotel, and asked to see Prince
Semionicz. The Prince was at the theatre with
his secretary, and probably would not be home
until nearly midnight.
"Mr. Winslow, then, not knowing what to
think, nor yet what to fear, and in spite of the
horror he felt of giving publicity to his nephew's
disappearance, thought it his duty to go round
to the police-station and interview the inspector.
It is wonderful how quickly news of that tvpe


138 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
travels in a large city like Liverpool. Already the
morning papers of the following day were full of
the latest sensation: 'Mysterious disappearance
of a well-known tradesman.'
"Mr. Winslow found a copy of the paper con-
taining the sensational announcement on his
breakfast-table. It lay side by side with a letter
addressed to him in his nephew's handwriting,
which had been posted in Liverpool.
"Mr. Winslow placed that letter, written to
him by his nephew, into the hands of the police.
Its contents, therefore, quickly became public
property. The astounding statements made
therein by Mr. Schwarz created, in quiet, business-
like Liverpool, a sensation which has seldom been
equalled.
"It appears that the young fellow did call on
Prince Semionicz at a quarter past three on
Wednesday, December 10th, with a bag full of
jewels, amounting in value to some £16,000.
The Prince duly admired, and finally selected
from among the ornaments a necklace, pendant,
and bracelet, the whole being priced by Mr.
Schwarz, according to his instructions, at £10,500.
Prince Semionicz was most prompt and business-
like in his dealings.
"'You will require immediate payment for these, of course,' he said in perfect English, 'and
I know you business men prefer solid cash to
cheques, especially when dealing with foreigners. 


THE LIVERPOOL MYSTERY 139
I always provide myself with plenty of Bank of
England notes in consequence,' he added with a
pleasant smile, 'as £10,500 in gold would perhaps
be a little inconvenient to carry. If you will
kindly make out the receipt, my secretary,
M. Lambert, will settle all business matters with
you.'
"He thereupon took the jewels he had selected
and locked them up in his dressing-case, the
beautiful silver fittings of which Mr. Schwarz just caught a short glimpse of. Then, having
been accommodated with paper and ink, the
young jeweller made out the account and receipt,
whilst Mr. Lambert, the secretary, counted out
before him 105 crisp Bank of England notes of
£100 each. Then, with a final bow to his exceed-
ingly urbane and eminently satisfactory cus-
tomer, Mr. Schwarz took his leave. In the hall
he saw and spoke to Mr. Pettitt, and then he
went out into the street.
"He had just left the hotel and was about to
cross towards St. George's Hall when a gentle-
man, in a magnificent fur coat, stepped quickly
out of a cab which had been stationed near the
kerb, and, touching him lightly upon the shoulder,
said with an unmistakable air of authority, at
the same time handing him a card:
"' That is my name. I must speak with you
immediately.'
"Schwarz glanced at the card, and by the 


140 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
light of the arc lamps above his head read on it
the name of 'Dimitri Slaviansky Burgreneff, de
la Hie Section de la Police Imperial de S. M. le
Czar.'
"Quickly the owner of the unpronounceable
name and the significant title pointed to the cab
from which he had just alighted, and Schwarz,
whose every suspicion with regard to his princely
customer bristled up in one moment, clutched
his bag and followed his imposing interlocutor;
as soon as they were both comfortably seated in
the cab the latter began, with courteous apology
in broken but fluent English:
"' I must ask your pardon, sir, for thus tres-
passing upon your valuable time, and I certainly
should not have done so but for the certainty
that our interests in a certain matter which I have
in hand are practically identical, in so far that
we both should wish to outwit a clever rogue.'
"Instinctively, and his mind full of terrible
apprehension, Mr. Schwarz's hand wandered to
his pocket-book, filled to overflowing with the
banknotes which he had so lately received from
the Prince.
"' Ah, I see,' interposed the courteous Russian
with a smile, 'he has played the confidence trick
on you, with the usual addition of so many so-
called bank-notes.'
"' So-called,' gasped the unfortunate young
man.


CHAPTER XIII
A CUNNING RASCAL
"~^"ES, left severely alone," continued the man
in the corner with a sarcastic chuckle. ''So
severely alone, in fact, that one quarter of an
hour after another passed by and still the mag-
nificent police officer in the gorgeous uniform did
not return. Then, when it was too late, Schwarz
cursed himself once again for the double-dyed
idiot that he was. He had been only too ready
to believe that Prince Semionicz was a liar and
a rogue, and under these unjust suspicions he had
fallen an all too easy prey to one of the most
cunning rascals he had ever come across.
"An inquiry from the hall porter at the North-
western elicited the fact that no such personage
as Mr. Schwarz described had entered the hotel.
The young man asked to see Prince Semionicz,
hoping against hope that all was not yet lost.
The Prince received him most courteously; he
was dictating some letters to his secretary, while
the valet was in the next room preparing his
master's evening clothes. Mr. Schwarz found it
very difficult to explain what he actually did want.
"There stood the dressing-case in which the
144


A CUNNING RASCAL 148
Prince had locked up the jewels, and there the
bag from which the secretary had taken the
banknotes. After much hesitation on Schwarz's
part and much impatience on that of the Prince, the young man blurted out the whole story of
the so-called Russian police officer whose card
he still held in his hand.
"The Prince, it appears, took the whole thing
wonderfully good-naturedly; no doubt he thought
the jeweller a hopeless fool. He showed him the
jewels, the receipt he held, and also a large bundle
of bank-notes similar to those Schwarz had with
such culpable folly given up to the clever rascal
in the cab.
"' I pay all my bills with Bank of England
notes, Mr. Schwarz. It would have been wiser,
perhaps, if you had spoken to the manager of
the hotel about me before you were so ready to
believe any cock-and-bull story about my sup-
posed rogueries.'
"Finally he placed a small 16mo volume before
the young jeweller, and said with a pleasant smile:
"' If people in this country who are in a large
way of business, and are therefore likely to come
in contact with people of foreign nationality,
were to study these little volumes before doing
business with any foreigner who claims a title,
much disappointment and a great loss would
often be saved. Now in this case had you looked
up page 797 of this little volume of Gotha'a


A CUNNING RASCAL 147
that cab. The wonderful fur coat, the long
beard, all must have been noticeable, even
though it was past four o'clock on a somewhat
foggy December afternoon.
"But every investigation proved futile; no
one answering Schwarz's description of the man
had been seen anywhere. The papers continued
to refer to the case as 'the Liverpool Mystery.'
Scotland Yard sent Mr. Fairburn down—the cele-
brated detective—at the request of the Liverpool
police, to help in the investigations, but nothing
availed.
"Prince Semionicz, with his suite, left Liver-
pool, and he who had attempted to blacken his
character, and had succeeded in robbing Messrs.
Winslow and Vassall of £10,500, had completely
disappeared."
The man in the corner readjusted his collar
and necktie, which, during the narrative of this
interesting mystery, had worked its way up his
long, crane-like neck under his large flappy ears.
His costume of checked tweed of a peculiarly
loud pattern had tickled the fancy of some of
the waitresses, who were standing gazing at him
and giggling in one corner. This evidently made
him nervous. He gazed up very meekly at Polly,
looking for all the world like a bald-headed
adjutant dressed for a holiday.
"Of course, all sorts of theories of the theft got
about at first. One of the most popular and


A CUNNING RASCAL 149
He soon found that Prince Semionicz had con-
verted a great deal of Russian and French money
into English bank-notes since his arrival in this
country. More than £30,000 in good solid, honest
money was traced to the pockets of the gentle-
man with the sixteen quarterings. It seemed,
therefore, more than improbable that a man who
was obviously fairly wealthy would risk imprison-
ment and hard labour, if not worse, for the sake
of increasing his fortune by £10,000.
"However, the theory of the Prince's guilt
has taken firm root in the dull minds of our
police authorities. They have had every infor-
mation with regard to Prince Semionicz's ante-
cedents from Russia; his position, his wealth,
have been placed above suspicion, and yet they
suspect and go on suspecting him or his secretary.
They have communicated with the police of every
European capital; and while they still hope to
obtain sufficient evidence against those they sus-
peet, they calmly allow the guilty to enjoy the
fruit of his clever roguery."
"The guilty 7" cried Polly. "Who do you
think"
"Who do I think knew at that moment that
young Schwarz had money in his possession?"
he said excitedly, wriggling in his chair like a
Jack-in-the-box. "Obviously someone was guilty
of that theft who knew that Schwarz had gone
to interview a rich Russian, and would in all 


160 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
probability return with a large sum of money in
his possession?"
"Who, indeed, but the Prince and his secre-
tary?" she argued. "But just now you
said"
"Just now I said that the police were deter-
mined to find the Prince and his secretary guilty;
they did not look further than their own stumpy
noses. Messrs. Winslow and Vassall spent money
with a free hand in those investigations. Mr.
Winslow, as the senior partner, stood to lose over
£9000 by that robbery. Now, with Mr. Vassall
it was different.
"When I saw how the police went on blunder-
ing in this case I took the trouble to make certain
inquiries, the whole thing interested me so much,
and I learnt all that I wished to know. I found
out, namely, that Mr. Vassall was very much a
junior partner in the firm, that he only drew
ten per cent, of the profits, having been promoted
lately to a partnership from having been senior
assistant.
"Now, the police did not take the trouble to
find that out."
"But you don't mean that"
"I mean that in all cases where robbery affects
more than one person the first thing to find out
is whether it affects the second party equally
with the first. I proved that to you, didn't I,
over that robbery in Phillimore Terrace? There,


A CUNNING RASCAL 151
as here, one of the two parties stood to lose very
little in comparison with the other'
"Eren then "she began.
"Wait a moment, for I found out something
more. The moment I had ascertained that Mr.
Vassall was not drawing more than about £500
a year from the business profits I tried to ascer-
tain at what rate he lived and what were his
chief vices. I found that he kept a fine house
in Albert Terrace. Now, the rents of those houses
are £250 a year. Therefore speculation, horse-
racing or some sort of gambling, must help to
keep up that establishment. Speculation and
most forms of gambling are synonymous with
debt and ruin. It is only a question of time.
Whether Mr. Vassall was in debt or not at the
time, that I cannot say, but this I do know, that
ever since that unfortunate loss to him of about
£1000 he has kept his house in nicer style than
before, and he now has a good banking account
at the Lancashire and Liverpool bank, which he
opened a year after his 'heavy loss.'"
"But it must have been very difficult"argued Polly.
"What?" he said. "To have planned out
the whole thing? For carrying it out was mere
child's play. He had twenty-four hours in which
to put his plan into execution. Why, what was
there to do? Firstly, to go to a local printer in
some out-of-the-way part of the town and get


152 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
him to print a few cards with the high-sounding
name. That, of course, is done 'while you wait.'
Beyond that there was the purchase of a good
second-hand uniform, fur coat, and a beard and
a wig from a costumier's.
"No, no, the execution was not difficult; it
was the planning of it all, the daring that was
so fine. Schwarz, of course, was a foreigner;
he had only been in England a little over a
fortnight. Vassall's broken English misled him;
probably he did not know the junior partner very
intimately. I have no doubt that but for his
uncle's absurd British prejudice and suspicions
against the Russian Prince, Schwarz would not
have been so ready to believe in the latter's
roguery. As I said, it would be a great boon if
English tradesmen studied Gotha more; but it
was clever, wasn't it? I couldn't have done it
much better myself."
That last sentence was so characteristic. Be-
fore Polly could think of some plausible argument
against his theory he was gone, and she was
trying vainly to find another solution to the
Liverpool mystery.


CHAPTER XIV
THE EDINBURGH MYSTERY
The man in the corner had not enjoyed his
lunch. Miss Polly Burton could see that he
had something on his mind, for, even before he
began to talk that morning, he was fidgeting with
his bit of string, and setting all her nerves on
the jar.
"Have you ever felt real sympathy with a
criminal or a thief?" he asked her after a while.
"Only once, I think," she replied, "and then
I am not quite sure that the unfortunate woman
who did enlist my sympathies was the criminal
you make her out to be."
"You mean the heroine of the York mystery?"
he replied blandly. "I know that you tried very
hard that time to discredit the only possible
version of that mysterious murder, the version
which is my own. Now, I am equally sure that
you have at the present moment no more notion
as to who killed and robbed poor Lady Donaldson
in Charlotte Square, Edinburgh, than the police
have themselves, and yet you are fully prepared
to pooh-pooh my arguments, and to disbelieve 153


154 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
my version of the mystery. Such is the lady
journalist's mind."
"If you have some cock-and-bull story to
explain that extraordinary case," she retorted,
"of course I shall disbelieve it. Certainly, if you
are going to try and enlist my sympathies on
behalf of Edith Crawford, I can assure you you
won't succeed."
"Well, I don't know that that is altogether my
intention. I see you are interested in the case,
but I dare say you don't remember all the
circumstances. You must forgive me if I repeat
that which you know already. If you have ever
been to Edinburgh at all, you will have heard of
Graham's bank, and Mr. Andrew Graham, the
present head of the firm, is undoubtedly one
of the most prominent notabilities of 'modern
Athens.'"
The man in the corner took two or three photos
from his pocket-book and placed them before the
young girl; then, pointing at them with his long
bony finger—
"That," he said, "is Mr. Elphinstone Graham,
the eldest son, a typical young Scotchman, as
you see, and this is David Graham, the second
son."
Polly looked more closely at this last photo, and
saw before her a young face, upon which some
lasting sorrow seemed already to have left its
mark. The face was delicate and thin, the features 


THE EDINBURGH MYSTERY 158
pinched, and the eyes seemed almost unnaturally
large and prominent.
"He was deformed," commented the man in
the corner in answer to the girl's thoughts, "and,
as such, an object of pity and even of repugnance
to most of his friends. There was also a good
deal of talk in Edinburgh society as to his mental
condition, his mind, according to many intimate
friends of the Grahams, being at times decidedly
unhinged. Be that as it may, I fancy that his
life must have been a very sad one; he had lost his
mother when quite a baby, and his father seemed,
strangely enough, to have an almost unconquer-
able dislike towards him.
"Everyone got to know presently of David
Graham's sad position in his father's own house,
and also of the great affection lavished upon him
by his godmother, Lady Donaldson, who was a
sister of Mr. Graham's.
"She was a lady of considerable wealth, being
the widow of Sir George Donaldson, the great
distiller; but she seems to have been decidedly
eccentric. Latterly she had astonished all her
family—who were rigid Presbyterians—by an-
nouncing her intention of embracing the Roman
Catholic faith, and then retiring to the convent of
St. Augustine's at Newton Abbot in Devonshire."She had sole and absolute control of the vast
fortune which a doting husband had bequeathed
to her. Clearly, therefore, she was at liberty ■


186 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
to bestow it upon a Devonshire convent if she
chose. But this evidently was not altogether
her intention.
"I told you how fond she was of her deformed
godson, did I not? Being a bundle of eccentri-
cities, she had many hobbies, none more pro-
nounced than the fixed determination to see—before retiring from the world altogether—David Graham happily married.
"Now, it appears that David Graham, ugly,
deformed, half-demented as he was, had fallen
desperately in love with Miss Edith Crawford,
daughter of the late Dr. Crawford, of Prince's
Gardens. The young lady, however—very natu-
rally, perhaps—fought shy of David Graham,
who, about this time, certainly seemed very queer
and morose, but Lady Donaldson, with character-
istic determination, seems to have made up her
mind to melt Miss Crawford's heart towards her
unfortunate nephew.
"On October the 2nd last, at a family party
given by Mr. Graham in his fine mansion in
Charlotte Square, Lady Donaldson openly an-
nounced her intention of making over, by deed of
gift, to her nephew, David Graham, certain pro-
perty, money, and shares, amounting in total
value to the sum of £100,000, and also her
magnificent diamonds, which were worth £50,000,
for the use of the said David's wife. Keith
Macfinlay, a lawyer of Prince's Street, received 


158 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
summation of this marriage—her heart's desire—before she finally retired from the world, at peace
with it and with herself.
"The deed of gift was ready for signature
on the wedding day, which was fixed for Novem-
ber 7th, and Lady Donaldson took up her abode
ternporarily in her brother's house in Charlotte
Square.
"Mr. Graham gave a large ball on October 23rd.
Special interest is attached to this ball, from the
fact that for this occasion Lady Donaldson in-
sisted that David's future wife should wear
the magnificent diamonds which were soon to
become hers.
"They were, it seems, superb, and became
Miss Crawford's stately beauty to perfection.
The ball was a brilliant success, the last guest
leaving at four a.m. The next day it was the
universal topic of conversation, and the day
after that, when Edinburgh unfolded the late
editions of its morning papers, it learned with
horror and dismay that Lady Donaldson had
been found murdered in her room, and that the
celebrated diamonds had been stolen.
"Hardly had the beautiful little city, however,
recovered from this awful shock, than its news-
papers had another thrilling sensation ready for
their readers.
"Already all Scotch and English papers had
mysteriously hinted at 'startling information' 


THE EDINBURGH MYSTERY 158
obtained by the Procurator Fiscal, and at an
* impending sensational arrest.'
"Then the announcement came, and every one
in Edinburgh read, horror-struck and aghast,
that the 'sensational arrest' was none othei
than that of Miss Edith Crawford, for murder and
robbery, both so daring and horrible that reason
refused to believe that a young lady, born and
bred in the best social circle, could have conceived,
much less executed, so heinous a crime. She had
been arrested in London at the Midland Hotel, and
brought to Edinburgh, where she was judicially
examined, bail being refused."


CHAPTER XV
A TERRIBLE PLIGHT
* T ITTLE more than a fortnight after that,
Edith Crawford was duly committed to
stand her trial before the High Court of Justiciary.
She had pleaded 'Not Guilty' at the pleading
diet, and her defence was entrusted to Sir James
Fenwick, one of the most eminent advocates
at the Criminal Bar.
"Strange to say," continued the man in the
corner after a while, "public opinion from the first
went dead against the accused. The public is
absolutely like a child, perfectly irresponsible
and wholly illogical; it argued that since Miss
Crawford had been ready to contract a marriage
with a half-demented, deformed creature for the
sake of his £100,000 she must have been equally
ready to murder and rob an old lady for the
sake of £50,000 worth of jewellery, without the
encumbrance of so undesirable a husband.
"Perhaps the great sympathy aroused in the
popular mind for David Graham had much to do
with this ill-feeling against the accused. David
Graham had, by this cruel and dastardly murder,
160


A TERRIBLE PLIGHT 161
lost the best—if not the only—friend he possessed.
He had also lost at one fell swoop the large
fortune which Lady Donaldson had been about
to assign to him.
"The deed of gift had never been signed,
and the old lady's vast wealth, instead of en-
riching her favourite nephew, was distributed—since she had made no will—amongst her heirs-at-law. And now to crown this long chapter of
sorrow David Graham saw the girl he loved
accused of the awful crime which had robbed
him of friend and fortune.
"It was, therefore, with an unmistakable thrill
of righteous satisfaction that Edinburgh society
saw this 'mercenary girl' in so terrible a plight.
"I was immensely interested in the case, and
journeyed down to Edinburgh in order to get
a good view of the chief actors in the thrilling
drama which was about to be unfolded there.
"I succeeded—I generally do—in securing
one of the front seats among the audience, and
was already comfortably installed in my place in
court when through the trap door I saw the head
of the prisoner emerge. She was very becomingly
dressed in deep black, and, led by two policemen,
she took her place in the dock. Sir James
Penwick shook hands with her very warmly,
and I could almost hear him instilling words of
comfort into her.
"The trial lasted six clear days, during which 


loz THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
time more than forty persons were examined
for the prosecution, and as many for the defence.
But the most interesting witnesses were certainly
the two doctors, the maid Tremlett, Campbell,
the High Street jeweller, and David Graham.
"There was, of course, a great deal of medical
evidence to go through. Poor Lady Donaldson
had been found with a silk scarf tied tightly round
her neck, her face showing even to the inex-
perienced eye every symptom of strangulation.
"Then Tremlett, Lady Donaldson's confi-
dential maid, was called. Closely examined by
Crown Counsel, she gave an account of the ball at
Charlotte Square on the 23rd, and the wear-
ing of the jewels by Miss Crawford on that
occasion.
"' I helped Miss Crawford on with the tiara
over her hair,' she said; 'and my lady put the
two necklaces round Miss Crawford's neck
herself. There were also some beautiful brooches,
bracelets, and earrings. At four o'clock in the
morning when the ball was over, Miss Crawford
brought the jewels back to my lady's room. My
lady had already gone to bed, and I had put
out the electric light, as I was going, too. There
was only one candle left in the room, close to the
bed.
"' Miss Crawford took all the jewels off, and
asked Lady Donaldson for the key of the safe,
so that she might put them away. My lady 


A TERRIBLE PLIGHT 163
gave her the key and said to me, "You can go
to bed, Tremlett, you must be dead tired."
I was glad to go, for I could hardly stand up—I was so tired. I said, "Good night!" to my
lady and also to Miss Crawford, who was busy
putting the jewels away. As I was going out
of the room I heard Lady Donaldson saying:
"Have you managed it, my dear?" Miss
Crawford said: "I have put everything away
very nicely."'
"In answer to Sir James Fenwick, Tremlett
said that Lady Donaldson always carried the
key of her jewel safe on a ribbon round her neck,
and had done so the whole day preceding her
death.
"' On the night of the 24th,' she continued,
'Lady Donaldson still seemed rather tired, and
went up to her room directly after dinner, while the family were still sitting in the dining-
room. She made me dress her hair, then she
slipped on her dressing-gown and sat in the arm-
chair with a book. She told me that she then felt
strangely uncomfortable and nervous, and could
not account for it.
"' However, she did not want me to sit with
her, so I thought that the best thing I could do
was to tell Mr. David Graham that her ladyship
did not seem very cheerful. Her ladyship
was so fond of Mr. David; it always made her
happy to have him with her. I then went to my 


106 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"David Graham, in answer to Crown Counsel,
gave an account of his last interview with Lady
Donaldson.
"' Tremlett had told me that she seemed
anxious and upset, and I went to have a chat
with her; she soon cheered up and . . ."
"There the unfortunate young man hesitated
visibly, but after a while resumed with an obvious
effort.
"' She spoke of my marriage, and of the gift
she was about to bestow upon me. She said the
diamonds would be for my wife, and after that
for my daughter, if I had one. She also com-
plained that Mr. Macfinlay had been so punctilious
about preparing the deed of gift, and that it was
a great pity the £100,000 could not just pass
from her hands to mine without so much
fuss.
"'I stayed talking with her for about half an
hour; then I left her, as she seemed ready to go
to bed; but I told her maid to listen at the door
in about an hour's time.'
"There was deep silence in the court for a
few moments, a silence which to me seemed almost
electrical. It was as if, some time before it was
uttered, the next question put by Crown Counsel
to the witness had hovered in the air.
"' You were engaged to Miss Edith Crawford
at one time, were you not?'
"One felt, rather than heard, the almost 


CHAPTER XVI
"NON PROVEN"
"TlHERE is no doubt," continued the man in
JL the corner, " that what little sympathy the
young girl's terrible position had aroused in the
public mind had died out the moment that David
Graham left the witness-box on the second day of
the trial. Whether Edith Crawford was guilty of
murder or not, the callous way in which she
had accepted a deformed lover, and then thrown
him over, had set everyone's mind against her.
"It was Mr. Graham himself who had been the
first to put the Procurator Fiscal in possession
of the fact that the accused had written to David
from London, breaking off her engagement.
This information had, no doubt, directed the
attention of the Fiscal to Miss Crawford, and the
police soon brought forward the evidence which
had led to her arrest.
"We had a final sensation on the third day,
when Mr. Campbell, jeweller, of High Street,
gave his evidence. He said that on Octobei
25th a lady came to his shop and offered to sell
him a pair of diamond earrings. Trade had been
168


"NON PROVEN" 169
very bad, and he had refused the bargain,
although the lady seemed ready to part with the
earrings for an extraordinarily low sum, consider-
ing the beauty of the stones.
"In fact it was because of this evident desire
on the lady's part to sell at any cost that he
had looked at her more keenly than he otherwise
would have done. He was now ready to swear
that the lady that offered him the diamond ear-
rings was the prisoner in the dock.
"I can assure you that as we all listened to
this apparently damnatory evidence, you might
have heard a pin drop amongst the audience
in that crowded court. The girl alone, there in
the dock, remained calm and unmoved. Re-
member that for two days we had heard evidence
to prove that old Dr. Crawford had died leaving
his daughter penniless, that having no mother
she had been brought up by a maiden aunt,
who had trained her to be a governess, which
occupation she had followed for years, and that
certainly she had never been known by any of
her friends to be in possession of solitaire diamond
earrings.
"The prosecution had certainly secured an
ace of trumps, but Sir James Fenwick, who during
the whole of that day had seemed to take little
interest in the proceedings, here rose from his
seat, and I knew at once that he had got a tit-bit
in the way of a 'point' up his sleeve. Gatuxfc,


170 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
and unusually tall, and with his beak-like nose,
he always looks strangely impressive when he
seriously tackles a witness. He did it this time
with a vengeance, I can tell you. He was all over
the pompous little jeweller in a moment.
"' Had Mr. Campbell made a special entry
in his book, as to the visit of the lady in
question?'
"' No."
"' Had he any special means of ascertaining
when that visit did actually take place?'
« ' No—but"
"' What record had he of the visit?'
"Mr. Campbell had none. In fact, after about
twenty minutes of cross-examination, he had to
admit that he had given but little thought to the
interview with the lady at the time, and cer-
tainly not in connection with the murder of Lady
Donaldson, until he had read in the papers that a
young lady had been arrested.
"Then he and his clerk talked the matter over,
it appears, and together they had certainly re-
collected that a lady had brought some beautiful
earrings for sale on a day which must have been
the very morning after the murder. If Sir James
Fenwick's object was to discredit this special
witness, he certainly gained his point.
"All the pomposity went out of Mr. Campbell;
he became flurried, then excited, then he lost his
temper. After that he was allowed to leave the 


"NON PROVEN- 171
court, and Sir James Fenwick resumed his seat,
and waited like a vulture for its prey.
"It presented itself in the person of Mr.
Campbell's clerk, who, before the Procurator
Fiscal, had corroborated his employer's evidence
in every respect. In Scotland no witness in any
one case is present in court during the examination
of another, and Mr. Macfarlane, the clerk, was,
therefore, quite unprepared for the pitfalls
which Sir James Fenwick had prepared for him.
He tumbled into them, head foremost, and the
eminent advocate turned him inside out like a
glove.
"Mr. Macfarlane did not lose his temper;
he was of too humble a frame of mind to do that; but he got into a hopeless quagmire of mixed
recollections, and he too left the witness-box
quite unprepared to swear as to the day of the
interview with the lady with the diamond ear-
rings.
"I dare say, mind you," continued the man in
the corner with a chuckle, "that to most people
present, Sir James Fenwick's cross-questioning
seemed completely irrelevant. Both Mr. Camp-
bell and his clerk were quite ready to swear that
they had had an interview concerning some
diamond earrings with a lady, of whose identity
with the accused they were perfectly convinced,
and to the casual observer the question as to the
time or even the day when that interview took 


172 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
place could make but little difference in the
ultimate issue.
"Now I took in, in a moment, the entire drift
of Sir James Fenwick's defence of Edith Crawford.
When Mr. Macfarlane left the witness-box, the
second victim of the eminent advocate's caustic
tongue, I could read as in a book the whole history
of that crime, its investigation and the mistakes
made by the police first and the Publio Prosecu-
tor afterwards.
"Sir James Fenwick knew them, too, of course,
and he placed a finger upon each one, demolishing
—like a child who blows upon a house of cards—
the entire scaffolding erected by the prosecution.
"Mr. Campbell's and Mr. Macfarlane's identifi-
cation of the accused with the lady who, on some
date—admitted to be uncertain—had tried to
sell a pair of diamond earrings, was the first point.
Sir James had plenty of witnesses to prove that
on the 25th, the day after the murder, the accused
was in London, whilst, the day before, Mr. Camp-
bell's shop had been closed long before the family
circle had seen the last of Lady Donaldson.
Clearly the jeweller and his clerk must have seen
some other lady, whom their vivid imagina-
tion had pictured as being identical with the
accused.
"Then came the great question of time.
Mr. David Graham had been evidently the last
to see Lady Donaldson alive. He had spoken to 


"NON PROVEN" 173
her as late as 8.30 p.m. Sir James Fenwick had
called two porters at the Caledonian Railway
Station who testified to Miss Crawford having
taken her seat in a first-class carriage of the 9.10
train, some minutes before it started.
"' Was it conceivable, therefore,' argued Sir
James, 'that in the space of half an hour the
accused—a young girl—could have found her way
surreptitiously into the house, at a time when the
entire household was still astir, that she should
have strangled Lady Donaldson, forced open the
safe, and made away with the jewels! A man—
an experienced burglar might have done it, but I
contend that the accused is physically incapable
of accomplishing such a feat.
"' With regard to the broken engagement,'
continued the eminent counsel with a smile,
'it may have seemed a little heartless, certainly,
but heartlessness is no crime in the eyes of the law.
The accused has stated in her declaration that
at the time she wrote to Mr. David Graham,
breaking off her engagement, she had heard no-
thing of the Edinburgh tragedy.
"' The London papers had reported the crime
very briefly. The accused was busy shopping;
she knew nothing of Mr. David Graham's altered
position. In no case was the breaking off of the
engagement a proof that the accused had obtained
possession of the jewels by so foul a deed.'
"It is, of course, impossible for me," continued 


174 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
the man in the corner apologetically, "to give
you any idea of the eminent advocate's eloquence
and masterful logic. It struck everyone, I
think, just as it did me, that he chiefly directed
his attention to the fact that there was absolutely
no proof against the accused.
"Be that as it may, the result of that re-
markable trial was a verdict of 'Non Proven.'
The jury was absent forty minutes, and it
appears that in the mind of every one of them
there remained, in spite of Sir James' arguments,
a firmly rooted conviction—call it instinct, if
you like—that Edith Crawford had done away
with Lady Donaldson in order to become possessed
of those jewels, and that in spite of the pompous
jeweller's many contradictions, she had offered
him some of those diamonds for sale. But there
was not enough proof to convict, and she was
given the benefit of the doubt.
"I have heard English people argue that in
England she would have been hanged. Per-
sonally I doubt that. I think that an English
jury, not having the judicial loophole of 'Non
Proven,' would have been bound to acquit her.
What do you think I"


CHAPTER XVII
UNDENIABLE FACTS
There was a moment's silence, for Polly did
not reply immediately, and he went on
making impossible knots in his bit of string.
Then she said quietly:
"I think that I agree with those English people
who say that an English jury would have con-
demned her. ... I have no doubt that she was
guilty. She may not have committed that awful
deed herself. Someone in the Charlotte Square
house may have been her accomplice and killed
and robbed Lady Donaldson while Edith Crawford
waited outside for the jewels. David Graham
left his godmother at 8.30 p.m. If the accomplice
was one of the servants in the house, he or she
would have had plenty of time for any amount
of villainy, and Edith Crawford could have yet
caught the 9.10 p.m. train from the Caledonian
Station."
"Then who, in your opinion," he asked sar-
castically, and cocking his funny birdlike head
on one side, "tried to sell diamond earrings to Mr.
Campbell, the jeweller 7"
i7S


UNDENIABLE PACTS 177
she brings them back to Lady Donaldson's
room. Remember the maid's statement: 'My
lady said: "Have you put them back, my
dear?"— a simple statement, utterly ignored by
the prosecution. But what did it mean? That
Lady Donaldson could not see for herself whether
Edith Crawford had put back the jewels or not,
since she asked the question."
"Then you argue"
"I never argue," he interrupted excitedly;
"I state undeniable facts. Edith Crawford, who
wanted to steal the jewels, took them then and
there, when she had the opportunity. Why in the
world should she have waited? Lady Donaldson
was in bed, and Tremlett, the maid, had gone.
"The next day—namely, the 25th—she tried to dispose of a pair of earrings to Mr. Campbell;
she fails, and decides to go to London, where she
has a better chance. Sir James Fenwick did not
think it desirable to bring forward witnesses to
prove what I have since ascertained is a fact,
namely, that on the 27th of October, three days
before her arrest, Miss Crawford crossed over to
Belgium, and came back to London the next
day. In Belgium, no doubt, Lady Donaldson's
diamonds, taken out of their settings, calmly re-
pose at this moment, while the money derived from
their sale is safely deposited in a Belgian bank."
"But then, who murdered Lady Donaldson,
and why?" gasped Polly.


178 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Cannot you guess?" he queried blandly.
"Have I not placed the case clearly enough
before you? To me it seems so simple. It was
a daring, brutal murder, remember. Think of one
who, not being the thief himself, would, never-
theless, have the strongest of all motives to shield the thief from the consequences of her own
misdeed: aye! and the power too—since it would
be absolutely illogical, nay, impossible, that he
should be an accomplice."
"Surely"
"Think of a curious nature, warped morally,
as well as physically—do you know how those
natures feel? A thousand times more strongly
than the even, straight natures in everyday life. Then think of such a nature brought face to face
with this awful problem.
"Do you think that such a nature would
hesitate a moment before committing a crime
to save the loved one from the consequences
of that deed? Mind you, I don't assert for a
moment that David Graham had any intention
of murdering Lady Donaldson. Tremlett tells
him that she seems strangely upset; he goes
to her room and finds that she has discovered
that she has been robbed. She naturally suspects
Edith Crawford, recollects the incidents of the
other night, and probably expresses her feelings
to David Graham, and threatens immediate
prosecution, scandal, what you will


UNDENIABLE FACTS 179
"I repeat it again, I dare say he had no wish
to kill her. Probably he merely threatened to.
A medical gentleman who spoke of sudden heart
failure was no doubt right. Then imagine David
Graham's remorse, his horror and his fears. The
empty safe probably is the first object that sug-
gested to him the grim tableau of robbery and
murder, which he arranges in order to insure his
own safety.
"But remember one thing: no miscreant was
seen to enter or leave the house surreptitiously;
the murderer left no signs of entrance, and none of
exit. An armed burglar would have left some
trace—someone would have heard something.
Then who locked and unlocked Lady Donaldson's
door that night while she herself lay dead?
"Someone in the house, I tell you—someone
who left no trace—someone against whom
there could be no suspicion—someone who
killed without apparently the slightest pre-
meditation, and without the slightest motive.
Think of it—I know I am right—and then tell
me if I have at all enlisted your sympathies in
the author of the Edinburgh Mystery."
He was gone. Polly looked again at the photo
of David Graham. Did a crooked mind really
dwell in that crooked body, and were there in the
world such crimes that were great enough to be
deemed sublime?


t
CHAPTER XVIII
THE THEFT AT THE ENGLISH
PROVIDENT BANK
"rpiHAT question of motive is a very difficult
and complicated one at times," said the
man in the corner, leisurely pulling off a huge
pair of flaming dog-skin gloves from his meagre
fingers. "I have known experienced criminal
investigators declare, as an infallible axiom,
that to find the person interested in the com-
mittal of the crime is to find the criminal.
"Well, that may be so in most cases, but
my experience has proved to me that there is
one factor in this world of ours which is the
mainspring of human actions, and that factor
is human passions. For good or evil passions
rule this poor humanity of ours. Remember,
there are the women! French detectives, who
are acknowledged masters in their craft, never
proceed till after they have discovered the
feminine element in a crime; whether in theft,
murder, or fraud, according to their theory,
there is always a woman.
"Perhaps the reason why the Phillimore 


THE THEFT AT THE BANK 181
Terrace robbery was never brought home to its
perpetrators is because there was no woman in any way connected with it, and I am quite
sure, on the other hand, that the reason why the
thief at the English Provident Bank is still
unpunished is because a clever woman has
escaped the eyes of our police force."
He had spoken at great length and very
dictatorially. Miss Polly Burton did not venture
to contradict him, knowing by now that when-
ever he was irritable he was invariably rude, and
she then had the worst of it.
"When I am old," he resumed, "and have
nothing more to do, I think I shall take professionally to the police force; they have much
to learn."
Could anything be more ludicrous than the
self-satisfaction, the abnormal conceit of this
remark, made by that shrivelled piece of man-
kind, in a nervous, hesitating tone of voice?
Polly made no comment, but drew from her pocket
a beautiful piece of string, and knowing his
custom of knotting such an article while unravel-
ling his mysteries, she handed it across the table
to him. She positively thought that he blushed.
"As an adjunct to thought," she said, moved
by a conciliatory spirit.
He looked at the invaluable toy which the young
girl had tantalisingly placed close to his hand:
then he forced himself to look all round the coffee-


182 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
room: at Polly, at the waitresses, at the piles
of pallid buns upon the counter. But, involun-
tarily, his mild blue eyes wandered back lovingly
to the long piece of string, on which his playful
imagination no doubt already saw a series of
knots which would be equally tantalising to tie
and to untie.
"Tell me about the theft at the English Provi-
dent Bank," suggested Polly condescendingly.
He looked at her, as if she had proposed some
mysterious complicity in an unheard-of crime.
Finally his lean fingers sought the end of the
piece of string, and drew it towards him. His
face brightened up in a moment.
"There was an element of tragedy in that
particular robbery," he began, after a few mo-
ments of beatified knotting, "altogether differ-
ent to that connected with most crimes; a
tragedy which, as far as I am concerned, would
seal my lips for ever, and forbid them to utter
a word, which might lead the police on the right
track."
"Your lips," suggested Polly sarcastically,
"are, as far as I can see, usually sealed before
our long-suffering, incompetent police and"
"And you should be the last to grumble at
this," he quietly interrupted, "for you have
spent some very pleasant half-hours already,
listening to what you have termed my 'cock-and-bull' stories. You know the English Provi-


THE THEFT AT THE BANK 183
dent Bank, of course, in Oxford Street; there
were plenty of sketches of it at the time in the
illustrated papers. Here is a photo of the out-
side. I took it myself some time ago, and
only wished I had been cheeky or lucky enough
to get a snapshot of the interior. But you see
that the office has a separate entrance from the
rest of the house, which was, and still is, as is
usual in such cases, inhabited by the manager
and his family.
"Mr. Ireland was the manager then; it was
less than six months ago. He lived over the
bank, with his wife and family, consisting of a
son, who was clerk in the business, and two
or three younger children. The house is really
smaller than it looks on this photo, for it has
no depth, and only one set of rooms on each floor
looking out into the street, the back of the
house being nothing but the staircase. Mr.
Ireland and his family, therefore, occupied the
whole of it.
"As for the business premises, they were,
and, in fact, are, of the usual pattern; an office
with its rows of desks, clerks, and cashiers,
and beyond, through a glass door, the manager's
private room, with the ponderous safe, and
desk, and so on.
"The private room has a door into the hall
of the house, so that the manager is not obliged
to go out into the street in order to go to business. 


184 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNEK
There are no living-rooms on the ground floor,
and the house has no basement.
"I am obliged to put all these architectural
details before you, though they may sound
rather dry and uninteresting, but they are really
necessary in order to make my argument clear.
"At night, of course, the bank premises are
barred and bolted against the street, and as
an additional precaution there is always a night
watchman in the office. As I mentioned before,
there is only a glass door between the office
and the manager's private room. This, of
course, accounted for the fact that the night
watchman heard all that he did hear, on that
memorable night, and so helped further to
entangle the thread of that impenetrable mys-
tery.
"Mr. Ireland as a rule went into his office
every morning a little before ten o'clock, but
on that particular morning, for some reason
which he never could or would explain, he went
down before having his breakfast at about nine
o'clock. Mrs. Ireland stated subsequently that,
not hearing him return, she sent the servant
down to tell the master that breakfast was
getting cold. The girl's shrieks were the first
intimation that something alarming had oc-
curred.
"Mrs. Ireland hastened downstairs. On reach-
ing the hall she found the door of her husband's 


THE THEFT AT *HE BANK 187
"There remained the other access to the
room, that is, the one through the hall of the
house. The hall door, it appears, was always
barred and bolted by Mr. Ireland himself when
he came home, whether from the theatre or
his club. It was a duty he never allowed anyone to perform but himself. During his annual
holiday, with his wife and family, his son, who
usually had the sub-manager to stay with him
on those occasions, did the bolting and barring—but with the distinct understanding that this
should be done by ten o'clock at night.
"As I have already explained to you, there
is only a glass partition between the general
office and the manager's private room, and,
according to James Fairbairn's account, this
was naturally always left wide open so that
he, during his night watch, would of necessity
hear the faintest sound. As a rule there was
no light left in the manager's room, and the
other door—that leading into the hall—was
bolted from the inside by James Fair- bairn the
moment he had satisfied himself that the pre-
mises were safe, and he had begun his night-
watch. An electric bell in both the offices com-
municated with Mr. Ireland's bedroom and that
of his son, Mr. Robert Ireland, and there was a
telephone installed to the nearest district messen-
ger's office, with an understood signal which
meant 'Police.'


188 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"At nine o'clock in the morning it was the
night watchman's duty, as soon as the first
cashier had arrived, to dust and tidy the mana-
ger's room, and to undo the bolts; after that
he was free to go home to his breakfast and
rest.
"You will see, of course, that James Fairbairn's position in the English Provident Bank is
one of great responsibility and trust; but then in
every bank and business house there are men
who hold similar positions. They are always
men of well-known and tried characters, often
old soldiers with good-conduct records behind
them. James Fairbairn is a fine, powerful
Scotchman; he had been night watchman to
the English Provident Bank for fifteen years,
and was then not more than forty-three or forty-four years old. He is an ex-guardsman, and
stands six feet three inches in his socks.
"It was his evidence, of course, which was of
such paramount importance, and which some-
how or other managed, in spite of the utmost
care exercised by the police, to become public property, and to cause the wildest excitement in
banking and business circles.
"James Fairbairn stated that at eight o'clock
in the evening of March 25th, having bolted
and barred all the shutters and the door of the
bank premises, he was about to lock the manager's
door as usual, when Mr. Ireland called to him 


THE THEFT AT THE BANK 189
from the floor above, telling him to leave that
door open, as he might want to go into the
office again for a minute when he came home
at eleven o'clock. James Fairbairn asked if
he should leave the light on, but Mr. Ireland
said: 'No, turn it out. I can switch it on if I
want it.'
"The night watchman at the English Provi-
dent Bank has permission to smoke; he also is
allowed a nice fire, and a tray consisting of a
plate of substantial sandwiches and one glass of
ale, which he can take when he likes. James
Fairbairn settled himself in front of the fire, lit
his pipe, took out his newspaper, and began to
read. He thought he had heard the street door
open and shut at about a quarter to ten; he supposed that it was Mr. Ireland going out to
his club, but at ten minutes to ten o'clock the
watchman heard the door of the manager's room
open, and someone enter, immediately closing
the glass partition door and turning the key.
"He naturally concluded it was Mr. Ireland
himself.
"From where he sat he could not see into
the room, but he noticed that the electric light
had not been switched on, and that the manager
seemingly had no light but an occasional match.
"' For the minute,' continued James Fair-
bairn, 'a thought did just cross my mind that
something might perhaps be wrong, and I put 


t90 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
my newspaper aside and went to the other end
of the room towards the glass partition. The
manager's room was still quite dark, and I could
not clearly see into it, but the door into the
hall was open, and there was, of course, a light
through there. I had got quite close to the par-
tition, when I saw Mrs. Ireland standing in the
doorway, and heard her saying in a very as-
tonished tone of voice: 'Why, Lewis, I thought
you had gone to your club ages ago. What in
the world are you doing here in the dark?'
"' Lewis is Mr. Ireland's Christian name,' was
James Fairbairn's further statement. 'I did not
hear the manager's reply, but quite satisfied
now that nothing was wrong, I went back to
my pipe and my newspaper. Almost directly
afterwards I heard the manager leave his room,
cross the hall and go out by the street door.
It was only after he had gone that I recollected
that he must have forgotten to unlock the glass
partition and that I could not therefore bolt the
door into the hall the same as usual, and I sup-
pose that is how those confounded thieves got
the better of me.'"


192 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
strangely enough, suspicion had already slightly
touched with its poisoned wing.
"Suspicion is a strong word, perhaps, to use
at this point in the story. No one suspected
anybody at present. James Fairbairn had told
his story, and had vowed that some thief with
false keys must have sneaked through the house
into the inner office.
"Public excitement, you will remember, lost
nothing by waiting. Hardly had we all had time
to wonder over the night watchman's singular evidence, and, pending further and fuller details,
to check our growing sympathy for the man who
was ill, than the sensational side of this mysteri-
ous case culminated in one extraordinary, abso-
lutely unexpected fact. Mrs. Ireland, after a
twenty-four hours' untiring watch beside her
husband's sick bed, had at last been approached
by the detective, and been asked to reply to a
few simple questions, and thus help to throw
some light on the mystery which had caused Mr.
Ireland's illness and her own consequent anxiety.
"She professed herself quite ready to reply
to any questions put to her, and she literally
astounded both inspector and detective when
she firmly and emphatically declared that James
Fairbairn must have been dreaming or asleep
when he thought he saw her in the doorway at
ten o'clock that night, and fancied he heard her
voice.


CONFLICTING EVIDENCE 193
"She may or may not have been down in the
hall at that particular hour, for she usually
ran down herself to see if the last post had
brought any letters, but most certainly she had
neither seen nor spoken to Mr. Ireland at that
hour, for Mr. Ireland had gone out an hour be-
fore, she herself having seen him to the front
door. Never for a moment did she swerve from
this extraordinary statement. She spoke to
James Fairbairn in the presence of the detective,
and told him he must absolutely have been mis-
taken, that she had not seen Mr. Ireland, and
that she had not spoken to him.
"One other person was questioned by the
police, and that was Mr. Robert Ireland, the
manager's eldest son. It was presumed that he
would know something of his father's affairs ,
the idea having now taken firm hold of the
detective's mind that perhaps grave financial
difficulties had tempted the unfortunate manager
to appropriate some of the firm's money.
"Mr. Robert Ireland, however, could not
say very much. His father did not confide in
him to the extent of telling him all his private
affairs, but money never seemed scarce at home
certainly, and Mr. Ireland had, to his son's
knowledge, not a single extravagant habit. He
himself had been dining out with a friend on
that memorable evening, and had gone on with
him the Oxford Music Hall. He met his 


CHAPTER XX
AN ALIBI
"IT was close on six weeks before the doctor
at last allowed his patient to attend to the
grave business which had prostrated him for so
long.
"In the meantime, among the many people
who directly or indirectly were made to suffer
in this mysterious affair, no one, I think, was
more pitied, and more genuinely sympathised
with, than Robert Ireland, the manager's eldest
son.
"You remember that he had been clerk in
the bank? Well, naturally, the moment sus-
picion began to fasten on his father his position
in the business became untenable. I think everyone was very kind to him. Mr. Sutherland
French, who was made acting manager 'during
Mr. Lewis Ireland's regrettable absence,' did
everything in his power to show his goodwill
and sympathy to the young man, but I don't
think that he or anyone else was much astonished
when, after Mrs. Ireland's extraordinary attitude
in the case had become public property, he g 197


198 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
quietly intimated to the acting manager that he
had determined to sever his connection with the
bank.
"The best of recommendations was, of course,
placed at his disposal, and it was finally under-
stood that, as soon as his father was completely
restored to health and would no longer require
his presence in London, he would try to obtain
employment somewhere abroad. He spoke of the
new volunteer corps organised for the military
policing of the new colonies, and, truth to tell,
no one could blame him that he should wish to
leave far behind him all London banking con-
nections. The son's attitude certainly did not
tend to ameliorate the father's position. It was
pretty evident that his own family had ceased
to hope in the poor manager's innocence.
"And yet he was absolutely innocent. You
must remember how that fact was clearly demon-
strated as soon as the poor man was able
to say a word for himself. And he said it to
some purpose, too.
"Mr. Ireland was, and is, very fond of music.
On the evening in question, while sitting in his
club, he saw in one of the daily papers the an-
nouncement of a peculiarly attractive programme
at the Queen's Hall concert. He was not dressed,
but nevertheless felt an irresistible desire to hear
one or two of these attractive musical items,
and he strolled down to the Hall. Now, this sort 


AN ALIBI
109
of alibi is usually very difficult to prove, but
Dame Fortune, oddly enough, favoured Mr.
Ireland on this occasion, probably to compensate
him for the hard knocks she had been dealing
him pretty freely of late.
"It appears that there was some difficulty
about his seat, which was sold to him at the
box office, and which he, nevertheless, found
wrongfully occupied by a determined lady, who
refused to move. The management had to be
appealed to; the attendants also remembered
not only the incident, but also the face and
appearance of the gentleman who was the inno-
cent cause of the altercation.
"As soon as Mr. Ireland could speak for
himself he mentioned the incident and the per-
sons who had been witness to it. He was identi-
fied by them, to the amazement, it must be
confessed, of police and public alike, who had
comfortably decided that no one could be guilty
save the manager of the Provident Bank him-
self. Moreover, Mr. Ireland was a fairly wealthy
man, with a good balance at the Union Bank, and
plenty of private means, the result of years of
provident living.
"He had but to prove that if he really had
been in need of an immediate £5000—which
was all the amount extracted from the bank
safe that night—he had plenty of securities on
which he could, at an hour's notice, have raised 


200 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
twice that sum. His life insurances had been
fully paid up; he had not a debt which a £5 note
could not easily have covered.
"On the fatal night he certainly did remem-
ber asking the watchman not to bolt the door
to his office, as he thought he might have one
or two letters to write when he came home, but
later on he had forgotten all about this. After
the concert he met his son in Oxford Street, just
outside the house, and thought no more about
the office, the door of which was shut, and pre-
sented no unusual appearance.
"Mr. Ireland absolutely denied having been
in his office at the hour when James Fairbairn
positively asserted he heard Mrs. Ireland say
in an astonished tone of voice: 'Why, Lewis,
what in the world are you doing here?' It
became pretty clear therefore that James Fairbairn's view of the manager's wife had been a
mere vision.
"Mr. Ireland gave up his position as manager
of the English Provident: both he and his wife
felt no doubt that on the whole, perhaps, there
had been too much talk, too much scandal con-
nected with their name, to be altogether advan-
tageous to the bank. Moreover, Mr. Ireland's
health was not so good as it had been. He has
a pretty house now at Sittingbourne, and amuses
himself during his leisure hours with amateur
horticulture, and I, who alone in London besides 


AN ALIBI - , 201
the persons directly connected with this mysteri-
ous affair, know the true solution of the enigma,
often wonder how much of it is known to the ex-
manager of the English Provident Bank."
The man in the corner had been silent for
some time. Miss Polly Burton, in her pre-
sumption, had made up her mind, at the com-
mencement of his tale, to listen attentively to
every point of the evidence in connection with
the case which he recapitulated before her, and
to follow the point, in order to try and arrive at
a conclusion of her own, and overwhelm the ante-
diluvian scarecrow with her sagacity.
She said nothing, for she had arrived at no
conclusion; the case puzzled everyone, and had
amazed the public in its various stages, from
the moment when opinion began to cast doubt
on Mr. Ireland's honesty to that when his in-
tegrity was proved beyond a doubt. One or two
people had suspected Mrs. Ireland to have been
the actual thief, but that idea had soon to be
abandoned.
Mrs. Ireland had all the money she wanted;
the theft occurred six months ago, and not a
single bank-note was ever traced to her pocket;
moreover, she must have had an accomplice,
since someone else was in the manager's room
that night; and if that someone else was her
accomplice, why did she risk betraying him by
speaking loudly in the presence of James Fair-


202 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
bairn, when it would have been so much simpler
to turn out the light and plunge the hall into
darkness?
"You are altogether on the wrong track,"
sounded a sharp voice in direct answer to Polly's
thoughts—"altogether wrong. If you want to
acquire my method of induction, and improve
your reasoning power, you must follow my
system. First think of the one absolutely un-
disputed, positive fact. You must have a start-
ing-point, and not go wandering about in the
realms of suppositions."
"But there are no positive facts," she said
irritably.
"You don't say so?" he said quietly. "Do
you not call it a positive fact that the bank safe
was robbed of £5000 on the evening of March 25th
before 11.30 p.m."
"Yes, that is all which is positive and"
"Do you not call it a positive fact," he in-
terrupted quietly, "that the lock of the safe not
being picked, it must have been opened by its
own key?"
"I know that," she rejoined crossly, "and that
is why everyone agreed that James Fairbairn
could not possibly"
"And do you not call it a positive fact, then,
that James Fairbairn could not possibly, etc.,
etc., seeing that the glass partition door was
locked from the inside; Mrs. Ireland herself let 


AN ALIBI 203
James Fairbairn into her husband's office when
she saw him lying fainting before the open safe.
Of course that was a positive fact, and so was
the one that proved to any thinking mind that
if that safe was opened with a key, it could only
have been done by a person having access to
that key."
"But the man in the private office""Exactly! the man in the private office.
Enumerate his points, if you please," said the
funny creature, marking each point with one of
his favourite knots. "He was a man who might
that night have had access to the key of the safe,
unsuspected by the manager or even his wife, and
a man for whom Mrs. Ireland was willing to tell
a downright lie. Are there many men for whom
a woman of the better middle class, and an
Englishwoman, would be ready to perjure her-
self? Surely not! She might do it for her
husband. The public thought she had. It never
struck them that she might have done it for her
son!"
"Her son!" exclaimed Polly.
"Ah! she was a clever woman," he ejaculated
enthusiastically, "one with courage and presence
of mind, which I don't think I have ever seen
equalled. She runs downstairs before going to
bed in order to see whether the last post has
brought any letters. She sees the door of her
husband's office ajar, she pushes it open, and


^04 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
there, by the sudden flash of a hastily struck
match, she realises in a moment that a thief
stands before the open safe, and in that thief
she has already recognised her son. At that very
moment she hears the watchman's step approach-
ing the partition. There is no time to warn her
son; she does not know the glass door is locked;
James Fairbairn may switch on the electric light
and see the young man in the very act of robbing
his employers' safe.
"One thing alone can reassure the watchman.
One person alone had the right to be there at
that hour of the night, and without hesitation
she pronounces her husband's name.
"Mind you, I firmly believe that at the time
the poor woman only wished to gain time, that
she had every hope that her son had not yet
had the opportunity to lay so heavy a guilt upon
his conscience.
"What passed between mother and son we
shall never know, but this much we do know,
that the young villain made off with his booty,
and trusted that his mother would never betray
him. Poor woman! what a night of it she must
have spent; but she was clever and far-seeing.
She knew that her husband's character could
not suffer through her action. Accordingly, she
took the only course open to her to save her son
even from his father's wrath, and boldly denied
James Fairbairn's statement.


AN ALIBI
205
"Of course, she was fully aware that her
husband could easily clear himself, and the
worst that could be said of her was that she
had thought him guilty and had tried to save
him. She trusted to the future to clear her of
any charge of complicity in the theft.
"By now everyone has forgotten most of the
circumstances; the police are still watching the
career of James Fairbairn and Mrs. Ireland's
expenditure. As you know, not a single note, so
far, has been traced to her. Against that, one
or two of the notes have found their way back
to England. No one realises how easy it is to
cash English bank-notes at the smaller agents de change abroad. The changeurs are only too glad
to get them; what do they care where they
come from as long as they are genuine? And a
week or two later M. le Changeur could not swear
who tendered him any one particular note.
"You see, young Robert Ireland went abroad;
he will come back some day having made a for-
tune. There's his photo. And this is his mother
—a clever woman, wasn't she?"
And before Polly had time to reply he was
gone. She really had never seen anyone move
across a room so quickly. But he always left
an interesting trail behind: a piece of string
knotted from end to end and a few photos.


CHAPTER XXI
THE DUBLIN MYSTERY
"I ALWAYS thought that the history of that
forged will was about as interesting as any
I had read," said the man in the corner that day.
He had been silent for some time, and was medi-
tatively sorting and looking through a packet of
small photographs in his pocket-book. Polly
guessed that some of these would presently be
placed before her for inspection—and she had
not long to wait.
"That is old Brooks," he said, pointing to
one of the photographs, "Millionaire Brooks,
as he was called, and these are his two sons,
Percival and Murray. It was a curious case,
wasn't it? Personally I don't wonder that the
police were completely at sea. If a member of
that highly estimable force happened to be as
clever as the clever author of that forged will,
we should have very few undetected crimes in
this country."
"That is why I always try to persuade you
to give our poor ignorant police the benefit of
206


THE DUBLIN MYSTERY 207
your great insight and wisdom," said Polly, with
a smile.
"I know," he said blandly, "you have been
most kind in that way, but I am only an amateur.
Crime interests me only when it resembles a
clever game of chess, with many intricate moves
which all tend to one solution, the checkmating
of the antagonist—the detective force of the
country. Now, confess that, in the Dublin
mystery, the clever police there were absolutely
checkmated." "Absolutely."
"Just as the public was. There were actually
two crimes committed in one city which have
completely baffled detection: the murder of Pat-
rick Wethered the lawyer, and the forged will of
Millionaire Brooks. There are not many million-
aires in Ireland; no wonder old Brooks was a
notability in his way, since his business—bacon
curing, I believe it is—is said to be worth over
£2,000,000 of solid money.
"His younger son Murray was a refined,
highly-educated man, and was, moreover, the
apple of his father's eye, as he was the spoilt
darling of Dublin society; good-looking, a
splendid dancer, and a perfect rider, he was the
acknowledged 'catch ' of the matrimonial market
of Ireland, and many a very aristocratic house
was opened hospitably to the favourite son of
the millionaire.


208 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Of course, Percival Brooks, the eldest son,
would inherit the bulk of the old man's property
and also probably the larger share of the busi-
ness; he, too, was good-looking, more so than
his brother; he, too, rode, danced, and talked
well, but it was many years ago that mammas
with marriageable daughters had given up all
hopes of Percival Brooks as a probable son-in-law. That young man's infatuation for Maisie
Fortescue, a lady of undoubted charm but very
doubtful antecedents, who had astonished the
London and Dublin music-halls with her extra-
vagant dances, was too well known and too old-established to encourage any hopes in other
quarters.
"Whether Percival Brooks would ever marry
Maisie Fortescue was thought to be very doubt-
ful. Old Brooks had the full disposal of all
his wealth, and it would have fared ill with
Percival if he introduced an undesirable wife
into the magnificent Fitzwilliam Place establish-
ment.
"That is how matters stood," continued the
man in the corner, "when Dublin society one
morning learnt, with deep regret and dismay,
that old Brooks had died very suddenly at his
residence after only a few hours' illness. At
first it was generally understood that he had
had an apoplectic stroke; anyway, he had been
at business hale and hearty as ever the day before 


THE DUBLIN MYSTERY 208
his death, which occurred late on the evening of
February 1st.
"It was the morning papers of February 2nd
which told the sad news to their readers, and it
was those self-same papers which on that eventful
morning contained another even more startling
piece of news, that proved the prelude to a
series of sensations such as tranquil, placid
Dublin had not experienced for many years.
This was, that on that very afternoon which saw
the death of Dublin's greatest millionaire, Mr.
Patrick Wethered, his solicitor, was murdered in
Phoenix Park at five o'clock in the afternoon
while actually walking to his own house from
his visit to his client in Fitzwilliam Place.
"Patrick Wethered was as well known as the
proverbial town pump; his mysterious and
tragic death filled all Dublin with dismay. The
lawyer, who was a man sixty years of age, had
been struck on the back of the head by a heavy
stick, garrotted, and subsequently robbed, for
neither money, watch, or pocket-book were found
upon his person, whilst the police soon gathered
from Patrick Wethered's household that he had
left home at two o'clock that afternoon, carrying
both watch and pocket-book, and undoubtedly
money as well.
"An inquest was held, and a verdict of
wilful murder was found against some person or
persons unknown.


tlO THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"But Dublin had not exhausted its stock of
sensations yet. Millionaire Brooks had been
buried with due pomp and magnificence, and
his will had been proved (his business and per-
sonalty being estimated at £2,500,000) by
Percival Gordon Brooks, his eldest son and sole
executor. The younger son, Murray, who had
devoted the best years of his life to being a friend
and companion to his father, while Percival ran
after ballet-dancers and music-hall stars—Murray,
who had avowedly been the apple of his father's
eye in consequence—was left with a miserly
pittance of £300 a year, and no share whatever
in the gigantic business of Brooks & Sons, bacon
curers, of Dublin.
"Something had evidently happened within
the precincts of the Brooks' town mansion, which
the public and Dublin society tried in vain to
fathom. Elderly mammas and blushing debu-
tantes were already thinking of the best means
whereby next season they might more easily
show the cold shoulder to young Murray Brooks,
who had so suddenly become a hopeless 'detri-
mental' in the marriage market, when all these
sensations terminated in one gigantic, over-
whelming bit of scandal, which for the next three
months furnished food for gossip in every draw-
ing-room in Dublin.
"Mr. Murray Brooks, namely, had entered a
claim for probate of a will, made by his father in 


THE DUBLIN MYSTERY 211
1891, declaring that the later will, made the very
day of his father's death and proved by his
brother as sole executor, was null and void, that
will being a forgery."


FORGERY
213
given up his racecourse associates, settled down
in the Fitzwilliam Place mansion, and conducted
his father's business, without a manager, but
with all the energy and forethought which he
had previously devoted to more unworthy causes.
"Murray had elected not to stay on in the
old house; no doubt associations were of too
painful and recent a nature; he was boarding
with the family of a Mr. Wilson Hibbert, who
was the late Patrick Wethered's, the murdered
lawyer's, partner. They were quiet, homely
people, who lived in a very pokey little house
in Kilkenny Street, and poor Murray must, in
spite of his grief, have felt very bitterly the
change from his luxurious quarters in his father's
mansion to his present tiny room and homely
meals.
"Percival Brooks, who was now drawing an
income of over a hundred thousand a year, was
very severely criticised for adhering so strictly
to the letter of his father's will, and only paying
his brother that paltry £300 a year, which was
very literally but the crumbs off his own magni-
ficent dinner table.
"The issue of that contested will case was
therefore awaited with eager interest. In the
meanwhile the police, who had at first seemed
fairly loquacious on the subject of the murder
of Mr. Patrick Wethered, suddenly became
strangely reticent, and by their very reticence 


FORGERY 215
Brooks during a severe illness which threatened
to end his days. This will had been deposited
in the hands of Messrs. Wethered and Hibbert,
solicitors to the deceased, and by it Mr. Brooks
left his personalty equally divided between his
two sons, but had left his business entirely to his
youngest son, with a charge of £2000 a year upon
it, payable to Percival. You see that Murray
Brooks therefore had a very deep interest in
that second will being found null and void.
"Old Mr. Hibbert had very ably instructed
his son, and Walter Hibbert's opening speech
was exceedingly clever. He would show, he said,
on behalf of his client, that the will dated
February 1st, 1908, could never have been made
by the late Mr. Brooks, as it was absolutely con-
trary to his avowed intentions, and that if the
late Mr. Brooks did on the day in question make
any fresh will at all, it certainly was not the one
proved by Mr. Percival Brooks, for that was
absolutely a forgery from beginning to end. Mr.
Walter Hibbert proposed to call several witnesses
in support of both these points.
"On the other hand, Mr. Henry Oranmore,
K.C., very ably and courteously replied that he
too had several witnesses to prove that Mr.
Brooks certainly did make a will on the day in
question, and that, whatever his intentions may
have been in the past, he must have modified
them on the day of his death, for the will proved 


216 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
by Mr. Percival Brooks was found after his death
under his pillow, duly signed and witnessed and
in every way legal.
"Then the battle began in sober earnest.
There were a great many witnesses to be called
on both sides, their evidence being of more or
less importance—chiefly less. But the interest
centred round the prosaic figure of John O'Neill,
the butler at Fitzwilliam Place, who had been in
Mr. Brooks' family for thirty years.
"'I was clearing away my breakfast things,'
said John, 'when I heard the master's voice in
the study close by. Oh, my, he was that angry!
I could hear the words " disgrace," and "villain,"
and "liar," and "ballet-dancer," and one or
two other ugly words as applied to some female
lady, which I would not like to repeat. At first
I did not take much notice, as I was quite used
to hearing my poor dear master having words
with Mr. Percival. So I went downstairs carry-
ing my breakfast things; but I had just started
cleaning my silver when the study bell goes ring-
ing violently, and I hear Mr. Percival's voice
shouting in the hall: "John! quick! Send for
Dr. Mulligan at once. Your master is not well 1
Send one of the men, and you come up and help
me to get Mr. Brooks to bed."
"' I sent one of the grooms for the doctor,'
continued John, who seemed still affected at the
recollection of his poor master, to whom he had 


FORGERY 217
evidently been very much attached, 'and I went
up to see Mr. Brooks. I found him lying on the
study floor, his head supported in Mr. Percival's
arms. "My father has fallen in a faint," said
the young master; "help me to get him up to
his room before Dr. Mulligan comes."
"' Mr. Percival looked very white and upset,
which was only natural; and when we had got
my poor master to bed, I asked if I should not
go and break the news to Mr. Murray, who had
gone to business an hour ago. However, before
Mr. Percival had time to give me an order the
doctor came. I thought I had seen death plainly writ in my master's face, and when I showed the
doctor out an hour later, and he told me that he
would be back directly, I knew that the end was
near.
"' Mr. Brooks rang for me a minute or two
later. He told me to send at once for Mr.
Wethered, or else for Mr. Hibbert, if Mr. Wethered
could not come. "I haven't many hours to live,
John," he says to me—"my heart is broke, the
doctor says my heart is broke. A man shouldn't
marry and have children, John, for they will
sooner or later break his heart." I was so upset
I couldn't speak; but I sent round at once for
Mr. Wethered, who came himself just about
three o'clock that afternoon.
"' After he had been with my master about
an hour I was called in, and Mr. Wethered said 


218 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
to me that Mr. Brooks wished me and one other
of us servants to witness that he had signed a
paper which was on a table by his bedside. I
called Pat Mooney, the head footman, and before
us both Mr. Brooks put his name at the bottom
of that paper. Then Mr. Wethered give me the
pen and told me to write my name as a witness,
and that Pat Mooney was to do the same. After
that we were both told that we could go.'
"The old butler went on to explain that he
was present in his late master's room on the
following day when the undertakers, who had
come to lay the dead man out, found a paper
underneath his pillow. John O'Neill, who recog-
nised the paper as the one to which he had
appended his signature the day before, took it to
Mr. Percival, and gave it into his hands.
"In answer to Mr. Walter Hibbert, John
asserted positively that he took the paper from
the undertaker's hand and went straight with it
to Mr. Percival's room.
"' He was alone,' said John *, 'I gave him the
paper. He just glanced at it, and I thought he
looked rather astonished, but he said nothing,
and I at once left the room.'
"'When you say that you recognised the
paper as the one which you had seen your master
sign the day before, how did you actually recog-
nise that it was the same paper?' asked Mr.
Hibbert amidst breathless interest on the part of 


FORGERY
the spectators. I narrowly observed the witness' face.
"' It looked exactly the same paper to me, sir,'
replied John, somewhat vaguely.
"' Did you look at the contents, then?'
"' No, sir; certainly not.'
"'Had you done so the day before?'
"' No, sir, only at my master's signature.'
"' Then you only thought by the outside look
of the paper that it was the same?'
"' It looked the same thing, sir,' persisted
John obstinately.
"You see," continued the man in the corner,
leaning eagerly forward across the narrow marble
table, "the contention of Murray Brooks' adviser
was that Mr. Brooks, having made a will and
hidden it—for some reason or other, under his
pillow—that will had fallen, through the means
related by John O'Neill, into the hands of Mr.
Percival Brooks, who had destroyed it and sub-
stituted a forged one in its place, which adjudged
the whole of Mr. Brooks' millions to himself.
It was a terrible and very daring accusation
directed against a gentleman who, in spite
of his many wild oats sowed in early youth,
was a prominent and important figure in Irish
high-life.
"All those present were aghast at what they
heard, and the whispered comments I could hear
around me showed me that public opinion, at 


220 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
least, did not uphold Mr. Murray Brooks' daring accusation against his brother.
"But John O'Neill had not finished his evi-
dence, and Mr. Walter Hibbert had a bit of
sensation still up his sleeve. He had, namely,
produced a paper, the will proved by Mr. Percival Brooks, and had asked John O'Neill if once again
he recognised the paper.
"' Certainly, sir,' said John unhesitatingly,
'that is the one the undertaker found under my
poor dead master's pillow, and which I took to
Mr. Percival's room immediately.'
"Then the paper was unfolded and placed
before the witness.
"'Now, Mr. O'Neill, will you tell me if that
is your signature?'
"John looked at it for a moment; then he
said, 'Excuse me, sir,' and produced a pair of
spectacles which he carefully adjusted before he
again examined the paper. Then he thoughtfully
shook his head.
"' It don't look much like my writing, sir,'
he said at last. 'That is to say,' he added,
by way of elucidating the matter, 'it does
look like my writing, but then I don't think
it is.'
"There was at that moment a look in Mr.
Percival Brooks' face," continued the man in the
corner quietly, "which then and there gave me
the whole history of that quarrel, that illness of 


FORGERY 221
Mr. Brooks, of the will, aye ! and of the murder
of Patrick Wethered too.
"All I wondered at was how every one of
those learned counsel on both sides did not get
the clue just the same as I did, but went on
arguing, speechifying, cross-examining for nearly
a week, until they arrived at the one conclusion
which was inevitable from the very first, namely,
that the will was a forgery—a gross, clumsy,
idiotic forgery, since both John O'Neill and Pat
Mooney, the two witnesses, absolutely repudiated
the signatures as their own. The only successful
bit of caligraphy the forger had done was the
signature of old Mr. Brooks.
"It was a very curious fact, and one which
had undoubtedly aided the forger in accomplish-
ing his work quickly, that Mr. Wethered the
lawyer having, no doubt, realised that Mr.
Brooks had not many moments in life to spare,
had not drawn up the usual engrossed, magnificent
document dear to the lawyer heart, but had used
for his client's will one of those regular printed
forms which can be purchased at any stationer's.
"Mr. Percival Brooks, of course, flatly denied
the serious allegation brought against him. He
admitted that the butler had brought him the
document the morning after his father's death,
and that he certainly, on glancing at it, had been
very much astonished to see that that document
was his father's will. Against that he declared 


FORGERY
already been established beyond a doubt, namely,
that the will dated February ist, 1908, was a
forgery, and probate of the will dated 1891 was
therefore granted to Mr. Murray Brooks, the sole
executor mentioned therein."


CHAPTER XXIII
A MEMORABLE DAY
"Two days later the police applied for a
JL warrant for the arrest of Mr. Percival
Brooks on a charge of forgery.
"The Crown prosecuted, and Mr. Brooks had
again the support of Mr. Oranmore, the eminent
K.C. Perfectly calm, like a man conscious of
his own innocence and unable to grasp the idea
that justice does sometimes miscarry, Mr. Brooks,
the son of the millionaire, himself still the pos-
sessor of a very large fortune under the former
will, stood up in the dock on that memorable day
in October, 1908, which still no doubt lives in
the memory of his many friends.
"All the evidence with regard to Mr. Brooks'
last moments and the forged will was gone
through over again. That will, it was the con-
tention of the Crown, had been forged so entirely
in favour of the accused, cutting out everyone
else, that obviously no one but the beneficiary
under that false will would have had any motive
in forging it.
"Very pale, and with a frown between his 224


A MEMORABLE DAT 225
deep-set, handsome Irish eyes, Percival Brooks
listened to this large volume of evidence piled
up against him by the Crown.
"At times he held brief consultations with
Mr. Oranmore, who seemed as cool as a cucumber.
Have you ever seen Oranmore in court? He is
a character worthy of Dickens. His pronounced
brogue, his fat, podgy, clean-shaven face, his not
always immaculately clean large hands, have
often delighted the caricaturist. As it very soon
transpired during that memorable magisterial
inquiry, he relied for a verdict in favour of his
client upon two main points, and he had concen-
trated all his skill upon making these two points
as telling as he possibly could.
"The first point was the question of time.
John O'Neill, cross-examined by Oranmore,
stated without hesitation that he had given the
will to Mr. Percival at eleven o'clock in the
morning. And now the eminent K.C. brought
forward and placed in the witness-box the very
lawyers into whose hands the accused had then
immediately placed the will. Now, Mr. Barkston,
a very well-known solicitor of King Street, de-
clared positively that Mr. Percival Brooks was
in his office at a quarter before twelve; two of
his clerks testified to the same time exactly, and
it was impossible, contended Mr. Oranmore, that
within three-quarters of an hour Mr. Brooks could have gone to a stationer's, bought a will 


126 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
form, copied Mr. Wethered's writing, his father's
signature, and that of John O'Neill and Pat
Mooney.
"Such a thing might have been planned,
arranged, practised, and ultimately, after a great
deal of trouble, successfully carried out, but
human intelligence could not grasp the other as
a possibility.
"Still the judge wavered. The eminent K.G.
had shaken but not shattered his belief in the
prisoner's guilt. But there was one point more,
and this Oranmore, with the skill of a dramatist,
had reserved for the fall of the curtain.
"He noted every sign in the judge's face, he
guessed that his client was not yet absolutely
safe, then only did he produce his last two
witnesses.
"One of them was Mary Sullivan, one of the
housemaids in the Fitzwilliam mansion. She
had been sent up by the cook at a quarter past
four o'clock on the afternoon of February 1st
with some hot water, which the nurse had ordered,
for the master's room. Just as she was about to
knock at the door Mr. Wethered was coming out
of the room. Mary stopped with the tray in her
hand, and at the door Mr. Wethered turned and
said quite loudly: 'Now, don't fret, don't be
anxious; do try and be calm. Your will is safe
in my pocket, nothing can change it or alter one
word of it but yourself.'


A MEMORABLE DAY 227
"It was, of course, a very ticklish point ir.
law whether the housemaid's evidence could be
accepted. You see, she was quoting the words
of a man since dead, spoken to another man also
dead. There is no doubt that had there been
very strong evidence on the other side against
Percival Brooks, Mary Sullivan's would have
counted for nothing; but, as I told you before,
the judge's belief in the prisoner's guilt was
already very seriously shaken, and now the final
blow aimed at it by Mr. Oranmore shattered his
last lingering doubt.
"Dr. Mulligan, namely, had been placed by
Mr. Oranmore into the witness-box. He was a
medical man of unimpeachable authority, in fact,
absolutely at the head of his profession in Dublin.
What he said practically corroborated Mary
Sullivan's testimony. He had gone in to see
Mr. Brooks at half-past four, and understood
from him that his lawyer had just left him.
"Mr. Brooks certainly, though terribly weak,
was calm and more composed. He was dying
from a sudden heart attack, and Dr. Mulligan
foresaw the almost immediate end. But he was
still conscious and managed to murmur feebly:
'I feel much easier in my mind now, doctor—I have made my will—Wethered has been—he's
got it in his pocket—it is safe there—safe from
that * But the words died on his lips, and after that he spoke but little. He saw his two 


228 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
sons before he died, but hardly knew them or
even looked at them."
"You see," concluded the man in the corner,
"you see that the prosecution was bound to collapse. Oranmore did not give it a leg to stand
on. The will was forged, it is true, forged in
the favour of Percival Brooks and of no one else,
forged for him and for his benefit. Whether he
knew and connived at the forgery was never
proved or, as far as I know, even hinted, but it
was impossible to go against all the evidence,
which pointed that, as far as the act itself was
concerned, he at least was innocent. You see,
Dr. Mulligan's evidence was not to be shaken.
Mary Sullivan's was equally strong.
"There were two witnesses swearing positively
that old Brooks' will was in Mr. Wethered's keep-
ing when that gentleman left the Fitzwilliam man-
sion at a quarter past four. At five o'clock in the
afternoon the lawyer was found dead in Phoenix
Park. Between a quarter past four and eight
o'clock in the evening Percival Brooks never left
the house—that was subsequently proved by
Oranmore up to the hilt and beyond a doubt.
Since the will found under old Brooks' pillow
was a forged will, where then was the will he
did make, and which Wethered carried away
with him in his pocket?"
"Stolen, of course," said Polly, "by those who
murdered and robbed him; it may have been 


A MEMORABLE DAT 220
of no value to them, but they naturally would
destroy it, lest it might prover a clue against
them."
"Then you think it was mere coincidence?"
he asked excitedly.
"What?"
"That Wethered was murdered and robbed
at the very moment that he carried the will in
his pocket, whilst another was being forged in its
place?"
"It certainly would be very curious, if it were
a coincidence," she said musingly.
"Very," he repeated with biting sarcasm,
whilst nervously his bony fingers played with
the inevitable bit of string. "Very curious in-
deed. Just think of the whole thing. There was
the old man with all his wealth, and two sons,
one to whom he is devoted, and the other with
whom he does nothing but quarrel. One day
there is another of these quarrels, but more
violent, more terrible than any that have previ-
ously occurred, with the result that the father,
heartbroken by it all, has an attack of apoplexy
and practically dies of a broken heart. After that
he alters his will, and subsequently a will is
proved which turns out to be a forgery.
"Now everybody—police, press, and public alike—at once jump to the conclusion that, as
Percival Brooks benefits by that forged will,
Percival Brooks must be the forger."
H


230 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Seek for him whom the crime benefits, is your own axiom," argued the girl."I beg your pardon?"
"Percival Brooks benefited to the tune of
£2,000,000."
"I beg your pardon. He did nothing of the
sort. He was left with less than half the share
that his younger brother inherited."
"Now, yes; but that was a former will
and"
"And that forged will was so clumsily exe-
cuted, the signature so carelessly imitated, that
the forgery was bound to come to light. Did
that never strike you?"
"Yes, but"
"There is no but," he interrupted. "It was
all as clear as daylight to me from the very first.
The quarrel with the old man, which broke his heart, was not with his eldest son, with whom
he was used to quarrelling, but with the second
son whom he idolised, in whom he believed.
Don't you remember how John O'Neill heard the
words 'liar' and 'deceit'? Percival Brooks
had never deceived his father. His sins were all
on the surface. Murray had led a quiet life, had
pandered to his father, and fawned upon him,
until, like most hypocrites, he at last got found
out. Who knows what ugly gambling debt or
debt of honour, suddenly revealed to old Brooks,
was the cause of that last and deadly quarrel?


A MEMORABLE DAY 231
"You remember that it was Percival who re-
mained beside his father and carried him up to
his room. Where was Murray throughout that
long and painful day, when his father lay dying
—he, the idolised son, the apple of the old man's
eye? You never hear his name mentioned as
being present there all that day. But he knew
that he had offended his father mortally, and
that his father meant to cut him off with a
shilling. He knew that Mr. Wethered had been
sent for, that Wethered left the house soon after
four o'clock.
"And here the cleverness of the man comes in.
Having lain in wait for Wethered and knocked
him on the back of the head with a stick, he could
not very well make that will disappear altogether.
There remained the faint chance of some other
witnesses knowing that Mr. Brooks had made a
fresh will, Mr. Wethered's partner, his clerk, or
one of the confidential servants in the house.
Therefore a will must be discovered after the old
man's death.
"Now, Murray Brooks was not an expert
forger, it takes years of training to become that.
A forged will executed by himself would be sure
to be found out—yes, that's it, sure to be found
out. The forgery will be palpable—let it be
palpable, and then it will be found out, branded
as such, and the original will of 1891, so favour-
able to the young blackguard's interests, would be 


X32 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
held as valid. Was it devilry or merely additional
caution which prompted Murray to pen that
forged will so glaringly in Percival's favour? It
is impossible to say.
"Anyhow, it was the cleverest touch in that
marvellously devised crime. To plan that evil
deed was great, to execute it was easy enough.
He had several hours' leisure in which to do it.
Then at night it was simplicity itself to slip the
document under the dead man's pillow. Sacrilege
causes no shudder to such natures as Murray
Brooks. The rest of the drama you know al-
ready"
"But Percival Brooks?"
"The jury returned a verdict of 'Not guilty.'
There was no evidence against him."
"But the money? Surely the scoundrel does
not have the enjoyment of it still?"
"No; he enjoyed it for a time, but he died
about three months ago, and forgot to take the
precaution of making a will, so his brother
Percival has got the business after all. If you
ever go to Dublin, I should order some of Brooks'
bacon if I were you. It is very good."


CHAPTER XXIV
AN UNPARALLELED OUTRAGE
M TTVO you care for the seaside?" asked the
man in the corner when he had finished
his lunch. "I don't mean the seaside at Ostend
or Trouville, but honest English seaside with
nigger minstrels, three-shilling excursionists, and
dirty, expensive furnished apartments, where
they charge you a shilling for lighting the hall
gas on Sundays and sixpence on other evenings.
Do you care for that?""I prefer the country."
"Ah! perhaps it is preferable. Personally I
only liked one of our English seaside resorts once,
and that was for a week, when Edward Skinner
was up before the magistrate, charged with what
was known as the 'Brighton Outrage.' I don't
know if you remember the memorable day in
Brighton, memorable for that elegant town, which
deals more in amusements than mysteries, when
Mr. Francis Morton, one of its most noted resi-
dents, disappeared. Yes! disappeared as com-
pletely as any vanishing lady in a music-hall.
He was wealthy, had a fine house, servants, a
»33


234 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
wife and children, and he disappeared. There
was no getting away from that.
"Mr. Francis Morton lived with his wife in
one of the large houses in Sussex Square at the
Kemp Town end of Brighton. Mrs. Morton was
well known for her Americanisms, her swagger
dinner parties, and beautiful Paris gowns. She
was the daughter of one of the many American
millionaires (I think her father was a Chicago
pork-butcher), who conveniently provide wealthy
wives for English gentlemen; and she had
married Mr. Francis Morton a few years ago
and brought him her quarter of a million, for no
other reason but that she fell in love with him.
He was neither good-looking nor distinguished,
in fact, he was one of those men who seem to
have City stamped all over their person.
"He was a gentleman of very regular habits,
going up to London every morning on business
and returning every afternoon by the 'husband's
train.' So regular was he in these habits that
all the servants at the Sussex Square house were
betrayed into actual gossip over the fact that on
Wednesday, March 17th, the master was not
home for dinner. Hales, the butler, remarked
that the mistress seemed a bit anxious and didn't
eat much food. The evening wore on and Mr.
Morton did not appear. At nine o'clock the
young footman was dispatched to the station to
make inquiries whether his master had been seen 


AN UNPARALLELED OUTRAGE 235
there in the afternoon, or whether—which
Heaven forbid—there had been an accident on
the line. The young man interviewed two or
three porters, the bookstall boy, and ticket clerk;
all were agreed that Mr. Morton did not go up
to London during the day; no one had seen him
within the precincts of the station. There cer-
tainly had been no accident reported either on
the up or down line.
"But the morning of the 18th came, with its
usual postman's knock, but neither Mr. Morton
nor any sign or news from him. Mrs. Morton,
who evidently had spent a sleepless night, for
she looked sadly changed and haggard, sent a
wire to the hall porter at the large building in
Cannon Street, where her husband had his office.
An hour later she had the reply: 'Not seen Mr.
Morton all day yesterday, not here to-day.' By
the afternoon everyone in Brighton knew that
a fellow-resident had mysteriously disappeared
from or in the city.
"A couple of days, then another, elapsed, and
still no sign of Mr. Morton. The police were
doing their best. The gentleman was so well
known in Brighton—as he had been a resident
two years —that it was not difficult to firmly es-
tablish the one fact that he had not left the city,
since no one saw him in the station on the morn-
ing of the 17th, nor at any time since then. Mild
excitement prevailed throughout the town. At 


238 THE OLD MAX IN THE CORNER
first the newspapers took the matter somewhat
jocosely. 'Where is Mr. Morton?' was the
usual placard on the evening's contents bills, but
after three days had gone by and the worthy
Brighton resident was still missing, while Mrs.
Morton was seen to look more haggard and care-
worn every day, mild excitement gave place to
anxiety.
"There were vague hints now as to foul play.
The news had leaked out that the missing gentle-
man was carrying a large sum of money on the
day of his disappearance. There were also vague
rumours of a scandal not unconnected with Mrs.
Morton herself and her own past history, which
in her anxiety for her husband she had been
forced to reveal to the detective-inspector in
charge of the case.
"Then on Saturday the news which the late
evening papers contained was this:
"' Acting on certain information received, the
police to-day forced an entrance into one of the
rooms of Russell House, a high-class furnished
apartment on the King's Parade, and there they
discovered our missing distinguished townsman,
Mr. Francis Morton, who had been robbed and
subsequently locked up in that room since Wed-
nesday, the 17th. When discovered he was in the
last stages of inanition , he was tied into an arm-
chair with ropes, a thick wool shawl had been
wound round his mouth, and it is a positive 


CHAPTER XXV
THE PRISONER
*' T REALLY don't know," continued the man
in the corner blandly, "what it was that
interested me in the case from the very first.
Certainly it had nothing very out of the way or
mysterious about it, but I journeyed down to
Brighton nevertheless, as I felt that something
deeper and more subtle lay behind that ex-
traordinary assault, following a robbery, no
doubt.
"I must tell you that the police had allowed
it to be freely circulated abroad that they held
a clue. It had been easy enough to ascertain
who the lodger was who had rented the furnished
room in Russell House. His name was sup-
posed to be Edward Skinner, and he had taken
the room about a fortnight ago, but had gone
away ostensibly for two or three days on the
very day of Mr. Morton's mysterious disappear-
ance. It was on the 20th that Mr. Morton was
found, and thirty-six hours later the public were
gratified to hear that Mr. Edward Skinner had
been traced to London and arrested on the charge 2)8


THE PRISONER 239
of assault upon the person of Mr. Francis Morton
and of robbing him of the sum of £10,000.
"Then a further sensation was added to the
already bewildering case by the startling an-
nouncement that Mr. Francis Morton refused to
prosecute.
"Of course, the Treasury took up the case and
subpoenaed Mr. Morton as a witness, so that
gentleman—if he wished to hush the matter up,
or had been in any way terrorised into a promise
of doing so—gained nothing by his refusal, except
an additional amount of curiosity in the public mind and further sensation around the mysterious
case.
"It was all this, you see, which had interested
me and brought me down to Brighton on March
23rd to see the prisoner, Edward Skinner, arraigned
before the beak. I must say that he was a very
ordinary-looking individual. Fair, of ruddy com-
plexion, with snub nose and the beginning of a
bald place on the top of his head, he, too, looked
the embodiment of a prosperous, stodgy 'City
gent.'
"I took a quick survey of the witnesses present,
and guessed that the handsome, stylish woman
sitting next to Mr. Reginald Pepys, the noted
lawyer for the Crown, was Mrs. Morton.
"There was a large crowd in court, and I
heard whispered comments among the feminine
portion thereof as to the beauty of Mrs. Morton's 


240 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
gown, the value of her large picture hat, and the
magnificence of her diamond rings.
"The police gave all the evidence required
with regard to the finding of Mr. Morton in the
room at Russell House and also to the arrest of
Skinner at the Langham Hotel in London. It
appears that the prisoner seemed completely
taken aback at the charge preferred against him,
and declared that though he knew Mr. Francis
Morton slightly in business he knew nothing as
to his private life.
"' Prisoner stated,' continued Inspector Buckle,
'that he was not even aware Mr. Morton lived in
Brighton, but I have evidence here, which I will
place before your Honour, to prove that the
prisoner was seen in the company of Mr. Morton
at 9.30 o'clock on the morning of the assault.'
"Cross-examined by Mr. Matthew Quiller, the
detective-inspector admitted that prisoner merely
said that he did not know that Mr. Morton was
a resident of Brighton—he never denied having
met him there.
"The witness, or rather witnesses, referred to
by the police were two Brighton tradesmen who
knew Mr. Morton by sight and had seen him on the
morning of the 17th walking with the accused.
"In this instance Mr. Quiller had no question
to ask of the witnesses, and it was generally
understood that the prisoner did not wish to con-
^ttodiot their statement.


242 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
called at her house and gave his name as Mr.
Edward Skinner.
"' He required, he said, a furnished room at a
moderate rental for a permanency, with full
attendance when he was in, but he added that
he would often be away for two or three days,
or even longer, at a time.
"' He told me that he was a traveller for a
tea-house,' continued Mrs. Chapman, 'and I
showed him the front room on the third floor,
as he did not want to pay more than twelve
shillings a week. I asked him for a reference,
but he put three sovereigns in my hand, and said
with a laugh that he supposed paying for his
room a month in advance was sufficient refer-
ence; if I didn't like him after that, I could
give him a week's notice to quit.'
"'You did not think of asking him the name
of the firm for which he travelled?' asked Mr.
Pepys.
"' No, I was quite satisfied as he paid me for
the room. The next day he sent in his luggage
and took possession of the room. He went out
most mornings on business, but was always in
Brighton for Saturday and Sunday. On the 16th
he told me that he was going to Liverpool for a
couple of days; he slept in the house that night,
and went off early on the 17th, taking his port-
manteau with him.'
"'At what time did he leave?' asked Mr. Pepys,


THE PRISONER 243
** * I couldn't say exactly,' replied Mrs. Chap-
man with some hesitation. 'You see this is the
off season here. None of my rooms are let,
except the one to Mr. Skinner, and I only have
one servant. I keep four during the summer,
autumn, and winter season,' she added with con-
scious pride, fearing that her former statement
might prejudice the reputation of Russell House.
'I thought I had heard Mr. Skinner go out about
nine o'clock, but about an hour later the girl
and I were in the basement, and we heard
the front door open and shut with a bang, and
then a step in the hall.
"' "That's Mr. Skinner," said Mary. "So it
is," I said, "why, I thought he had gone an
hour ago." "He did go out then," said Mary,
"for he left bedroom door open and I went
in to do his bed and tidy his room." "Just go
and see if that's him, Mary," I said, and Mary ran
up to the hall and up the stairs, and came back
to tell me that that was Mr. Skinner all right
enough; he had gone straight up to his room.
Mary didn't see him, but he had another gentle-
man with him, as she could hear them talking
in Mr. Skinner's room.'
"' Then you can't tell us at what time the
prisoner left the house finally?'
"' No, that I can't. I went out shopping
soon after that. When I came in it was twelve
o'clock. I went up to the third floor and found 


244 THUi OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
that Mr. Skinner had locked his door and taken
the key with him. As I knew Mary had already
done the room I did not trouble more about it,
though I did think it strange for a gentleman to
lock up his room and not leave the key with me.'
"' And, of course, you heard no noise of any
kind in the room then?'
"' No. Not that day or the next, but on the
third day Mary and I both thought we heard a
funny sound. I said that Mr. Skinner had left
his window open, and it was the blind flapping against the window-pane; but when we heard
that funny noise again I put my ear to the key-
hole and I thought I could hear a groan. I was
very frightened, and sent Mary for the police.'
"Mrs. Chapman had nothing more of interest
to say. The prisoner certainly was her lodger.
She had last seen him on the evening of the 16th
going up to his room with his candle. Mary the
servant had much the same story to relate as her
mistress.
"' I think it was 'im, right enough,' said Mary
guardedly. 'I didn't see 'im, but I went up to
'is landing and stopped a moment outside 'is door.
I could 'ear loud voices in the room—gentlemen
talking.'
"' I suppose you would not do such a thing
as to listen, Mary?' queried Mr. Pepys with a
smile.
"' No, sir,' said Mary with a bland smile, 'I 


THE PRISONER 240
didn't catch what the gentlemen said, but one of
them spoke so loud I thought they must be
quarrelling.'
"' Mr. Skinner was the only person in posses-
sion of a latchkey, I presume. No one else could
have come in without ringing at the door?'"' Oh no, sir.'
"That was all. So far, you see, the case was
progressing splendidly for the Crown against the
prisoner. The contention, of course, was that
Skinner had met Mr. Morton, brought him home
with him, assaulted, drugged, then gagged and
bound him, and finally robbed him of whatever
money he had in his possession, which, according
to certain affidavits which presently would be
placed before the magistrate, amounted to
£10,000 in notes.
"But in all this there still remained the great
element of mystery for which the public and
the magistrate would demand an explanation:
namely, what were the relationships between
Mr. Morton and Skinner, which had induced the
former to refuse the prosecution of the man who
had not only robbed him, but had so nearly
succeeded in leaving him to die a terrible and
lingering death?
"Mr. Morton was too ill as yet to appear in
person. Dr. Mellish had absolutely forbidden
his patient to undergo the fatigue and excite-
ment of giving evidence himself in court that 


246 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
day. But his depositions had been taken at
his bedside, were sworn to by him, and were now placed before the magistrate by the prose-
cuting counsel, and the facts they revealed were
certainly as remarkable as they were brief and
enigmatical.
"As they were read by Mr. Pepys, an awed
and expectant hush seemed to descend over the
large crowd gathered there, and all necks were
strained eagerly forward to catch a glimpse of a
tall, elegant woman, faultlessly dressed and wear-
ing exquisite jewellery, but whose handsome face
wore, as the prosecuting counsel read her
husband's deposition, a more and more ashen
hue.
"' This, your Honour, is the statement made
upon oath by Mr. Francis Morton,' commenced
Mr. Pepys in that loud, sonorous voice of his
which sounds so impressive in a crowded and
hushed court. '" I was obliged, for certain
reasons which I refuse to disclose, to make a
payment of a large sum of money to a man whom
I did not know and have never seen. It was in
a matter of which my wife was cognisant and
which had entirely to do with her own affairs.
I was merely the go-between, as I thought it was
not fit that she should see to this matter herself.
The individual in question had made certain
demands, of which she kept me in ignorance
as long as she could, not wishing to unneces-


THE PRISONER 247
aarily worry me. At last she decided to place
the whole matter before me, and I agreed with
her that it would be best to satisfy the man's
demands.
'' ' " I then wrote to that individual whose
name I do not wish to disclose, addressing the
letter, as my wife directed me to do, to the
Brighton post office, saying that I was ready to
pay the £10,000 to him, at any place or time
and in what manner he might appoint. I received
a reply which bore the Brighton postmark, and
which desired me to be outside Furnival's, the
draper's, in West Street, at 9.30 on the morning
of March 17th, and to bring the money (£10,000)
in Bank of England notes.
"'" On the 16th my wife gave me a cheque
for the amount and I cashed it at her bank—Bird's in Fleet Street. At half-past nine the
following morning I was at the appointed place.
An individual wearing a grey overcoat, bowler
hat, and red tie accosted me by name and re-
quested me to walk as far as his lodgings in the
King's Parade. I followed him. Neither of us
spoke. He stopped at a house which bore the
name 'Russell House,' and which I shall be
able to swear to as soon as I am able to go out.
He let himself in with a latch-key, and asked me
to follow him up to his room on the third floor.
I thought I noticed when we were in the room
that he locked the door; however, I had nothing 


248 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
of any value about me except the £10,000, which
I was ready to give him. We had not exchanged the slightest word.
"'" I gave him the notes, and he folded them
and put them in his pocket-book. Then I turned
towards the door, and, without the slightest
warning, I felt myself suddenly gripped by the
shoulder, while a handkerchief was pressed to
my nose and mouth. I struggled as best I could,
but the handkerchief was saturated with chloro-
form, and I soon lost consciousness. I hazily
remember the man saying to me in short, jerky
sentences, spoken at intervals while I was still
weakly struggling:
"' " ' What a fool you must think me, my
dear sir! Did you really think that I was going
to let you quietly walk out of here, straight to
the police-station, eh? Such dodges have been
done before, I know, when a man's silence has to
be bought for money. Find out who he is, see
where he lives, give him the money, then inform
against him. No you don't! not this time. I
am off to the Continong with this £10,000, and
I can get to Newhaven in time for the midday
boat, so you'll have to keep quiet until I am the
other side of the Channel, my friend. You
won't be much inconvenienced; my landlady
will hear your groans presently and release
you, so you'll be all right. There, now, drink
this—that's better.' He forced something bitter 


THE PRISONER
249
down my throat, then I remember nothing
more.
"'" When I regained consciousness I was
sitting in an arm-chair with some rope tied round
me and a wool shawl round my mouth. I hadn't
the strength to make the slightest effort to dis-
entangle myself or to utter a scream. I felt
terribly sick and faint."'
"Mr. Reginald Pepys had finished reading,
and no one in the crowded court had thought
of uttering a sound; the magistrate's eyes were
fixed upon the handsome lady in the magnificent
gown, who was mopping her eyes with a dainty
lace handkerchief.
"The extraordinary narrative of the victim
of so daring an outrage had kept everyone in
suspense; one thing was still expected to make
the measure of sensation as full as it had ever
been over any criminal case, and that was Mrs.
Morton's evidence. She was called by the prose-
cuting counsel, and slowly, gracefully, she entered
the witness-box. There was no doubt that she
had felt keenly the tortures which her husband
had undergone, and also the humiliation of seeing
her name dragged forcibly into this ugly, black-
mailing scandal.
"Closely questioned by Mr. Reginald Pepys,
she was forced to admit that the man who black-
mailed her was connected with her early life in
a way which would have brought terrible dis-


250 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
grace upon her and upon her children. The story she told, amidst many tears and sobs, and much
use of her beautiful lace handkerchief and beringed hands, was exceedingly pathetic.
"It appears that when she was barely seventeen
she was inveigled into a secret marriage with one
of those foreign adventurers who swarm in every
country, and who styled himself Comte Armand
de la Tremouille. He seems to have been a black-
guard of unusually low pattern, for, after he had
extracted from her some £200 of her pin money
and a few diamond brooches, he left her one fine
day with a laconic word to say that he was sail-
ing for Europe by the Argentina, and would not
be back for some time. She was in love with the
brute, poor young soul, for when, a week later,
she read that the Argentina was wrecked, and
presumably every soul on board had perished,
she wept very many bitter tears over her early
widowhood.
"Fortunately her father, a very wealthy pork-
butcher of Chicago, had known nothing of his
daughter's culpable foolishness. Four years later
he took her to London, where she met Mr. Francis
Morton and married him. She led six or seven
years of very happy married life when one day,
like a thunderbolt from a clear, blue sky, she
received a typewritten letter, signed 'Armand
de la Tremouille,' full of protestations of undying
love, telling a long and pathetic tale of years 0»


THE PRISONER 25i
suffering in a foreign land, whither he had drifted
after having been rescued almost miraculously
from the wreck of the Argentina, and where he
never had been able to scrape a sufficient amount
of money to pay for his passage home. At last
fate had favoured him. He had, after many
vicissitudes, found the whereabouts of his dear
wife, and was now ready to forgive all that was
past and take her to his loving arms once again.
"What followed was the usual course of events
when there is a blackguard and a fool of a woman.
She was terrorised and did not dare to tell her
husband for some time; she corresponded with
the Comte de la Tremouille, begging him for her
sake and in memory of the past not to attempt
to see her. She found him amenable to reason
in the shape of several hundred pounds which
passed through the Brighton post office into his
hands. At last one day, by accident, Mr. Morton
came across one of the Comte de la Tremouille's
interesting letters. She confessed everything,
throwing herself upon her husband's mercy.
"Now, Mr. Francis Morton was a business
man, who viewed life practically and soberly.
He liked his wife, who kept him in luxury, and
wished to keep her, whereas the Comte de la
Tremouille seemed willing enough to give her
up for a consideration. Mrs. Morton, who had
the sole and absolute control of her fortune, on
the other hand, was willing enough to pay the 


252 THE OLD MAX IN THE CORNER
price and hush up the scandal, which she believed
— since she was a bit of a fool—would land her
in prison for bigamy. Mr. Francis Morton wrote
to the Comte de la Tremouille that his wife was
ready to pay him the sum of £10,000 which he
demanded in payment for her absolute liberty
and his own complete disappearance out of her
life now and for ever. The appointment was
made, and Mr. Morton left his house at 9 a.m.
on March 17th with the £10,000 in his pocket.
"The public and the magistrate had hung
breathlessly upon her words. There was nothing
but sympathy felt for this handsome woman,
who throughout had been more sinned against
than sinning, and whose gravest fault seems to
have been a total lack of intelligence in dealing
with her own life. But I can assure you of one
thing, that in no case within my recollection was
there ever such a sensation in a court as when
the magistrate, after a few minutes' silence, said
gently to Mrs. Morton:
"' And now, Mrs. Morton, will you kindly look
at the prisoner, and tell me if in him you recognise your former husband?'
"And she, without even turning to look at the
accused, said quietly:
"' Oh no! your Honour! of course that man
is not the Comte de la Tremouille.'"


CHAPTER XXVI
A SENSATION
"I CAN assure you that the situation was quite
dramatic," continued the man in the cor-
ner, whilst his funny, claw-like hands took up a
bit of string with renewed feverishness.
"In answer to further questions from the magistrate, she declared that she had never seen the accused; he might have been the go-between,
however, that she could not say. The letters
she received were all typewritten, but signed
'Armand de la Tremouille,' and certainly the
signature was identical with that on the letters
she used to receive from him years ago, all of which she had kept.
"' And did it never strike you,' asked the magistrate with a smile, 'that the letters you received might be forgeries?'
"'How could they be?' she replied decisively
*no one knew of my marriage to the Comte de la
Tremouille, no one in England certainly. And,
besides, if someone did know the Comte inti-
mately enough to forge his handwriting and to
blackmail me, why should that someone have 353


A SENSATION
250
*' He was at once accommodated with a chair
in the witness-box, and the magistrate, after a
few words of kindly sympathy, asked him if he
had anything to add to his written statement.
On Mr. Morton replying in the negative, the
magistrate added:
"' And now, Mr. Morton, will you kindly look
at the accused in the dock and tell me whether
you recognise the person who took you to the
room in Russell House and then assaulted you?'
"Slowly the sick man turned towards the
prisoner and looked at him; then he shook his
head and replied quietly:
"'No, sir; that certainly was not the man.'
"'You are quite sure?' asked the magistrate
in amazement, while the crowd literally gasped
with wonder.
"' I swear it,' asserted Mr. Morton.
"' Can you describe the man who assaulted
you?"
"' Certainly. He was dark, of swarthy com-
plexion, tall, thin, with bushy eyebrows and
thick black hair and short beard. He spoke
English with just the faintest suspicion of a
foreign accent.'
"The prisoner, as I told you before, was
English in every feature. English in his ruddy
complexion, and absolutely English in his speech.
"After that the case for the prosecution began
to collapse. Everyone had expected a sensational 


256 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
defence, and Mr. Matthew Quiller, counsel for Skinner, fully justified all these expectations.
He had no fewer than four witnesses present who
swore positively that at 9.45 a.m. on the morning
of Wednesday, March 17th, the prisoner was in
the express train leaving Brighton for Victoria.
"Not being endowed with the gift of being
in two places at once, and Mr. Morton having
added the whole weight of his own evidence in
Mr. Edward Skinner's favour, that gentleman
was once more remanded by the magistrate,
pending further investigation by the police, bail
being allowed this time in two sureties of £50
each."


288 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
during their brief married life, whatever Mr.
Morton's subsequent experience in the same
direction might have been, .and, secondly, why
should he have typewritten his letters to his
wife?""Because"
"That was a point which, to my mind, the
police never made the most of. Now, my ex-
perience in criminal cases has invariably been
that when a typewritten letter figures in one,
that letter is a forgery. It is not very difficult
to imitate a signature, but it is a jolly sight more
difficult to imitate a handwriting throughout an
entire letter."
"Then, do you think"
"I think, if you will allow me," he interrupted
excitedly, "that we will go through the points—
the sensible, tangible points of the case. Firstly:
Mr. Morton disappears with £10,000 in his
pocket for four entire days; at the end of that
time he is discovered loosely tied to an arm-chair, and a wool shawl round his mouth. Sec-
ondly: A man named Skinner is accused of the
outrage. Mr. Morton, although he himself is
able, mind you, to furnish the best defence
possible for Skinner, by denying his identity
with the man who assaulted him, refuses to
prosecute. Why?"
"He did not wish to drag his wife's name into
the case."


200 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Ah, the motive! There you are! What
do I always tell you? Seek the motive! Now,
what was Mr. Morton's position? He was the
husband of a lady who owned a quarter of a
million of money, not one penny of which he
could touch without her consent, as it was settled
on herself, and who, after the terrible way in
which she had been plundered and then aban-
doned in her early youth, no doubt kept a very
tight hold upon the purse-strings. Mr. Morton's
subsequent life has proved that he had certain
expensive, not altogether avowable, tastes. One
day he discovers the old love letters of the
'Com to Armand de la Tremouille.'
"Then he lays his plans: He typewrites a
letter, forges the signature of the erstwhile Count,
and awaits events. The fish does rise to the bait.
He gets sundry bits of money, and his success
makes him daring. He looks round him for an
accomplice—clever, unscrupulous, greedy—and
selects Mr. Edward Skinner, probably some
former pal of his wild oats days.
"The plan was very neat, you must confess.
Mr. Skinner takes the room in Russell House,
and studies all the manners and customs of his
landlady and her servant. He then draws the
full attention of the police upon himself. He
meets Morton in West Street, then disappears
ostensibly after the 'assault.' In the meanwhile
Morton goes to Russell House. He walks up-


TWO BLACKGUARDS 261
stairs, talks loudly in the room, then makes
elaborate preparations for his comedy."
"Why! he nearly died of starvation!"
"That, I daresay, was not a part of his reckoning. He thought, no doubt, that Mrs. Chapman
or the servant would discover and rescue him
pretty soon. He meant to appear just a little
faint, and endured quietly the first twenty-four
hours of inanition. But the excitement and want
of food told on him more than he expected.
After twenty-four hours he turned very giddy
and sick, and, falling from one fainting fit into
another, was unable to give the alarm.
"However, he is all right again now, and
concludes his part of a downright blackguard
to perfection. Under the plea that his con-
science does not allow him to live with a lady
whose first husband is still alive, he has taken a
bachelor flat in London, and only pays afternoon
calls on his wife in Brighton. But presently he
will tire of his bachelor life, and will return to
his wife. And I'll guarantee that the Comte de la
Tremouille will never be heard of again."
And that afternoon the man in the corner
left Miss Polly Burton alone with a couple of
photos of two uninteresting, stodgy, quiet-look-
ing men—Morton and Skinner—who, if the old
scarecrow was right in his theories, were a pair
of the finest blackguards unhung.
i


CHAPTER XXVIII THE REGENT'S PARK MURDER
BY this time Miss Polly Burton had become
quite accustomed to her extraordinary vis-
d-vis in the corner.
He was always there, when she arrived, in the
self-same corner, dressed in one of his remark-
able check tweed suits; he seldom said good-morning, and invariably when she appeared he
began to fidget with increased nervousness, with
some tattered and knotty piece of string.
"Were you ever interested in the Regent's
Park murder ?" he asked her one day.
Polly replied that she had forgotten most of
the particulars connected with that curious
murder, but that she fully remembered the stir
and flutter it had caused in a certain section
of London Society.
"The racing and gambling set, particularly,
you mean," he said. "All the persons impli-
cated in the murder, directly or indirectly, were
of the type commonly called 'Society men,' or
'men about town,' whilst the Harewood Club
in Hanover Square, round which centred all the


884 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
for a minute or two, and was followed imme-
diately by frantic screams of 'Police' and
'Murder.' Then there was the double sharp
report of firearms, and nothing more.
"The fog was very dense, and, as you no
doubt have experienced yourself, it is very diffi-
cult to locate sound in a fog. Nevertheless, not
more than a minute or two had elapsed before
Constable F 18, the point policeman at the corner
of Marylebone Road, arrived on the scene, and,
having first of all whistled for any of his com-
rades on the beat, began to grope his way about
in the fog, more confused than effectually assisted
by contradictory directions from the inhabitants
of the houses close by, who were nearly falling
out of the upper windows as they shouted out
to the constable.
"' By the railings, policeman.'
"' Higher up the road.'
"' No, lower down.'
"' It was on this side of the pavement I am sure.'
"'No, the other.'
"At last it was another policeman, F 22, who,
turning into Park Square West from the north
side, almost stumbled upon the body of a man
lying on the pavement with his head against
the railings of the Square. By this time quite
a little crowd of people from the different houses
in the road had come down, curious to know
what had actually happened.


THE REGENT'S PARK MURDER 26S
"The policeman turned the strong light of his
bull's-eye lantern on the unfortunate man's
face.
"' It looks as if he had been strangled, don't
it?' he murmured to his comrade.
"And he pointed to the swollen tongue, the
eyes half out of their sockets, blood-shot and
congested, the purple, almost black, hue of the
face.
"At this point one of the spectators, more
callous to horrors, peered curiously into the dead
man's face. He uttered an exclamation of
astonishment.
"'Why, surely, it's Mr. Cohen from No. 30!'"The mention of a name familiar down the
length of the street had caused two or three
other men to come forward and to look more
closely into the horribly distorted mask of the
murdered man.
"'Our next-door neighbour, undoubtedly,'
asserted Mr. Ellison, a young barrister, residing
at No. 31.
"' What in the world was he doing this foggy
night all alone, and on foot?' asked somebody
else.
"' He usually came home very late. I fancy
he belonged to some gambling club in town. I
daresay he couldn't get a cab to bring him out
here. Mind you, I don't know much about him.
We only knew him to nod to.'


266 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"'Poor beggar! it looks almost like an old-
fashioned case of garrotting.'
"' Anyway, the blackguardly murderer, who-
ever he was, wanted to make sure he had killed
his man!' added Constable F 18, as he picked
up an object from the pavement. 'Here's the
revolver, with two cartridges missing. You
gentlemen heard the report just now?'
"' He don't seem to have hit him though.
The poor bloke was strangled, no doubt.'
"'And tried to shoot at his assailant obviously,'
asserted the young barrister with authority.
"' If he succeeded in hitting the brute, there
might be a chance of tracing the way he went.
"* But not in the fog.'
"Soon, however, the appearance of the in-
spector, detective, and medical officer, who had
quickly been informed of the tragedy, put an
end to further discussion.
"The bell at No. 30 was rung, and the servants
—all four of them women—were asked to look
at the body.
"Amidst tears of horror and screams of
fright, they all recognised in the murdered man
their master, Mr. Aaron Cohen. He was there-
fore conveyed to his own room pending the
coroner's inquest."
"The police had a pretty difficult task, you
will admit; there were so very few indications
to go by, and at first literally no olue.


THE REGENT'S PARK MURDER 267
"The inquest revealed practically nothing.
Very little was known in the neighbourhood
about Mr. Aaron Cohen and his affairs. His female
servants did not even know the name or where-
abouts of the various clubs he frequented.
"He had an office in Throgmorton Street and
went to business every day. He dined at home,
and sometimes had friends to dinner. When
he was alone he invariably went to the club,
where he stayed until the small hours of the
morning.
"The night of the murder he had gone
out at about nine o'clock. That was the last
his servants had seen of him. With regard to
the revolver, all four servants swore positively
that they had never seen it before, and that,
unless Mr. Cohen had bought it that very day,
it did not belong to their master.
"Beyond that, no trace whatever of the
murderer had been found, but on the morning
after the crime a couple of keys linked together
by a short metal chain were found close to a
gate at the opposite end of the Square, that
which immediately faced Portland Place. These
were proved to be, firstly, Mr. Cohen's latch-
key, and, secondly, his gate-key of the Square.
"It was therefore presumed that the mur-
derer, having accomplished his fell design and
ransacked his victim's pockets, had found the
key* ana made good his escape by slipping into 


'288 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
the Square, cutting under the tunnel, and out
again by the further gate. He then took the
precaution not to carry the keys with him any
further, but threw them away and disappeared
in the fog.
"The jury returned a verdict of wilful murder
against some person or persons unknown, and
the police were put on their mettle to discover
the unknown and daring murderer. The result
of their investigations, conducted with marvel-
lous skill by Mr. William Fisher, led, about a
week after the crime, to the sensational arrest
of one of London's smartest young bucks.
"The case Mr. Fisher had got up against the
accused briefly amounted to this:
"On the night of February 6th, soon after
midnight, play began to run very high at the
Harewood Club, in Hanover Square. Mr. Aaron
Cohen held the bank at roulette against some
twenty or thirty of his friends, mostly young
fellows with no wits and plenty of money. 'The
Bank' was winning heavily, and it appears
that this was the third consecutive night on
which Mr. Aaron Cohen had gone home richer
by several hundreds than he had been at the
start of play.
"Young John Ashley, who is the son of a
very worthy county gentleman who is M.F.H.
somewhere in the Midlands, was losing heavily,
and in his case also it appears that it was the 


THE REGENT'S PARK MURDER 269
third consecutive night that Fortune had turned
her face against him.
"Remember," continued the man in the
corner, "that when I tell you all these details
and facts, I am giving you the combined evi-
dence of several witnesses, which it took many
days to collect and to classify.
"It appears that young Mr. Ashley, though
very popular in society, was generally believed
to be in what is vulgarly termed 'low water';
up to his eyes in debt, and mortally afraid of
his dad, whose younger son he was, and who
had on one occasion threatened to ship him off
to Australia with a £5 note in his pocket if he
made any further extravagant calls upon his
paternal indulgence.
"It was also evident to all John Ashley's
many companions that the worthy M.F.H. held
the purse-strings in a very tight grip. The young
man, bitten with the desire to cut a smart figure
in the circles in which he moved, had often re-
course to the varying fortunes which now and
again smile upon him across the green tables
in the Harewood Club.
"Be that as it may, the general concensus of
opinion at the Club was that young Ashley had
changed his last 'pony' before he sat down to
a turn of roulette with Aaron Cohen on that
particular night of February 6th.
"It appears that all his friends, conspicuous 


THE REGENT'S PARK MURDER 271
never could pay, so Mr. Cohen probably be-
lieved. He therefore at that hour refused to
accept Mr. John Ashley's 'promissory' stakes
any longer. A very few heated words ensued,
quickly checked by the management, who are ever
on the alert to avoid the least suspicion of scandal.
"In the meanwhile Mr. Hatherell, with great
good sense, persuaded young Ashley to leave
the Club and all its temptations and go home;
if possible to bed.
"The friendship of the two young men, which
was very well known in society, consisted chiefly,
it appears, in Walter Hatherell being the will-
ing companion and helpmeet of John Ashley in
his mad and extravagant pranks. But to-night
the latter, apparently tardily sobered by his terrible and heavy losses, allowed himself to
be led away by his friend from the scene of his
disasters. It was then about twenty minutes
to two.
"Here the situation becomes interesting," con-
tinued the man in the corner in his nervous
way. "No wonder that the police interrogated
at least a dozen witnesses before they were
quite satisfied that every statement was con-
clusively proved.
"Walter Hatherell, after about ten minutes'
absence, that is to say at ten minutes to two,
returned to the club room. In reply to several
inquiries, he said that he had parted with his


CHAPTER XXIX
THE MOTIVE
"Now at first sight the murder in the Regent's
Park appeared both to police and public as one of those silly, clumsy crimes, obviously
the work of a novice and absolutely purposeless,
seeing that it could but inevitably lead its perpe-
trators, without any difficulty, to the gallows.
"You see, a motive had been established.
'Seek him whom the crime benefits,' say our
French confreres. But there was something more
than that.
"Constable James Funnell, on his beat, turned
from Portland Place into Park Crescent a few
minutes after he had heard the clock at Holy
Trinity Church, Marylebone, strike half-past two.
The fog at that moment was perhaps not quite
so dense as it was later on in the morning, and
the policeman saw two gentlemen in overcoats
and top-hats leaning arm in arm against the railings of the Square, close to the gate. He could
not, of course, distinguish their faces because of
the fog, but he heard one of them saying to the
other:
"' It is but a question of time, Mr. Cohen. I
273


274 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
know my father will pay the money for me, and
you will lose nothing by waiting.'
"To this the other apparently made no reply,
and the constable passed on; when he returned
to the same spot, after having walked over his
beat, the two gentlemen had gone, but later on
it was near this very gate that the two keys
referred to at the inquest had been found.
"Another interesting fact," added the man in
the corner, with one of those sarcastic smiles
of his which I could not quite explain, "was
the finding of the revolver upon the scene of the
crime. That revolver, shown to Mr. Ashley's
valet, was sworn to by him as being the pro-
perty of his master.
"All these facts made, of course, a very re-
markable, so far quite unbroken, chain of cir-
cumstantial evidence against Mr. John Ashley.
No wonder, therefore, that the police, thoroughly
satisfied with Mr. Fisher's work and their own,
applied for a warrant against the young man,
and arrested him in his rooms in Clarges Street
exactly a week after the committal of the crime.
"As a matter of fact, you know, experience
has invariably taught me that when a murderer
seems particularly foolish and clumsy, and
proofs against him seem particularly damning,
that is the time when the police should be most
guarded against pitfalls.
"Now in this case, if John Ashley had indeed


THE MOTIVE
278
oommitted the murder in Regent's Park in the
manner suggested by the police, he would have
been a criminal in more senses than one, for
idiocy of that kind is to my mind worse than
many crimes.
"The prosecution brought its witnesses up
in triumphal array one after another. There
were the members of the Harewood Club—who
had seen the prisoner's excited condition after
his heavy gambling losses to Mr. Aaron Cohen;
there was Mr. Hatherell, who, in spite of his
friendship for Ashley, was bound to admit that
he had parted from him at the corner of Bond
Street at twenty minutes to two, and had not
seen him again till his return home at five a.m.
"Then came the evidence of Arthur Chipps,
John Ashley's valet. It proved of a very sen-
sational character.
"He deposed that on the night in question
his master came home at about ten minutes to
two. Chipps had then not yet gone to bed.
Five minutes later Mr. Ashley went out again,
telling the valet not to sit up for him. Chipps
could not say at what time either of the young
gentlemen had come home.
"That short visit home—presumably to fetch
the revolver—was thought to be very important,
and Mr. John Ashley's friends felt that his case was practically hopeless.
"The valet's evidence and that of James


THE MOTIVE
277
accomplished, he had shot twice at the already
dead body, missing it both times from sheer
nervous excitement. The murderer then must
have emptied his victim's pockets, and, finding
the key of the garden, thought that it would
be a safe way of evading capture by cutting
across the squares, under the tunnel, and so
through the more distant gate which faced Port-
land Place.
"The loss of the revolver was one of those
unforeseen accidents which a retributive Provi-
dence places in the path of the miscreant, de-
livering him by his own act of folly into the
hands of human justice.
"Mr. John Ashley, however, did not appear
the least bit impressed by the recital of his crime.
He had not engaged the services of one of the
most eminent lawyers, expert at extracting con-
tradictions from witnesses by skilful cross-examinations—oh, dear me, no! he had been
contented with those of a dull, prosy, very
second-rate limb of the law, who, as he called
his witnesses, was completely innocent of any
desire to create a sensation.
"He rose quietly from his seat, and, amidst
breathless silence, called the first of three wit-
nesses on behalf of his client. He called three—but he could have produced twelve—gentle-
men, members of the Ashton Club in Great
Portland Street, all of whom swore that at three


278 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
o'olock on the morning of February 6th, that
is to say, at the very moment when the cries of
'Murder' roused the inhabitants of Park Square
West, and the crime was being committed, Mr.
John Ashley was sitting quietly in the club-rooms of the Ashton playing bridge with the
three witnesses. He had come in a few minutes
before three—as the hall porter of the Club
testified—and stayed for about an hour and a
half.
"I need not tell you that this undoubted,
this fully proved, alibi was a positive bomb-shell
in the stronghold of the prosecution. The most
accomplished criminal could not possibly be in
two places at once, and though the Ashton Club
transgresses in many ways against the gambling
laws of our very moral country, yet its members
belong to the best, most unimpeachable classes
of society. Mr. Ashley had been seen and
spoken to at the very moment of the crime by
at least a dozen gentlemen whose testimony was
absolutely above suspicion.
"Mr. John Ashley's conduct throughout this
astonishing phase of the inquiry remained per-
fectly calm and correct. It was no doubt the
consciousness of being able to prove his in-
nocence with such absolute conclusion that
had steadied his nerves throughout the proceed-
ings.
"His answers to the magistrate were olear


CHAPTER XXX
FRIENDS
""\7~ES," interrupted Polly eagerly since, foi
JL once, her acumen had been at least as
sharp as his, "but suspicion of that horrible
crime only shifted its taint from one friend to another, and, of course, I know"
"But that's just it," he quietly interrupted,
"you don't know—Mr. Walter Hatherell, of
course, you mean. So did everyone else at once.
The friend, weak and willing, committing a
crime on behalf of his cowardly, yet more asser-
tive friend who had tempted him to evil. It
was a good theory; and was held pretty gene-
rally, I fancy, even by the police.
"I say 'even' because they worked really
hard in order to build up a case against young
Hatherell, but the great difficulty was that of
time. At the hour when the policeman had seen
the two men outside Park Square together,
Walter Hatherell was still sitting in the Harewood Club, which he never left until twenty
minutes to two. Had he wished to waylay and
rob Aaron Cohen he would not have waited
sSi


FRIENDS
283
"I could not arrange conveniently," she re-
torted, "to be in two different places half a mile
apart at one and the same time."
"No! I quite admit that you could not do
this unless you also had a friend"
"A friend? But you say"
"I say that I admired Mr. John Ashley, for
his was the head which planned the whole
thing, but he could not have accomplished the
fascinating and terrible drama without the help
of willing and able hands."
"Even then "she protested.
"Point number one," he began excitedly,
fidgeting with his inevitable piece of string.
"John Ashley and his friend Walter Hatherell leave the club together, and together decide
on the plan of campaign. Hatherell returns to
the club, and Ashley goes to fetch the revolver—the revolver which played such an important
part in the drama, but not the part assigned to
it by the police. Now try to follow Ashley
closely, as he dogs Aaron Cohen's footsteps. Do
you believe that he entered into conversation
with him? That he walked by his side? That
he asked for delay? No! He sneaked behind
him and caught him by the throat, as the gar-
rotters used to do in the fog. Cohen was apoplec-
tic, and Ashley is young and powerful. Moreover,
he meant to kill"
"But the two men talked together outside 


284 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
the Square gates," protested Polly, " one of whom
was Cohen, and the other Ashley."
"Pardon me," he said, jumping up in his
seat like a monkey on a stick, "there were
not two men talking outside the Square gates.
According to the testimony of James Funnell,
the constable, two men were leaning arm in arm
against the railings and one man was talking."
"Then you think that"
"At the hour when James Funnell heard
Holy Trinity clock striking half-past two Aaron
Cohen was already dead. Look how simple the
whole thing is," he added eagerly, "and how
easy after that—easy, but oh, dear me! how
wonderfully, how stupendously clever. As soon
as James Funnel has passed on, John Ashley,
having opened the gate, lifts the body of Aaron
Cohen in his arms and carries him across the
Square. The Square is deserted, of course, but
the way is easy enough, and we must presume
that Ashley had been in it before. Anyway,
there was no fear of meeting anyone.
"In the meantime Hatherell has left the
Club: as fast as his athletic legs can carry him
he rushes along Oxford Street and Portland
Place. It had been arranged between the two
miscreants that the Square gate should be left
on the latch.
"Close on Ashley's heels now, Hatherell too
cuts across the Square, and reaches the further 


CHAPTER XXXI
THE DE GENNEVILLE PEERAGE
THE man in the corner rubbed his chin
thoughtfully, and looked out upon the busy
street below.
"I suppose," he said, "there is some truth
in the saying that Providence watches over
bankrupts, kittens, and lawyers."
"I didn't know there was such a saying,"
replied Polly, with guarded dignity.
"Isn't there? Perhaps I am misquoting;
anyway, there should be. Kittens, it seems, live and thrive through social and domestic up-
heavals which would annihilate a self-supporting
tom-cat, and to-day I read in the morning papers
the account of a noble lord's bankruptcy, and in
the society ones that of his visit at the house of
a Cabinet minister, where he is the most honoured
guest. As for lawyers, when Providence had
exhausted all other means of securing their wel-
fare, it brought forth the peerage cases."
"I believe, as a matter of fact, that this
special dispensation of Providence, as you call
it, requires more technical knowledge than any 3«7


THE DE GENNEVILLE PEERAGE 289
he might have got his case. It certainly sounded
almost like a fairy-tale, this claim based upon the
supposed validity of an ancient document over
400 years old. It was then that a mediaeval Lord
de Genneville, more endowed with muscle than
common sense, became during his turbulent exist-
ence much embarrassed and hopelessly puzzled
through the presentation made to him by his lady of twin-born sons.
"His embarrassment chiefly arose from the
fact that my lady's attendants, while ministering
to the comforts of the mother, had, in a moment
of absent-mindedness, so placed the two infants
in their cot that subsequently no one, not even—perhaps least of all—the mother, could tell which
was the one who had been the first to make his ap-
pearance into this troublesome and puzzling world.
"After many years of cogitation, during which
the Lord de Genneville approached nearer to
the grave and his sons to man's estate, he gave
up trying to solve the riddle as to which of the
twins should succeed to his title and revenues;
he appealed to his Liege Lord and King—Edward,
fourth of that name—and with the latter's august
sanction he drew up a certain document, wherein
he enacted that both his sons should, after his
death, share his titles and goodly revenues, and
that the first son born in wedlock of either father
should subsequently be the sole heir.
"In this document was also added that if in 


290 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
future times should any Lords de Genneville be
similarly afflicted with twin sons, who had equal
rights to be considered the eldest born, the same
rule should apply as to the succession.
"Subsequently a Lord de Genneville was created Earl of Brockelsby by one of the Stuart
kings, but for four hundred years after its enact-
ment the extraordinary deed of succession re-
mained a mere tradition, the Countesses of Brock-
elsby having, seemingly, no predilection for twins.
But in 1878 the mistress of Brockelsby Castle
presented her lord with twin-born sons.
"Fortunately, in modern times, science is more wide-awake, and attendants more careful.
The twin brothers did not get mixed up, and one
of themwas styled Viscount Tirlemont, and was
heir to the earldom, whilst the other, born two
hours later, was that fascinating, dashing young
Guardsman, well known at Hurlingham, Good-
wood, London, and in his own county—the Hon.
Robert Ingram de Genneville.
"It certainly was an evil day for this brilliant
young scion of the ancient race when he lent an
ear to Timothy Beddingfield. This man, and his
family before him, had been solicitors to the Earls
of Brockelsby for many generations, but Timothy,
owing to certain 'irregularities,' had forfeited the
confidence of his client, the late earl.
"He was still in practice in Birmingham, how-
ever, and, of course, knew the ancient family 


A HIGH-BRED GENTLEMAN 299
"At eleven o'clock the Earl of Brockelsby
called to see his brother and remained with
him until about twelve. In the afternoon de-
ceased went out, and returned for his dinner at
seven o'clock in company with a gentleman whom
the cashier knew well by sight, Mr. Timothy
Beddingfield, the lawyer, of Paradise Street.
The gentlemen had their dinner downstairs, and
after that they went up to the Hon. Mr. de
Genneville's room for coffee and cigars.
"' I could not say at what time Mr. Bedding-
field left,' continued the cashier, 'but I rather
fancy I saw him in the hall at about 9.15 p.m.
He was wearing an Inverness cape over his dress
clothes and a Glengarry cap. It was just at the
hour when the visitors who had come down for
the night from London were arriving thick and
fast; the hall was very full, and there was a
large party of Americans monopolising most of
our personnel, so I could not swear positively
whether I did see Mr. Beddingfield or not then,
though I am quite sure that it was Mr. Timothy
Beddingfield who dined and spent the evening
with the Hon. Mr. de Genneville, as I know him
quite well by sight. At ten o'clock I am off duty,
and the night porter remains alone in the hall.'
"Mr. Tremlett's evidence was corroborated in
most respects by a waiter and by the hall porter.
They had both seen the deceased come in at
seven o'clock in company with a gentleman, and 


A HIGH-BRED GENTLEMAN SOI
M'No, sir.'
"'What was he like?'
"'A young gentleman, sir, as far as I can
remember, in an Inverness cape and Glengarry
cap, but I could not see his face very well as he
stood with his back to the light, and the cap
shaded his eyes, and he only spoke to me for a
minute.'
"'Look all round you,' said the coroner
quietly. 'Is there anyone in this court at all
like the gentleman you speak of?'
"An awed hush fell over the many spectators
there present as Peter Tyrrell, the night porter
of the Castle Hotel, turned his head towards the
body of the court and slowly scanned the many
faces there present; for a moment he seemed
to hesitate—only for a moment though, then, as
if vaguely conscious of the terrible importance
his next words might have, he shook his head
gravely and said:
"' I wouldn't like to swear.'
"The coroner tried to press him, but with
true British stolidity he repeated: 'I wouldn't
like to say.'
"'Well, then, what happened?' asked the
coroner, who had perforce to abandon his point.
"' The gentleman went upstairs, sir, and about
a quarter of an hour later he come down again,
and I let him out. He was in a great hurry then; he
threw me a half-crown and said: "Goodnight."'


302 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"'And though you saw him again then, you
cannot tell us if you would know him again?'
"Once more the hall porter's eyes wandered
as if instinctively to a certain face in the court;
once more he hesitated for many seconds which
seemed like so many hours, during which a man's
honour, a man's life, hung perhaps in the balance.
"Then Peter Tyrrell repeated slowly: 'I
wouldn't swear.'
"But coroner and jury alike, aye, and every
spectator in that crowded court, had seen that
the man's eyes had rested during that one
moment of hesitation upon the face of the Earl
of Brookelsby."


CHAPTER XXXIII
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD

THE man in the corner blinked across at Polly
with his funny mild blue eyes.
"No wonder you are puzzled," he continued,
"so was everybody in the court that day, every
one save myself. I alone could see in my mind's
eye that gruesome murder such as it had been
committed, with all its details, and, above all, its
motive, and such as you will see it presently,
when I place it all clearly before you.
"But before you see daylight in this strange
case, I must plunge you into further darkness,
in the same manner as the coroner and jury were
plunged on the following day, the second day of
that remarkable inquest. It had to be adjourned,
since the appearance of Mr. Timothy Beddingfield had now become of vital importance. The
public had come to regard his absence from Bir-
mingham at this critical moment as decidedly
remarkable, to say the least of it, and all those
who did not know the lawyer by sight wished to
see him in his Inverness cape and Glengarry cap
such as he had appeared before the several wit-
nesses on the night of the awful murder.
3°?


304 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"When the coroner and jury were seated, the
first piece of information which the police placed
before them was the astounding statement that
Mr. Timothy Beddingfield's whereabouts had not
been ascertained, though it was confidently ex-
pected that he had not gone far and could easily
be traced. There was a witness present who, the
police thought, might throw some light as to the
lawyer's probable destination, for obviously he
had left Birmingham directly after his interview
with the deceased.
"This witness was Mrs. Higgins, who was Mr.
Beddingfield's housekeeper. She stated that her
master was in the constant habit—especially
latterly—of going up to London on business.
He usually left by a late evening train on those
occasions, and mostly was only absent thirty-six
hours. He kept a portmanteau always ready
packed for the purpose, for he often left at a few
moment's notice. Mrs. Higgins added that her
master stayed at the Great Western Hotel in
London, for it was there that she was instructed
to wire if anything urgent required his presence
back in Birmingham.
"' On the night of the 14th,' she continued,
'at nine o'clock or thereabouts, a messenger came
to the door with the master's card, and said that
he was instructed to fetch Mr. Beddingfield's
portmanteau, and then to meet him at the station
in time to catch the 9.35 p.m. up train. I gave


THE LIVING AND THE DEAD 308
him the portmanteau, of course, as he had
brought the card, and I had no idea there could
be anything wrong; but since then I have heard
nothing of my master, and I don't know when
he will return.'
"Questioned by the coroner, she added that Mr. Beddingfield had never stayed away quite
so long without having his letters forwarded to
him. There was a large pile waiting for him now;
she had written to the Great Western Hotel,
London, asking what she should do about the
letters, but had received no reply. She did not
know the messenger by sight who had called for
the portmanteau. Once or twice before Mr.
Beddingfield had sent for his things in that
manner when he had been dining out.
"Mr. Beddingfield certainly wore his Inverness
cape over his dress clothes when he went out at
about six o'clock in the afternoon. He also wore
a Glengarry cap.
"The messenger had so far not yet been found,
and from this point—namely, the sending for the
portmanteau—all traces of Mr. Timothy Bed-
dingfield seem to have been lost. Whether he
went up to London by that 9.35 train or not could
not be definitely ascertained. The police had
questioned at least a dozen porters at the rail-
way, as well as ticket collectors; but no one had
any special recollection of a gentleman in an
Inverness cape and Glengarry cap, a costume


THE LIVING AND THE DEAD 307
present in court, recognise the Hon. Robert de
Genneville's belated visitor, everyone had noticed
his hesitation, and marked that the man's eyes
had rested doubtingly upon the face and figure
of the young Earl of Brockelsby.
"Now, if that belated visitor had been Mr.
Timothy Beddingfield—tall, lean, dry as dust,
with a bird-like beak and clean-shaven chin—no one could for a moment have mistaken his
face— even if they only saw it very casually and
recollected it but very dimly—with that of young
Lord Brockelsby, who was florid and rather short—the only point in common between them was
their Saxon hair.
"You see that it was a curious point, don't
you?" added the man in the corner, who now
had become so excited that his fingers worked
like long thin tentacles round and round his bit
of string. "It weighed very heavily in favour
of Timothy Beddingfield. Added to which you
must also remember that, as far as he was con-
cerned, the Hon. Robert de Genneville was to
him the goose with the golden eggs.
"The 'De Genneville peerage case' had brought
Beddingfield's name in great prominence. With
the death of the claimant all hopes of prolonging
the litigation came to an end. There was a total lack
of motive as far as Beddingfield was concerned."
"Not so with the Earl of Brockelsby," said
Polly, "and I've often maintained"


THE LIVING AND THE DEAD 309
and think a little about the dead as well as about
the living. If they had remembered that peerage
case, the Hon. Robert's debts, his last straw
which proved a futile claim.
"Only that very day the Earl of Brockelsby
had, by quietly showing the original ancient
document to his brother, persuaded him how
futile were all his hopes. Who knows how many
were the debts contracted, the promises made,
the money borrowed and obtained on the strength
of that claim which was mere romance? Ahead
nothing but ruin, enmity with his brother, his mar-
riage probably broken off, a wasted life, in fact.
"Is it small wonder that, though ill-feeling
against the Earl of Brockelsby may have been
deep, there was hatred, bitter, deadly hatred
against the man who with false promises had led
him into so hopeless a quagmire? Probably the
Hon. Robert owed a great deal of money to
Beddingfield, which the latter hoped to recoup
at usurious interest, with threats of scandal and
what not.
"Think of all that," he added, "and then tell
me if you believe that a stronger motive for the
murder of such an enemy could well be found."
"But what you suggest is impossible," said
Polly, aghast.
"Allow me," he said, "it is more than possible
—it is very easy and simple. The two men were
alone together in the Hon. Robert de Genne-


310 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
ville's room after dinner. You, as representing
the public, and the police say that Beddingfield
went away and returned half an hour later in
order to kill his client. I say that it was the
lawyer who was murdered at nine o'clock that
evening, and that Robert de Genneville, the
ruined man, the hopeless bankrupt, was the
assassin."
"Then"
"Yes, of course, now you remember, for I have
put you on the track. The face and the body
were so battered and bruised that they were past
recognition. Both men were of equal height.
The hair, which alone could not be disfigured or
obliterated, was in both men similar in colour.
"Then the murderer proceeds to dress his
victim in his own clothes. With the utmost care
he places his own rings on the fingers of the dead
man, his own watch in the pocket; a gruesome
task, but an important one, and it is thoroughly
well done. Then he himself puts on the clothes
of his victim, with finally the Inverness cape and
Glengarry, and when the hall is full of visitors
he slips out unperceived. He sends the messenger
for Beddingfield's portmanteau and starts off by
the night express."
"But then his visit at the Castle Hotel at ten
o'clock "she urged. "How dangerous!"
"Dangerous? Yes! but oh, how clever.
You see, he was the Earl of Brockelsby's twin 


312 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
spectacles on the top of its beak, and a wide, rude
grin beneath it, and, still puzzled, still doubtful,
the young girl too paid for her scanty luncheon and went her way.


CHAPTER XXXIV
THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN
PERCY STREET
MISS POLLY BURTON had had many an
argument with Mr. Richard Frobisher about
that old man in the corner, who seemed far more
interesting and deucedly more mysterious than
any of the crimes over which he philosophised.
Dick thought, moreover, that Miss Polly spent
more of her leisure time now in that A.B.C. shop
than she had done in his own company before,
and told her so, with that delightful air of
sheepish sulkiness which the male creature in-
variably wears when he feels jealous and won't
admit it.
Polly liked Dick to be jealous, but she liked
that old scarecrow in the A.B.C. shop very much
too, and though she made sundry vague promises
from time to time to Mr. Richard Frobisher, she
nevertheless drifted back instinctively day after
day to the tea-shop in Norfolk Street, Strand,
and stayed there sipping coffee for as long as the
man in the corner chose to talk.
On this particular afternoon she went to the
3»3


316 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
shop in the rear, and on the first floor landing
a small room allotted to the caretaker, with gas,
coal, and fifteen shillings a week, for which
princely income she is deputed to keep tidy and
clean the general aspect of the house.
"Mrs. Owen, who was the caretaker there,
was a quiet, respectable woman, who eked out
her scanty wages by sundry—mostly very meagre—tips doled out to her by impecunious artists
in exchange for promiscuous domestic services
in and about the respective studios.
"But if Mrs. Owen's earnings were not large they were very regular, and she had no fas-
tidious tastes. She and her cockatoo lived on
her wages; and all the tips added up, and never spent, year after year, went to swell a
very comfortable little account at interest in
the Birkbeck Bank. This little account had
mounted up to a very tidy sum, and the thrifty
widow—or old maid—no one ever knew which
she was—was generally referred to by the young
artists of the Rubens Studios as a 'lady of
means.' But this is a digression.
"No one slept on the premises except Mrs.
Owen and her cockatoo. The rule was that
one by one as the tenants left their rooms in
the evening they took their respective keys to
the caretaker's room. She would then, in the
early morning, tidy and dust the studios and the
office downstairs, lay the fire and carry up coals.


*20 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"What had happened was simply this:"At the inquest a few certainly very curious
facts connected with Mrs. Owen's life had come
to light, and this had led to the apprehension of
a young man of very respectable parentage on
a charge of being concerned in the tragic death
of the unfortunate caretaker.
"To begin with, it happened that her life,
which in an ordinary way should have been very
monotonous and regular, seemed, at any rate
latterly, to have been more than usually chequered
and excited. Every witness who had known her
in the past concurred in the statement that since
October last a great change had come over the
worthy and honest woman.
"I happen to have a photo of Mrs. Owen as
she was before this great change occurred in her
quiet and uneventful life, and which led, as far
as the poor soul was concerned, to such disastrous
results.
"Here she is to the life," added the funny
creature, placing the photo before Polly—" as re-
spectable, as stodgy, as uninteresting as it is well possible for a member of your charming sex
to be; not a face, you will admit, to lead any
youngster to temptation or to induce him to commit a crime.
"Nevertheless one day all the tenants of the
Rubens Studios were surprised and shocked to see Mrs. Owen, quiet, respectable Mrs. Owen, 


322 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
one of the glass workmen dining together at
Gambia's Restaurant in Tottenham Court Road.
"The workman, who was having a cup of
tea at the counter, noticed particularly that
when the bill was paid the money came out of
Mrs. Owen's purse. The dinner had been sump-
tuous—veal cutlets, a cut from the joint, dessert,
coffee and liqueurs. Finally the pair left the
restaurant apparently very gay, young Greenhill
smoking a choice cigar.
"Irregularities such as these were bound
sooner or later to come to the ears and eyes
of Mr. Allman, the landlord of the Rubens
Studios; and a month after the New Year,
without further warning, he gave her a week's notice to quit his house.
"' Mrs. Owen did not seem the least bit upset
when I gave her notice,' Mr. Allman declared in
his evidence at the inquest; 'on the contrary, she
told me that she had ample means, and had only
worked latterly for the sake of something to do.
She added that she had plenty of friends who
would look after her, for she had a nice little
pile to leave to anyone who would know how
"to get the right side of her."'
"Nevertheless, in spite of this cheerful inter-
view, Miss Bedford, the tenant of No. 6 Studio,
had stated that when she took her key to the
caretaker's room at 6.30 that afternoon she
found Mrs. Owen in tears. The caretaker refused 


SUICIDE OR MURDER? 325
"Mrs. Owen had obviously undressed pre-
paratory to going to bed, and the magistrate
very naturally soon made the remark how un-
tenable the theory of an accident must be. No
one in their five senses would undress with a
temperature at below zero, and the windows
wide open.
"After these preliminary statements, the
cashier of the Birkbeck was called and he related
the caretaker's visit at the bank.
"' It was then about one o'clock,' he stated.
'Mrs. Owen called and presented a cheque to
self for £827, the amount of her balance. She
seemed exceedingly happy and cheerful, and
talked about needing plenty of cash, as she was
going abroad to join her nephew, for whom she
would in future keep house. I warned her
about being sufficiently careful with so large a
sum, and parting from it injudiciously, as women
of her class are very apt to do. She laughingly
declared that not only was she careful of it in
the present, but meant to be so for the far-off
future, for she intended to go that very day to
a lawyer's office and to make a will.'
"The cashier's evidence was certainly start-
ling in the extreme, since in the widow's room
no trace of any kind was found of any money;
against that, two of the notes handed over by
the bank to Mrs. Owen on that day were cashed
by young Greenhill on the very morning of her L


326 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
mysterious death. One was handed in by him
to the West End Clothiers Company, in pay-
ment for a suit of clothes, and the other he
changed at the Post Office in Oxford Street.
"After that all the evidence had of necessity
to be gone through again on the subject of
young Greenhill's intimacy with Mrs. Owen.
He listened to it all with an air of the most
painful nervousness; his cheeks were positively
green, his lips seemed dry and parched, for he
repeatedly passed his tongue over them, and
when Constable E 18 deposed that at 2 a.m. on
the morning of February 2nd he had seen the
accused and spoken to him at the corner of Percy
Street and Tottenham Court Road, young Greenhill all but fainted.
"The contention of the police was that the
caretaker had been murdered and robbed during
that night before she went to bed, that young
Greenhill had done the murder, seeing that he
was the only person known to have been intimate
with the woman, and that it was, moreover,
proved unquestionably that he was in the imme-
diate neighbourhood of the Rubens Studios at
an extraordinarily late hour of the night.
"His own account of himself, and of that
same night, could certainly not be called very
satisfactory. Mrs. Owen was a relative of his late mother's, he declared. He himself was a
lithographer by trade, with a good deal of tin*


SUICIDE OB MURDER? 327
and leisure on his hands. He certainly had em-
ployed some of that time in taking the old
woman to various places of amusement. He had
on more than one occasion suggested that she
should give up menial work, and come and live
with him, but, unfortunately, she was a great
deal imposed upon by her nephew, a man of the
name of Owen, who exploited the good-natured
woman in every possible way, and who had on
more than one occasion made severe attacks upon
her savings at the Birkbeck Bank.
"Severely cross-examined by the prosecuting counsel about this supposed relative of Mrs.
Owen, Greenhill admitted that he did not know
him—had, in fact, never seen him. He knew
that his name was Owen and that was all. His
chief occupation consisted in sponging on the
kind-hearted old woman, but he only went to
see her in the evenings, when he presumably
knew that she would be alone, and invariably
after all the tenants of the Rubens Studios had
left for the day.
"I don't know whether at this point it strikes
you at all, as it did both magistrate and counsel,
that there was a direct contradiction in this
statement and the one made by the cashier of the
Birkbeck on the subject of his last conversa-
tion with Mrs. Owen. 'I am going abroad to
join my nephew, for whom I am going to keep
house,' was what the unfortunate woman had said.


*28 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"Now Greenhill, in spite of his nervousness
and at times contradictory answers, strictly
adhered to his point, that there was a nephew
in London, who came frequently to see his
aunt.
"Anyway, the sayings of the murdered woman
could not be taken as evidence in law. Mr.
Greenhill senior put the objection, adding:
'There may have been two nephews,' which
the magistrate and the prosecution were bound
to admit.
"With regard to the night immediately pre-
ceding Mrs. Owen's death, Greenhill stated that
he had been with her to the theatre, had seen
her home, and had had some supper with her
in her room. Before he left her, at 2 a.m., she
had of her own accord made him a present of
£10, saying: 'I am a sort of aunt to you, Ar-
thur, and if you don't have it, Bill is sure to
get it.'
"She had seemed rather worried in the early
part of the evening, but later on she cheered up.
"' Did she speak at all about this nephew
of hers or about her money affairs?' asked the
magistrate.
"Again the young man hesitated, but said,
'No! she did not mention either Owen or her
money affairs.'
"If I remember rightly," added the man in
the corner, "for recollect I was not present, the 


SUICIDE OR MURDER? 329
case was here adjourned. But the magistrate
would not grant bail. Greenhill was removed
looking more dead than alive—though everyone
remarked that Mr. Greenhill senior looked deter-
mined and not the least worried. In the course
of his examination on behalf of his son, of the
medical officer and one or two other witnesses,
he had very ably tried to confuse them on the
subject of the hour at which Mrs. Owen was last
known to be alive.
"He made a very great point of the fact that
the usual morning's work was done throughout
the house when the inmates arrived. Was it
conceivable, he argued, that a woman would do
that kind of work overnight, especially as she
was going to the theatre, and therefore would
wish to dress in her smarter clothes? It cer-
tainly was a very nice point levelled against the
prosecution, who promptly retorted: Just as
conceivable as that a woman in those circum-
stances of life should, having done her work,
undress beside an open window at nine o'clock
in the morning with the snow beating into the
room.
"Now it seems that Mr. Greenhill senior
could produce any amount of witnesses who
could help to prove a conclusive alibi on behalf
of his son, if only some time subsequent to that
fatal 2 a.m. the murdered woman had been seen
alive by some chance passer-by.


830 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
"However, he was an able man and an earnest
one, and I fancy the magistrate felt some sym-
pathy for his strenuous endeavours on his son's
behalf. He granted a week's adjournment, which seemed to satisfy Mr. Greenhill com-
pletely.
"In the meanwhile the papers had talked and almost exhausted the subject of the mystery
in Percy Street. There had been, as you no
doubt know from personal experience, innumer-
able arguments on the puzzling alternatives:—
"Accident?
"Suicide?
"Murder?
"A week went by, and then the case against
young Greenhill was resumed. Of course the
court was crowded. It needed no great penetra-
tion to remark at once that the prisoner looked
more hopeful, and his father quite elated.
"Again a great deal of minor evidence was
taken, and then came the turn of the defence.
Mr. Greenhill called Mrs. Hall, confectioner,
of Percy Street, opposite the Rubens Studios. She deposed that at 8 o'clock in the morning of
February 3rd, while she was tidying her shop
window, she saw the caretaker of the Studios
opposite, as usual, on her knees, her head and
body wrapped in a shawl, cleaning her front
steps. Her husband also saw Mrs. Owen, and
Mrs. Hall remarked to her husband how thank-


SUICIDE OR MURDER? 331
fa] she was that her own shop had tiled steps,
which did not need scrubbing on so cold a morning.
"Mr. Hall, confectioner, of the same address,
corroborated this statement, and Mr. Greenhill,
with absolute triumph, produced a third wit-
ness, Mrs. Martin, of Percy Street, who from
her window on the second floor had, at 7.30 a.m.,
Been the caretaker shaking mats outside her
front door. The description this witness gave
of Mrs. Owen's get-up, with the shawl round her
head, coincided point by point with that given
by Mr. and Mrs. Hall.
"After that Mr. Greenhill's task became an
easy one; his son was at home having his
breakfast at 8 o'clock that morning—not only
himself, but his servants would testify to that.
"The weather had been so bitter that the
whole of that day Arthur had not stirred from
his own fireside. Mrs. Owen was murdered after
8 a.m. on that day, since she was seen alive by
three people at that hour, therefore his son could
not have murdered Mrs. Owen. The police must
find the criminal elsewhere, or else bow to the
opinion originally expressed by the public that
Mrs. Owen had met with a terrible untoward
accident, or that perhaps she may have wilfully
sought her own death in that extraordinary and
tragic fashion.
"Before young Greenhill was finally dis-


334 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
He looked at her with some degree of astonish-
ment. She supposed that he was amazed at her
venturing to form an opinion of her own.
"And may I ask what, in your opinion, these
reasons are?" he asked very sarcastically.
"To begin with, the question of money," she
said—"has any more of it been traced so far?"
"Not another £5 note," he said with a chuckle;
"they were all cashed in Paris during the Ex-
hibition, and you have no conception how easy
a thing that is to do, at any of the hotels or
smaller agents de change."
"That nephew was a clever blackguard," she
commented.
"You believe, then, in the existence of that
nephew?"
"Why should I doubt it? Someone must
have existed who was sufficiently familiar with
the house to go about in it in the middle of the
day without attracting anyone's attention."
"In the middle of the day?" he said with a
chuckle.
"Any time after 8.30 in the morning."
"So you, too, believe in the 'caretaker,
wrapped up in a shawl,' cleaning her front
steps?" he queried.
"But"
"It never struck you, in spite of the training
your intercourse with me must have given you,
that the person who carefully did all the work 


SUICIDE OR MURDER? 335
in the Rubens Studios, laid the fires and carried
up the coals, merely did it in order to gain time;
in order that the bitter frost might really and
effectually do its work, and Mrs. Owen be not
missed until she was truly dead."
"But "suggested Polly again.
"It never struck you that one of the greatest
secrets of successful crime is to lead the police
astray with regard to the time when the crime
was committed. That was, if you remember, the
great point in the Regent's Park murder.
"In this case the 'nephew,' since we admit
his existence, would—even if he were ever found,
which is doubtful—be able to prove as good an
alibi as young Greenhill."
"But I don't understand"
"How the murder was committed?" he said
eagerly. "Surely you can see it all for yourself,
since you admit the 'nephew'—a scamp, per-
haps —who sponges on the good-natured woman.
He terrorises and threatens her, so much so that
she fancies her money is no longer safe even in
the Birkbeck Bank. Women of that class are
apt at times to mistrust the Bank of England.
Anyway, she withdraws her money. Who knows
what she meant to do with it in the immediate
future?
"In any case, she wishes to secure it after
her deathto a young man whom she likes, and
who has known how to win her good graces. 


836 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
That afternoon the nephew begs, entreats for
more money; they have a row; the poor woman
is in tears, and is only temporarily consoled by
a pleasant visit at the theatre.
"At 2 o'clock in the morning young Greenhill
parts from her. Two minutes later the nephew
knocks at the door. He comes with a plausible
tale of having missed his last train, and asks for
a 'shake down' somewhere in the house. The
good-natured woman suggests a sofa in one of
the studios, and then quietly prepares to go to
bed. The rest is very simple and elementary.
The nephew sneaks into his aunt's room, finds
her standing in her nightgown; he demands
money with threats of violence; terrified, she
staggers, knocks her head against the gas bracket,
and falls on the floor stunned, while the nephew
seeks for her keys and takes possession of the
£800. You will admit that the subsequent mist
en seine,—is worthy of a genius.
"No struggle, not the usual hideous acces-
sories round a crime. Only the open windows,
the bitter north-easterly gale, and the heavily
falling snow—two silent accomplices, as silent
as the dead.
"After that the murderer, with perfect pre-
sence of mind, busies himself in the house, doing
the work which will ensure that Mrs. Owen shall
not be missed, at any rate, for some time. He
dusts and tidies; some few hours later he even


140 THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
look into that corner where he sat, "I would
break myself of the habit of perpetually making
knots in a piece of string."
He did not reply, and at last Polly ventured to
look up—the corner was empty, and through
the glass door beyond the desk, where he had
just deposited his few coppers, she saw the tails
of his tweed coat, his extraordinary hat, his meagre, shrivelled-up personality, fast disappear-
ing down the street.
Miss Polly Burton (of the Evening Observer)
was married the other day to Mr. Richard
Probisher (of the London Mail). She has never
set eyes on the man in the corner from that day
to this.












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