Well, it must be left to the police to unravel whatever mystery surrounds her. It is only for us to ascertain the cause of her death whether natural, or by foul means; and he went back to where the dead woman was lying still and cold, her dress disarranged, her dark hair fallen dishevelled, her sightless eyes closed in the sleep that knows no awakening until the Great Day.
The cabman stood with his hat in his hand; the constable had hung his helmet on his forearm by its strap.
Then, outwardly, there are no signs of murder? the latter asked, disappointed perhaps that the case was not likely to prove so sensational as it had at first appeared.
Tell your inspector that at present I can give no opinion, the surgeon replied. Certain appearances are mysterious. To-night I can say nothing more. At the inquest I shall be able to speak more confidently.
As he spoke, his cold, grey eyes were still fixed upon the lifeless form, as if held by some strange fascination. Approaching the cupboard, he took from a case a small lancet, and raising the dead womans arm, made a slight incision in the wrist. For a few moments he watched it intently, bending and holding her wrist full in the glaring gaslight within two inches of his eyes.
Suddenly he let the limp, inert arm drop, and with a sigh turned again to the two men who stood motionless, watching, and said: Go. Take the body to the mortuary. Ill examine her to-morrow; and he rang for the attendants, who came, lifted the body from the couch, and conveyed it out, to admit a man who lay outside groaning, with his leg crushed.
Half an hour later the cab-driver and the constable stood in the small upper room at Vine Street Police Station, the office of the Inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department attached to that station. Inspector Elmes, a dark-bearded, stalwart man of forty-five, sat at a table, while behind him, arranged over the mantelshelf, were many photographs of criminals, missing persons, and people who had been found dead in various parts of the metropolis, and whose friends had not been traced. Pinned against the grey-painted walls were several printed notices offering rewards, some with portraits of absconding persons, others with crude woodcuts of stolen jewels. It was a bare, carpetless loom, but eminently business-like.
Well, the inspector was saying to the constable as he leant back in his chair, theres some mystery about the affair, you think eh? Are there any signs of murder?
No, sir, the man answered. At present the doctor has discovered nothing.
Then, until he has, our Department cant deal with it, replied the detective. Why has your Inspector sent you up here?
Because its so mysterious, I suppose, sir.
She may have had a fit most probable, I should think. Until the doctor has certified, I dont see any necessity to stir. Its more than possible that when the man who left her at the Criterion reads of her death in the papers, hell come forward, identify her, and clear himself. Then, turning to the cabman, he asked, What sort of a man was he an Englishman?
Well, I really dont know, sir. He spoke to the dead girl in her own language, yet I thought, when he spoke to his friend at the station, that his English was that of a foreigner. Besides, he looked like a Frenchman, for he wore a large bow for a tie, which no Englishman wears.
You think him a foreigner because of his tie eh? the detective observed, smiling. Now, if you had noticed his boots with a critical eye, you might perhaps have accurately determined his nationality. Look at a mans boots next time.
Then, taking up his pen, he drew a piece of pale yellow official paper before him, noted the number of the cabmans badge, inquired his name and address, and asked several questions, afterwards dismissing both men with the observation that until a verdict had been given in the Coroners Court, he saw no reason to institute further inquiries.
Two days later the inquest was held in a small room at St. Martins Town Hall, the handsome building overlooking Trafalgar Square, and, as may be imagined, was largely attended by representatives of the Press. All the sensationalism of London evening journalism had, during the two days intervening, been let loose upon the mysterious affair, and the remarkable latest details had been worked up into an amazing, but utterly fictitious story. One paper, in its excess of zeal to outdistance all its rivals in sensationalism, had hinted that the dead woman was actually the daughter of an Imperial House, and this had aroused public curiosity to fever-heat.
When the usual formalities of constituting the Court had been completed, the jury had viewed the body, and the cabman had related his strange story, the Coroner, himself a medical man, dark-bearded and middle-aged, commenced a close cross-examination.
Was it French or Italian the lady spoke? he asked.
I dont know the difference, sir, the cabman admitted. The man with her spoke just as quickly as she did.
Was there anything curious in the demeanour of either of them?
I noticed nothing strange. The gentleman told me to drive along Pall Mall and the Haymarket, or of course Id ave taken the proper route, up Charin Cross Road and Leicester Square.
You would recognise this gentleman again, I suppose? the Coroner asked.
Id know him among a thousand, the man promptly replied.
Inspector Elmes, who was present on behalf of the Criminal Investigation Department, asked several questions through the Coroner, when the latter afterwards resumed his cross-examination.
You have told us, he said, that just before entering the cab the gentleman was accosted by a friend. Did you overhear any of their conversation?
I heard the missing man address the other as Major, the cabman replied. He introduced the Major to the lady, but I was unable to catch either of their names. The two men seemed very glad to meet, but, on the other hand, my gentleman seemed in a great hurry to get away.
You are certain that this man you know as the Major did not arrive by the same train, eh? asked the Coroner, glancing sharply up from the paper whereon he was writing the depositions of this important witness.
I am certain; for I noticed him lounging up and down the platform fully arf an hour before the train came in.
Then you think he must have been awaiting his friend?
No doubt he was, sir, for as soon as I drove the lady and gentleman away, he, too, started to walk out of the station.
Then the Coroner, having written a few more words upon the foolscap before him, turned to the jury, exclaiming This last statement of the witness, gentlemen, seems, to say the least, curious.
In an instant all present were on tip-toe with excitement, wondering what startling facts were likely to be revealed.
Chapter Four
The Major.
No further questions were put to the cab-driver at this juncture, but medical evidence was at once taken. Breathless stillness pervaded the court, for the statement about to be made would put an end to all rumour, and the truth would be known.
When the dapper elderly man had stepped up to the table and been sworn, the Coroner, in the quick, business-like tone which he always assumed toward his fellow medical men, said
You are Doctor Charles Wyllie, house-surgeon, Charing Cross Hospital?
I am, the other answered in a correspondingly dry tone.
The woman was brought to the hospital, I suppose?
The woman was brought to the hospital, I suppose?
Yes, the police brought her, but she had already been dead about three-quarters of an hour. There were no external marks of violence, and her appearance was as though she had died suddenly from natural causes. In conjunction with Doctor Henderson, I yesterday made a careful post-mortem. The body is that of a healthy woman of about twenty-three, evidently an Italian. There was no trace whatever of organic disease. From what I noticed when the body was brought to the hospital, however, I asked the police to let it remain untouched until I was ready to make a post-mortem.
Did you discover anything which might lead to suspicion of foul play? inquired the Coroner.
I made several rather curious discoveries, the doctor answered, whereat those in court shifted uneasily, prepared for some thrilling story of how the woman was murdered. First, she undoubtedly died from paralysis of the heart. Secondly, I found around the left ankle a curious tattoo-mark in the form of a serpent with its tail in its mouth. It is beautifully executed, evidently by an expert tattooist. Thirdly, there was a white mark upon the left breast, no doubt the scar of a knife-wound, which I judged to have been inflicted about two years ago. The knife was probably a long narrow-bladed one, and the bone had prevented the blow proving fatal.
Then a previous attempt had been made upon her life, you think? asked the Coroner, astonished.
There is no doubt about it, the doctor answered. Such a wound could never have been caused by accident. It had no doubt received careful surgical attention, judging from the cicatrice.
But this had nothing to do with her death? the Coroner suggested.
Nothing whatever, replied the doctor. The appearance of the body gives no indication of foul play.
Then you assign death to natural causes eh?
No, I do not, responded Dr Wyllie deliberately, after a slight pause. The woman was murdered.
These words produced a great sensation in the breathlessly silent court.
By what means?
That I have utterly failed to discover. All appearances point to the fact that the deceased lost consciousness almost instantly, for she had no time even to take out her handkerchief or smelling-salts, the first thing a woman does when she feels faint. Death came very swiftly, but the ingenious means by which the murder was accomplished are at present entirely a mystery. At first my suspicions were aroused by a curious discoloration of the mouth, which I noticed when I first saw the body; but, strangely enough, this had disappeared yesterday when I made the post-mortem. Again, in the centre of the left palm, extending to the middle finger, was a dark and very extraordinary spot. This I have examined microscopically, and submitted the skin to various tests, but have entirely failed to determine the cause of the mark. It is dark grey in colour, and altogether mysterious.
There was no puncture in the hand? inquired the Coroner.
None whatever. I examined the body thoroughly, and found not a scratch, the doctor answered quickly. At first I suspected a subcutaneous injection of poison; but this theory is negatived by the absence of any puncture.
But you adhere to your first statement that she was murdered?
Certainly. I am confident that the paralysis is not attributable to natural causes.
Have you found any trace of poison?
The contents of the stomach were handed over by the police to the analyst. I cannot say what he has reported, the doctor answered sharply.
At once the Coroners officer interposed with the remark that the analyst was present, and would give evidence.
The foreman of the jury then put several questions to the doctor.
Do you think, doctor, he asked, that it would be possible to murder a woman while she was sitting in a cab in so crowded a place as Piccadilly Circus?
The greater the crowd, the less the chance of detection, I believe.
Have you formed no opinion how this assassination was accomplished? Is there absolutely nothing which can serve as clue to the manner in which this mysterious crime was perpetrated?
Absolutely nothing beyond what I have already explained, the witness answered. The grey mark is on the palm of the left hand, which at the time of the mysterious occurrence was gloved. On the hand which was ungloved there is no mark. I therefore am of opinion that this curious discoloration is evidence in some way or other of murder.
Was she a lady?
She had every evidence of being so. All her clothing was of first-class quality, and the four rings she wore were of considerable value. When I came to make the post-mortem, I found both hands and feet slightly swollen, therefore it was impossible to remove her rings without cutting.
The evidence of Dr Slade, Analyst to the Home Office, being brief, was quickly disposed of. He stated that he had submitted the contents of the stomach to analysis for poison, but had failed to find trace of anything baneful. It was apparent that the woman had not eaten anything for many hours, but that was, of course, accounted for by the fact that she had been travelling. His evidence entirely dismissed the theory of poison, although Dr Wyllie had asserted most positively that death had resulted from the administration of some substance which had proved so deadly as to cause her to lose consciousness almost instantly, and produce paralysis of the heart.
Certainly the report of the analyst did not support the doctors theory. Dr Wyllie was one of the last persons to indulge unduly in any sensationalism, and the Coroner, knowing him well through many years, was aware that there must be some very strong basis for his theory before he would publicly express his conviction that the woman had actually been murdered. Such a statement, when published in the Press in two or three hours time, would, he knew, give the doctor wide notoriety as a sensation-monger the very thing he detested above everything. But the fact remained that on oath Dr Wyllie had declared that the fair, unknown foreigner had been foully and most ingeniously murdered. If this were really so, then the culprit must be a past-master in the art of assassination. Of all the inquiries the Coroner had held during many years of office, this certainly was one of the most sensational and mysterious.
When the analyst had concluded, a smartly-dressed young woman, named Arundale, was called. She stated that she was a barmaid at the Criterion, and related how the unknown man, whose appearance she described, had entered the bar, called for a whisky and soda, chatted with her for a few minutes, and then made his exit by the other door.
Did he speak to any one else while in the bar? asked the Coroner.
Yes, while he was talking to me, an older, well-dressed man entered rather hurriedly. The gentleman speaking to me appeared very surprised indeed, almost alarmed. Then, drawing aside so that I should not overhear, they exchanged a few hurried words, and the elder left by the back exit, refusing the others invitation to drink. The younger man glanced at his watch, then turned, finished his whisky leisurely, and chatted to me again. I noticed that he was watching the front door all the time, but believing him to be expecting a friend when, suddenly wishing me a hasty Good-night, he threw down a shilling and left.
What sort of man was it who spoke to him? inquired the Coroner quickly.
He was a military man, for I heard him addressed as Major.
Curious! the Coroner observed, turning to the jury. The cab-driver in his evidence says that a certain Major met the pair at Charing Cross Station. It may have been the same person. This coincidence is certainly striking, and one which must be left to the police to investigate. We have it in evidence that the woman and her companion drove away in the cab, leaving the Major whoever he may be standing on the platform. The pair drove straight to the Criterion; yet five minutes later the womans companion was joined by another Major, who is apparently one and the same.