Tell me more, I urged at last, looking into the face of the suspected criminal. Who is the victim?
At present I am keeping the affair a strict secret, he said. There are reasons, very potent reasons, why the public should not know of the tragedy. Nowadays publicity is the curse of life. At last the Home Office have recognised this. I told you that I am a holder of secrets. Well, besides myself, not more than three persons are aware of the astounding affair.
And you are suspected as the assassin? I remarked.
Unfortunately, I shall be, was his reply, and I saw that his countenance fell; I foresee it. That is why I require your aid the aid of a man who is honest, and who is a gentleman as well.
And he broke off again to chatter to Joseph, who was keeping up a continual screeching.
I am anxious to hear details of the affair, I said eagerly.
I wish I could tell you the details, he answered, with a bitter smile; but I am not aware of them myself. The affair is a mystery one of which even the police must be kept in ignorance.
Havent the police been informed?
No, was his prompt reply. In certain cases information to the police means publicity. In this case, as Ive already told you, there must be no publicity. Therefore, though a crime has been committed, it is being kept from the police, who, not knowing the facts, must only bungle the inquiries, and whose limited scope of inquiry would only result in failure.
You interest me, Mr Kirk. Relate the known facts to me, I said. Why, pray, will you be suspected of being a murderer?
Well, he said, with a long-drawn sigh, because well, because I had everything to gain by the death of the murdered person. He had filched from me a very valuable secret.
Then the murdered person was not your friend?
No; my enemy, he replied. You, Mr Holford, as an Englishman, will no doubt think it impossible that I may be arrested, tried in secret, and sent to penal servitude for life for a crime of which I am innocent. You believe that every man in this isle of unrest of ours must have a fair trial by judge and jury. Yet I tell you that there are exceptions. There are certain men in England who would never be brought before a criminal court. I am one of them.
At first I was inclined to regard Kirk as a madman, yet on looking into his face I saw an expression of open earnestness, and somehow I felt that he was telling me the curious truth.
I certainly thought there were no exceptions, I said.
I am one of the few, he replied. They dare not place me in a criminal dock.
Why?
For certain reasons and he smiled mysteriously reasons which you, if you become my friend, may some day discover. I live here in this by-road of a London suburb, but this is not my home. I have another a long way from here.
And, turning from me suddenly, he addressed questions to Joseph, asking him his opinion of me.
Wheres your coat? screeched the bird. Wheres your coat? Good night!
The whole scene was strangely weird and incongruous. Kirk at one moment speaking of a remarkable tragedy and at the next chaffing his pet.
At last, however, I fixed my host to the point, and asked him straight out what had occurred.
Well, he said, placing down his pipe and resting His protruding chin upon his right hand, as he gazed across at me, just follow me for a few moments, and Ill describe, as best I can, all that is known of the affair or, rather, all I know of it. Do you happen to know Sussex Place, Regents Park?
I replied in the affirmative. It was, as you probably know yourself, a highly respectable crescent of large houses overlooking the park. Entrance was gained from the road in the rear, for the houses faced the park, perhaps one of the pleasantest rows of residences in London. The occupiers were mostly City merchants or well-to-do ladies.
Well, he said, in one of those houses there has lived for the past five years or so Professor Ernest Greer, the well-known chemist, who, among other appointments, holds the Waynflete Professorship of Chemistry at Oxford University. Though his age is only about fifty-five, his whole career has been devoted to scientific research, with the result that he has amassed a considerable fortune from royalties gained from the new process he patented four years ago for the hardening of steel. I dare say youve often seen his name mentioned in the papers. He was a most popular man, and, with his daughter Ethelwynn, often went into society. In addition to the Regents Park house, they had a pretty seaside cottage down at Broadstairs.
Ive seen the Professors name very often in the papers, I remarked, in connection, I think, with the British Association. I read, not long ago, an account of one of his interesting lectures at the London Institution.
Then you realise his high standing, said Kirk, interpolating an aside to Joseph. Well, Mrs Greer is dead, and the household at Regents Park consists of the Professor, Ethelwynn, her maid Morgan, two housemaids, a female cook, and the butler Antonio Merli, an elderly Italian, who has been in the Professors service for nearly twenty years. On the evening before last that was Sunday at twenty minutes to five oclock, the Professor and his daughter were together in the large upstairs drawing-room, which overlooks the park, where Antonio served tea. Five minutes later Antonio re-entered and handed his master a telegram. The Professor, having read it, placed it upon the fire, and remarked that he would be compelled to go to Edinburgh that night by the 11:30 from Kings Cross, but would return in three days time, for the girl had accepted an invitation for the grand ball at Sutherland House to-morrow.
The Professor sent no reply to the message? I asked, much interested.
No; but half an hour later his actions struck his daughter as somewhat peculiar, for, having suddenly glanced up at the clock, he rose, crossed to one of the three long windows the end one and drew up the blind. Then, after a pause, he lowered it again. Then twice he pulled it up and down quickly, and returned again to where he was sitting. At least, that is his daughters story.
He signalled to somebody using the Morse code, I should say.
Exactly my theory, Mr Holford. I note that you follow me, exclaimed the friendless man. You possess a keen sense of deduction, I see!
Apparently you dont believe this statement of Miss Ethelwynns? I said.
He sniffed quickly, but did not at first reply.
The fact that he drew the blinds up and down at a preconcerted hour shows that he communicated with somebody who was awaiting the signal outside in Regents Park, he remarked at last.
Well, what then?
At eight he dined, as usual, with his daughter, and after dinner the faithful Antonio packed his kit-bag and suit-case, putting in only sufficient clothes for a stay of three days. At her fathers order Ethelwynn telephoned to the station-masters office at Kings Cross and secured a sleeping-berth in the 11:30 express for Edinburgh. At a quarter to eleven oclock he kissed his daughter good night, and went away in a cab to the station, promising faithfully to be back to take her to the ball.
And he disappeared I suppose?
No, he didnt, my companion exclaimed, as, turning to the bird, he said, Mr Holford jumps to conclusions just a little too quickly, doesnt he, Joseph? And he slowly relit his pipe, which had again gone out.
First, he went on, let me tell you of the arrangement of the Professors house. The whole of the ground and first floors are devoted to reception rooms. The remaining two floors and attics are bedrooms. Now, on the first floor, reached by passing through what is known as the Red Room, a small boudoir at the back, and then through a short passage, one comes to a large and spacious studio, an addition made by a former owner, a well-known artist. The only entrance is through the Red Room. The Professor rented the house on account of this studio, and had it fitted up as a laboratory. Here, secure from intrusion, he frequently carried on his experiments, making those remarkable discoveries which have rendered him world-famous. The laboratory is shut off from the boudoir by this short passage, there being two doors, one in the boudoir itself and one at the entrance to the Professors workshop. To both these doors are patent locks, of which the Professor keeps the keys, carrying them upon his watch-chain. No one else has a key, while the door from the conservatory over the porch is walled up. This is in order that no prying person shall enter in his absence and discover what experiments are in progress a very natural precaution.
Then they were secret experiments he was making? I remarked.
Yes. And now for the mysterious sequence of facts. They are as follows: Next morning, when the servants opened the house, one of the maids found, lying upon the hall table, a note addressed to Miss Greer. When Ethelwynn opened it, she found it to be from her father, telling her with regret that he must be absent abroad for several months, but that she was not to feel uncomfortable, and giving her certain directions, as well as how to obtain money during his enforced absence.
Well?
Joseph, the parrot, set up a loud screeching, trying to attract his masters attention.
Two hours later Antonio discovered upon the stairs leading up to the drawing-room a curious little gold and enamel charm in the form of a childs old-fashioned wooden doll a beautifully-made little thing, he went on; and half an hour later a maid, while cleaning the boudoir outside the locked door giving entrance to the laboratory, was surprised to find a small spot of blood upon the white goatskin mat. This seems to have aroused Antonios apprehensions. A telegram to the Professor at the North British Hotel in Edinburgh, sent by his daughter, brought, about three oclock in the afternoon, a reply stating that he was quite well, and it was not until seven oclock last evening that Ethelwynn communicated with me, her father having suggested this in the note she had received. I called upon her at once, and was shown the note, the little golden doll, and the ugly stain upon the mat. By then my curiosity became aroused. I went out to a telephone at a neighbouring public-house, and, unknown to anybody, got on to the reception clerk at the North British Hotel in Edinburgh. In answer to my inquiry, the young lady said that during the day a telegram had arrived addressed to Professor Greer, and it had been placed upon the board where telegrams were exhibited. Somebody had claimed it, but no one of the name was staying in the hotel.
You have now said that the Professor was your friend, I remarked. I understood you to say that he was an enemy.
Ill explain that later, said my companion impatiently, drawing hard at his pipe. Let me continue to describe the situation. Well, on hearing this from Edinburgh, I drove to Kings Cross, and, somewhat to my surprise, found that Professor Greer had left London by the train he had intended. The sleeping-car attendant who had travelled with him up North was just back, and he minutely described his passenger, referring to the fact that he refused to have an early cup of tea, because tea had been forbidden by his doctor.
A perplexing situation, I said. How did you account for the bloodstain? Had any of the servants met with an accident?
No, none. Neither dog, nor cat, nor any other pet was kept, therefore the stain upon the mat was unaccountable. It was that fact which caused me, greatly against Miss Ethelwynns consent, to seek a locksmith and take down the two locked doors of the laboratory.
And he paused, gazing once more straight into the flames, with a curious expression in those deep-set brown eyes.
And what did you find? I eagerly inquired.
I discovered the truth, he said in a hard, changed tone. The doors gave us a good deal of trouble. At the end of the laboratory, huddled in a corner, was the body of the Professor. He had been stabbed to the heart, while his face presented a horrible sight, the features having been burned almost beyond recognition by some terribly corrosive fluid a crime which in every phase showed itself to be due to some fiendish spirit of revenge.
But that is most extraordinary! I gasped, staring at the speaker. The sleeping-car conductor took him to Edinburgh! Besides, how could the two doors be locked behind the assassin? Were the keys still upon the victim?
They are still upon the dead mans watch-chain, he said. But, mark you, there is still a further feature of mystery in the affair. After her fathers departure for the station, his daughter put on a dressing-gown and, sending Morgan to bed, seated herself in her arm-chair before the fire in the Red Room, or boudoir, and took a novel. She read until past four oclock, being in the habit of reading at night, and then, not being sleepy, sat writing letters until a drowsiness fell upon her. She did not then awake until a maid entered at seven to draw up the blinds.
Then she was actually at the only entrance to the laboratory all the night!
Within a yard and a half of it, said Kershaw Kirk. But the affair presents many strange features, he went on. The worst feature of it all, Mr Holford, is that a motive a very strong motive is known to certain persons why I myself should desire to enter that laboratory. Therefore I must be suspected of the crime, and well, I admit at once to you I shall be unable to prove an alibi!
I was silent for a moment.
Unable to prove an alibi! I echoed. But the police have as yet no knowledge of the affair, I remarked.
No; I have, however, reported it in another quarter. Its a most serious matter, for I have suspicion that certain articles have been abstracted from the laboratory.
And that means what?
It means, my dear sir, very much more than you ever dream. This is at once the strangest and the most serious crime that has been committed in England for half a century. You are a man of action and of honour, Mr Holford. Will you become my friend, and assist me in trying to unravel it? he asked quickly, bending forward to me in his earnestness.
Most certainly I will, I replied, fascinated by the amazing story he had just related, quite regardless of the fact that he was the suspected assassin.
I wonder whether if I had known into what a vortex of dread, suspicion, and double-dealing that decision of mine would have led me I would have so lightly consented to render my help?
I think not.
Well, he said, glancing at his watch, the place has not been touched. If you consent to help me, it would be best that you saw it and formed your own independent theory. Would you care to come with me now? You could run along and make some excuse to Mrs Holford.
The remarkable mystery, surrounding as it did one of the best-known scientists in the land, had already gripped my senses. Therefore I did as he suggested, and about an hour later alighted from one of my own cars at the portico of that house of tragedy.