Helen Vardon's confession
asked me the same question when he showed me the letter; but I
reminded him that I did not take the stick with me when I left his
house, and that I never went to the house again.”
“It never occurred to you to ask what had become of your father’s
stick?”
“No. I always assumed that it was in Mr. Otway’s possession.”
“You have told us that Mrs. Gregg had seen the stick in Mr. Otway’s
house. Had anyone else seen it there?”
“I don’t know of anyone else having seen it; but, of course, it may
have been seen there by other persons. I know nothing of what went on
in that house. I never entered it after my father’s death.”
“With the exception of Mr. Otway and yourself, did anyone know that
you had seen that stick in Mr. Otway’s hand on the occasion of your
father’s death?”
“So far as I am aware, no one else knew.”
“There is a statement in that letter referring to a bruise on the
silver knob and a smear of blood with a grey hair sticking to it. Is
it possible, so far as you know, that that statement might be true?”
“I cannot say that it is impossible.”
“After your father’s death, did you examine the stick?”
“No. I saw it in Mrs. Gregg’s hands, but I did not look at it
closely.”
At this point a police superintendent who had been sitting near to the
coroner’s table, rose, and, approaching the table, stooped over it and
spoke to the coroner in a low voice. The latter listened attentively
and nodded once or twice, and when the superintendent had returned to
his seat he addressed me.
“I think that will do, Mrs. Otway--for the present, at any rate. We
may have to ask you one or two questions later. Do any of the jury
wish to ask anything before the witness sits down?”
As none of the jury responded, I returned to my seat, and the coroner
then recalled Mrs. Gregg.
“You have heard the last witness state that she saw you take up Mr.
Vardon’s stick. What made you examine that stick?”
“I did not examine it. I noticed it standing in the corner and saw
that it was a strange stick--that it was not Mr. Otway’s. I took it
out of the corner to look at it and then noticed that it was heavily
loaded at the top.”
“Can you say whether there was or was not a bruise or a blood smear on
the knob?”
“I cannot. I did not look closely at the knob. I just picked the stick
up, felt its weight and put it back in the corner.”
“Did you know that Mr. Otway had had that stick in his hand when Mr.
Vardon fell dead?”
“No. I never heard of that until to-day.”
“Could anyone other than Mrs. Otway have known, so far as you are able
to say?”
“I can’t say. I should think not. I did not get back to the house
until it was all over. But I thought, and believe, that there was no
one in the house but those three--Mrs. Otway and her husband and her
father.”
“Do you know what became of that stick?”
“I do not. I put it back in the corner and never saw it again. It was
not in the corner when I tidied up the room the next day.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gregg. That will do.”
Having dismissed the witness, the coroner turned to the jury.
“I had hoped, gentlemen,” said he, “to finish the case to-day, but, as
you have seen, its apparent simplicity was rather illusory. Some
rather curious issues have arisen which will have to be considered in
detail. Moreover, there appears to be a suspicion that property of
very great value has been removed from the premises--at least, it
seems to be missing. Under these circumstances, the police authorities
ask for an adjournment to enable them to make some enquiries; and I am
sure you will agree with me that this, and certain other matters,
should be cleared up before a verdict is returned. I therefore propose
to adjourn this enquiry for fourteen days.”
The court rose, and I rose with it. As I stood up and turned towards
the door I saw Jasper standing at the back of the hall. He made no
sign, nor did I; and as soon as our eyes had met, he turned and walked
out. I did not attempt to follow, for I understood at once that he did
not consider it desirable that we should recognise one another in that
place. Moreover, I was detained for a minute or two by the coroner,
who informed me, with a curious dry civility, that he wished me to
attend at the adjourned meeting of the court, as further evidence from
me might be required; and after him, by Mr. Isaacs, who, as executor,
was responsible for the funeral arrangements and who promised to
inform me when the date had been fixed.
As I emerged from the gateway I glanced up the street with a
wistfulness which I would hardly acknowledge to myself. But, of
course, Jasper was already out of sight. Feeling very lonely, weary
and exhausted, I walked slowly down Drury Lane considering what I
should do next. And suddenly there came on me a longing for the quiet
and comfort of the club. It was quite near; and once there I could
wash, refresh and rest in peace, alone, or at least among civilised
people. And it was even possible that Jasper might be there.
At this thought I must have unconsciously quickened my pace, for a few
minutes later found me passing through the entrance hall, telling
myself that, of course, Jasper would not have come there. Nevertheless
as I opened the door of the large room my eye instantly sought the
familiar table in the corner; and when I saw Jasper sitting by it with
a watchful gaze fixed on the door, my weariness and loneliness seemed
to drop from me like a garment.
Chapter XXV.
Suspense: and a Discovery
“I had hoped,” said Jasper, as we met by the table, “that you would
come on here. I had to take the chance. I suppose you understood why I
made myself scarce as soon as you had seen me?”
“I assumed that you thought it better that we should not be seen
together just at present.”
“It is more than unadvisable,” said he. “It is vitally important. We
will talk about that letter--but not here. There is a lot that I have
to say to you, but we had better have our talk where we cannot be
seen, or possibly overheard. I propose that I run off now--nobody has
seen us here yet--and wait for you at my chambers. You just have a
wash to freshen you up and come along at once. Don’t stop for tea; I
will have some ready for you. And you had better come by the least
frequented way. Go down to the Embankment, up Middle Temple Lane,
along Crown Office Row, cross King’s Bench Walk to Mitre Court, come
out into Fleet Street by Mitre Court Passage, cross to Fetter Lane and
into Clifford’s Inn by the postern gate.”
“All this sounds very secret and mysterious,” said I.
“It is necessary,” he replied. “We mustn’t be seen together if we can
help it. Remember the jury and other interested parties are local men,
and might easily run against us in the public thoroughfares. So I will
run off now and you will come along as soon as you can.”
To this arrangement I agreed, although the precautions seemed to me
somewhat excessive, and he hurried away while I went in quest of hot
water and the other means of ablution.
The process of purification did not take long, for the temptation to
linger luxuriously over the ceremonial of the toilet was combated by
curiosity and anxiety to rejoin Jasper. In a few minutes I emerged,
greatly refreshed and sensible of a very healthy appetite, and set
forth by the prescribed route towards Clifford’s Inn, reflecting
earnestly as I went on Jasper’s rather mysterious attitude. I did not
have to ply the knocker, for as I reached the landing I found Jasper
standing at his open door.
“Now,” said he, when I had entered and he had softly closed both the
massive “oak” and the inner door, “we are secure from observers and
eavesdroppers, and we can pow-wow at any length we please.”
“You are very secret and portentous,” I remarked. “What is it all
about?”
“The secrecy and portentosity,” he replied, “are possibly by-products
of a legal training. We will discuss that presently. Meanwhile, the
need of the moment is to provide nourishment for a starving angel.”
He placed an easy chair for me by the fire, and then retired to the
little kitchen, from which issued a gentle clink of crockery very
grateful to my ear. Presently he emerged with a tray on which were a
teapot and two covers, and having deposited it on a small table,
placed the latter by my chair and removed the covers with a flourish.
“There is only one cup and one plate,” said I, noting that the
“nourishment” had been provided on a scale of opulence appropriate to
masculine conceptions of appetite.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Jasper. “How many cups and plates do you
generally use?”
“Go and get another plate and cup and saucer,” I commanded, severely.
When he had made the necessary addition to the table appointments, he
drew up a second armchair, and, as he poured out the tea, he said,
gravely: “We have had a long probation, Helen, dearest--at least, it
seems so to me; and it is not over yet. But this little interlude
should hearten us for what remains. To me it is a glimpse into a
future of perfect happiness and comradeship. Do you realise, Helen,
that we are now a normal, engaged couple, free to marry when we
choose?”
Of course I had realised that we were free; but as I thought of the
shrouded figure that even now reposed under its sheet in the mortuary,
I doubted whether the word “normal” was fully applicable.
“It is perfect peace and happiness to be here with you, Jasper,” I
replied; “but I think I shall feel more normal when we can meet
without all this secrecy. And even now I don’t quite understand it.
Why is it so important that we should not be seen together?”
“That is fairly obvious, I think,” he replied. “I am going to be very
frank with you, Helen, because I have complete confidence in your
courage and strength of character. There is no use in blinking the
fact that you are in a difficult position. That coroner man thinks you
wrote those anonymous letters; and he suspects that you knew about
Otway’s suicidal tendencies.”
“But I distinctly said I did not.”
“Yes, but, you see, the person who wrote those letters is not a person
whose statements would carry any weight; and he thinks you are that
person. He thinks you have tried deliberately to drive Otway to
suicide, and he will be looking for a motive. There is a fairly
obvious motive already, as you were encumbered with a husband whom you
didn’t want; but if you add another husband whom you did and do want,
the motive for getting rid of the unwanted one becomes much more
definite. That is the kind of motive he will be on the look-out for.
Hence the necessity for the utmost caution on our part. If a witness
could be produced who could depose to having seen us together, it
might be possible for him to put some inconvenient questions.”
“Could he not question me on the subject apart from any such witness?”
“I don’t think it would be admissible for the coroner to suggest the
existence of a lover if he had no facts. And that brings us to the
point that I was going to raise. You ought to be represented either by
counsel or by a solicitor; preferably by counsel, as a barrister is
more agile--more accustomed to deal with the sudden exigencies that
arise in court.”
“You seem to suggest that I am charged with having brought about Mr.
Otway’s death.”
“I wouldn’t use the word ‘charged’ as I don’t know that there is any
such offence recognised by law. Morally, to cause a man to commit
suicide would be much the same as to murder him, but I can’t say
off-hand what the legal position would be. My impression is that it
would not be an offence that could be dealt with by law unless the
causation were direct, as in the case where two persons agree to
commit suicide together and one of them survives.”
I listened to this exposition with a sinking heart. Jasper’s intention