Helen Vardon's confession
Dr. Thorndyke, and there was one or two men whom I judged to be
lawyers representing the various parties interested.
My own counsel, Mr. Cawley, a shrewd-looking man of about thirty-five,
introduced himself to me as I took the seat reserved for me, and gave
me a few words of advice.
“I think,” said he, “I have had all the necessary instructions from
Mr. Davenant, who, I see, is here.” (I had had an instantaneous
glimpse of him as I entered the room.) “His impression is that the
coroner is disposed to put a certain amount of blame on you for your
husband’s death. If that is so, you will have to be rather careful
about answering questions, especially any questions that the jury may
put. Don’t be in a hurry to answer any doubtful questions. Give me
time to object if they seem inclined to go beyond the evidence.”
I promised to bear his advice in mind, and then asked:
“Do you know if Dr. Thorndyke is giving evidence to-day?”
“I presume he is,” was the reply; “but I notice that he is not present
and that his reporter is.”
At this point the coroner laid down the papers which he had been
looking over, and opened the proceedings with a short address to the
jury.
“The adjournment of this inquiry, gentlemen,” said he, “which was
decided upon a fortnight ago, is amply justified by the mass of new
facts which are now available. These new facts bear chiefly on the
property which, as you heard at the last sitting, was believed to be
missing; but in other directions they throw a very curious light on
the case. The first witness will be Superintendent Miller, of the
Criminal Investigation Department.”
As his name was spoken, the officer rose and took his place by the
table. He took the oath, and disposed of the preliminaries with
professional facility, and then waited gravely for the coroner’s next
question.
“You had some knowledge of the deceased, Lewis Otway, and his affairs,
I understand?” said the coroner.
“Yes. I have known of his existence for more than twenty years.”
“Will you tell us what you know of him?”
“I first made his acquaintance about twenty-three years ago. He was
then practising as a solicitor--chiefly as a police-court
advocate--and was known by his real name, Lewis Levy, which he
subsequently changed to Otway. After a time, he began to engage in
business as a money-lender, and it was at this time that he took the
name of Otway. Presently he began to combine with money-lending a
certain amount of trafficking in precious stones, and it was then that
the police began to keep a somewhat close watch on him, with the idea
that he might be also acting as a receiver. We never really had
anything against him, but we always had the impression that he did
some business as a middleman, or disposer of stolen jewels.
“When I first knew him, he had living with him a young woman, named
Rachel Goldstein. She was nominally his housekeeper, but there were
two children--a boy named Morris, and a girl named Judith--whom he
admitted to be his. When he changed his name to Otway, Rachel
Goldstein took the name of Gregg, and used to pass as a Scotchwoman.
The children lived with their parents until they grew up, when Otway
(or Levy) provided for them in a way that made the police watch still
more closely. Judith married a David Samuels, who traded under the
name of Campbell as a dealer in works of art, especially goldsmith’s
work and jewellery; and Morris Goldstein started as a dealer in
antiques, with a shop in Hand Court, and some workshops in Mansell
Street, Whitechapel, where most of the antiques were made.
“Now both these men were practical working jewellers. It was believed
that Otway financed them both, and it was known that he was the lessee
of the premises that they occupied. Moreover, as soon as they were
established in business, Otway gradually abandoned the money-lending,
and occupied himself almost exclusively in dealing in gem stones. He
was an exceedingly good judge of stones, and was quite successful as a
legitimate dealer; but the police had an impression that he did a
considerable amount of business that was not legitimate. I want it to
be quite clear that I am not making any accusations; I am referring
merely to an impression that the police had; it may have been quite a
mistaken impression, but I mention it because the matter bears
directly on this enquiry.
“The idea of the police, then, was that Otway dealt to a considerable
extent in stolen property. We supposed that he obtained this
property--precious stones, without the mounts--not from the thieves,
but from the receivers, and that he disposed of them with the aid of
his son and son-in-law. Both those men did a fairly large trade in
high-class jewellery. They did not touch commercial goods, but dealt
exclusively in work produced individually by skilled goldsmiths and
jewellers, some of whom they kept regularly employed. They also did a
good deal of repairing and re-setting, and their transactions were
always with private customers, not with the trade.
“Our idea of the way it was worked was this: We thought that when
Otway had got a collection of stolen stones he would pass on some of
them to these two men. They would then commission their craftsmen to
make some articles of jewellery, and would provide them with stones
which had been bought from the regular dealers, and the purchase of
which could be proved if necessary. Then, when the jewels were
delivered--or even after they had been sold to a private
buyer--Campbell or Goldstein would take the purchased stones out of
their settings and replace them by stolen stones. And a similar method
could have been employed when jewels were brought for alteration,
repair or re-setting. This kind of substitution would be very
difficult to trace, for it is not easy to identify particular stones
and prove that they are not the ones referred to in the dealers’
receipts. As a matter of fact we never did trace any stolen gems
excepting on a single occasion; and then the evidence was not good
enough for us to risk a prosecution.
“And now we come to the case that concerns this enquiry. About a year
ago there was a burglary at the premises of Messrs. Middleburg, of New
Bond Street, the well-known jewellers, and, among other things, a
collection of valuable stones, worth about five thousand pounds, was
carried off. It was a small collection, but all the stones were
individually of considerable value, and several of them were
remarkable, either in respect of size or other peculiarities. The
collection has never been traced, and none of the stones has
reappeared either here or abroad; and the police have reason to
believe that the whole collection is still in this country.
“When these stones disappeared so completely, the police formed the
opinion that they had passed into the possession of Otway, and that he
was holding them up until an opportunity occurred to issue them one by
one. At this time he was living at Maidstone--he had been there a year
or two, but he had kept his old chambers at Lyon’s Inn, and often
stayed in them for a week or more at a time. Last May or June he left
Maidstone and came back to his old chambers, and we then began to keep
a closer watch on him.
“About a couple of months ago he bought--or rather took on
approval--from Mr. Hyams, of Hatton Garden, a collection of stones of
which I have seen the list. These stones were carefully selected by
Otway, and the remarkable thing about them is that, taken as a whole,
they are singularly like the stolen collection. Among the stolen
stones, for instance, there were two large tourmalines, one green and
one deep blue, both table stones with step-cut backs; four emeralds,
two step-cut and two cut _en cabochon_; two large chrysoberyls, one
brilliant-cut, green, and one _en cabochon_, yellow; one pale-blue
diamond; and one pale-pink. Now, the collection taken from Mr. Hyams
includes tourmalines, emeralds, chrysoberyls, and diamonds, of almost
exactly the same size, colour and cutting; and there are many other
passable duplicates of the stolen stones.
“When I became aware of this transaction I inferred that Otway was
making arrangements to release the stolen stones, and I caused a still
closer watch to be kept on him; but up to the present not one of the
missing stones has been discovered. Now I understand that the Hyams
collection has disappeared; and if that is so, it seems probable that
the person who has taken it is also in possession of the stolen
collection. But that, of course, is only a guess.”
“Quite so!” said the coroner, “and it is a matter that is more in your
province than in ours. Is there anything more that you have to tell us
that is relevant to the enquiry?”
“No, I think that is all.”
“You will be remaining here, in case we want to refer to you again?”
“Yes; I want to hear Dr. Thorndyke’s evidence, and, of course, I want
to hear the verdict.”
“I am afraid you may have a long time to wait, for I have had a
telegram from Dr. Thorndyke saying that he has been detained at
Maidstone, and has missed his train. It is a great nuisance for us
all. However, we will go on with the evidence. The next witness will
be Mr. Samuel Isaacs.”
As the superintendent retired to his seat and Mr. Isaacs approached
the table, I reflected rapidly on what I had just heard. Dr. Thorndyke
had apparently been down to Maidstone. Was his visit connected with
the present enquiry? And if so, what was it that he had been
investigating? The locality suggested some kind of research in which I
was concerned, but at the nature of that research I could make no
guess whatever. However, there was no time to speculate on the
subject, for Mr. Isaacs had been sworn, and was ready to begin his
evidence.
“You were solicitor to the deceased, I understand, Mr. Isaacs?”
“Yes; I am one of the executors of his will.”
“In that capacity have you heard of any property said to be missing
from the chambers which he occupied?”
“I have. Mr. Hyams has made a claim to have restored to him a parcel
of precious stones, valued at about four thousand pounds, which, he
states, was his property, and which he asserts the deceased had in his
possession.”
“Have you examined the premises with a view to discovering that
property?”
“Yes, I have examined the premises very thoroughly, and have made a
complete inventory of all the effects of the deceased. I have gone
through the contents of the safe and all other receptacles, and have
checked the property which he had deposited at his bank. I have made a
most exhaustive search, but have failed to find any trace of the
parcel referred to, or of any precious stones whatever.”
“Is it possible that you may have overlooked the parcel?”
“I should say it is impossible. My opinion is that the parcel is not
on the premises, and it certainly is not at the bank.”
The coroner and a legal-looking gentleman at the table both noted down
this reply. Then the former said: “You are, no doubt, in a position to
tell us what was the state of the deceased man’s affairs. Was there
any kind of financial embarrassment?”
“I should say, certainly not. The gross value of the estate--which is
entirely personal--is a little over seventeen thousand pounds; and the
liabilities, so far as they are known to me, are quite trivial.”
“Can you tell us roughly, what are the main provisions of the will,
that is, if it has been proved?”
“It has been proved. The principal beneficiary is the widow, who
receives eight thousand pounds, and the lease of the chambers in
Lyon’s Inn, with the furniture and effects, and is made residuary
legatee. Rachel Gregg--or Goldstein--receives one thousand, and Morris
and Judith, each, two thousand pounds, and the lease of the premises