Helen Vardon's confession
in which they respectively carry on their business. There are a few
small legacies--less than a thousand pounds in the aggregate; so that
there will probably be a residue of about three thousand pounds, which
will go to the widow.”
“What is the date of this will?”
“It is dated the 10th June last.”
“Do you know whether the provisions of the will were known to the
widow, or the other beneficiaries?”
“I do not know. They were not disclosed by me until probate had been
granted.”
“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I think we need not trouble you any
further, unless the jury wish to ask any questions.”
The jury did not; but the legal-looking gentleman at the table did,
and springing up like a Jack-in-the-box, he addressed the coroner.
“As representing Mr. Hyams, sir,” said he, “I should like to ask the
witness whether, in the event of the missing gems not coming to light,
their loss would be chargeable to the estate?”
The countenance of Mr. Isaacs hereupon assumed that peculiar
expression known to students of sculpture as “the archaic smile.”
“You are asking me to admit liability,” he replied; “I can’t do that,
you know. There is a recognised procedure in these cases, with which I
have no doubt you are acquainted.”
The questioner sat down with a jerk, and Mr. Cawley stood up.
“May I ask the witness, sir, whether, in the event of this loss being
adjudged to be chargeable to the estate, that loss would affect
equally all the beneficiaries?”
“No,” replied Mr. Isaacs, “it would not. It would fall, in the first
place, on the residuary legatee. It would only affect the estate as a
whole in so far as the amount of the charge exceeded that of the
residue.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Cawley. “There is one other question that I
should like to ask. The present will is dated the 10th of last June.
Did the execution of that will involve the revocation of a
previously-existing will?”
“Yes, it did. After his marriage deceased re-acknowledged the existing
will by a fresh signature and attestation, but he revoked this will
when he made the new one.”
“Could you tell us who were the beneficiaries under that will?”
Mr. Isaacs fixed a thoughtful (and somewhat beady) eye on the
coroner’s pewter ink-pot, and cogitated for a few moments.
“Is it necessary, sir, for me to answer that question?” he asked at
length, looking up at the coroner.
“Is the point material?” the latter asked, looking at Mr. Cawley.
“I submit, sir, that it may become highly important,” was the reply.
The coroner reflected with his eyes fixed on Mr. Cawley. Then he
nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I think you are right. We must ask you to
answer the question, Mr. Isaacs.”
Mr. Isaacs bowed. “The beneficiaries under that will were Rachel
Goldstein, Morris Goldstein, and Judith Samuels.”
“In what proportions was the property devised?”
“The bulk of the personalty was divided between Morris and Judith.
Rachel Goldstein--or Gregg--received two thousand pounds, but she was
also the residuary legatee.”
“And the value of the estate?”
“I can’t tell you that. I only know what it is now.”
Mr. Cawley sat down, and Mr. Isaacs retired to his seat. Then the
coroner pronounced the name of Mr. Hyams, and its owner took his place
by the table.
“We have heard, Mr. Hyams,” said the coroner, “of certain property of
yours which was in the deceased man’s custody. Will you give us a few
particulars of the transaction. When, for instance, did it come into
the possession of the deceased?”
“Two months ago--on the tenth of August, when the deceased called at
my office, and asked me to let him have a selection of stones for a
special purpose. He said that he had an opportunity of disposing of a
number of pieces of jewellery to a wealthy American gentleman, and
that he had discovered an extremely clever artist whom he proposed to
commission to make them. They were to be important pieces, chiefly
pendants, brooches, and bracelets. The stones were to be exceptional
in size and quality, and he wanted an assortment for Mr. Campbell--who
was conducting the transaction--to show the intending purchaser. He
had a list in his pocket-book, which he referred to as he made his
selection from my stock. The stones which he selected were rather
unusual--the sort of stones that appeal to collectors and
connoisseurs, rather than ordinary wearers of jewels. And some of them
were very valuable; one ruby alone that he took was worth fifteen
hundred pounds. The total value of the parcel that he carried away
with him was four thousand two hundred pounds.”
“I understand that he did not pay you for them?”
“No; he was not proposing to keep them all. They were a selection to
show to the customer. I made out a full list, and he signed a receipt
at the foot of it. I had known deceased for many years, and had often
had similar dealings with him.”
“And did he never return these stones, or any part of the collection?”
“No. From the time that he left my office with the stones in his
pocket I never saw him or heard from him again.”
This was the sum of Mr. Hyams’ evidence; and when he had retired the
name of Judith Samuels was called. The new witness took her place at
the table, and, after the usual preliminaries, proceeded to give her
evidence.
“I am the wife of David Samuels who trades under the name of Donald
Campbell. He is a dealer in works of art, principally goldsmith’s work
and jewellery. He is a practical jeweller himself, but most of the
alterations and repairs are put out. The new work that he sells, or
which is commissioned by customers, is executed for him by independent
goldsmiths, not by workmen employed by him.”
“You visited the deceased on the night preceding his death, I
understand, is that so?”
“Yes. I came to his chambers about half-past six, and left about seven
o’clock.”
“Did you notice anything unusual in his manner or appearance?”
“He was not looking very well, and he seemed rather depressed but he
brightened up as we talked. He was very much interested in the
business which I had come to discuss.”
“What was the nature of that business?”
“It was connected with a collection of stones that he had got on
approval from Mr. Hyams to carry out a commission that he expected to
get from a very wealthy American gentleman, to whom he had an
introduction. He did not disclose the name of the gentleman, but it
was understood that if he secured the commission, my husband should
conduct the negotiations, and get the work executed.”
“Did you gather that he had the stones in his possession?”
“Yes; he showed them to me. They were in a small wooden box, the
different kinds of stones wrapped up separately in little paper
packets. He took the box from a deed-box on the table by his bed-side,
and put it back there when he had shown me the stones.”
“Did you make any arrangements as to the disposal of these stones?”
“No final arrangements. He advised that we should get some of our
artist goldsmiths to submit designs for the customer to see; and he
suggested that my husband should ask Mrs. Otway to design and execute
a pendant to take some of the finest stones.”
“Mrs. Otway!” exclaimed the coroner. “What Mrs. Otway do you refer
to?”
“I mean Helen Otway, the wife of the deceased.”
“Are we to understand that Mrs. Otway is a designer of jewellery?”
“She is not only a designer; she is a practical goldsmith, and a very
clever one too. My husband admires her work exceedingly and has paid
her some very high prices. He paid her, for instance, twenty-five
guineas for a set of silver tea-spoons.”
The looks of astonishment that the coroner, the jury, and the
press-men bestowed on me might, in other circumstances, have flattered
my vanity. Now, I could see that Mrs. Campbell, without (so far as I
knew) departing one single jot from the truth, was enveloping me in
the most hideous entanglements.
After a pause--filled in with strenuous note-taking--the coroner again
addressed the witness. “It has been given in evidence that the
deceased had received a number of anonymous letters. Do you know
anything about these letters?”
“I know nothing beyond what I heard when the evidence was given.”
“Have you any means of judging who wrote these letters?”
“I have heard the evidence, and I can make a pretty good guess who
wrote them.”
“That is not quite what I mean. Have you any information about them
other than what you gathered from the evidence?”
“No; I never heard of them until then.”
This concluded Mrs. Campbell’s evidence. When she had retired Mrs.
Gregg was recalled and questioned concerning the missing stones.
“Did you know that deceased had these stones in his possession?”
“Yes. He showed them to me on one occasion, and I often saw him
looking at them. He was very fond of precious stones. He used to set
them out on a small square of black velvet, and try them in different
lights, and look at them through a magnifying glass.”
“When did you last see these stones?”
“After Mrs. Campbell--that is the last witness--had left, and just
before Mrs. Otway arrived. Deceased was then sitting up in bed looking
at a large green stone. I reminded him that Mrs. Otway was due at
eight, and he then put the stones back in their box, and put the box
away in the deed-box that was on the table.”
“When did you first learn that the stones were missing?”
“The day after the discovery that the deceased had committed suicide,
when Mrs. Otway came to the chambers with Mr. Hyams and the coroner’s
officer. She came to search for the anonymous letters, and she went
straight to the deed-box, and there they were. But the stones were not
there. I saw her take all the things out of the deed-box for Mr. Hyams
to see and there were no stones there.”
“Thank you,” said the coroner. “That will do. We must now, gentlemen,
see if Mrs. Otway can give us any further information.”
I once more took my place at the table and was again sensible of a
generally heightened curiosity on the part of the jury and the
spectators.
“We may as well dispose of the question of the missing stones,” said
the coroner; “for though it does not affect our enquiry directly but
is rather the business of the police, it seems to have an important,
indirect bearing. You have heard, Mrs. Otway, the evidence of Judith
Samuels, and Rachel Goldstein--or Gregg. Can you throw any light on
the disappearance of these stones?”
“No, I cannot.”
“Did you know that deceased had these valuable stones in his
possession?”
“No; I never heard of the stones until Mr. Hyams called on me on the
evening of the day on which Mr. Otway’s death was discovered.”
“Do you know, or have you any idea, where those stones are now?”
“I do not know, and I have no idea where they are.”
“Did you know that deceased was a dealer in precious stones?”
“No; my father told me that deceased collected gem-stones, and that he
sometimes had dealings in them. But I supposed that he was merely a
collector, not a professional dealer.”
“How long had you known deceased when you married him?”
“I had known of his existence about a year, but I had hardly ever
spoken to him. He was virtually a stranger to me.”
“Had you never heard of the suicidal tendency in his family?”
“Never until the night preceding his death, when he told me.”
“It has been stated that you are a practical goldsmith, and that you
have executed work for Mr. Samuels, or Campbell. Is that true?”
“I work as a goldsmith and I have sold some of my productions to Mr.
Campbell; but I have never been employed by him. I work as an
independent artist.”
“Has he ever supplied you with precious stones?”
“No. I purchase my own materials.”
“Have you ever done any alterations or resettings for him?”