The blue scarab
holograph written on the two pages of a sheet of letter-paper. When
the witnesses signed, the will was covered by another sheet of paper
so that only the space for the signatures was exposed. Neither of the
witnesses read the will, nor did either of the beneficiaries; and so
far as I am aware, no one but the testator knew what were its actual
provisions, though, after the servants had left the room, Mr. Harewood
explained its general purport to the beneficiaries.”
“And what was its general purport?” Thorndyke asked.
“Broadly speaking,” replied Marchmont, “it divided the estate in two
very unequal portions between Mr. Baxfield and Mr. Crowhurst. There
were certain small legacies of which neither the amounts nor the names
of the legatees are known. Then, to Baxfield was given a thousand
pounds to enable him either to buy a partnership or to start a small
factory--he is a felt hat manufacturer by trade--and the remainder to
Crowhurst, who was made executor and residuary legatee. But, of
course, the residue of the estate is an unknown quantity, since we
don’t know either the number or the amounts of the legacies.
“Shortly after the signing of the will, the parties separated. Mr.
Harewood folded up the will and put it in a leather wallet which he
slipped into his pocket, stating his intention of taking the will
forthwith to deposit with his lawyer at Welsbury. A few minutes after
his guests had departed, he was seen by one of the servants to leave
the house, and afterwards was seen by a neighbour walking along a
footpath which, after passing through a small wood, joins the main
road about a mile and a quarter from Welsbury. From that time, he was
never again seen alive. He never visited the lawyer, nor did any one
see him at or near Welsbury or elsewhere.
“As he did not return home that night, his housekeeper (he was a
widower and childless) became extremely alarmed, and in the morning
she communicated with the police. A search party was organized, and,
following the path on which he was last seen, explored the wood--which
is known locally as Gilbert’s Copse--and here, at the bottom of an old
chalk-pit, they found him lying dead with a fractured skull and a
dislocated neck. How he came by these injuries is not at present
known; but as the body had been robbed of all valuables, including his
watch, purse, diamond ring and the wallet containing the will, there
is naturally a strong suspicion that he had been murdered. That,
however, is not our immediate concern--at least not mine. I am
concerned with the will, which, as you see, has disappeared, and as it
has presumably been carried away by a thief who is under suspicion of
murder, it is not likely to be returned.”
“It is almost certainly destroyed by this time,” said Mr. Crowhurst.
“That certainly seems probable,” Thorndyke agreed. “But what do you
want me to do? You haven’t come for counsel’s opinion?”
“No,” replied Marchmont. “I am pretty clear about the legal position.
I shall claim, as the will has presumably been destroyed, to have the
testator’s wishes carried out in so far as they are known. But I am
doubtful as to the view the Court may take. It may decide that the
testator’s wishes are not known; that the provisions of the will are
too uncertain to admit of administration.”
“And what would be the effect of that decision?” asked Thorndyke.
“In that case,” said Marchmont, “the entire estate would go to
Baxfield as he is the next of kin, and there was no previous will.”
“And what is it that you want me to do?”
Marchmont chuckled deprecatingly. “You have to pay the penalty of
being a prodigy, Thorndyke. We are asking you to do an
impossibility--but we don’t really expect you to bring it off. We ask
you to help us to recover the will.”
“If the will has been completely destroyed, it can’t be recovered,”
said Thorndyke. “But we don’t know that it has been destroyed. The
matter is, at least, worth investigating; and if you wish me to look
into it, I will.”
The solicitor rose with an air of evident relief. “Thank you,
Thorndyke,” said he. “I expect nothing--at least, I tell myself that I
do--but I can now feel that everything that is possible will be done.
And now I must be off. Crowhurst can give you any details that you
want.”
When Marchmont had gone, Thorndyke turned to our client and asked,
“What do you suppose Baxfield will do, if the will is irretrievably
lost? Will he press his claim as next of kin?”
“I should say yes,” replied Crowhurst. “He is a business man and his
natural claims are greater than mine. He is not likely to refuse what
the law assigns to him as his right. As a matter of fact, I think he
felt that his uncle had treated him unfairly in alienating the
property.”
“Was there any reason for this diversion of the estate?”
“Well,” replied Crowhurst, “Harewood and I had been very good friends
and he was under some obligations to me; and then Baxfield had not
made himself very acceptable to his uncle. But the principal factor, I
think, was a strong tendency of Baxfield’s to gamble. He had lost
quite a lot of money by backing horses, and a careful, thrifty man
like James Harewood doesn’t care to leave his savings to a gambler.
The thousand pounds that he did leave to Baxfield was expressly for
the purpose of investment in a business.”
“Is Baxfield in business now?”
“Not on his own account. He is a sort of foreman or shop-manager in a
factory just outside Welsbury, and I believe he is a good worker and
knows his trade thoroughly.”
“And now,” said Thorndyke, “with regard to Mr. Harewood’s death. The
injuries might, apparently, have been either accidental or homicidal.
What are the probabilities of accident--disregarding the robbery?”
“Very considerable, I should say. It is a most dangerous place. The
footpath runs close beside the edge of a disused chalk-pit with
perpendicular or overhanging sides, and the edge is masked by bushes
and brambles. A careless walker might easily fall over--or be pushed
over, for that matter.”
“Do you know when the inquest is to take place?”
“Yes. The day after to-morrow. I had the subpœna this morning for
Friday afternoon at 2.30, at the Welsbury Town Hall.”
At this moment footsteps were heard hurriedly ascending the stairs and
then came a loud and peremptory rat-tat at our door. I sprang across
to see who our visitor was, and as I flung open the door, Mr.
Marchmont rushed in, breathing heavily and flourishing a newspaper.
“Here is a new development,” he exclaimed. “It doesn’t seem to help us
much, but I thought you had better know about it at once.” He sat
down, and putting on his spectacles, read aloud as follows: “A new and
curious light has been thrown on the mystery of the death of Mr. James
Harewood, whose body was found yesterday in a disused chalk-pit near
Merbridge. It appears that on Monday--the day on which Mr. Harewood
almost certainly was killed--a passenger alighting from a train at
Barwood Junction before it had stopped, slipped and fell between the
train and the platform. He was quickly extricated, and as he had
evidently sustained internal injuries, he was taken to the local
hospital, where he was found to be suffering from a fractured pelvis.
He gave his name as Thomas Fletcher, but refused to give any address,
saying that he had no relatives. This morning he died, and on his
clothes being searched for an address, a parcel, formed of two
handkerchiefs tied up with string, was found in his pocket. When it
was opened it was found to contain five watches, three watch-chains, a
tie-pin and a number of bank-notes. Other pockets contained a quantity
of loose money--gold and silver mixed--and a card of the Welsbury
Races, which were held on Monday. Of the five watches, one has been
identified as the one taken from Mr. Harewood; and the bank-notes have
been identified as a batch handed to him by the cashier of his bank at
Welsbury last Thursday and presumably carried in the leather wallet
which was stolen from his pocket. This wallet, by the way, has also
been found. It was picked up--empty--last night on the railway
embankment just outside Welsbury Station. Appearances thus suggest
that the man, Fletcher, when on his way to the races, encountered Mr.
Harewood in the lonely copse, and murdered and robbed him; or perhaps
found him dead in the chalk-pit and robbed the body--a question that
is now never likely to be solved.”
As Marchmont finished reading, he looked up at Thorndyke. “It doesn’t
help us much, does it?” said he. “As the wallet was found empty, it is
pretty certain that the will has been destroyed.”
“Or perhaps merely thrown away,” said Thorndyke. “In which case an
advertisement offering a substantial reward may bring it to light.”
The solicitor shrugged his shoulders sceptically, but agreed to
publish the advertisement. Then, once more he turned to go; and as Mr.
Crowhurst had no further information to give, he departed with his
lawyer.
For some time after they had gone, Thorndyke sat with his brief notes
before him, silent and deeply reflective. I, too, maintained a
discreet silence, for I knew from long experience that the motionless
pose and quiet, impassive face were the outward signs of a mind in
swift and strenuous action. Instinctively, I gathered that this
apparently chaotic case was being quietly sorted out and arranged in a
logical order; that Thorndyke, like a skilful chess-player, was
“trying over the moves” before he should lay his hand upon the pieces.
Presently he looked up. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think, Jervis?
Is it worth while?”
“That,” I replied, “depends on whether the will is or is not in
existence. If it has been destroyed, an investigation would be a waste
of our time and our client’s money.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But there is quite a good chance that it has not
been destroyed. It was probably dropped loose into the wallet, and
then might have been picked out and thrown away before the wallet was
examined. But we mustn’t concentrate too much on the will. If we take
up the case--which I am inclined to do--we must ascertain the actual
sequence of events. We have one clear day before the inquest. If we
run down to Merbridge to-morrow and go thoroughly over the ground, and
then go on to Barwood and find out all that we can about the man
Fletcher, we may get some new light from the evidence at the inquest.”
I agreed readily to Thorndyke’s proposal, not that I could see any way
into the case, but I felt a conviction that my colleague had isolated
some leading fact and had a definite line of research in his mind. And
this conviction deepened when, later in the evening, he laid his
research case on the table and rearranged its contents with evident
purpose. I watched curiously the apparatus that he was packing in it
and tried--not very successfully--to infer the nature of the proposed
investigation. The box of powdered paraffin wax and the spirit
blowpipe were obvious enough; but the “dust-aspirator”--a sort of
miniature vacuum cleaner--the portable microscope, the coil of Manila
line, with an eye spliced into one end, and especially the abundance
of blank-labelled microscope slides, all of which I saw him pack in
the case with deliberate care, defeated me utterly.
About ten o’clock on the following morning we stepped from the train
in Welsbury Station, and having recovered our bicycles from the
luggage van, wheeled them through the barrier and mounted. During the
train journey we had both studied the one-inch Ordnance map to such
purpose that we were virtually in familiar surroundings and immune
from the necessity of seeking directions from the natives. As we
cleared the town we glanced up the broad by-road to the left which led