The magic casket
either. Hence it is certain that the blood found in the hall was not
the blood of either of these two persons.”
The ironic smile had faded from the coroner’s face. He was evidently
deeply impressed, and his manner was quite deferential as he asked:
“Do these very remarkable observations of yours lead to any further
inferences?”
“Yes,” replied Thorndyke. “They render it certain that this blood was
shed not earlier than nine o’clock and probably nearer midnight.”
“Really!” the astonished coroner exclaimed. “Now, how is it possible
to fix the time in that exact manner?”
“By inference from the habits of the parasite,” Thorndyke explained.
“This particular filaria is distributed by the mosquito, and its
habits are adapted to the habits of the mosquito. During the day, the
worms are not found in the blood; they remain hidden in the tissues of
the body. But about nine o’clock at night they begin to migrate from
the tissues into the blood, and remain in the blood during the hours
when the mosquitoes are active. Then, about six o’clock in the
morning, they leave the blood and migrate back into the tissues.
“There is another very similar species--_Filaria diurna_--which has
exactly opposite habits, adapted to day-flying suctorial insects. It
appears in the blood about eleven in the forenoon and goes back into
the tissues about six o’clock in the evening.”
“Astonishing!” exclaimed the coroner. “Wonderful! By the way, the
parasites that you found could not, I suppose, have been _Filaria
diurna_?”
“No,” Thorndyke replied. “The time excludes that possibility. The
blood was certainly shed after six. They were undoubtedly _nocturna_,
and the large numbers found suggest a late hour. The parasites come
out of the tissues very gradually, and it is only about midnight that
they appear in the blood in really large numbers.”
“That is very important,” said the coroner. “But does this disease
affect any particular class of persons?”
“Yes,” Thorndyke replied. “As the disease is confined to tropical
countries, the sufferers are naturally residents of the tropics, and
nearly always natives. In West Africa, for instance, it is common
among the negroes but practically unknown among the white residents.”
“Should you say that there is a distinct probability that this unknown
person was a negro?”
“Yes. But apart from the filariæ, there is direct evidence that he
was. Searching for some cause of the bleeding, I noticed a lamp-hook
screwed into the ceiling and low enough to strike a tall man’s head. I
examined it closely, and observed on it a dark, shiny mark, like a
blood-smear, and one or two short coiled hairs which I recognized as
the scalp-hairs of a negro. I have no doubt that the unknown man is a
negro, and that he has a wound of the scalp.”
“Does filarial disease produce any effects that can be recognized?”
“Frequently it does. One of the commonest effects produced by _Filaria
nocturna_, especially among negroes, is the condition known as
elephantiasis. This consists of an enormous swelling of the
extremities, most usually of one leg, including the foot; whence the
name. The leg and foot look like those of an elephant. As a matter of
fact, the negro who was in the hall suffered from elephantiasis of the
left leg. I observed prints of the characteristically deformed foot on
the oil-cloth covering the floor.”
Thorndyke’s evidence was listened to with intense interest by everyone
present, including myself. Indeed, so spell-bound was his audience
that one could have heard a pin drop; and the breathless silence
continued for some seconds after he had ceased speaking. Then, in the
midst of the stillness, I heard the door creak softly behind me.
There was nothing particularly significant in the sound. But its
effects were amazing. Glancing at the inspector, who faced the door, I
saw his eyes open and his jaw drop until his face was a very mask of
astonishment. And as this expression was reflected on the faces of the
jurymen, the coroner and everyone present, excepting Thorndyke, whose
back was towards the door, I turned to see what had happened. And then
I was as astonished as the others.
The door had been pushed open a few inches and a head thrust in--a
negro’s head, covered with a soiled and blood-stained rag forming a
rough bandage. As I gazed at the black, shiny, inquisitive face, the
man pushed the door farther open and shuffled into the room; and
instantly there arose on all sides a soft rustle and an inarticulate
murmur followed by breathless silence, while every eye was riveted on
the man’s left leg.
It certainly was a strange, repulsive-looking member, its monstrous
bulk exposed to view through the slit trouser and its great shapeless
foot--shoeless, since no shoe could have contained it--rough and horny
like the foot of an elephant. But it was tragic and pitiable, too; for
the man, apart from this horrible excrescence, was a fine, big,
athletic-looking fellow.
The coroner was the first to recover. Addressing Thorndyke, but
keeping an eye on the negro, he said:
“Your evidence, then, amounts to this: On the night of Joseph Riggs’s
death, there was a stranger in the house. That stranger was a negro,
who seems to have wounded his head and who, you say, had a swelled
left leg.”
“Yes,” Thorndyke admitted, “that is the substance of my evidence.”
Once more a hush fell on the room. The negro stood near the door,
rolling his eyes to and fro over the assembly as if uneasily conscious
that everyone was looking at him. Suddenly, he shuffled up to the foot
of the table and addressed the coroner in deep, buzzing, resonant
tones.
“You tink I kill dat ole man! I no kill um. He kill himself. I look
um.”
Having made this statement, he rolled his eyes defiantly round the
court, and then turned his face expectantly towards the coroner, who
said:
“You say you know that Mr. Riggs killed himself?”
“Yas. I look um. He shoot himself. You tink I shoot um. I tell you I
no shoot um. Why I fit kill this man? I no sabby um.”
“Then,” said the coroner, “if you know that he killed himself, you
must tell us all that you know; and you must swear to tell us the
truth.”
“Yas,” the negro agreed, “I tell you eberyting one time. I tell you de
troof. Dat ole man kill himself.”
When the coroner had explained to him that he was not bound to make
any statement that would incriminate him, as he still elected to give
evidence, he was sworn and proceeded to make his statement with
curious fluency and self-possession.
“My name Robert Bruce. Dat my English name. My country name Kwaku
Mensah. I live for Winnebah on de Gold Coast. Dis time I cook’s mate
for dat steamer _Leckie_. On Wednesday night I lay in my bunk. I no
fit sleep. My leg he chook me. I look out of de porthole. Plenty moon
live. In my country when de moon big, peoples walk about. So I get up.
I go ashore to walk about de town. Den de rain come. Plenty rain. Rain
no good for my sickness. So I try for open house doors. No fit. All
doors locked. Den I come to dis ole man’s house. I turn de handle. De
door open. I go in. I look in one room. All dark. Nobody live. Den I
look annudder room. De door open a little. Light live inside. I no
like dat. I tink, spose somebody come out and see me, he tink I come
for teef someting. So I tink I go away.
“Den someting make ‘Ping!’ same like gun. I hear someting fall down in
dat room. I go to de door and I sing out, ‘Who live in dere?’ Nobody
say nutting. So I open de door and look in. De room full ob smoke. I
look dat ole man on de floor. I look dat pistol. I sabby dat ole man
kill himself. Den I frighten too much. I run out. De place all dark.
Someting knock my head. He make blood come plenty. I go back for ship.
I no say nutting to nobody. Dis day I hear peoples talk ’bout dis
inquess to find out who kill dat ole man. So I come to hear what
peoples say. I hear dat gentleman say I kill dat ole man. So I tell
you eberyting. I tell you de troof. Finish.”
“Do you know what time it was when you came ashore?” the coroner
asked.
“Yas. When I come down de ladder I hear eight bells ring. I get back
to de ship jus’ before dey ring two bells in de middle watch.”
“Then you came ashore at midnight and got back just before one
o’clock?”
“Yas. Dat is what I say.”
A few more questions put by the coroner having elicited nothing fresh,
the case was put briefly to the jury.
“You have heard the evidence, gentlemen, and most remarkable evidence
it was. Like myself, you must have been deeply impressed by the
amazing skill with which Dr. Thorndyke reconstructed the personality
of the unknown visitor to that house, and even indicated correctly the
very time of the visit, from an examination of a mere chance
blood-stain. As to the statement of Kwaku Mensah, I can only say that
I see no reason to doubt its truth. You will note that it is in
complete agreement with Dr. Thorndyke’s evidence, and it presents no
inconsistencies or improbabilities. Possibly the police may wish to
make some further inquiries, but for our purposes it is the evidence
of an eyewitness, and as such must be given full weight. With these
remarks, I leave you to consider your verdict.”
The jury took but a minute or two to deliberate. Indeed, only one
verdict was possible if the evidence was to be accepted, and that was
agreed on unanimously--suicide whilst temporarily insane. As soon as
it was announced, the inspector, formally and with congratulations,
released Fletcher from custody, and presently retired in company with
the negro to make a few inquiries on board the ship.
The rising of the court was the signal for a wild demonstration of
enthusiasm and gratitude to Thorndyke. To play his part efficiently in
that scene he would have needed to be furnished, like certain
repulsive Indian deities, with an unlimited outfit of arms. For
everyone wanted to shake his hand, and two of them--Mr. Foxley and
Miss Markham--did so with such pertinacity as entirely to exclude the
other candidates.
“I can never thank you enough,” Miss Markham exclaimed, with swimming
eyes, “if I should live to be a hundred. But I shall think of you with
gratitude every day of my life. Whenever I look at Robert, I shall
remember that his liberty, and even his life, are your gifts.”
Here she was so overcome by grateful emotion that she again seized and
pressed his hand. I think she was within an ace of kissing him; but
being, perhaps, doubtful how he would take it, compromised by kissing
Robert instead. And, no doubt, it was just as well.
IX.
GLEANINGS FROM THE WRECKAGE
There was a time, and not so very long ago, when even the main
streets of London, after midnight, were as silent as--not the grave;
that is an unpleasant simile. Besides, who has any experience of
conditions in the grave? But they were nearly as silent as the streets
of a village. Then the nocturnal pedestrian could go his way
encompassed and soothed by quiet, which was hardly disturbed by the
rumble of a country wagon wending to market or the musical tinkle of
the little bells on the collar of the hansom-cab horse sedately
drawing some late reveller homeward.
Very different is the state of those streets nowadays. Long after the
hour when the electric trams have ceased from troubling and the motor
omnibuses are at rest, the heavy road transport from the country
thunders through the streets; the air is rent by the howls of the
electric hooter, and belated motor-cyclists fly past, stuttering
explosively like perambulant Lewis guns with an inexhaustible charge.
“Let us get into the by-streets,” said Thorndyke, as a car sped past
us uttering sounds suggestive of a dyspeptic dinosaur. “We don’t want
our conversation seasoned with mechanical objurgations. In the