The magic casket
interest, and having glanced at them, we took our departure, avoiding
on the stairs an eager reporter, all agog for “copy.”
A few days later we received a visit, by appointment from a Mr.
Herdman, a solicitor who was unknown to us and who was accompanied by
the widow of Mr. James Manford, the victim of the explosion. In the
interval the inquest had been opened but had been adjourned for
further examination of the premises and the remains. No mention had
been made of our visit to the building, and so far as I knew nothing
had been said to anybody on the subject.
Mr. Herdman came to the point with business-like directness.
“I have called,” he said, “to secure your services, if possible, in
regard to the matter of which I spoke in my letter. You have probably
seen an account of the disaster in the papers?”
“Yes,” replied Thorndyke. “I read the report of the inquest.”
“Then you know the principal facts. The inquest, as you know, was
adjourned for three weeks. When it is resumed, I should like to retain
you to attend on behalf of Mrs. Manford.”
“To watch the case on her behalf?” Thorndyke suggested.
“Well, not exactly,” replied Herdman. “I should ask you to inspect the
premises and the remains of poor Mr. Manford, so that, at the
adjourned inquest, you could give evidence to the effect that the
explosion and the death of Mr. Manford were entirely due to accident.”
“Does anyone say that they were not?” Thorndyke asked.
“No, certainly not,” Mr. Herdman replied hastily. “Not at all. But I
happened, quite by chance, to see the manager of the ‘Pilot’ Insurance
Society, on another matter, and I mentioned the case of Mr. Manford.
He then let drop a remark which made me slightly uneasy. He observed
that there was a suicide clause in the policy, and that the
possibility of suicide would have to be ruled out before the claim
could be settled. Which suggested a possible intention to contest the
claim.”
“But,” said Thorndyke, “I need not point out to you that if he sets up
the theory of suicide, it is for him to prove it, not for you to
disprove it. Has anything transpired that would lend colour to such a
suggestion?”
“Nothing material,” was the reply. “But we should feel more happy if
you could be present and give positive evidence that the death was
accidental.”
“That,” said Thorndyke, “would be hardly possible. But my feeling is
that the suicide question is negligible. There is nothing to suggest
it, so far as I know. Is there anything known to you?”
The solicitor glanced at his client and replied somewhat evasively:
“We are anxious to secure ourselves. Mrs. Manford is left very badly
off, unless there is some personal property that we don’t know about.
If the insurance is not paid, she will be absolutely ruined. There
isn’t enough to pay the debts. And I think the suicide question might
be raised--even successfully--on several points. Manford had been
rather queer lately: jumpy and rather worried. Then, he was under
notice to terminate his engagement at the works. His finances were in
a confused state; goodness knows why, for he had a liberal salary. And
then there was some domestic trouble. Mrs. Manford had actually
consulted me about getting a separation. Some other woman, you know.”
“I should like to forget that,” said Mrs. Manford; “and it wasn’t that
which worried him. Quite the contrary. Since it began he had been
quite changed. So smart in his dress and so particular in his
appearance. He even took to dyeing his hair. I remember that he opened
a fresh bottle of dye the very morning before his death and took no
end of trouble putting it on. It wasn’t that entanglement that made
him jumpy. It was his money affairs. He had too many irons in the
fire.”
Thorndyke listened with patient attention to these rather irrelevant
details and inquired: “What sort of irons?”
“I will tell you,” said Herdman. “About three months ago he had need
for two thousand pounds; for what purpose, I can’t say, but Mrs.
Manford thinks it was to invest in certain valuables that he used to
purchase from time to time from a Russian dealer named Bilsky. At any
rate, he got this sum on short loan from a Mr. Clines, but meanwhile
arranged for a longer loan with a Mr. Elliott on a note of hand and an
agreement to insure his life for the amount.
“As a matter of fact, the policy was made out in Elliott’s name, he
having proved an insurable interest. So if the insurance is paid,
Elliott is settled with. Otherwise the debt falls on the estate, which
would be disastrous; and to make it worse, the day before his death,
he drew out five hundred pounds--nearly the whole balance--as he was
expecting to see Mr. Bilsky, who liked to be paid in bank-notes. He
did see him, in fact, at the laboratory, but they couldn’t have done
any business, as no jewels were found.”
“And the bank-notes?”
“Burned with the body, presumably. He must have had them with him.”
“You mentioned,” said Thorndyke, “that he occasionally bought jewels
from this Russian. What became of them?”
“Ah!” replied Herdman, “there is a gleam of hope there. He had a safe
deposit somewhere. We haven’t located it yet, but we shall. There may
be quite a nice little nest-egg in it. But meanwhile there is the debt
to Elliott. He wrote to Manford about it a day or two ago. You have
the letter, I think,” he added, addressing Mrs. Manford, who thereupon
produced two envelopes from her handbag and laid them on the table.
“This is Mr. Elliott’s letter,” she said. “Merely a friendly reminder,
you see, telling him that he is just off to the continent and that he
has given his wife a power of attorney to act in his absence.”
Thorndyke glanced through the letter and made a few notes of its
contents. Then he looked inquiringly at the other envelope.
“That,” said Mrs. Manford, “is a photograph of my husband. I thought
it might help you if you were going to examine the body.”
As Thorndyke drew the portrait out and regarded it thoughtfully, I
recalled the shapeless, blackened fragments of its subject; and when
he passed it to me I inspected it with a certain grim interest, and
mentally compared it with those grisly remains. It was a commonplace
face, rather unsymmetrical--the nose was deflected markedly to the
left, and the left eye had a pronounced divergent squint. The bald
head, with an abundant black fringe and an irregular scar on the right
side of the forehead, sought compensation in a full beard and
moustache, both apparently jet-black. It was not an attractive
countenance, and it was not improved by a rather odd-shaped ear--long,
lobeless, and pointed above, like the ear of a satyr.
“I realize your position,” said Thorndyke, “but I don’t quite see what
you want of me. If,” he continued, addressing the solicitor, “you had
thought of my giving _ex parte_ evidence, dismiss the idea. I am not a
witness-advocate. All I can undertake to do is to investigate the case
and try to discover what really happened. But in that case, whatever I
may discover I shall disclose to the coroner. Would that suit you?”
The lawyer looked doubtful and rather glum, but Mrs. Manford
interposed, firmly:
“Why not? We are not proposing any deception, but I am certain that he
did not commit suicide. Yes, I agree unreservedly to what you
propose.”
With this understanding--which the lawyer was disposed to boggle
at--our visitors took their leave. As soon as they were gone, I gave
utterance to the surprise with which I had listened to Thorndyke’s
proposal.
“I am astonished at your undertaking this case. Of course, you have
given them fair warning, but still, it will be unpleasant if you have
to give evidence unfavourable to your client.”
“Very,” he agreed. “But what makes you think I may have to?”
“Well, you seem to reject the probability of suicide, but have you
forgotten the evidence at the inquest?”
“Perhaps I have,” he replied blandly. “Let us go over it again.”
I fetched the report from the office, and spreading it out on the
table began to read it aloud. Passing over the evidence of the
inspector and the fireman, I came to that of the night-watchman.
“Shortly after I came on duty at ten o’clock, a foreign gentleman
named Bilsky called to see Mr. Manford. I knew him by sight, because
he had called once or twice before at about the same time. I took him
up to the laboratory, where Mr. Manford was doing something with a big
crucible on the gas furnace. He told me that he had some business to
transact with Mr. Bilsky and when he had finished he would let him
out. Then he was going to do some experiments in making alloys, and as
they would probably take up most of the night he said I might as well
turn in. He said he would call me when he was ready to go. So I told
him to be careful with the furnace and not set the place on fire and
burn me in my bed, and then I went downstairs. I had a look round to
see that everything was in order, and then I took off my boots and
laid down. About half-past twelve I heard Mr. Manford and Bilsky come
down. I recognized Mr. Bilsky by a peculiar cough that he had and by
the sound of his stick and his limping tread--he had something the
matter with his right foot and walked quite lame.”
“You say that the deceased came down with him,” said the coroner. “Are
you quite sure of that?”
“Well, I suppose Mr. Manford came down with him, but I can’t say I
actually heard him.”
“You did not hear him go up again?”
“No, I didn’t. But I was rather sleepy and I wasn’t listening very
particular. Well, then I went to sleep and slept till about half-past
one, when some noise woke me. I was just getting up to see what it was
when I heard a tremendous bang, right overhead. I ran down and turned
the gas off at the main and then I got a fire extinguisher and ran up
to the laboratory. The place seemed to be all in a blaze, but it
wasn’t much of a fire after all, for by the time the fire engines
arrived I had got it practically out.”
The witness then described the state of the laboratory and the finding
of the body, but as this was already known to us, I passed on to the
evidence of the next witness, the superintendent of the fire brigade,
who had made a preliminary inspection of the premises. It was a
cautious statement and subject to the results of a further
examination; but clearly the officer was not satisfied as to the cause
of the outbreak. There seemed to have been two separate explosions,
one near a cupboard and another--apparently the second--in the
cupboard itself; and there seemed to be a burned track connecting the
two spots. This might have been accidental or it might have been
arranged. Witness did not think that the explosive was celluloid. It
seemed to be a high explosive of some kind. But further investigations
were being made.
The superintendent was followed by Mrs. Manford, whose evidence was
substantially similar to what she and Mr. Herdman had told us, and by
the police surgeon, whose description of the remains conveyed nothing
new to us. Finally, the inquest was adjourned for three weeks to allow
of further examination of the premises and the remains.
“Now,” I said, as I folded up the report, “I don’t see how you are
able to exclude suicide. If the explosion was arranged to occur when
Manford was in the laboratory, what object, other than suicide, can be
imagined?”
Thorndyke looked at me with an expression that I knew only too well.
“Is it impossible,” he asked, “to imagine that the object might have
been homicide?”
“But,” I objected, “there was no one there but Manford--after Bilsky
left.”
“Exactly,” he agreed, dryly; “after Bilsky left. But up to that time
there were two persons there.”
I must confess that I was startled, but as I rapidly reviewed the