The mystery of Angelina Frood
resting-places we looked upon; and became to us a living thing whose
birth and growth we could watch, whose vicissitudes and changing
conditions we could trace until they brought us to its august old age.
Under his guidance we looked down the long vista of the past, from the
time when simple masons scalloped the Norman capitals within, while
illustrious craftsmen fashioned the wonderful west doorway, to that
last upheaval that swept away the modern shoddy and restored to the
old fabric its modest comeliness.
Architectural antiquities, however, are not the especial concern of
this history, though they were not without a certain influence in its
unfolding. Accordingly, I shall not follow our progress--attended by
the indispensable photographic recording angel--through nave and
aisles, form choir to transepts, and from tower to undercroft. At the
close of a delightful morning I betook myself homeward, charged with
new and varied knowledge, and with a cordial invitation to my guest to
join the afternoon’s expedition if he were archæologically inclined.
Apparently he was, for when, shortly after his arrival, I conveyed the
invitation to him he accepted at once.
“I always take the opportunity,” said he, “of getting what is
practically first-hand information. Your friend, Mr. Japp, is
evidently an enthusiast; he has expert technical knowledge, and he has
apparently filled in his detail by personal investigation. A man like
that can tell you more in an hour than guide-books could tell you in a
lifetime. We had better get a large-scale map of the town to enable us
to follow the description, unless you have one.”
“I haven’t,” said I, “but we can get one on the way to the rendezvous.
You got my report, I suppose?”
“Yes,” he replied, “I got it yesterday. That, in fact, was what
determined me to come down. The discovery of that bag upon the shore
dispels to some extent the ambiguity of our data. The finding of the
brooch did not enlighten us much. It might simply have been dropped
and picked up by some casual wayfarer. In fact, that is what the
appearances suggested, for it is manifestly improbable that a person
who had committed a crime would take the risk of pawning the product
of robbery with violence in the very neighbourhood where the crime had
been committed, and after an interval of time which would allow of the
hue and cry having already been raised. Your sergeant is probably
right in assuming that the man with the mole had nothing to do with
the affair. But the finding of this bag is a different matter. It
connects that disappearance with the river and it offers a strong
suggestion of crime.”
“Don’t you think it possible that she might have fallen into the river
accidentally?” I asked.
“It is possible,” he admitted. “But that is where the significance of
the brooch comes in. If she had fallen into the river from some wharf
or pier, there does not seem to be any reason why the brooch should
have become detached and fallen on land--as it apparently did. The
finding of the bag where it had been thrown up by the river, and of
the brooch on shore, suggests a struggle on land previous to the fall
into the water. You don’t happen, I suppose, to know what the bag
contained?”
“I don’t--excepting the packet of tablets that I gave her. When the
bag was found, it was empty; at least, it contained only the
handkerchief, as I mentioned in my report.”
“Yes,” he said reflectively. “By the way, I must compliment you on
those reports. They are excellent, and with regard to this one, there
are two or three rather curious circumstances. First, as to the packet
of tablets. You mention that it had not been unwrapped and that, when
it was found, the paper was quite clean. Therefore it had never been
in the water. Therefore it had been taken out of the bag--by somebody
with moderately clean hands--before the latter was dropped into the
river; and it must have been thrown away on the shore above high-water
mark. Incidentally, since the disappearance occurred--presumably--on
the evening of the 26th of April, and the packet was found on the 7th
of May, it had been lying on the shore for a full ten days. Perhaps
there is nothing very remarkable in that; but the point is that Mrs.
Frood was carrying the bag in her hand and she would almost certainly
have dropped it if there had been any struggle. How, then, did the bag
come to be in the river, and how came some of its contents to be found
on the shore clean and free from any traces of submersion?”
“We can only suppose,” said I, with an inward shudder--for the
discussion of these hideous details made my very flesh creep--“that
the murderer picked up the bag when he had thrown the body into the
river, took out any articles of value, if there were any, and threw
the rest on the shore.”
“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, a little doubtfully, “that would seem to be
what happened. And in that case, we should have to assume that the
place where the packet was found was, approximately, the place where
the crime was committed. For, as the packet was never immersed, it
could not have been carried to that place by the tide, and one cannot
think of any other agency by which it could have been moved. Its clean
and unopened condition seems to exclude human agency. The question
then naturally arises, Is the place where the packet was found, a
place at, or near, which the tragedy could conceivably have occurred?
What do you say to that?”
I considered for a few moments, recalling the intricate and obscure
approach of the shore and the absence of anything in the nature of a
public highway.
“I can only say,” I replied at length, “that it seems perfectly
inconceivable that Mrs. Frood could have been at that place, or even
near it, unless she went there for some specific purpose--unless, for
instance, she were lured there in some way. It is a place that is, I
should say, unknown to any but the waterside people.”
“We must go there and examine the place carefully,” said he, “for if
it is, as you say, a place to which no one could imaginably have
strayed by chance, that fact has an important evidential bearing.”
“Do you think it quite impossible that the package could have been
carried to that place and dropped there?”
“Not impossible, of course,” he replied, “but I can think of no
reasonably probable way in which it could have happened, supposing the
murderer to have pocketed it, and afterwards to have thrown it away.
That would be a considered and deliberate act; and it is almost
inconceivable that he should not have opened the packet to see what
was inside, and that he should have dropped it on the dry beach when
the river was close at hand. Remember that the bag was found quite
near, and that it had been in the water.”
“And assuming the crime to have been committed at that place, what
would it prove?”
“In the first place,” he replied, “it would pretty definitely exclude
the theory of accidental death. Then it would suggest at least a
certain amount of premeditation, since the victim would have had, as
you say, to be enticed to that unlikely spot. And it would suggest
that the murderer was a person acquainted with the locality.”
“One of the waterside people,” said I. “They are a pretty shady lot,
but I don’t see why any of them should want to murder her.”
“It is not impossible,” said he. “She was said to be shopping in
Chatham, and she might have had a well-filled purse and allowed it to
be seen. But that is mere speculation. The fact is that we have no
data at present. We know practically nothing about Mrs. Frood. We
can’t say if she had any secret enemies, or if there was anyone who
might have profited by her death or have had any motive for making
away with her.”
“We know something about her husband,” said I, “and that he has
disappeared in a rather mysterious fashion; and that his disappearance
coincides with that of his wife.”
“Yes,” Thorndyke agreed, “those are significant facts. But we mustn’t
lose sight of the legal position. Until the body is recovered, there
is no evidence of death. Until the death is proved, no charge of
murder can be sustained. When the body is found it will probably
furnish some evidence as to how the death occurred, if it is recovered
within a reasonable time. As a matter of fact, it is rather remarkable
that it has not yet been found. The death occurred--presumably--nearly
a fortnight ago. Considering how very much frequented this river is,
it is really rather unaccountable that the body has not come to light.
But I suppose it is time that we started for the rendezvous.”
I looked at my watch and decided that it was, and we accordingly set
forth in the direction of the office, which was the appointed
meeting-place, calling at a stationer’s to provide ourselves each with
a map. We chose the six-inch town plan, which contained the whole
urban area, including the winding reaches of the river, folding them
so as to show at an opening the peninsula on which the city of
Rochester is built.
“A curious loop of the river, this,” said Thorndyke, scanning the map
as we went along. “Rather like that of the Thames at the Isle of Dogs.
You notice that there are quite a number of creeks on the low shore at
both sides. Those will be places to watch. A floating body has rather
a tendency to get carried into shallow creeks and to stay there. But I
have no doubt the longshoremen are keeping an eye on them as a reward
has been offered. Perhaps we might be able to go down and have a look
at the shore when we have finished our perambulation of the town.”
“I don’t see why not,” I replied, though, to tell the truth, I was not
very keen on this particular exploration. To Thorndyke this quest was
just an investigation to be pursued with passionless care and method.
To me it was a tragedy that would colour my whole life. To him,
Angelina was but a missing woman whose disappearance had to be
explained by patient inquiry. To me she was a beloved friend whose
loss would leave me with a life-long sorrow. Of course, he was not
aware of this; he had no suspicion of the shuddering horror that his
calm, impersonal examination of the evidential details produced in me.
Nor did I intend that he should. It was my duty and my privilege to
give him what assistance I could, and keep my emotions to myself.
“You will bear in mind,” said he, as we approached the office, “that
my connexion with the case of Mrs. Frood is not to be referred to. I
am simply a friend staying with you for a day or two.”
“I won’t forget,” said I, “though I don’t quite see why it should
matter.”
“It probably doesn’t matter at all,” he replied. “But one never knows.
Facts which might readily be spoken of before a presumably
disinterested person might be withheld from one who was known to be
collecting evidence for professional purposes. At any rate, I make it
a rule to keep out of sight as far as possible.”
These observations brought us to the office, where we found our three
friends together with a young man, who was apparently acting as deputy
during the absence of the partners, and the photographer. I presented
Thorndyke to my friends, and when the introduction had been made Mr.
Japp picked up his hat, and turned to the deputy.
“You know where to find me, Stevens,” he said, “if I should be really
wanted--really, you understand. But I don’t particularly want to be
found. Shall we start now? I propose to begin at the bridge, follow
the High-street as far as Eastgate House, visit Restoration House,
trace the city wall on the southwest side, and look over the castle.
By that time we shall be ready for tea. After tea we can trace the
north-east part of the wall and the gates that opened through it, and
that will finish our tour of inspection.”