The mystery of Angelina Frood
me, Sir, that it was going up and not down?”
“Yes; your reasons seem quite conclusive.”
“Well, then, Sir, the next question is, was this a dead body, or was
the woman drugged or insensible? The fact that she was being taken
from the river towards the town suggests that she was alive and being
taken to some house where she could be hidden; but, of course, a dead
body might be taken to a house to be destroyed by burning or to be
dismembered or even buried, say under the cellar. I must say my own
feeling is that it was a dead body.”
“The reasons you gave Dr. Strangeways for thinking so seem to be quite
sound. Let us proceed on the assumption that it was a dead body.”
“Well, Sir,” said Cobbledick, gloomily, “there you are. That’s all. We
have got a body brought up from the river. We can trace it up to near
the top of the lane. But there we lose it. It seems to have vanished
into smoke. It was being taken up into the town; but where? There’s
nothing to show. We come out into the paved streets, and, of course,
there isn’t a trace. We seem to have come to the end of our clues; and
I am very much afraid that we shan’t get any more.”
“There,” said Thorndyke, “I am inclined to agree with you, Sergeant.
You won’t get any more clues for the simple reason that you have got
them all.”
“Got them all!” exclaimed Cobbledick, staring in amazement at
Thorndyke.
“Yes,” was the calm reply; “at least, that is how it appears to me.
Your business now is not to search for more clues but to extract the
meaning from the facts that you possess. Come, now, Sergeant,” he
continued, “let us take a bird’s-eye view of the case, as it were,
reconstructing the investigation in a sort of synopsis. I will read
the entries from my note-book.”
“On Saturday, the 26th of April, Mrs. Frood disappeared. On the 1st of
May the brooch was found at the pawn-brokers. On the 7th of May the
box of tablets and the bag were found on the shore at Chatham,
apparently fixing the place of the crime. On the 9th of May the scarf
was found at Blue Boar Head. On the 15th of May a shoe was found in
the creek between Blue Boar Head and Gas House Point. On the 25th of
May the second shoe was found on the gridiron near Gas House Point. On
the 20th of June a hat-pin was found on the shore a little west of the
last spot; always creeping steadily up the river, you notice.”
“Yes,” said Cobbledick, “I noticed that, and I’m hanged if I can
account for it in any way.”
“Never mind,” said Thorndyke. “Just note the fact. Then on the 14th of
July four articles were found; near the bottom of the lane a button;
near the middle of the lane a hat-pin, and, abreast of it in the
field, the hat, itself. Finally, at the top of the lane, in the field,
you found the missing key.”
“I don’t see what the key has got to do with it,” said the sergeant.
“It don’t seem to me to be in the picture.”
“Doesn’t it?” said Thorndyke. “Just consider a moment, Sergeant. But
perhaps you have forgotten the date on which the key disappeared?”
“I don’t know that I ever noticed when it was lost.”
“It wasn’t lost,” said Thorndyke. “It was taken away--probably out of
the gate--and afterwards thrown over the fence. But I daresay Dr.
Strangeways can give you the date.”
I reflected for a few moments. “Let me see,” said I. “It was a good
while ago, and I remember that it was a Saturday, because the men who
were filling the holes in the city wall had knocked off at noon for a
week-end. Now when was it? I went to the wine merchant’s that day,
and--” I paused with a sudden shock of recollection. “Why!” I
exclaimed. “It was _the_ Saturday; the day Mrs. Frood disappeared!”
Cobbledick seemed to stiffen in his chair as he suddenly turned a
startled look at Thorndyke.
“Yes,” agreed the latter; “the key disappeared during the morning of
the 26th of April and Mrs. Frood disappeared on the evening of the
same day. That is a coincidence in time. And if you consider what gate
it was that this key unlocked; that it gave entrance--and also
excluded entrance--to an isolated, enclosed area of waste land in
which excavations and fillings-in were actually taking place; I think
you will agree that there is matter for investigation.”
As Thorndyke was speaking Cobbledick’s eyes opened wider and wider,
and his mouth exhibited a like change.
“Good Lord, Sir!” he exclaimed at length, “you mean to say----”
“No, I don’t,” Thorndyke interrupted with a smile. “I am merely
drawing your attention to certain facts which seem to have escaped it.
You said that there was no hint of a place to which the body could
have been conveyed. I point out a hint which you have overlooked. That
is all.”
“It is a pretty broad hint, too,” said Cobbledick, “and I am going to
lose no time in acting on it. Do you happen to know, Doctor, who
employed the workmen?”
“I gathered that Japp and Bundy had the contract to repair the wall.
At any rate, they were supervising the work, and they will be able to
tell you where to find the foreman. Probably they have a complete
record of the progress of the work. You know Mr. Japp’s address on
Boley Hill, I suppose, and Mr. Bundy lives over the office.”
“I’ll call on him at once,” said Cobbledick, “and see if he can give
me the particulars, and I’ll get him to lend me the key. I suppose you
two gentlemen wouldn’t care to come and have a look at the place with
me?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Thorndyke. “But I particularly wish not to
appear in connexion with the case, so I will ask you to say nothing to
anyone of your having spoken to me about it, and, of course, we go to
the place alone.”
“Certainly,” the sergeant agreed emphatically. “We don’t want any
outsiders with us. Then if you will wait for me here I will get back
as quickly as I can. I hope Mr. Bundy is at home.”
He snatched up his hat and darted out of the office, full of hope and
high spirits. Thorndyke’s suggestion had rejuvenated him.
“It seems to me,” I said, when he had gone, “a rather remarkable thing
that you should have remembered all the circumstances of the loss of
this key.”
“It isn’t really remarkable at all,” he replied. “I heard of it after
the woman had disappeared. But as soon as she had disappeared, the
loss of this particular key at this particular time became a fact of
possible evidential importance. It was a fact that had to be noted and
remembered. The connexion of the tragedy with the river seemed to
exclude it for a time; but the discoveries in the lane at once revived
its importance. The fundamental rule, Strangeways, of all criminal
investigation is to note everything, relevant or irrelevant, and
forget nothing.”
“It is an excellent rule,” said I, “but it must be a mighty difficult
one to carry out”; and for a while we sat, each immersed in his own
reflections.
The sergeant returned in an incredibly short space of time, and he
burst into the office with a beaming face, flourishing the key. “I
found him at home,” said he, “and I’ve got all the necessary
particulars, so we can take a preliminary look round.” He held the
door open, and when we had passed out, he led the way down the little
street at a pace that would have done credit to a sporting
lamp-lighter. A very few minutes brought us to the gate, and when he
had opened it and locked it behind us, he stood looking round the
weed-grown enclosure as if doubtful where to begin.
“Which patch in the wall is the one they were working at when the key
disappeared?” Thorndyke asked.
“The last but one to the left,” was the reply.
“Then we had better have a look at that, first,” said Thorndyke. “It
was a ready-made excavation.”
We advanced towards the ragged patch in the wall, and as we drew near
I looked at it with a tumult of emotions that swamped mere anxiety and
expectation. I could see what Thorndyke thought, and that perception
amounted almost to conviction. Meanwhile, my colleague and the
sergeant stepped close up to the patch and minutely examined the rough
and slovenly joints of the stonework.
“There is no trace of its having been opened,” said Thorndyke. “But
there wouldn’t be. I think we had better scrape up the earth at the
foot of the wall. Something might easily have been dropped and trodden
in in the darkness.” He looked towards the shed, in which a couple of
empty lime barrels still remained, and, perceiving there a decrepit
shovel, he went and fetched it. Returning with it, he proceeded to
turn up the surface of the ground at the foot of the wall, depositing
each shovelful of earth on a bare spot, and spreading it out
carefully. For some time there was no result, but he continued
methodically, working from one end of the patch towards the other.
Suddenly Cobbledick uttered an exclamation and stooped over a freshly
deposited shovelful.
“By the Lord!” he ejaculated, “it is a true bill! You were quite
right, sir.” He stood up, holding out between his finger and thumb a
small bronze button bearing an embossed Tudor Rose. Thorndyke glanced
at me as I took the button from the sergeant and examined it.
“Yes,” I said, “it is unquestionably one of her buttons.”
“Then,” said he, “we have got our answer. The solution of the mystery
is contained in that patch of new rubble.”
The sergeant’s delight and gratitude were quite pathetic. Again and
again he reiterated his thanks, regardless of Thorndyke’s disclaimers
and commendations of the officer’s own skilful and patient
investigation.
“All the same,” said Cobbledick, as he locked the gate and pocketed
the key, “we haven’t solved the whole problem. We may say that we have
found the body; but the problem of the crime and the criminal remains.
I suppose, sir, you don’t see any glimmer of light in that direction?”
“A glimmer, perhaps,” replied Thorndyke, “but it may turn out to be
but a mirage. Let us see the body. It may have a clearer message for
us than we expect.”
Beyond this rather cryptic suggestion he refused to commit himself;
nor, when we had parted from the sergeant, could I get anything more
definite out of him.
“It is useless to speculate,” he said, by way of closing the subject.
“We think that we know what is inside that wall. We may be right, but
we may possibly be wrong. A few hours will settle our doubts. If the
body is there, it may tell us all that we want to know.”
This last observation left me more puzzled than ever. The condition of
the body might, and probably would, reveal the cause of death and the
nature of the crime; but it was difficult to see how it could point
out the identity of the murderer. However, the subject was closed for
the time being, and Thorndyke resolutely refused to reopen it until
the fresh data were available.
CHAPTER XV.
THE END OF THE TRAIL
Shortly after breakfast on the following morning Sergeant Cobbledick
made his appearance at my house. I found him in the consulting-room,
walking about on tip-toe with his hat balanced in his hands, and
evidently in a state of extreme nervous tension.
“I have got everything in train, Doctor,” said he, declining a seat.
“I dug up the foreman yesterday evening and he dug up one of his mates
to give him a hand, if necessary; and I have the authority to open the
wall. So we are all ready to begin. The two men have gone down to the
place with their tools, and Mr. Bundy has gone with them to let them
in. He didn’t much want to go, but I thought it best that either he or
Mr. Japp should be present. It is their wall, so to speak. I suppose
you are coming to see the job done.”
“Is there any need for me to be there?” I asked.
Cobbledick looked at me in surprise. He had evidently assumed that I
should be eager to see what happened. “Well,” he replied, “you are the
principal witness to the identity of the remains. You saw her last,