The mystery of Angelina Frood
in a voice all inarticulate. But would it be inarticulate to him? He
had seemed to imply an expectation of being able to infer from the
appearance of those mouldering bones the cause and manner of death,
and even--so it had appeared to me--the very identity of the murderer.
But how could this be possible? Dr. Baines had said that the bones
showed no signs of injury. The soft structures of the body had
disappeared utterly. What suggestion as to the cause of death could
the bones offer? Chronic mineral poisoning might be ascertainable from
examination of the skeleton, but not from a mere ocular inspection;
and the question of chronic poisoning did not arise. Angelina was
alive on the Saturday evening; before the Monday morning her body was
in the wall. Again and again I dismissed the problem as an
impenetrable mystery; and still it presented itself afresh for
consideration.
A few words of explanation to the constable on duty at the mortuary
secured our admission, or, rather Thorndyke’s; for I did not go in,
but stood in the doorway, watching him inquisitively. He looked over
the objects set out on the tray and seemed to be mentally checking
them. Then he put on a pair of pince-nez and examined some of them
more closely. From the tray he presently turned to the coffin, and,
lifting off the lid, stood for a while, with his pince-nez in his
hand, looking intently at the awful relics of the dead woman. From his
face I could gather nothing. It was at all times a rather immobile
face, in accordance with his calm, even temperament. Now it expressed
nothing but interest and close attention. He inspected the whole
skeleton methodically, as I could see by the way his eyes travelled
slowly from the head to the foot of the coffin. Then, once more, he
put on his reading-glasses, and stooped to examine more closely
something in the upper part of the coffin--I judged it to be the
skull. At length he stood up, put away his glasses, replaced the
coffin-lid, and rejoined me.
“Has the sitting of the Court begun yet?” he asked the constable.
“They began about five minutes ago, sir,” was the reply; on which we
made our way to the court-room, where Thorndyke, having secured a
place at the table, beckoned to the coroner’s officer.
“Will you hand that to the coroner, please?” said he, producing from
his pocket a note in an official-looking blue envelope. The officer
took the note and laid it down before the coroner, who glanced at it
and nodded and then looked with sudden interest at Thorndyke. The
witness who was being examined at the moment was the pawnbroker’s
daughter, and her account of the mysterious man with the mole on his
nose was engaging the attention of the jury. While the examination was
proceeding, the coroner glanced from time to time at the note.
Presently he took it up and opened the envelope, and in a pause in the
evidence, took out the note and turned it over to look at the
signature. Then he ran his eyes over the contents, and I saw his
eyebrows go up. But at that moment one of the jurymen asked a
question, and the note was laid down while the answer was entered in
the depositions. At length the evidence of this witness was completed,
and the witness dismissed, when the coroner took up the note and read
it through carefully.
“Before we take the evidence of Israel Bangs, gentlemen,” said he, “we
had better consider some new facts which I think you will regard as
highly important. I have just received a communication from Dr. John
Thorndyke, who is a very eminent authority on medico-legal evidence.
He informs me that the husband of the deceased, Nicholas Frood, is
dead. It appears that he died about three months ago, but his body was
not identified until yesterday, when it was seen by Frood’s landlady
and by Dr. Strangeways, who is here and can give evidence as to the
identity. I propose that we first recall Dr. Strangeways and then ask
Dr. Thorndyke, who is also present, to give us the further
particulars.”
The jury agreed warmly to the suggestion, and I was at once recalled,
and as I took my place at the coroner’s left hand I felt that I was
fully justifying Cobbledick’s description of me as the “star witness,”
for not only was I the object of eager interest on the part of the
jury and the sergeant himself, but also of Bundy, whose eyes were
riveted on me with devouring curiosity.
There is no need for me to repeat my evidence. It was quite short. I
just briefly described the body and its situation. As to how it came
to the hospital, I had no personal knowledge, but I affirmed that it
was undoubtedly the body of Nicholas Frood. Of that I was quite
certain.
No questions were asked. There was a good deal of whispered comment,
and one indiscreet juryman remarked audibly that “this fellow seemed
to have cheated the hangman.” Then the coroner deferentially requested
Thorndyke to give the Court any information that was available, and my
friend advanced to the head of the table, where the coroner’s officer
placed a chair for him, and took the oath.
“What a perfectly awful thing this is about poor old Nicholas!”
whispered Bundy, who had crept into the chair that Thorndyke had just
vacated. “It makes one’s flesh creep to think of it.”
“It _was_ rather horrible,” I agreed, noting that my description of
the scene had evidently made _his_ flesh creep, for he was as pale as
a ghost. But there was no time to discuss the matter further, for
Thorndyke, having been sworn, and started by a general question from
the coroner, now began to give his evidence, in the form of a
narrative similar to that which I had heard from him, and accompanied
by the production of documents relating to the inquest and the
transfer of the body of the unknown deceased to the medical school.
“There is no doubt, I suppose, as to the date of this man’s death?”
the coroner asked.
“Practically none. He was seen alive on the 25th of April, and he was
found dead on the morning of the 26th. I have put in a copy of the
depositions at the inquest, which give the date and time of the
finding of the body.”
“Then, as his death occurred before the disappearance of his wife,
this inquiry is not concerned with him any further.”
Here the foreman of the jury interposed with a question. “It seems
that Dr. Thorndyke took a great deal of trouble to trace this man,
Frood. Was he acting for the police?”
“I don’t know that that is strictly our concern,” said the coroner,
looking at Thorndyke, nevertheless, with a somewhat inquiring
expression.
“I was acting,” said Thorndyke, “in pursuance of instructions from a
private client to investigate the circumstances of Mrs. Frood’s
disappearance, to ascertain whether a crime had been committed and, if
so, to endeavour to find the guilty party or parties.”
“He never told us that,” murmured Bundy; “at least--did you know,
John?”
“I did, as a matter of fact, but I was sworn to secrecy.”
Bundy looked at me a little reproachfully, I thought, and I caught a
queer glance from Cobbledick. But just then the coroner spoke again.
“Have you seen the evidence that was given yesterday?”
“Yes, I have a summary of it, which I have read.”
“Can you, from your investigations, tell us anything that was not
disclosed by that evidence?”
“Yes. I have just examined the remains of the deceased and the
articles which have been found from time to time. I think I can give
some additional information concerning them.”
“From your examination of the remains,” the coroner said somewhat
eagerly, “can you give any opinion as to the cause of death?”
“No,” replied Thorndyke. “My examination had reference chiefly to the
identity of the remains.”
The coroner looked disappointed. “The identity of the remains,” said
he, “is not in question. They have been clearly identified as those of
Angelina Frood.”
“Then,” said Thorndyke, “they have been wrongly identified. I can
swear positively that they are not the remains of Angelina Frood.”
At this statement a sudden hush fell on the Court, broken
incongruously by an audible whistle from Sergeant Cobbledick. On me
the declaration fell like a thunder-bolt, and, on looking round at
Bundy, I could see that he was petrified with astonishment. There was
a silence of some seconds’ duration. Then the coroner said, with a
distinctly puzzled air: “This is a very remarkable statement, Dr.
Thorndyke. It seems to be quite at variance with all the facts: and it
appears almost incredible that you should be able to speak with such
certainty, having regard to the condition of the remains and in spite
of the extraordinary effect of the lime.”
“It is on account of the effect of the lime that I am able to speak
with so much certainty and confidence,” Thorndyke replied.
“I don’t quite follow that,” said the coroner. “Would you kindly tell
us how you were able to determine that these remains are not those of
Angelina Frood?”
“It is a matter of simple inference,” replied Thorndyke. “On the 26th
of April last Mrs. Frood is known to have been alive. It has been
assumed that on that night or the next her body was built up in the
wall. If that had really happened, when the wall was opened on the
20th of July, the body would have been found intact and perfectly
recognizable!”
“You are not overlooking the circumstance that it was buried in a bed
of quick-lime?” said the coroner.
“No,” replied Thorndyke; “in fact that is the circumstance that makes
it quite certain that these remains are not those of Angelina Frood.
There is,” he continued, “a widely prevalent belief that quick-lime
has the property of completely consuming and destroying organic
substances such as a dead human body. But that belief is quite
erroneous. Quick-lime has no such properties. On the contrary, it has
a strongly preservative effect on organic matter. Putrefaction is a
change in organic matter which occurs only when that matter is more or
less moist. If such matter is completely dried, putrefaction is
prevented or arrested, and such dried, or mummified, matter will
remain undecomposed almost indefinitely, as we see in the case of
Egyptian mummies. But quick-lime has the property of abstracting the
water from organic substances with which it is in contact; of
rendering them completely dry. It thus acts as a very efficient
preservative. If Mrs. Frood’s body had been buried, when recently
dead, three months ago in fresh quick-lime, it would by now have been
reduced more or less to the condition of a mummy. It would not have
been even partially destroyed, and it would have been easily
recognizable.”
To this statement everyone present listened with profound attention
and equally profound surprise; and a glance at the faces of the
jurymen was sufficient to show that it had failed utterly to produce
conviction. Even the coroner was evidently not satisfied, and, after a
few moments’ reflection with knitted brows, he stated his objection.
“The belief in the destructive properties of lime,” he said, “can
hardly be accepted as a mere popular error. In the Crippen trial, you
may remember that the question was raised, and one of the expert
witnesses--no less an authority than Professor Pepper--gave it as his
considered opinion that quick-lime has these destructive properties,
and that if a body were buried in a sufficient quantity of quick-lime,
that body would be entirely destroyed. You will agree, I think, that
great weight attaches to the opinion of a man of Professor Pepper’s
great reputation.”
“Undoubtedly,” Thorndyke agreed. “He was one of our greatest
medico-legal authorities, though, on this subject, I think, his views
differed from those generally held by medical jurists. But the point
is that this was an opinion, and that no undeniable facts were then