He took hold of the latter and drew out of the pocket a large silver watch of the kind used by navigators as a “hack watch.”
“Yes,” said Miller. “It’s a true bill. You are right, Doctor, as you always are. These are the two men to a moral certainty.”
“Isn’t it rather strange,” said I, “that this man should have gone about with his dyed hair and beard and the very clothes that had been described at the inquest? He must have known that there would be a hue and cry raised after him.”
“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that the explanation is that this affair must have taken place within a day or two of the discovery at the station.”
Miller nodded, emphatically. “I’m pretty certain you are right, Doctor,” said he. “And that would account for the fact that no trace of these men was ever found. We had their descriptions circulated and the police looking for them everywhere, but nobody ever got a single glimpse of either of them. Naturally enough, as we can see now. They were lying at the bottom of this pit.”
At this moment, sounds of trampling through the wood became audible and rapidly grew more distinct. At length, the sergeant and Polton emerged into the opening, followed by the patrol man and four athletic figures in blue dungaree suits, of whom two carried a folded stretcher.
“I’ve made all the arrangements, sir,” said the sergeant, saluting as he addressed the Superintendent. “We can take the remains and the clothing in the ambulance and hand them over to the police at Dartford; and the manager of the works has kindly lent us a car to take you and the doctors to Dartford Station.”
“As to me,” said Miller, “I shall go on to Dartford with the ambulance. There are two suits of clothes to be examined. I want to go through them thoroughly before I return to town. What do you say, Doctor? Are you interested in the clothes?”
“I am interested,” Thorndyke replied, “but I don’t think I want to take part in the examination. I dare say you will let me know if anything of importance comes to light.”
“You can trust me for that,” said Miller. “Then I take it that you will go on to Dartford Station.”
With this, we parted; Miller remaining to superintend the removal of the remains and the gear, while Thorndyke, Polton and I retraced our way along the well-trodden track down to the road where the manager’s car was waiting.
XIV. DR. THORNDYKE’S EVIDENCE
The adjourned hearing in the Probate Court opened in an atmosphere which the reporters would have described as “tense.” The judge had not yet learned the result of the exhumation (or he pretended that he hadn’t) and when Mr. Gimbler took his place in the witness-box, his lordship regarded him with very evident interest and curiosity. The examination in chief was conducted by Mr. McGonnell’s junior, this being the first chance that he had got of displaying his forensic skill—and a mighty small chance at that. For Gimbler’s evidence amounted to no more than a recital of facts which were known to us all (excepting, perhaps, the judge) with certain inevitable inferences.
“You were present at the opening of the vault containing the coffin of Josiah Pippet, deceased?”
“I was.”
“What other persons were present?”
Mr. Gimbler enumerated the persons present and glanced at a list to make sure that he had omitted none.
When the vault was opened, what was the appearance of the interior?”
“The whole interior and everything in it was covered with a thick coating of dust.”
“Was there any sign indicating that that dust had ever been disturbed?”
“No. The surface of the dust was perfectly smooth and even, without any mark or trace of disturbance.”
“What happened when the vault had been opened?”
“The coffin was brought out and placed upon trestles. Then the screws were extracted and the lid was removed in the presence of the persons whom I have named.”
“Was the body of deceased in the coffin?”
“No. There was no body in the coffin.”
“What did the coffin contain?”
“It contained a roll of sheet lead and certain plumber’s oddments; to wit, four lumps of lead of a hemispherical shape, such as are formed when molten lead sets in a plumber’s melting-pot.”
“Do those contents correspond with the traditional description of this coffin?”
“Yes. It was stated in evidence by Mr. Christopher Pippet that the traditional story told to him by his father was to the effect that the coffin was weighted with a roll of sheet lead and some plumber’s oddments.”
Having elicited this convincing statement, Mr. Klein sat down; and, as Anstey made no sign of a wish to cross-examine the witness, Mr. Gimbler stepped down from the witness-box with a hardly-disguised smirk, and McGonnell rose.
“That is our case, my lord,” said he, and forthwith resumed his seat. There was a brief pause. Then Anstey rose and announced:
“I call witnesses, my lord,” a statement that was almost immediately followed by the usher’s voice, pronouncing the name,
“Dr. John Thorndyke.”
As my colleague stepped into the witness-box with a small portfolio under his arm, I noticed that his appearance was viewed with obvious interest by more than one person. The judge seemed to settle himself into a position of increased attention, and Mr. McGonnell regarded the new witness critically, and, I thought, with slight uneasiness; while Mr. Gimbler, swinging his eyeglass pendulum-wise, made a show of being unaware of the witness’s existence. But I had observed that he had taken in, with one swift glance, the fact that the usher had deposited the seven volumes of Josiah’s diary, at Anstey’s request, on the latter’s desk. Remembering the double-barrelled microscope, I viewed those volumes with sudden interest; which was heightened when Anstey picked up one of them, and, opening it, sought a particular page and handed the open volume to Thorndyke.
“This,” said he, “is a volume of the diary which has been identified in evidence as the diary of Josiah Pippet. Will you kindly examine the entry dated the 8th of October, 1842”
“Yes. It reads: ‘Back to the Fox. Exit G. A. and enter J. P., but not for long.’”
“Have you previously examined that entry?”
“Yes. I examined it at the last hearing very carefully with the naked eye and also with the Comparison Microscope invented by Albert S. Osborn of New York.”
“Had you any reason for making so critical an examination of this passage in the diary?”
“Yes. As this is the only passage in the diary in which the identity of the Earl, George Augustus, with Josiah Pippet is explicitly stated, it seemed necessary to make sure that it was really a genuine entry.”
“Had you any further reason?”
“Yes. The position of this entry, after a blank space, made it physically possible that it might have been interpolated.”
“And what opinion did you form as a result of your examination?”
“I formed the opinion that this entry is not part of the original diary, but has been interpolated at some later date.”
“Can you give us your reasons for forming that opinion?”
“My principal reason is that there is a slight difference in colour between this entry and the rest of the writing on this page, either preceding it or following it. The difference is hardly perceptible to the naked eye. It is more perceptible when the writing is looked at through a magnifying lens, and it is fairly distinct when examined with the differential microscope.”
“Can you explain, quite briefly, the action of the differential, or Comparison Microscope?”
“In effect, this instrument is a pair of microscopes with a single eyepiece which is common to both. The two microscopes can be brought to bear on two different letters or words on different parts of a page and the two magnified images will appear in the field of the eyepiece side by side and can be so compared that very delicate differences of form and colour can be distinguished.”
“Was your opinion based excl
usively on the Comparison Microscope?”
“No. On observing this difference in colour, I applied for, and received the permission of the court to have a photograph of this page made by the official photographer. This was done, and I have here two sets of the photographs, one set being direct prints from the negative, and the other enlargements. In both, but especially in the enlargements, the difference in colour is perfectly obvious.”
Here Thorndyke produced from his portfolio two sets of photographs which he delivered to the usher, who passed one pair up to the judge and handed the remainder to Mr. McGonnell and the other interested parties, including myself. The judge examined the two photographs for some moments with profound attention. Then he turned to Thorndyke and asked:
“Can you explain to us why differences of colour which are hardly distinguishable by the eye appear quite distinct in a photograph?”
“The reason, my lord,” replied Thorndyke, “is that the eye and the photographic plate are affected by different rays; the eye by the luminous rays and the plate by the chemical rays. But these two kinds of rays do not vary in the same proportions in different colours. Yellow, for instance, which is very luminous, gives off only feeble chemical rays, while blue, which is less luminous, gives off very powerful chemical rays. So that a yellow device on a rather deep blue ground appears to the eye light upon dark, whereas, in a photograph, it appears dark upon light.”
The judge nodded. “Yes,” said he, “that makes the matter quite clear.”
“In what way,” Anstey resumed, “does this difference in colour support your opinion that this passage has been interpolated?”
“It shows that this passage was written with a different ink from the rest of the page.”
“Is there any reason why Josiah Pippet should not have used a different ink in writing this particular passage?”
“Yes. In l842, the date of this entry, there was only one kind of black ink in use, excepting the Chinese, or Indian, ink used by draughtsmen, which this is obviously not. The common writing ink was made with galls and copperas—sulphate of iron—without any of the blue colouring which is used in modern blue-black ink. This iron-gall ink may have varied slightly in colour according to whether it was freshly made or had been exposed to the air in an ink-pot. But these differences would disappear in the course of years, as the black tannate and gallate of iron changed into the reddish-brown oxide; and, there being no difference in composition, there would be no difference in the photographic reaction. In my opinion, the difference shown in the photographs indicates a difference in composition in the two inks. But a difference in composition is irreconcilable with identity in the date of this passage and the rest of the page.”
“Would the difference of composition be demonstrable by a chemical test?”
“Probably, but not certainly.”
“You do not question the character of the handwriting?”
“I prefer to offer no opinion on that. I detected no discrepancy that I could demonstrate.”
“And now, coming from matters of opinion to demonstrable fact, what are you prepared to swear to concerning this entry in the diary?”
“That it was written with a different ink from that used in writing the rest of the page.”
Having received and noted down this answer, Anstey turned over a leaf of his brief and resumed his examination.
“We will now,” said he, “pass on to an entirely different subject. I believe that you have made certain investigations in the neighbourhood of Winsborough. Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Perhaps, before giving us your results, it might be well if you were to tell us, in a general way, what was the object of those investigations and what led you to undertake them.”
“It appeared to me,” Thorndyke replied, “when I considered the story of the double life of Josiah Pippet and the Earl, George Augustus, that, although it was not impossible that it might be true, it was highly improbable. But it also seemed highly improbable that this story should have been invented by Josiah out of his inner consciousness with nothing to suggest it or give it a start. It seemed more probable that the story had its origin in some peculiar set of circumstances the nature of which might, at some later time, be entirely misunderstood. On further consideration, I found it possible to imagine a set of circumstances such as might have given rise to this kind of misunderstanding. Thereupon, I decided to go down to Winsborough and see if I could ascertain, by investigation on the spot, whether such circumstances had, in fact, existed.”
“When you went to Winsborough you had certain specific objects in view?”
“Yes. I sought to ascertain whether there existed any evidence of the birth of Josiah Pippet, as a separate individual, and whether he was, in fact, born at the Castle, as alleged. Further, as subsidiary question, I proposed to find out, if possible, whether there was, in the neighbourhood, any ancient inn of which the sign had been changed within the last eighty years.”
As Thorndyke gave this last answer, the judge looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression. Then a slow smile spread over his face and he settled himself comfortably in his chair to listen with renewed attention.
“Did your investigations lead to any discoveries?” Anstey asked.
“They did,” Thorndyke replied. “First, with regard to the inns. There are two inns in the village, both of considerable age. One has the sign of the Rose and Crown, which is probably the original sign. The other has the sign of the Earl of Beaconsfield; but, as this house bears the date, 1602, and was evidently built for an inn, and, as Benjamin Disraeli was created Earl of Beaconsfield only in 1876, it follows that the sign must have been altered since that date. But I could find nobody who knew what the sign had formerly been.
“I next turned my attention to the church register, and first I looked up the entry of the 9th of August 1794. On that day there were born in this small village no less than three persons. One was George Augustus, the son of the Earl of Winsborough, born at Winsborough Castle. The second was Elizabeth Blunt, daughter of Thomas Blunt, carpenter, and third was Josiah Bird, son of Isabella Bird, spinster, serving-maid to Mr. Nathaniel Pippet of this parish; and there was a note to the effect that the said Josiah was born in the house of the said Nathaniel Pippet.
“I followed the entries in the register in search of further information concerning these persons. Three years later, on the 6th of June, 1797, there was a record of the marriage of Nathaniel Pippet, widower, and Isabella Bird, spinster. Two months later, on the 14th of August, 1797, there was recorded the death of Nathaniel Pippet of this parish, inn-keeper; and three months after this, on the 8th of November, 1797, was an entry recording the birth of Susan Pippet, the posthumous daughter of Nathaniel Pippet deceased. This child lived only four days, as her death is recorded in an entry dated the 12th of November, 1797.
“As none of these entries gave any particulars as to the residence of Nathaniel Pippet, I proceeded to explore the churchyard. There I found a tombstone the inscription on which set forth that ‘Here lieth the body of Nathaniel Pippet, late keeper of the Castle Inn in this parish, who departed this life the 14th day of August, 1797.’ As there was no other entry in the register, this must have been the Nathaniel Pippet referred to in the entry which I have mentioned. I took a photograph of this tombstone and I produced enlarged copies of that photograph.”
As he spoke, Thorndyke opened his portfolio and took out a number of mounted enlargements which he delivered to the usher, who handed one to the judge and passed the others round to the various interested parties. Looking round the court, I was amused to note the expressions with which the different parties regarded the photograph. The judge inspected it with deep interest and an obvious effort to maintain a becoming gravity. So also with Brodribb, whose struggles to suppress his feelings produced a conspicuous heightening of his naturally florid complexion. Mrs. Engleheart viewed the photograph with polite and unsmiling indifference; the young people, Mr. Gile
s and Miss Jenifer (who, for some reason, known only to the usher, had a single copy between them), giggled frankly; Mr. Gimbler and his two counsel examined the exhibit with wooden-faced attention. The only person who made no attempt to “conceal or cloak” his amusement was Mr. Christopher Pippet; who inspected the photograph through horn-rimmed spectacles and laughed joyously.
When the photograph reached me the cause of his hilarity became apparent. It happens often enough that the designs on ancient rural tombstones are such as tend “to produce in the sinful a smile.” But it was not the work of the artless village mason that was the cause of Mr. Pippet’s amusement. The joke was in the inscription, which ran thus:
“Here lyeth ye Bodey of NATHANIEL PIPPET late Keeper of THE CASTLE INN in this Parish who Departed this Life ye 14th Day of August in ye Year of Our Lord 1797 Aged 58 years.
“He was an Honest Man and a good Inn Keeper who sold no Ale but the Best.
He that buys Land buys Stones
He that buys Meate buys Bones
He that buys Egges buys Many Shelles
But He that buys Good Beer buys Nothing Ellse.”
The verses were certainly unconventional and tended to engender the suspicion that the jovial Nathaniel might have embodied them in certain testamentary dispositions. But, however that may have been, the inscription was profoundly significant.
Having given time for the inspection of the photographs, Anstey resumed his examination.
“What inferences do you deduce from these facts which you have discovered?” he asked. But, at this point, Mr. McGonnell rose and objected that the witness’s inferences were not evidence.
“The learned counsel is technically correct,” said the judge, “and I must allow his objection if he insists; though, in the case of an expert witness, where an investigation has been made ad hoc, it is customary to allow the witness to explain the bearing of the facts which he has elicited.”
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