CHAPTER XLIV
THE MAN WHO WAS MURDERED
The Inspector spoke to me.
'If what the boy says is correct it sounds as if the person whom youare seeking may have had a finger in the pie.'
I was of the same opinion, as, apparently, were Lessingham and Sidney.Atherton collared the youth by the shoulder which Mr Pleesman had leftdisengaged.
'What sort of looking bloke is it who's been murdered?'
'I dunno! I 'aven't seen 'im! Mrs 'Enderson, she says to me! "'GustusBarley," she says, "a bloke's been murdered. That there Harab what Ichucked out 'alf a hour ago been and murdered 'im, and left 'im behindup in my back room. You run as 'ard as you can tear and tell them theredratted pleese what's so fond of shovin' their dirty noses intorespectable people's 'ouses." So I comes and tells yer. That's all Iknows about it.'
We went four in the hansom which had been waiting in the street to MrsHenderson's in Paradise Place,--the Inspector and we three. 'MrPleesman' and ''Gustus Barley' followed on foot. The Inspector wasexplanatory.
'Mrs Henderson keeps a sort of lodging-house,--a "Sailors' Home" shecalls it, but no one could call it sweet. It doesn't bear the best ofcharacters, and if you asked me what I thought of it, I should say inplain English that it was a disorderly house.'
Paradise Place proved to be within three or four hundred yards of theStation House. So far as could be seen in the dark it consisted of arow of houses of considerable dimensions,--and also of considerableantiquity. They opened on to two or three stone steps which leddirectly into the street. At one of the doors stood an old lady with ashawl drawn over her head. This was Mrs Henderson. She greeted us withgarrulous volubility.
'So you 'ave come, 'ave you? I thought you never was a-comin' that Idid.' She recognised the Inspector. 'It's you, Mr Phillips, is it?'Perceiving us, she drew a little back 'Who's them 'ere parties? Theyain't coppers?'
Mr Phillips dismissed her inquiry, curtly.
'Never you mind who they are. What's this about someone being murdered.'
'Ssh!' The old lady glanced round. 'Don't you speak so loud, MrPhillips. No one don't know nothing about it as yet. The parties what'sin my 'ouse is most respectable,--most! and they couldn't abide thenotion of there being police about the place.'
'We quite believe that, Mrs Henderson.'
The Inspector's tone was grim.
Mrs Henderson led the way up a staircase which would have beendistinctly the better for repairs. It was necessary to pick one's wayas one went, and as the light was defective stumbles were notinfrequent.
Our guide paused outside a door on the topmost landing. From somemysterious recess in her apparel she produced a key.
'It's in 'ere. I locked the door so that nothing mightn't be disturbed.I knows 'ow particular you pleesmen is.'
She turned the key. We all went in--we, this time, in front, and shebehind.
A candle was guttering on a broken and dilapidated single washhandstand. A small iron bedstead stood by its side, the clothes on whichwere all tumbled and tossed. There was a rush-seated chair with a holein the seat,--and that, with the exception of one or two chipped piecesof stoneware, and a small round mirror which was hung on a nail againstthe wall, seemed to be all that the room contained. I could see nothingin the shape of a murdered man. Nor, it appeared, could the Inspectoreither.
'What's the meaning of this, Mrs Henderson? I don't see anything here.'
'It's be'ind the bed, Mr Phillips. I left 'im just where I found 'im, Iwouldn't 'ave touched 'im not for nothing, nor yet 'ave let nobody else'ave touched 'im neither, because, as I say, I know 'ow particular youpleesmen is.'
We all four went hastily forward. Atherton and I went to the head ofthe bed, Lessingham and the Inspector, leaning right across the bed,peeped over the side. There, on the floor in the space which wasbetween the bed and the wall, lay the murdered man.
At sight of him an exclamation burst from Sydney's lips.
'It's Holt!'
'Thank God!' cried Lessingham. 'It isn't Marjorie!'
The relief in his tone was unmistakable. That the one was gone wasplainly nothing to him in comparison with the fact that the other wasleft.
Thrusting the bed more into the centre of the room I knelt down besidethe man on the floor. A more deplorable spectacle than he presented Ihave seldom witnessed. He was decently clad in a grey tweed suit, whitehat, collar and necktie, and it was perhaps that fact which made hisextreme attenuation the more conspicuous. I doubt if there was an ounceof flesh on the whole of his body. His cheeks and the sockets of hiseyes were hollow. The skin was drawn tightly over his cheek bones,--thebones themselves were staring through. Even his nose was wasted, sothat nothing but a ridge of cartilage remained. I put my arm beneathhis shoulder and raised him from the floor; no resistance was offeredby the body's gravity,--he was as light as a little child.
'I doubt,' I said, 'if this man has been murdered. It looks to me likea case of starvation, or exhaustion,--possibly a combination of both.'
'What's that on his neck?' asked the Inspector,--he was kneeling at myside.
He referred to two abrasions of the skin,--one on either side of theman's neck.
'They look to me like scratches. They seem pretty deep, but I don'tthink they're sufficient in themselves to cause death.'
'They might be, joined to an already weakened constitution. Is thereanything in his pockets?--let's lift him on to the bed.'
We lifted him on to the bed,--a featherweight he was to lift. While theInspector was examining his pockets--to find them empty--a tall manwith a big black beard came bustling in. He proved to be Dr Glossop,the local police surgeon, who had been sent for before our quitting theStation House.
His first pronouncement, made as soon as he commenced his examination,was, under the circumstances, sufficiently startling.
'I don't believe the man's dead. Why didn't you send for me directlyyou found him?'
The question was put to Mrs Henderson.
'Well, Dr Glossop, I wouldn't touch 'im myself, and I wouldn't 'ave 'imtouched by no one else, because, as I've said afore, I know 'owparticular them pleesmen is.'
'Then in that case, if he does die you'll have had a hand in murderinghim,--that's all'
The lady sniggered. 'Of course Dr Glossop, we all knows that you'llalways 'ave your joke.'
'You'll find it a joke if you have to hang, as you ought to, you--' Thedoctor said what he did say to himself, under his breath. I doubt if itwas flattering to Mrs Henderson. 'Have you got any brandy in the house?'
'We've got everythink in the 'ouse for them as likes to pay forit,--everythink.' Then, suddenly remembering that the police werepresent, and that hers were not exactly licensed premises, 'Leastwayswe can send out for it for them parties as gives us the money, being,as is well known, always willing to oblige.'
'Then send for some,--to the tap downstairs, if that's the nearest! Ifthis man dies before you've brought it I'll have you locked up as sureas you're a living woman.'
The arrival of the brandy was not long delayed,--but the man on the bedhad regained consciousness before it came. Opening his eyes he lookedup at the doctor bending over him.
'Hollo, my man! that's more like the time of day! How are you feeling?'
The patient stared hazily up at the doctor, as if his sense ofperception was not yet completely restored,--as if this big bearded manwas something altogether strange. Atherton bent down beside the doctor.
'I'm glad to see you looking better, Mr Holt. You know me don't you?I've been running about after you all day long.'
'You are--you are--' The man's eyes closed, as if the effort atrecollection exhausted him. He kept them closed as he continued tospeak.
'I know who you are. You are--the gentleman.'
'Yes, that's it, I'm the gentleman,--name of Atherton.--Miss Lindon'sfriend. And I daresay you're feeling pretty well done up, and in wantof something to eat and drink,--here's some brandy for you.'
The doctor
had some in a tumbler. He raised the patient's head,allowing it to trickle down his throat. The man swallowed itmechanically, motionless, as if unconscious what it was that he wasdoing. His cheeks flushed, the passing glow of colour caused theircondition of extraordinary, and, indeed, extravagant attentuation, tobe more prominent than ever. The doctor laid him back upon the bed,feeling his pulse with one hand, while he stood and regarded him insilence.
Then, turning to the Inspector, he said to him in an undertone;
'If you want him to make a statement he'll have to make it now, he'sgoing fast. You won't be able to get much out of him,--he's too fargone, and I shouldn't bustle him, but get what you can.'
The Inspector came to the front, a notebook in his hand.
'I understand from this gentleman--' signifying Atherton--'that yourname's Robert Holt. I'm an Inspector of police, and I want you to tellme what has brought you into this condition. Has anyone been assaultingyou?'
Holt, opening his eyes, glanced up at the speaker mistily, as if hecould not see him clearly,--still less understand what it was that hewas saying. Sydney, stooping over him, endeavoured to explain.
'The Inspector wants to know how you got here, has anyone been doinganything to you? Has anyone been hurting you?'
The man's eyelids were partially closed. Then they opened wider andwider. His mouth opened too. On his skeleton features there came a lookof panic fear. He was evidently struggling to speak. At last words came.
'The beetle!' He stopped. Then, after an effort, spoke again. 'Thebeetle!'
'What's he mean?' asked the Inspector.
'I think I understand,' Sydney answered; then turning again to the manin the bed. 'Yes, I hear what you say,--the beetle. Well, has thebeetle done anything to you?'
'It took me by the throat!'
'Is that the meaning of the marks upon your neck?'
'The beetle killed me.'
The lids closed. The man relapsed into a state of lethargy. TheInspector was puzzled;--and said so.
'What's he mean about a beetle?'
Atherton replied.
'I think I understand what he means,--and my friends do too. We'llexplain afterwards. In the meantime I think I'd better get as much outof him as I can,--while there's time.'
'Yes,' said the doctor, his hand upon the patient's pulse, 'whilethere's time. There isn't much--only seconds.'
Sydney endeavoured to rouse the man from his stupor.
'You've been with Miss Lindon all the afternoon and evening, haven'tyou, Mr Holt?'
Atherton had reached a chord in the man's consciousness. His lipsmoved,--in painful articulation.
'Yes--all the afternoon--and evening--God help me!'
'I hope God will help you my poor fellow; you've been in need of Hishelp if ever man was. Miss Lindon is disguised in your old clothes,isn't she?'
'Yes,--in my old clothes. My God!'
'And where is Miss Lindon now?'
The man had been speaking with his eyes closed. Now he opened them,wide; there came into them the former staring horror. He becamepossessed by uncontrollable agitation,--half raising himself in bed.Words came from his quivering lips as if they were only drawn from himby the force of his anguish.
'The beetle's going to kill Miss Lindon.'
A momentary paroxysm seemed to shake the very foundations of his being.His whole frame quivered. He fell back on to the bed,--ominously. Thedoctor examined him in silence--while we too were still.
'This time he's gone for good, there'll be no conjuring him back again.'
I felt a sudden pressure on my arm, and found that Lessingham wasclutching me with probably unconscious violence. The muscles of hisface were twitching. He trembled. I turned to the doctor.
'Doctor, if there is any of that brandy left will you let me have itfor my friend?'
Lessingham disposed of the remainder of the 'shillings worth.' I ratherfancy it saved us from a scene.
The Inspector was speaking to the woman of the house.
'Now, Mrs Henderson, perhaps you'll tell us what all this means. Who isthis man, and how did he come in here, and who came in with him, andwhat do you know about it altogether? If you've got anything to say,say it, only you'd better be careful, because it's my duty to warn youthat anything you do say may be used against you.'
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 44
