'Accordingly Mr. Hurst and I proceeded as quickly as possible to Liverpool Street and took the first train available to Woodford, where Mr. Godfrey Bellingham then resided. We arrived at his house at five minutes to nine, and were informed by the servant that he was not at home, but that his daughter was in the library, which was a detached building situated in the grounds. The servant lighted a lantern and conducted us through the grounds to the library, where we found Mr. Godfrey Bellingham and Miss Bellingham. Mr. Godfrey had only just come in and had entered by the back gate, which had a bell that rang in the library. Mr. Hurst informed Mr. Godfrey of what had occurred, and then we left the library to walk up to the house. A few paces from the library I noticed by the light of the lantern, which Mr. Godfrey was carrying, a small object lying on the lawn. I pointed it to him and he picked it up, and then we all recognised it as a scarab that the testator was accustomed to wear on his watch-chain. It was fitted with a gold wire passed through the suspension hole and a gold ring. Both the wire and the ring were in position, but the ring was broken. We went to the house and questioned the servants as to visitors; but none of them had seen the testator, and they all agreed that no visitor whatsoever had come to the house during the afternoon or evening. Mr. Godfrey and Miss Bellingham both declared that they had neither seen nor heard anything of the testator, and were both unaware that he had returned to England. As the circumstances were somewhat disquieting, I communicated, on the following morning, with the police and requested them to make inquiries; which they did, with the result that a suit-case bearing the initials "J. B.", was found to be lying unclaimed in the cloakroom at Charing Cross Station. I was able to identify the suit-case as that which I had seen the testator carry away from Queen Square. I was also able to identify some of the contents. I interviewed the cloakroom attendant, who informed me that the suit-case had been deposited on the twenty-third about 4.15 p.m. He had no recollection of the person who deposited it. It remained unclaimed in the possession of the railway company for three months, and was then surrendered to me.'
'Were there any marks or labels on it showing the route by which it had travelled?'
'There were no labels on it and no marks other than the initials "J.B."
'Do you happen to know the testator's age?'
'Yes. He was fifty-nine on the eleventh of October, nineteen hundred and two.'
'Can you tell us what his height was?'
'Yes. He was exactly five feet eight inches.'
'What sort of health had he?'
'So far as I know his health was good. I am not aware that he suffered from any disease. I am only judging by his appearance, which was that of a healthy man.'
'Should you describe him as well preserved or otherwise?'
'I should describe him as a well preserved man for his age.'
'How should you describe his figure?'
'I should describe him as rather broad and stout in build, and fairly muscular, though not exceptionally so.'
Mr. Loram made a rapid note of these answers and then said:
'You have told us, Mr. Jellicoe, that you have known the testator intimately for twenty-seven years. Now, did you ever notice whether he was accustomed to wear any rings upon his fingers?'
'He wore upon the third finger of his left hand a copy of an antique ring which bore the device of the Eye of Osiris. That was the only ring he ever wore as far as I know.'
'Did he wear it constantly?'
'Yes, necessarily; because it was too small for him, and having once squeezed it on he was never able to get it off again.'
This was the sum of Mr. Jellicoe's evidence, and at its conclusion the witness glanced inquiringly at Mr. Bellingham's counsel. But Mr. Heath remained seated, attentively considering the notes that he had just made, and finding that there was to be no cross-examination, Mr. Jellicoe stepped down from the box. I leaned back on my bench, and, turning my head, observed Miss Bellingham deep in thought.
'What do you think of it?' I asked.
'It seems very complete and conclusive,' she replied. And then, with a sigh, she murmured: 'Poor old Uncle John! How horrid it sounds to talk of him in this cold-blooded, businesslike way, as "the testator," as if he were nothing but a sort of algebraical sign.'
'There isn't much room for sentiment, I suppose, in the proceedings of the Probate Court,' I replied. To which she assented, and then asked: 'Who is this lady?'
'This lady' was a fashionably dressed young woman who had just bounced into the witness-box and was now being sworn. The preliminaries being finished, she answered Miss Bellingham's question and Mr. Loram's by stating that her name was Augustina Gwendoline Dobbs, and that she was housemaid to Mr. George Hurst, of "The Poplars," Eltham.
'Mr. Hurst lives alone, I believe?' said Mr. Loram.
'I don't know what you mean by that,' Miss Dobbs began; but the barrister explained.
'I mean that I believe he is unmarried?'
'Well, and what about it?' the witness demanded tartly.
'I am asking you a question.'
'I know that,' said the witness viciously; 'and I say that you've no business to make any such insinuations to a respectable young lady when there's a cook-housekeeper and a kitchenmaid living in the house, and him old enough to be my father——'
Here his lordship flattened his eyelids with startling effect, and Mr. Loram interrupted: 'I make no insinuations. I merely ask, Is your employer, Mr. Hurst, an unmarried man, or is he not?'
'I never asked him,' said the witness sulkily.
'Please answer my question—yes or no.'
'How can I answer your question? He may be married or he may not. How do I know? I'm no private detective.'
Mr. Loram directed a stupefied gaze at the witness, and in the ensuing silence a plaintive voice came from the bench:
'Is that point material?'
'Certainly, my lord,' replied Mr. Loram.
'Then, as I see that you are calling Mr. Hurst, perhaps you had better put the question to him. He will probably know.'
Mr. Loram bowed, and as the judge subsided into his normal state of coma he turned to the triumphant witness.
'Do you remember anything remarkable occurring on the twenty-third of November the year before last?'
'Yes. Mr. John Bellingham called at our house.'
'How did you know he was Mr. John Bellingham?'
'I didn't; but he said he was, and I supposed he knew.'
'At what time did he arrive?'
'At twenty minutes past five in the evening.'
'What happened then?'
'I told him that Mr. Hurst had not come home yet, and he said he would wait for him in the study and write some letters; so I showed him into the study and shut the door.'
'What happened next?'
'Nothing. Then Mr. Hurst came home at his usual time—a quarter to six—and let himself in with his key. He went straight into the study where I supposed Mr. Bellingham still was, so I took no notice, but laid the table for two. At six o'clock Mr. Hurst came into the dining-room—he has tea in the City and dines at six—and when he saw the table laid for two he asked the reason. I said I thought Mr. Bellingham was staying to dinner.
'"Mr. Bellingham!" says he. "I didn't know he was here. Why didn't you tell me?" he says. "I thought he was with you, sir," I said. "I showed him into the study," I said. "Well, he wasn't there when I came in," he said, "and he isn't there now," he said. "Perhaps he has gone to wait in the drawing-room," he said. So we went and looked in the drawing-room, but he wasn't there. Then Mr. Hurst said he thought Mr. Bellingham must have got tired of waiting and gone away; but I told him I was quite sure he hadn't, because I had been watching all the time. Then he asked me if Mr. Bellingham was alone or whether his daughter was with him, and I said that it wasn't that Mr. Bellingham at all, but Mr. John Bellingham, and then he was more surprised than ever. I said we had better search the house to make sure whether he was there or not, and Mr. Hurst said he would come with me;
so we all went over the house and looked in all the rooms, but there was not a sign of Mr. Bellingham in any of them. Then Mr. Hurst got very nervous and upset, and when he had just snatched a little dinner he ran off to catch the six thirty-one train up to town.'
'You say that Mr. Bellingham could not have left the house because you were watching all the time. Where were you while you were watching?'
'I was in the kitchen. I could see the front gate from the kitchen window.'
'You say that you laid the table for two. Where did you lay it?'
'In the dining-room, of course.'
'Could you see the front gate from the dining-room?'
'No, but I could see the study door. The study is opposite the dining-room.'
'Do you have to come upstairs to get from the kitchen to the dining-room?'
'Yes, of course you do!'
'Then, might not Mr. Bellingham have left the house while you were coming up the stairs?'
'No, he couldn't have done.'
'Why not?'
'Because it would have been impossible.'
'But why would it have been impossible?'
'Because he couldn't have done it.'
'I suggest that Mr. Bellingham left the house quietly while you were on the stairs?'
'No, he didn't.'
'How do you know he did not?'
'I am quite sure he didn't.'
'But how can you be certain?'
'Because I should have seen him if he had.'
'But I mean when you were on the stairs.'
'He was in the study when I was on the stairs.'
'How do you know he was in the study?'
'Because I showed him in there and he hadn't come out.'
Mr. Loram paused and took a deep breath, and his lordship flattened his eyelids.
'Is there a gate to the premises?' the barrister resumed wearily.
'Yes. It opens into a narrow lane at the side of the house.'
'And there is a French window in the study, is there not?'
'Yes It opens on to the small grass plot opposite the side gate.'
'Were the window and the gate locked or would it have been possible for Mr. Bellingham to let himself out into the lane?'
'The window and the gate both have catches on the inside. He could have got out that way, but, of course, he didn't.'
'Why not?'
'Well, no gentleman would go creeping out the back way like a thief.'
'Did you look to see if the French window was shut and fastened after you missed Mr. Bellingham?'
'I looked at it when we shut the house up for the night. It was then shut and fastened on the inside.'
'And the side gate?'
'That gate was shut and latched. You have to slam the gate to make the latch fasten, so no one could have gone out of the gate without being heard.'
Here the examination-in-chief ended, and Mr. Loram sat down with an audible sigh of relief. Miss Dobbs was about to step down from the witness-box when Mr. Heath rose to cross-examine.
'Did you see Mr. Bellingham in a good light?' he asked.
'Pretty good. It was dark outside, but the hall-lamp was alight.'
'Kindly look at this'—here a small object was passed across to the witness. 'It is a trinket that Mr. Bellingham is stated to have carried suspended from his watch-guard. Can you remember if he was wearing it in that manner when he came to the house?'
'No, he was not.'
'You are sure of that.'
'Quite sure.'
'Thank you. And now I want to ask you about the search that you have mentioned. You say that you went all over the house. Did you go into the study?'
'No—at least, not until Mr. Hurst had gone to London.'
'When you did go in, was the window fastened?'
'Yes.'
'Could it have been fastened from the outside?'
'No; there is no handle outside.'
'What furniture is there in the study?'
'There is a writing-table, a revolving-chair, two easy chairs, two large book-cases, and a wardrobe that Mr. Hurst keeps his overcoats and hats in.'
'Does the wardrobe lock?'
'Yes.'
'Was it locked when you went in?'
'I'm sure I don't know. I don't go about trying the cupboards and drawers.'
'What furniture is there in the drawing-room?'
'A cabinet, six or seven chairs, a Chesterfield sofa, a piano, a silver-table, and one or two occasional tables.'
'Is the piano a grand or upright?'
'It is an upright grand.'
'In what position is it placed?'
'It stands across a corner near the window.'
'Is there sufficient room behind it for a man to conceal himself?'
Miss Dobbs was amused and did not dissemble. 'Oh, yes,' she sniggered, 'there's plenty of room for a man to hide behind it.'
'When you searched the drawing-room, did you look behind the piano?'
'No, I didn't,' Miss Dobbs replied scornfully.
'Did you look under the sofa?'
'Certainly not!'
'What did you do then?'
'We opened the door and looked into the room. We were not looking for a cat or a monkey; we were looking for a middle-aged gentleman.'
'And am I to take it that your search over the rest of the house was conducted in a similar manner?'
'Certainly. We looked into the rooms, but we did not search under the beds or in the cupboards.'
'Are all the rooms in the house in use as living or sleeping rooms?'
'No; there is one room on the second floor that is used as a store and lumber-room, and one on the first floor that Mr. Hurst uses to store trunks and things that he is not using.'
'Did you look in those rooms when you searched the house?'
'No.'
'Have you looked in them since?'
'I have been in the lumber-room since, but not in the other. It is always kept locked.'
At this point an ominous flattening became apparent in his lordship's eyelids, but these symptoms passed when Mr. Heath sat down and indicated that he had no further questions to ask.
Miss Dobbs once more prepared to step down from the witness-box when Mr. Loram shot up like a jack-in-the-box.
'You have made certain statements,' said he, 'concerning the scarab which Mr. Bellingham was accustomed to wear suspended from his watch-guard. You say that he was not wearing it when he came to Mr. Hurst's house on the twenty-third of November, nineteen hundred and two. Are you quite sure of that?'
'Quite sure.'
'I must ask you to be very careful in your statement on this point. The question is a highly important one. Do you swear that the scarab was not hanging from his watch-guard?'
'Yes, I do.'
'Did you notice the watch-guard particularly?'
'No; not particularly.'
'Then what makes you sure that the scarab was not attached to it?'
'It couldn't have been.'
'Why could it not?'
'Because if it had been there I should have seen it.'
'What kind of watch-guard was Mr. Bellingham wearing?'
'Oh, an ordinary sort of watch-guard.'
'I mean was it a chain or a ribbon or a strap?'
'A chain, I think—or perhaps a ribbon—or it might have been a strap.'
His lordship flattened his eyelids, but made no further sign and Mr. Loram continued:
'Did you or did you not notice what kind of watch-guard Mr. Bellingham was wearing?'
'I did not. Why should I? It was no business of mine.'
'But yet you are quite sure about the scarab?'
'Yes, quite sure.'
'You noticed that then?'
Mr. Loram paused and looked helplessly at the witness; a suppressed titter arose from the body of the Court, and a faint voice from the bench inquired:
'Are you quite incapable of giving a straightforward answer?'
Miss Dobbs's onl
y reply was to burst into tears; whereupon Mr. Loram abruptly sat down and abandoned his re-examination.
The witness-box vacated by Miss Dobbs was occupied successively by Dr. Norbury, Mr. Hurst and the cloakroom attendant, none of whom contributed any new facts, but merely corroborated the statements made by Mr. Jellicoe and the housemaid. Then came the labourer who discovered the bones at Sidcup, and who repeated the evidence that he had given at the inquest, showing that the remains could not have been lying in the watercress-bed more than two years. Finally Dr. Summers was called, and, after he had given a brief description of the bones that he had examined, was asked by Mr. Loram:
'You have heard the description that Mr. Jellicoe has given of the testator?'
'I have.'
'Does that description apply to the person whose remains you examined?'
'In a general way it does.'
'I must ask you for a direct answer—yes or no. Does it apply?'
'Yes. But I ought to say that my estimate of the height of the deceased is only approximate.'
'Quite so. Judging from your examination of those remains and from Mr. Jellicoe's description, might those remains be the remains of the testator, John Bellingham?'
'Yes, they might.'
On receiving this admission Mr. Loram sat down, and Mr. Heath immediately rose to cross-examine.
'When you examined these remains, Doctor Summers, did you discover any personal peculiarities which would enable you to identify them as the remains of any one individual rather than any other individual of similar size, age, and proportions?'
'No. I found nothing that would identify the remains as those of any particular individual.'
As Mr. Heath asked no further questions, the witness received his dismissal, and Mr. Loram informed the Court that that was his case. The judge bowed somnolently, and then Mr. Heath rose to address the Court on behalf of the respondent. It was not a long speech, nor was it enriched by any displays of florid rhetoric; it concerned itself exclusively with a rebutment of the arguments of the counsel for the petitioner.
Having briefly pointed out that the period of absence was too short to give rise of itself to the presumption of death, Mr. Heath continued:
'The claim therefore rests upon evidence of a positive character. My learned friend asserts that the testator is presumably dead, and it is for him to prove what he has affirmed. Now, has he done this? I submit that he has not. He has argued with great force and ingenuity that the testator, being a bachelor, a solitary man without wife or child, dependant or master, public or private office of duty, or any bond, responsibility, or any other condition limiting his freedom of action, had no reason or inducement for absconding. This is my learned friend's argument, and he has conducted it with so much skill and ingenuity that he has not only succeeded in proving his case; he has proved a great deal too much. For if it is true, as my learned friend so justly argues, that a man thus unfettered by obligations of any kind has no reason for disappearing, is it not even more true that he has no reason for not disappearing? My friend has urged that the testator was at liberty to go where he pleased, when he pleased, and how he pleased; and that therefore there was no need for him to abscond. I reply, if he was at liberty to go away, whither, when, and how he pleased, why do we express surprise that he has made use of his liberty? My learned friend points out that the testator notified to nobody his intention of going away and has acquainted no one with his whereabouts; but, I ask, whom should he have notified? He was responsible to nobody; there was no one dependent upon him; his presence or absence was the concern of nobody but himself. If circumstances suddenly arising made it desirable that he should go abroad, why should he not go? I say there was no reason whatever.
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