“Well,” said Mr. Pippet, “we can show cause. We want to know whether Josiah is in that coffin or not.”
“Quite so,” said Mr. Gimbler. “A perfectly reasonable motive. But it would not be accepted by the Home Office. They would demand a ruling from a properly constituted court to the effect that the claim had been investigated and a prima facie case made out.”
“What do you mean by a prima facie case?” Miss Pippet inquired.
“The expression means that the claim has been stated in a court of law and that sufficient evidence has been produced to establish a probability that it is a just and reasonable claim.”
“You mean to say,” said Mr. Pippet, “that a judge and jury have got to sit and examine at great length whether the claim may possibly be a true claim before they will consent to examine a piece of evidence which will settle the question with practical certainty in the course of an hour?”
“Yes,” Mr. Gimbler admitted, “that, I am afraid is the rather unreasonable position. We shall have to lay the facts, so far as they are known to us, before the court and make out as good a case as we can. Then, if the court is satisfied that we have a substantial case, it will make an order for the exhumation, which the Home Office will confirm.”
“For my part,” said Miss Pippet, “I don’t see why we need meddle with the coffin at all. It seems a ghoulish proceeding.”
“I entirely agree with you, Miss Pippet,” said Mr. Gimbler (and there is no possible doubt that he did). “It would be much better to deal with the whole affair in court if that were possible. Perhaps it may be possible to avoid the exhumation, after all. The court may not insist.”
“It won’t have to insist,” said Mr. Pippet. “I make it a condition that we ascertain beyond all doubt whether Josiah is or is not in that coffin. I want to make sure that I am claiming what is my just due, and I shan’t be sure of that until that coffin has been opened. Isn’t it possible for you to make an application to the Home Secretary without troubling the courts?”
“It would be possible to make the application,” Mr. Gimbler replied somewhat dryly. “But a refusal would be a foregone conclusion. Quite properly so, if you consider the conditions. The purpose of the exhumation is to establish the fact of the sham burial. But if that were established, you would be no more forward, or, at least very little. Your claim would still have to be stated and argued in a court of law. Of course, the proof of the sham burial would be material evidence, but still, your claim would stand or fall by the decision of the court. Naturally, the Home Office, since it cannot consider evidence or give a decision, is not going to give a permit until it is informed by the proper authority that an exhumation is necessary for the purposes of justice. Believe me, Mr. Pippet, we should only prejudice our case by trying to go behind the courts; and, moreover, we should certainly fail to get a permit.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Pippet. “You know best. Then I take it that there is not much more to say at present. We have given you the facts, such as they are, and we shall leave my sister’s statement with you, and it will be up to you to consider what is to be done next.”
“Yes,” agreed Gimbler. “But something was said about documents—some letters and a diary. Are they available?”
“They are,” replied Mr. Pippet. “I’ve got the whole boiling of them in this box. My sister has been through them, as she mentioned to you just now.”
“And you?” Mr. Gimbler asked with a trace of anxiety, as he watched his client’s efforts to untie the parcel. “Have you examined them thoroughly?”
“I can’t truly say that I have,” was the reply, as Mr. Pippet deliberately opened a pocket knife and applied it to the string. “I had intended to look through them before I handed them to you, but Mr. Buffham assured me that it would be a waste of labour, as you would have to study them in any case; so, as I am not what you would call a studious man, and they look a pretty stodgy collection, I have saved myself the trouble.”
“I don’t believe,” said Miss Pippet, “that my brother cares two cents whether we succeed or not.”
The lady’s suspicion was not entirely unshared by her legal adviser. But he made no comment, as, at this moment, Mr. Pippet, having detached the coverings of the parcel, and thereby disclosed the deed box which he had shown to Buffham, inserted a key and unlocked it.
“There,” said he, as he threw the lid open, “you can see that the things are there. Those bundles of paper are the letters and the little volumes are the diary. There is no need for you to look at them now. I guess you will like to study them at your leisure.”
“Quite so,” agreed Mr. Gimbler. “It will be necessary for me to examine them exhaustively and systematically and make a very careful précis of their contents, with an analysis of those contents from an evidential point of view. I shall have to do that before I can give any opinion on the merits of the case, and certainly before I suggest taking any active measures. You realize that those investigations will take some time?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Pippet; “and you will not find us impatient. We don’t want to urge you to act precipitately.”
“Not precipitately,” agreed Miss Pippet. “Still, you understand that we don’t want too much of the law’s delay.”
Mr. Gimbler understood that perfectly; and, to tell the whole truth, looked with much more favour on the lady’s hardly-veiled impatience than on her brother’s philosophic calm.
“There will be no delay at all,” he replied, “but merely a most necessary period of preparation. I need not point out to you, Madam,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “that we must not enter the lists unready. We must mature our plans in advance, so that when we take the field—if we decide to do so—it will be with our weapons sharpened and our armour bright.”
“Certainly,” said Miss Pippet. “We must be ready before we start. I realize that; only I hope it won’t take too long to get ready.”
“That,” replied Mr. Gimbler, “we shall be better able to judge when we have made a preliminary inspection of the documentary material; but I can assure you that no time will be wasted.”
Here he paused to clear his throat and adjust his eyeglasses. Then he proceeded: “There is just one other little matter that I should like to be clear on. You realize that an action at law is apt to be a somewhat expensive affair. Of course, in the present case, there is a considerable set-off. If you are successful, the mere material gain in valuable property, to say nothing of the title and the great social advantages, will be enough to make the law costs appear a negligible trifle. Still, I must warn you that the outlay will be very considerable. There will be court fees, fees to counsel, costs of the necessary investigations, and, of course, my own charges, which I shall keep as low as possible. Now, the question is, are you prepared to embark on this undoubtedly costly enterprise?”
He asked the question in a tone as impassive and judicial as he could manage, but he awaited the answer with an anxiety that was difficult to conceal. It was Miss Pippet who instantly dispelled that anxiety.
“We understand all about that,” said she. “We never supposed that titles and estates were to be picked up for the asking. You can take it that we shall not complain of any expense in reason. But perhaps you were thinking of our capacity to bear a heavy expense? If you were, I may tell you that my own means would be amply sufficient to meet any likely costs, even without my brother’s support.”
“That is so,” Mr. Pippet confirmed. “But, as I am the actual claimant, the costs will naturally fall on me. Could you give us any idea of our probable liabilities?”
Mr. Gimbler reflected rapidly. He didn’t wish to frighten his quarry, but he did very much want to take soundings of the depth of their purse. Eventually, he took his courage in both hands and made the trial cast.
“It is mere guess work,” said he, “until we know how much there may be to do. Supposing—to take an outside figure—the costs should mount to ten thousand pounds. Of course, they w
on’t. But I mention that sum as a sort of basis to reckon from. How would that affect you?”
“Well,” said Mr. Pippet, “it sounds a lot of money, but it wouldn’t break either of us. Only we look to you to see that the gamble is worth while before we drop too much on it.”
“You may be quite confident,” Gimbler replied in a voice husky with suppressed joy, “that I shall not allow you to embark on any proceedings until I have ascertained beyond a doubt that you have at least a reasonable chance of success. And that,” he continued, rising as his visitors rose to depart, “is all that is humanly possible.”
He stuck his glasses on his nose to shake hands and to watch Mr. Pippet as he detached the key of the deed box from his bunch. Then he opened the door and escorted his visitors through an atmosphere of fried onions to the street door, where he stood watching them reflectively as they descended the steps and made their way along the flagged path to the gate.
As Mr. Gimbler closed the street door, that of the waiting-room opened softly, disclosing the figure of no less a person than Mr. Buffham. And, naturally, the figure included the countenance; which was wreathed in smiles. Looking cautiously towards the kitchen stairs, Mr. Buffham murmured:
“Did I exaggerate, my little Gimblet? I think not. Methought I heard a whisper of ten thousand pounds. An outside estimate, my dear sir; in fact, a wild overestimate. Hey? What O!”
Mr. Gimbler did not reply. He only smiled. And when Mr. Gimbler smiled—as we have mentioned—his eyes tended to disappear. They did on this occasion. Especially the left one.
CHAPTER III
Mr. Pippet Gives Evidence
American visitors to London often attain to a quite remarkable familiarity with many of its features. But their accomplishments in this respect do not usually extend to an acquaintance with its intimate geography. The reason is simple enough. He who would know London, or any other great city, in the complete and intimate fashion characteristic of the genuine Town Sparrow, must habituate himself to the use of that old-fashioned conveyance known as “shanks’s mare.” For the humblest of creatures has some distinctive excellence; even the mere pedestrian, despised of the proud motorist (who classes him with the errant rabbit or the crawling pismire) and ignored by the law, has at least one virtue: he knows his London.
Now, the American visitor is not usually a pedestrian. As his time appears to him more valuable than his money, he tends to cut the Gordian knot of geographical difficulties by hailing a taxi; whereby he makes a swift passage at the sacrifice of everything between his starting-point and his destination.
This is what Mr. Pippet did on the afternoon of the day of his conference with Mr. Gimbler. The hailing was done by the hotel porter, and when the taxi was announced, Mr. Pippet came forth from the hall and delivered to the driver an address in the neighbourhood of Great Saint Helen’s, wherever that might be, and held open the cab door to admit the young lady who had followed him out; who thereupon slithered in with the agility born of youthful flexibility, extensive practice and no clothing to speak of.
“I am not sure, Jenny,” said Mr. Pippet, as he took his seat and pulled the door to, “that your aunt was not right. This is likely to be a rather gruesome business, and the place doesn’t seem a very suitable one for young ladies.”
Miss Jenny smiled a superior smile as she fished a gold cigarette case out of her handbag and proceeded to select a cigarette. “That’s all bunk, you know, Dad,” said she. “Auntie was just bursting to come herself, but she thought she had to set me an example of self-restraint. As if I wanted her examples. I am out to see all that there is to see. Isn’t that what we came to Europe for?”
“I thought we came to settle this peerage business,” replied Mr. Pippet.
“That’s part of the entertainment,” she admitted, “but we may as well take anything else that happens to be going. And here we have struck a first-class mystery. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Do you think it will be on view?” she added, holding out the cigarette case.
Mr. Pippet humbly picked out a cigarette and looked at her inquiringly. “Do you mean the head?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s what I want to see. You’ve seen it, you know.”
“I don’t know much about the ways of inquests in England,” he replied, “but I don’t fancy that the remains are shown to anyone but the jury.”
“That’s real mean of them,” she said. “I was hoping that it would be on view, or that they would bring it in—on a charger, like John the Baptist’s.”
Mr. Pippet smiled as he lit his cigarette. “The circumstances are not quite the same, my dear,” said he; “but, as I am only a witness, you’ll see as much as I shall, though, as you say, I have actually seen the thing, or, at least, a part of it; and I have no wish to see any more.”
“Still,” persisted Jenny, “you can say that you have really and truly seen it.”
Mr. Pippet admitted that he enjoyed this inestimable privilege for what it might be worth, and the conversation dropped for the moment. Miss Jenny leaned back reposefully in her corner, taking occasional “pulls” at the cigarette in its dainty amber holder, while her father regarded her with a mixture of parental pride, affection and quiet amusement. And it has to be admitted that Mr. Pippet’s sentiments with regard to his daughter were by no means unjustified. Miss Jenifer Pippet—to give her her full and unabridged style and title—was a girl of whom any father might have been proud. If—as Mr. Gimbler had very properly decided—the majestic Arminella “looked the part” of an earl’s sister (which is not invariably the case with the genuine possessors of that title), Mistress Jenifer would have sustained the character of the earl’s daughter with credit even on the stage, where the demands are a good deal more exacting than in real life. In the typically “patrician” style of features, with the fine Roman nose and the level brows and firm chin, she resembled her redoubtable aunt; but she had the advantage of that lady in the matter of stature, being, like her father, well above the average height. And here it may be noted that, if the daughter reflected credit on the father, the latter was well able to hold his position on his own merits. Christopher J. Pippet was fully worthy of his distinguished womenkind; a fine, upstanding gentleman with an undeniable “presence.”
It was probably the possession of these personal advantages that made the way smooth for the two strangers on their arrival at the premises in which the inquest was to be held. At any rate, as soon as Mr. Pippet had made known his connexion with the case, the officiating police officer conducted them to a place in the front row and provided them each with a chair directly facing the table and nearly opposite the coroner’s seat. At the moment, this and the jurymen’s seats were empty and the large room was filled with the hum of conversation. For the sensational nature of the case had attracted a number of spectators greatly in excess of that usually found at an inquest; so much so that the accommodation was somewhat strained, and our two visitors had reason to congratulate themselves on their privileged position.
A few minutes after their arrival, a general stir among the audience and an increase in the murmur of voices seemed to indicate that something was happening. Then the nature of that something became apparent as the jurymen filed into their places and the coroner took his place at the head of the table. There was a brief interval as the jurymen settled into their places and the coroner arranged some papers before him and inspected his fountain pen. Then he looked up; and as the hum of conversation died away and silence settled down on the room, he began his opening address.
“The circumstances, gentlemen,” said he, “which form the subject of this inquiry are very unusual. Ordinarily the occasion of a coroner’s inquest is the discovery of the dead body of some person, known or unknown, or the death of some person from causes which have not been ascertained or certified, but whose body is available for examination. In the present case, while there is indisputable evidence of the death of some person, and certain evidence which may enable us to for
m some opinion as to the probable cause of death, the complete body is not available for expert examination. All that has been discovered, up to the present, is the head; whereas it is probable that the physical evidence as to the exact cause of death is to be found in the missing portion of the remains. I need not to occupy your time with any account of the circumstances, all of which will transpire in the evidence. All that I need say now is that the efforts of the police to discover the identity of deceased have so far proved fruitless. We are accordingly dealing with an entirely unknown individual. The first witness whom I shall call is Thomas Crump.”
At the sound of his name, Mr. Crump made his way to the table, piloted thither by the coroner’s officer, and took his stand, under the latter’s direction, near to the coroner’s chair. Having been sworn, he stated that he was an attendant in the cloak room at Fenchurch Street Station.
“Were you on duty in the evening of Saturday the 19th of August?”
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“Do you remember receiving a certain wooden case on that evening? A case which there has been some question about since?”
“Yes. It was brought in about nine twenty; just after the nine fifteen from Shoeburyness had come in.”
“Was there anything on the case to show where it had come from?”
“No, there were no labels on it excepting one with what I took to be the owner’s name and address. I supposed that it had come by the Shoeburyness train, but that was only a guess. If it did, it couldn’t have travelled in the luggage van. The guard wouldn’t have had it without a label.”
The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 138
