The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack

by R. Austin Freeman

  Such was the state of affairs when I received a summons to attend and give evidence at an inquest “on certain remains, believed to be human, found on the premises of No. 12 Jacob Street.” The summons came rather as a surprise, and on receiving it I gave very careful consideration to the questions that I might be asked and the evidence that I should give. Should I, for instance, volunteer any statements as to the arsenic poisoning and my analysis of the bone-ash? As to the latter, I knew that Blandy would have liked me to suppress it, and my own enthusiasm on the subject had largely evaporated after witnessing Jervis’s open incredulity. But I would be sworn to tell the whole truth, and as the analysis was a fact, it would have to be mentioned. However, as will be seen, the choice was not left to me; the far-sighted Blandy had anticipated my difficulty and provided the necessary counterblast.

  On the morning of the inquest, I made a point of calling on Mrs. Gannet to satisfy myself that she was in a fit state to attend and to ascertain whether Linnell would be there to represent her. On both points I was reassured; for, though naturally a little nervous, she was quite composed and prepared to face courageously what must necessarily be a rather painful ordeal.

  “I can never be grateful enough to you and Dr. Thorndyke,” said she, “for sending Mr. Linnell to me. He is so kind and sympathetic and so wise. I should have been terrified of this inquest if I had had to go to it alone; but now that I know Mr. Linnell will be there to support me, I feel quite confident. For you know I really haven’t anything that I need conceal.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” I replied, cheerfully, though without any profound conviction, “and there is nothing at all for you to worry about. You can trust Mr. Linnell to keep Inspector Blandy in order.”

  With this I took my departure, greatly relieved to find her in so satisfactory a state, and proceeded to dispatch my visits so as to leave the afternoon clear. For my evidence would probably occupy a considerable time and I wanted, if possible, to hear the whole of the inquiry; I managed this so successfully that I was able to present myself only a few minutes late and before the business had actually commenced.

  Looking round the room as I entered, I was surprised to find but a mere handful of spectators; not more than a dozen, and these occupied two benches at the back, while the witnesses were accommodated on a row of chairs in front of them. Before seating myself on the vacant chair at the end, I glanced along the row, which included Blandy, Thorndyke, Jervis, Mrs. Gannet, Linnell and one or two other persons who were unknown to me.

  I had hardly taken my seat when the coroner opened the proceedings with a brief address to the jury.

  “The general nature of this inquiry,” said he, “has been made known to you in the course of your visit to the studio in Jacob Street. There are three questions to which we have to find answers. First, are these fragments of burnt bones the remains of a human being? Second, if they are, can we give a name and identity to that person? And third, how did that person come by his death? To these questions the obvious appearances and the known circumstances suggest certain answers; but we must disregard all preconceived opinions and consider the facts with an open mind. To do that, I think the best plan will be to trace, in the order of their occurrence, the events which seem to be connected with the subject of our inquiry. We will begin by taking the evidence of Dr. Oldfield.”

  Here I may say that I shall not follow the proceedings in detail since they dealt with matters with which the reader is already acquainted; and for such repetition as is unavoidable, I hereby offer a comprehensive apology.

  When the preliminaries had been disposed of, the coroner opened his examination with the question:

  “When, and in what circumstances, did you first meet Peter Gannet?”

  “On the 16th of December, 1930,” I replied. “I was summoned to attend him professionally. He was then an entire stranger to me.”

  “What was the nature of his illness?”

  “He was suffering from arsenic poisoning.”

  “Did you recognize the condition immediately?”

  “No. The real nature of his illness was discovered by Dr. Thorndyke, whom I consulted.”

  Here, in answer to a number of questions, I described the circumstances of the illness up to the time when Peter Gannet called on me to report his recovery.

  “Were you able to form any opinion as to whom administered the poison to Gannet?”

  “No. I had no facts to go upon other than those that I have mentioned.”

  “You have referred to a Mr. Frederick Boles as being in attendance on Gannet. What was his position in the household?”

  “He was a friend of the family and he worked with Gannet in the studio.”

  “What were his relations with Gannet? Were they genuinely friendly?”

  “I thought so at the time, but afterwards I changed my opinion.”

  “What were the relations of Boles and Mrs. Gannet?”

  “They were quite good friends.”

  “Should you say that their relations were merely friendly? Nothing more?”

  “I never had any reason to suppose that they were anything more than friends. They seemed to be on the best of terms, but their mutual liking was known to Gannet and he used to refer to it without any sign of disapproval. He seemed to accept their friendship as quite natural and proper.”

  The questions now concerned themselves with what I may call the second stage; my relations with Gannet up to the time of the disappearance, including the quarrel in the studio which I had overheard. This evidently produced a deep impression and evoked a number of searching questions from the coroner and from one or two of the jury. Then came the disappearance itself, and as I told the story of my search of the house and my discoveries in the studio, the profound silence in the court and the intent looks of the jury testified to the eager interest of the listeners. When I had finished the account of my doings in the studio, the coroner (who I suspected had been primed by Blandy) asked:

  “What about the sample of bone-ash that you took away with you? Did you make any further examination of it?”

  “Yes. I examined it under the microscope and confirmed my belief that it was incinerated bone; and I also made a chemical test to ascertain whether it contained any arsenic.”

  “Had you any expectation that it would contain arsenic?”

  “I thought it just possible that it might contain traces of arsenic. It was the previous poisoning incident that suggested the examination.”

  “Did you, in fact, find any arsenic?”

  “Yes. To my surprise, I discovered a considerable quantity. I don’t know how much, as I did not attempt to estimate it, but I could see that there was a comparatively large amount.”

  “And what conclusion did you reach from this fact?”

  “I concluded that deceased, whoever he was, had died from the effects of a very large dose of arsenic.”

  “Is that still your opinion?”

  “I am rather doubtful. There may have been some source of error which is not known to me, but the arsenic was certainly there. Really, its significance is a matter for an expert, which I am not.”

  This, substantially, brought my evidence to an end. I was followed by Sir Joseph Armadale, the eminent medico-legal authority, acting for the Home Office. As he took his place near the coroner, he produced and laid on the table a shallow, glass-topped box. In reply to the coroner’s question, he deposed:

  “I have examined a quantity of fragments of incinerated bone submitted to me by the Commissioner of Police. Most of them were too small to have any recognizable character, but some were large enough to identify as parts of particular bones. These I found, in every case, to be human bones.”

  “Would you say that all these fragments are the remains of a human being?”

  “That, of course, is an inference, but it is a reasonable inference. All I can say is that every fragment that I was able to recognize as part of a particular bone was part of a human bone. It is re
asonable to infer that the unrecognisable fragments were also human. I have picked out all the fragments that were identifiable and put them in this box, which I submit for your inspection.”

  Here the box was passed round and examined by the jury, and while the inspection was proceeding, the coroner addressed the witness.

  “You have heard Dr. Oldfield’s evidence as to the arsenic that he found in the ashes. Have you any comments to make on his discovery?”

  “Yes. The matter was mentioned to me by Inspector Blandy and I accordingly made an analysis to check Dr. Oldfield’s findings. He is perfectly correct. The ashes contain a considerable quantity of arsenic. From two ounces of the ash I recovered nearly a tenth of a grain.”

  “And do you agree that the presence of that arsenic is evidence that deceased died from arsenic poisoning?”

  “No. I do not associate the arsenic with the body of deceased at all. The quantity is impossibly large. As a matter of fact, I do not believe that, if deceased had been poisoned even by a very large dose of arsenic, any trace of the poison would have been discoverable in the ashes. Arsenic is a volatile substance which changes into a vapour at a comparatively low temperature—about 300 degrees Fahrenheit. But these bones had been exposed for hours to a very high temperature—over 2000° Fahrenheit. I should say that the whole of the arsenic would have been driven off in vapour. At any rate, the quantity which was found in the ashes was quite impossible as a residue. The arsenic must have got into the ashes in some way after they had become ashes.”

  “Can you suggest any way in which it could have got into the ashes?”

  “I can only make a guess. Inspector Blandy has informed me that he found a jar of arsenic in the studio among the materials for making glazes or enamels. So it appears that arsenic was one of the materials used, in which case it would have been possible for it to have got mixed with the ashes either in the grinding apparatus or in the bin. But that is only a speculative suggestion. There may be other possibilities.”

  “Yes,” the coroner agreed. “But it doesn’t matter much. The important point is that the arsenic was not derived from the body of deceased, and you are clear on that?”

  “Perfectly clear,” replied Sir Joseph; and that completed his evidence.

  The next witness was Mr. Albert Hawley, who described himself as a dental surgeon and deposed that he had attended Mr. Peter Gannet professionally and had made for him a partial upper denture which included the four incisors. The coroner then handed to him a small stoppered tube which I could see contained a tooth, remarking:

  “I think you have seen that before, but you had better examine it.”

  “Yes,” the witness replied as he withdrew the stopper and shook the tooth out into the palm of his hand. “It was shown to me by Inspector Blandy. It is a porcelain tooth—a right upper lateral incisor—which has been broken into several fragments and very skilfully mended. It is of the type known as Du Trey’s.”

  “Does it resemble any of the teeth in the denture which you made for Peter Gannet?”

  “Yes. I used Du Trey’s teeth in that denture, so this is exactly like the right upper lateral incisor in that denture.”

  “You can’t say, I suppose, whether this tooth actually came from that denture?”

  “No. The teeth are all alike when they come from the makers, and if I have to make any small alterations in adjusting the bite, no record is kept. But nothing seems to have been done to this tooth.”

  “If it were suggested to you that this tooth came from Gannet’s denture, would you have any reason to doubt the correctness of that suggestion?”

  “None whatever. It is exactly like a tooth in his denture and it may actually be that tooth. Only I cannot say positively that it is.”

  “Thank you,” said the coroner. “That is all that we could expect of you, and I think we need not trouble you any further.”

  Mr. Hawley was succeeded by Inspector Blandy who gave his evidence with the ease and conciseness of the professional witness. His description of the researches in the studio and the discovery of the fragments of the tooth were listened to by the jury with the closest interest, though in the matter of sensation I had rather “stolen his thunder.” But the turning out of Boles’s cupboard was a new feature and several points of interest arose from it. The discovery, for instance, of a two-pound jar of arsenic, three-quarters full, was one of them.

  “You had already learned of Dr. Oldfield’s analysis?”

  “Yes. He showed me the tube with the arsenic deposit in it, but I saw at once that there must be some mistake. It was too good to be true. There was too much arsenic for a cremated body.”

  “Did you gather what the arsenic was used for?”

  “No. The cupboard contained a number of chemicals, apparently used for preparing enamels and fluxes, and I presumed that the arsenic was used for the same purpose.”

  The discovery of the fingerprints raised some other interesting questions, particularly as to their identity, concerning which the coroner asked:

  “Can you say whose fingerprints those were?”

  “Not positively. But there were quite a lot of them on various objects, on bottles and jars, and some on tool-handles, and they were all from the same person; and as the cupboard was Boles’s cupboard and the tools and bottles were his, it is fair to assume that the fingerprints were his.”

  “Yes,” the coroner agreed, “that seems a reasonable assumption. But I don’t see the importance of it, unless the fingerprints are known to the police. Is it expedient to ask whether they are?”

  “I don’t want to go into particulars,” said Blandy, “but I may say that these fingerprints are known to the police and that their owner is wanted for a very serious crime against the person; a crime involving extreme violence. That is their only bearing on this case. If they are Boles’s fingerprints, then Boles is known to be a violent criminal; and there seems to be evidence in this case that a violent crime has been committed.”

  “Have you had an opportunity of interviewing Mr. Boles?” the coroner asked.

  The Inspector smiled, grimly. “No,” he replied. “Mr. Boles disappeared just about the time when the body was burned, and so far, he has managed to keep out of sight. Apparently he doesn’t desire an interview.”

  That was the substance of the Inspector’s evidence, and, as he was disposed to be evasive and reticent, the coroner discreetly refrained from pressing him. Accordingly, when the depositions had been read and signed, he was allowed to retire to his seat and the name of Letitia Gannet was called. As she advanced to the table, where a chair was placed for her, I watched her with some uneasiness; for though I felt sure that she knew nothing that she had not already disclosed, the atmosphere of the court was not favourable. It was easy to see that the jury regarded her with some suspicion, and that Blandy’s habitually benevolent expression but thinly disguised a watchful attention which was not entirely friendly.

  As I had expected, the coroner began with an attempt to get more light on the incident of the arsenic poisoning, and Mrs. Gannet recounted the history of the affair in so far as it was known to her.

  “Of what persons did your household consist at that time?” the coroner asked.

  “Of my husband, myself and one maid. Perhaps I should include Mr. Boles as he worked in the studio with my husband and usually took his meals with us and was at the house a good deal.”

  “Who prepared your husband’s food?”

  “I did while he was ill. The maid did most of the other cooking.”

  “And the barley water? Who prepared that?”

  “Usually I did; but sometimes Mr. Boles made it.”

  “And who took the food and drink to your husband’s room?”

  “I usually took it up to him myself, but sometimes I sent the maid up with it and occasionally Mr. Boles took it up.”

  “Is the maid still with you?”

  “No. As soon as I heard from my husband that there had been arsenic i
n his food, I sent the girl away with a month’s wages in lieu of notice.”

  “Why did you do that? Did you suspect her of having put the arsenic in the food?”

  “No, not in the least, but I thought it best to be on the safe side.”

  “Did you form any opinion as to who might have put it in?”

  “No, there was nobody whom I could suspect. At first I thought that there must have been some mistake, but when Dr. Oldfield explained to me that no mistake was possible, I supposed that the arsenic must have got in by accident; and I think so still.”

  The next questions were concerned with the relations existing between Gannet and Boles and the time and circumstances of the break-up of their friendship.

  “As to the cause of this sudden change from friendship to enmity—did you ever learn from either of the men what the trouble was?”

  “Neither of them would admit that there was any trouble, though I saw that there must be. But I could never guess what it was.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that your husband might be jealous on account of your intimacy with Mr. Boles?”

  “Never, and I am sure he was not. Mr. Boles and I were relatives—second cousins—and had known each other since we were children. We were always the best of friends, but there was never anything between us that could have occasioned jealousy on my husband’s part, and he knew it. He never made the least objection to our friendship.”

  “You spoke of Mr. Boles as working with your husband in the studio. What, precisely, does that mean? Was Mr. Boles a potter?”

  “No. He sometimes helped my husband, particularly in firing the kiln; but his own work, for the last year or two, was the making of certain kinds of jewellery and enamels.”