CHAPTER XXIX.
THE POLICE ARE AT FAULT.
Ambler Jevons read the letter, then handed it to me without comment.
It was written upon the note-paper I knew so well, stamped with theneat address "Neneford," in black, but bearing no date. What I readwas as follows:--
_"Sir,--I fail to comprehend the meaning of your words when you followed me into the train at Huntingdon last night. I am in no fear of any catastrophe; therefore I can only take your offer of assistance as an attempt to obtain money from me. If you presume to address me again I shall have no other course than to acquaint the police._
"_Yours truly_
"MARY COURTENAY."
"Ah!" I exclaimed. "Then he warned her, and she misunderstood hisintention."
"Without a doubt," said Ambler, taking the letter from my hand. "Thiswas written probably only a few days before her death. That man," andhe glanced at the prostrate body, "was the only one who could give usthe clue by which to unravel the mystery."
But the dead man's lips had closed, and his secret was held for ever.Only those letters remained to connect him with the river tragedy; orrather to show that he had communicated with the unfortunate Mrs.Courtenay.
In company we walked to Leman Street Police Station, one of the chiefcentres of the Metropolitan Police in the East End, and there, in anupper office, Ambler had a long consultation with the sergeant of theCriminal Investigation Department.
I described the appearance of the body, and stated my suspicions ofpoisoning, all of which the detective carefully noted before goingforth to make his own examination. My address was taken, so that Imight assist at the post-mortem, and then, shortly after midnight Idrove back westward through the City with Ambler at my side.
He spoke little, and when in Oxford Street, just at the corner ofNewman Street, he descended, wished me a hurried good-night, anddisappeared into the darkness. He was often given to strange vagariesof erratic movement. It was as though some thought had suddenlyoccurred to him, and he acted at once upon it.
That night I scarcely closed my eyes. My brain was awhirl withthoughts of all the curious events of the past few months--theinexplicable presence of old Mr. Courtenay, and the subsequent deathof Mary and of the only man who, according to Ambler, knew theremarkable secret.
Ethelwynn's strange words worried me. What could she mean? What didshe know? Surely hers could not be a guilty conscience. Yet, in herwords and actions I had detected that cowardice which a heavyconscience always engenders. One by one I dissected and analysed theSeven Secrets, but not in one single instance could I obtain a gleamof the truth.
While at the hospital next day I was served with a notice to assist atthe post-mortem of the unfortunate Lane, whose body was lying in theShadwell mortuary; and that same afternoon I met by appointment DoctorTatham, of the London Hospital, who, as is well known, is an experttoxicologist.
To describe in technical detail the examination we made would notinterest the general reader of this strange narrative. The average manor woman knows nothing or cares less for the duodenum or the pylorus;therefore it is not my intention to go into long and wearying detail.Suffice it to say that we preserved certain portions of the body forsubsequent examination, and together were engaged the whole evening inthe laboratory of the hospital. Tatham was well skilled in the minutiaeof the tests. The exact determination of the cause of death in casesof poisoning always depends partly on the symptoms noted before death,and partly on the appearances found after death. Regarding the former,neither of us knew anything; hence our difficulties were greatlyincreased. The object of the analyst is to obtain the substances whichhe has to examine chemically in as pure a condition as possible, sothat there may be no doubt about the results of his tests; also, ofcourse, to separate active substances from those that are inert, allbeing mixed together in the stomach and alimentary canal. Again, indealing with such fluids as the blood, or the tissues of the body,their natural constituents must be got rid of before the foreign andpoisonous body can be reached. There is this difficulty further tocontend with: that some of the most poisonous of substances are ofunstable composition and are readily altered by chemical reagents; tothis group belong many vegetable and most animal poisons. These,therefore, must be treated differently from the more stable inorganiccompounds. With an inorganic poison we may destroy all organicmaterials mixed with it, trusting to find the poison stillrecognisable after this process. Not so with an organic substance;that must be separated by other than destructive means.
Through the whole evening we tested for the various groups ofpoisons--corrosives, simple irritants, specific irritants andneurotics. It was a long and scientific search.
Some of the tests with which I was not acquainted I watched with thekeenest interest, for, of all the medical men in London, Tatham wasthe most up to date in such analyses.
At length, after much work with acids, filtration, and distillation,we determined that a neurotic had been employed, and that its actionon the vasomotor system of the nerves was very similar, if notidentical, with nitrate of amyl.
Further than that, even Tatham, expert in such matters, could notproceed. Hours of hard work resulted in that conclusion, and with itwe were compelled to be satisfied.
In due course the inquest was held at Shadwell, and with Ambler Iattended as a witness. The reporters, of course, expected a sensation;but, on the contrary, our evidence went to show that, as the poisonoussubstance was found in the "quartern" bottle on deceased's table,death was in all probability due to suicide.
Some members of the jury took an opposite view. Then the letters wehad found concealed were produced by the police, and, of course,created a certain amount of interest. But to the readers of newspapersthe poisoning of a costermonger at Shadwell is of little interest ascompared with a similar catastrophe in that quarter of London vaguelyknown as "the West End." The letters were suspicious, and both coronerand jury accepted them as evidence that Lane was engaged upon anelaborate scheme of blackmail.
"Who is this Mary Courtenay, who writes to him from Neneford?"inquired the coroner of the inspector.
"Well, sir," the latter responded, "the writer herself is dead. Shewas found drowned a few days ago near her home under suspiciouscircumstances."
Then the reporters commenced to realize that something extraordinarywas underlying the inquiry.
"Ah!" remarked the coroner, one of the most acute officials of hisclass. "Then, in face of this, her letter seems to be more thancurious. For aught we know the tragedy at Neneford may have beenwilful murder; and we have now the suicide of the assassin?"
"That, sir, is the police theory," replied the inspector.
"Police theory be hanged!" ejaculated Ambler, almost loud enough to beheard. "The police know nothing of the case, and will never learnanything. If the jury are content to accept such an explanation, andbrand poor Lane as a murderer, they must be allowed to do so."
I knew Jevons held coroners' juries in the most supreme contempt;sometimes rather unreasonably so, I thought.
"Well," the coroner said, "this is certainly remarkable evidence," andhe turned the dead woman's letter over in his hand. "It is quite plainthat the deceased approached the lady ostensibly to give her warningof some danger, but really to blackmail her; for what reason does notat present appear. He may have feared her threat to give informationto the police; hence his crime, and subsequent suicide."
"Listen!" exclaimed Jevons in my ear. "They are actually trying thedead man for a crime he could not possibly have committed! They've gothold of the wrong end of the stick, as usual. Why don't they give averdict of suicide and have done with it. We can't afford to waste awhole day explaining theories to a set of uneducated gentlemen of theWhitechapel Road. The English law is utterly ridiculous wherecoroners' juries are concerned."
The coroner heard his whispering, and looked towards us severely.
"We have not had sufficient time
to investigate the whole of the factsconnected with Mrs. Courtenay's mysterious death," the inspector wenton. "You will probably recollect, sir, a mystery down at Kew somelittle time ago. It was fully reported in the papers, and createdconsiderable sensation--an old gentleman was murdered under remarkablecircumstances. Well, sir, the gentleman in question was Mrs.Courtenay's husband."
The coroner sat back in his chair and stared at the officer who hadspoken, while in the court a great sensation was caused. Mention ofthe Kew Mystery brought its details vividly back to the minds ofeveryone. Yes. After all, the death of that poor costermonger, LankyLane, was of greater public interest than the representatives of thePress anticipated.
"Are you quite certain of this?" the coroner queried.
"Yes, sir. I am here by the direction of the Chief Inspector ofScotland Yard to give evidence. I was engaged upon the case at Kew,and have also made inquiries into the mystery at Neneford."
"Then you have suspicion that the deceased was--well, a person of badcharacter?"
"We have."
"Fools!" growled Ambler. "Lane was a policeman's 'nose,' and oftenobtained payment from Scotland Yard for information regarding thedoings of a certain gang of thieves. And yet they actually declare himto be a bad character. Preposterous!"
"Do you apply for an adjournment?"
"No, sir. We anticipate that the verdict will be suicide--the only onepossible in face of the evidence."
And then, as though the jury were compelled to act upon theinspector's suggestion, they returned a simple verdict. "That thedeceased committed suicide by poisoning while of unsound mind."
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