"The presence in Gillum's chambers," I began, "of that mysterious stranger with the dyed hair seems to be a new discovery. At least, it is new to me. Have you any idea who he was?"
"Yes," Thorndyke replied. "I think that the facts in our possession enable us to form a fairly definite opinion as to his identity."
"You say 'the facts in our possession.' Shouldn't you rather say 'in your possession'?"
"Not at all," he replied. "Whatever is known to me is known also to you. As to the actual observed facts, we are on an equal footing. Any difference between us is in their interpretation."
This was so manifestly true that it left me nothing to say. It was the old story. I lacked that peculiar gift that Thorndyke had by virtue of which he was able to perceive, almost at a glance, the relations of facts which appeared to be totally unrelated. For some time I smoked my pipe in silence, reflecting on this unsatisfactory difference between us. Presently I remarked: "You have put in a good deal of work on this case. Does it seem to you that you have made any real progress?"
"Yes," he replied. "I am quite satisfied."
"And have you marked out any further line of investigation?
"No," he answered. "I am making no further investigations. I have finished. The details can be filled in by the police."
I looked at him in amazement. "Finished!" I exclaimed. "Why, I imagined that you had hardly begun. Do you mean to say that you have identified the blackmailer?"
"I believe so," he replied. "Indeed, I may say that I have no doubt. But there is one point at which I have an advantage over you which must be redressed at once."
He rose, and, opening the cabinet in which the "exhibits" connected with the case were kept, took out two sheets of paper, which he laid on the table.
"Now," said he, "here is the blackmailer's letter, which you have seen; and here is a sheet of paper which you have also seen. We found it in the tidy in Gillum's bedroom with a little bolt and nut wrapped in it. Do you remember?"
"I remember. But I thought it was the bolt and nut that were the objects of interest."
"So they were at the time," said he. "But I had a look at the paper, too, and then that became the object of interest. I have flattened it out in the press to get rid of the creases, so that it is now easy to compare it with the letter. See what you think of it."
I took up the two sheets and compared them. It was at once obvious that they were very similar. Both had been torn off a writing-pad; they appeared to be of the same size; the paper seemed to be the same in both—a thin, rather low-quality paper, ruled, with very faint lines. When I held them up to the light, I could see in each a portion of what was evidently the same watermark; and the ruled lines were exactly the same distance apart in both.
"Your point," said I, "is that these two pieces of paper are identically similar. I agree to that. But is the similarity of any great significance? Writing-pads such as these sheets were torn from are made by the thousand. There must have been thousands of persons using pads indistinguishably similar to these at the time when this letter was written."
"That is perfectly true," Thorndyke agreed. "But now make another comparison. I put the two sheets of paper together, thus, both face upwards, as we can tell by the watermark. Now, see if all four of their edges coincide."
"So far as I can see, they all coincide perfectly."
"Very well. Now I turn one sheet over face down wards and again put the two together. Can you still make all four edges coincide?"
I tried, but found it impossible. "No," I replied. "They agree everywhere but at the bottom. One of them must be a little out of the square."
"Not one of them, Jervis," he corrected. "They must be both equally out of the square since all four edges coincided when they were both face upwards. And in fact they are. Test each of them with this set-square. You see that, in each, the bottom edge is out of the square with the sides, and in both to the same amount. I measured them with a protractor and found the deviation in both to be just under one degree. The reasonable inference is that they are both from the same pad."
"Reasonable," I agreed, "but not conclusive. The whole batch of pads must have presented the same peculiarity of shape."
"True," he admitted. "But consider the probabilities. Either these two sheets were from the same pad, or they were from two different pads in the possession of two different persons. Now, which is the more probable?"
"Oh, obviously, as a mere question of probability, they would appear to be from the same pad. But you seem to be suggesting that the blackmailer was Gillum himself; which is so improbable that it cancels the other probabilities. I shouldn't admit that the coincidence in the shape of these sheets is enough to support such an extraordinary conclusion."
"I agree with you, Jervis," he rejoined. "The coincidence alone would not justify that conclusion. But it is not alone. From facts known to us both I had already concluded that the blackmailing letters had been written by Gillum himself. The evidence of these two sheets is merely corroborative. But, as corroboration, it is enormously weighty."
"When you speak of facts known to us both," I said hopelessly, "you leave me stranded. I know of no such facts. But apparently you have worked out a complete case. What is your next move?"
"I am sending Miller the report of the inquest on Gillum's body and informing him that I propose handing the case over to him. That will probably bring him here by to-morrow evening at the latest to get the particulars. Then I shall, in effect, lay a sworn information."
"An information!" I exclaimed. "But against whom? You say that the blackmailer is a myth—that Gillum pretended to blackmail himself. But Gillum is dead; and if he were not, he would have committed no legal offence. It was a pretence, according to your assertion; but it was not, in a legal sense, a fraud."
"Now, Jervis," said he, "to-morrow evening I shall show you the suggested indictment before Miller sees it. But I should like you, in the interval, to make a final effort to work this case out for yourself. You have all the facts. Turn them over in your mind without reference to any preconceived theory, and read Mortimer's narrative once again. If you do that, I think you will be forced to the conclusion that I shall propound to Miller."
I could do no less than agree to this. But I foresaw the inevitable result. Doubtless, I had all the facts. But alas! I had not Thorndyke's unique power of inference and synthetic reasoning.
XVI. THE DISCLOSURE
A telephone call shortly before midday making an appointment for eight o'clock in the evening, informed us that Mr. Superintendent Miller had "caught on." Indeed, he was distinctly curious and would have liked a few particulars in advance, but as his call was answered by Polton, in Thorndyke's absence, these were not available. I sympathised with Miller and should have "liked a few particulars" myself; for I had re-read Mortimer's narrative before going to bed and cogitated on the case all the morning, and was as much in the dark as ever.
I saw little of Thorndyke during the day, for he went abroad alone, and even seemed to make a point of doing so. But we went out together in the evening for a rather early dinner at a tavern in Devereux Court; and it was on our way home that I had the unique experience of recognising Mr. Snuper. We were just about to enter through the little iron gate that leads from Devereux Court into New Court when a man emerged from a doorway in the former and came along at a quick pace behind us. He followed us into New Court and there overtook us, and as he passed ahead, I observed him, though with no particular attention, noting, in fact, no more than that he was a nondescript sort of person and that he carried a large parcel.
It was this parcel that brought him to my notice; for, when he had got some little distance ahead, he seemed to get into difficulties with it and nearly dropped it; whereupon he halted to make some readjustments, allowing us to pass him. And it was at this moment, when he turned his face towards us and the light from a lamp fell on him, that I suddenly realised who he was.
Almost at the instant of the re
cognition Thorndyke seemed to change his direction. He had appeared to be heading for the passage that leads through into Essex Court; but now he turned sharply to the right and led the way down into Fountain Court, which he crossed to the left into Middle Temple Lane, following the Lane down as far as Crown Office Row and passing along the latter until we emerged into King's Bench Walk. And all the way I could hear the footsteps of Mr. Snuper padding along behind us, and still, to judge by the occasional stoppages, wrestling with his parcel. When we came out into King's Bench Walk he passed us once more, and, turning to the right, made for the pavement at the lower end, where presently he vanished into one of the entries.
It was a mysterious affair for the man appeared to be shadowing us; which was a manifest absurdity. I was about to seek enlightenment from Thorndyke when he forestalled my enquiries by producing from his pocket a small folded paper which he handed to me.
"That," said he, "is a copy of the statement that I am going to hand to Miller. You had better look through it before the interview so that you may be in a position to join in the discussion."
I took the little document very gladly; for it would have been rather humiliating if I had had to expose my ignorance to Miller. And it was none too soon; for even as we passed in at our entry, fully five minutes before our time, I caught a glimpse of the superintendent bearing down on us from the direction of Tanfield Court.
I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom and eagerly took out the paper, all agog to learn what Thorndyke's conclusions were. My expectations had been of the vaguest, but whatever they may have been, a glance at the little document blew them to the winds. I read it through again and again, hardly able to believe my eyes. For what it affirmed was not only astounding, it was bewildering and incredible. If the statement that it set forth was true, I had never even begun to understand the nature of the problem.
Slipping the paper back into my pocket, I ran down to the sitting-room where I found Miller already established in an easy chair with a big whisky and soda at his side and a cigar of corresponding size between his fingers. He greeted me with an affable smile as I entered and struck a match by way of getting the cigar going.
"Well, Doctors both," said he, "here we are again with another prime mystery in the offing. But I can't imagine what it may be."
"You have read the report of the inquest on John Gillum?" Thorndyke asked.
"Yes," replied Miller. "I haven't had time to read Mortimer's screed, but I have gone through the inquest carefully; and I have come to the same conclusion as the jury—a perfectly straightforward and obvious case of suicide. And I suppose I am wrong. Isn't that the position?"
"Yes," Thorndyke replied, "at least, that is my position."
"You are not suggesting that it was a case of murder?"
"I am not suggesting anything," replied Thorndyke, producing a small sheet of paper from his wallet. "I am making a perfectly definite statement. This is what I say, and what I am prepared to prove; and you can have it in the form of a sworn information if you like."
With this he handed the paper to Miller, who took it, opened it, and read through the short statement. Then he read it through again, with deep attention and much wrinkling of the brow. Finally, he laid down his cigar and faced Thorndyke with an air of perplexity.
"I don't quite understand this," said he. "Of course the dates are all wrong. Clerical error, I suppose."
"The dates are perfectly correct," Thorndyke assured him.
"But they can't be," the superintendent protested. "It's an absurdity. What you say is that you accuse Augustus Peck, a registered medical practitioner, that he did, on the night of the 17th of September, 1928, at 64, Clifford's Inn, London, maliciously and feloniously kill and murder one John Gillum. Do you say that you really mean that?"
"Certainly, I do," replied Thorndyke.
"But, my dear doctor," Miller protested, plaintively, "the thing that you are alleging is an impossibility. Gillum's body was discovered on the i8th of July, 1930. That is nearly two years after the date which you give as that of the murder. You admit that?"
"Of course I do," Thorndyke replied. "It is the simple fact."
"But the thing is impossible," persisted Miller. "You are alleging, in effect, that the body which was discovered had been dead nearly two years."
"Not only in effect," said Thorndyke. "That is my definite statement."
The superintendent groaned. "But, doctor," he urged, "that statement is not reasonable, and what is more, it isn't true. It is contrary to all the known facts. That body was examined by a very competent medic witness who deposed at the inquest that it had been dead from six to eight days."
"Appeared to have been dead from six to eight days," Thorndyke corrected. "That is what he said, and I agree to the appearance."
"Very well," said Miller. "Appeared if you like. But the time he stated was about correct, for the man had been seen alive only ten days previously by Mr. Weech; and Mortimer had seen him alive only a few days before that."
"My position is," said Thorndyke, "that neither Weech nor Mortimer had ever set eyes on John Gillum."
"Never set eyes on him!" exclaimed Miller. "Why, they both knew him intimately, and had known him for—" He paused suddenly. Then, directing an intent look at Thorndyke, he added, slowly: "Unless you mean—"
"Exactly," said Thorndyke. "That is what I do mean. Weech and Mortimer and Penfield knew a certain man by the name of John Gillum. But he was not John Gillum. He was Augustus Peck, made up so far as was necessary to play the part. And he played the part successfully as long as it was possible; and when it became impossible, he quietly disappeared leaving John Gillum's body to carry on the illusion."
Miller was profoundly impressed, but he was evidently not convinced, for he returned to the charge with further objections.
"You say he left the body on view when he disappeared. Then he must have had it in his possession. Where was it all that time?"
"It was lying hidden in a large coal-bin in the chambers at Clifford's Inn."
"But how was it that it didn't—well, you know, a dead body tends to undergo a good deal of change in two years. But the doctor said that it looked as if it had been dead not more than eight days. How do you account for that?"
"My dear Miller," said Thorndyke, "we live in a scientific age; an age in which natural processes are largely under our control. We can, if we please, prevent dead bodies from decomposing. And we do. In the Paris Morgue, bodies which have not been identified are now put into storage and kept, in a perfectly fresh state, ready for further inspections. I don't know how long they are kept, but, physically, there is no limit to the possible time."
"Yes," said Miller, "I see. Of course, you have got an answer to every objection. You would have. I might have known that you wouldn't propose an impossible case. But now, doctor, let us come down to the immediate business. As I mentioned when I phoned, I am not free to-night. In fact," he added, looking at his watch, "I must be off in a few minutes, but I should like to fix things up before I go. You have given me the substance of the case, a sort of sketch of an indictment. Now, I needn't tell you that that's no use even if you swore to it and signed it. Before I can make an arrest, I must have enough evidence to establish a prima facie case. When can I have that evidence? The sooner, the better, if we are not to risk a misfire."
"I agree with you as to the of the matter," said Thorndyke, "for I suspect that our friend, Peck, has smelt a rat. I have him under close observation, but I fancy he has me under observation, too."
"The devil, he has!" exclaimed Miller. "I don't like that. What do you mean by having him under close observation?"
"I have got Snuper and a couple of assistants watching him night and day. You know Snuper?"
"Yes," replied Miller, "a capital fellow, a genius in his own line. But he doesn't meet the present case. He has no locus standi. He couldn't make an arrest unless he caught Peck committing some overt criminal act. And we don't want that. You had
better give me his address and then I can detail one or two of our men to take over or act with him."
Thorndyke wrote the address on a slip of paper and handed it to the superintendent, who put it into his note-case and then resumed: "We mustn't let the grass grow, doctor. Watching is all very well, but we ought to get that gentleman under lock and key. If your statement is true he must be a pretty slippery customer. When can I have that evidence?"
"Can you come in to-morrow evening?" Thorndyke asked.
"Yes," was the reply. "I've got the whole evening free."
"Then," said Thorndyke, "what I propose is this: I ask you to arrange, if you can, for Anstey to lead for the prosecution, as he is used to working with me."
"The choice of counsel doesn't rest with us," replied Miller. "The Director of Public Prosecutions decides that, subject to the Attorney General. But I expect the Director will be willing to appoint Mr. Anstey as you will be the principal witness. What then?"
"I shall assume that Anstey will be appointed and I shall get him to meet you here to-morrow night. I know that he will be able to. Then I shall lay before you a complete scheme of the evidence. How will that do?"
"It will do perfectly," replied Miller.
"I should like, also, if you agree," said Thorndyke, "to have Benson and Mortimer here. We can rely on their secrecy and discretion."
The superintendent was inclined to demur to this proposal. "It doesn't seem to be quite in order," he objected. "They will both be witnesses."
"They are not witnesses yet," retorted Thorndyke. "And you want to know what yours are prepared to say and swear to. But apart from that, I think they may be able to give us some valuable help by answering questions on matters of fact."
"Very well," Miller agreed. "I don't much like it, but it's your funeral."
With this, he finished his whisky, and having been provided with a fresh cigar, rose to take his leave.
"And, look here, doctor," he said, as he shook hands; "don't you go taking too much outdoor exercise. If this fellow has rumbled you, it's a case for minding your eye and seeing that you don't make a target of the principal witness for the prosecution. We shall want you when the day comes, and for that matter I expect you'll want yourself. Keep an eye on him Dr. Jervis, and by the same token, keep an eye on his invaluable coadjutor."
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