"Were these films inflammable?"
"Nearly all of them were highly inflammable."
"Then this must have been a very dangerous house. Did you take any special precautions against fire?"
"Yes. The store-rooms were always kept locked, and the rule was that they were only to be entered by daylight and that no smoking was allowed in them. We were naturally very careful."
"And were the premises insured?"
"Yes, both the building and the contents were fully insured. Of course, the rate of insurance was high in view of the special risk."
"How many persons were ordinarily resident in the house?"
"Only one. Formerly the premises used to be left at night entirely unoccupied, but, as there was more room than we needed, I decided to let the first floor. I would sooner have let it for use as offices, but my present tenant, Mr. Gustavus Haire, applied for it as a residential flat, and I let it to him, and he has resided in it for the last six months."
"Was he in residence at the time of the fire?"
"No. Fortunately for him, he was absent on a visit to Ireland at the time. The gentleman who met his death in the fire was a relative of Mr. Haire's to whom he had lent the flat while he was away."
"We will come to the question of deceased presently, but first we might have a few particulars about Mr. Haire; as to his occupation, for instance."
"I really don't know very much about him. He seems to be connected with the film and camera trade, mostly, I think, as a traveller and agent for some of the wholesale firms. But he does some sort of dealing on his own account, and he seems to be something of a mechanic. He has done some repairs on projectors for me, and once he mended up a gramophone motor that I bought second hand. And he does a little manufacturing, if you can call it by that name: he makes certain kinds of cements and varnishes. I don't know exactly how much or what he does with them, but I presume that he sells them, as I can't think of any use that he could have for the quantities that he makes."
"Did he carry on this industry on your premises?"
"Yes, in the small room that adjoined the bedroom, which he also used as a workroom for his mechanical jobs. There was a cupboard in it in which he used to keep his stocks of varnish and the solvents for making them—mostly acetone and amyl acetate."
"Aren't those solvents rather inflammable?"
"They are very inflammable; and the varnish is still worse, as the basis is cellulose."
"You say that you don't know how much of this stuff he used to make in that room. Haven't you any idea?"
"I can't suggest a quantity, but I know that he must have made a good deal of it, because he used to buy some, at least, of his material from me. It consisted mostly of worn-out or damaged films, and I have sold him quite a lot from time to time. But I believe he had other sources of supply."
"And you say he used to store all this inflammable material—the celluloid, the solvents and the varnish—in that small room?"
"Yes; but I think that when the little room got full up, he used to overflow into the bedroom—in fact, I know he did, for I saw a row of bottles of varnish on the bedroom mantelpiece, one of them a Winchester quart."
"Then you have been into Mr. Haire's rooms? Perhaps you could give us a general idea as to their arrangement and what was in them."
"I have only been in them once or twice, and I didn't take very much notice of them, as I just went in to talk over some matters which we had been discussing. There were two rooms; a small one—that would have the window marked 7 in the photograph. It was used as a workroom and partly as a store for the cements and varnishes. It contained a smallish deal table which had a vice fixed to it and served as a work bench. It was littered with tools and bits of scrap of various kinds and there was a gas-ring on a sheet of iron. Besides the table, there was a stool and a good-sized cupboard, rather shallow and fitted with five or six shelves which seemed to be filled principally with bottles.
The other room was quite a fair size—about twenty feet long and twelve feet wide. It was used as a bed-sitting room and was quite comfortably furnished. The bed was at the end opposite window number 9, with the dressing-table and washstand near it. At the other end was a mahogany table, a small side-board, a set of book-shelves, three single chairs, an easy chair by the fireplace, and a grandfather clock against the wall in the corner. There was some sort of carpet on the floor and a rug before the fireplace. That is all I remember about the furniture of the room; but what dwells in my memory is the appalling untidiness of the place. The floor was littered with newspapers and magazines, the mantelpiece and the sideboard were filled up with bottles and boxes and pipes and all sorts of rubbish, and there were brown-paper parcels all over the place: stacked along the walls and round the clock and even under the bed."
"Do you know what was in those parcels?"
"I don't know, but I strongly suspect that they contained his stock of films. I recognized one as a parcel that he had had from me."
The coroner looked at the witness with a frown of astonishment.
"It seems incredible," he exclaimed. "These rooms must have been even more dangerous than the rest of the house."
"Much more," the witness agreed; "for, in the business premises, the films were at least securely packed. We didn't keep them loose in paper parcels."
"No. It is perfectly astonishing. This man, Haire, might as well have been living and sleeping in a powder magazine. No wonder that the fire started in his flat. The necessary conditions seem to have been perfect for the start of a fire. But still we have no evidence as to what actually started it. I suppose, Mr. Green, you have no suggestion to offer on that question?"
"Of course, I have no certain knowledge, though I have a very definite suspicion. But a suspicion is not evidence."
"No, but I suppose that you had something to go on. Let us hear what you suspect and why you suspect it."
"My opinion is based on a conversation that I had with Mr. Haire shortly before he went away. It occurred in a little restaurant in Wardour Street where we both used to go for lunch. He was telling me about his proposed visit to Dublin. He said he was not sure how long he might be away, but he thought it would be as well for him to leave me his address in case anyone should call on any matter that might seem urgent. So he wrote down the address of the firm on whom he would be calling and gave it to me, and I then said, jestingly, that, as there would be no one in the house while he was away, I hoped he would deposit his jewellery and plate and other valuable property in the bank before he left.
"He smiled and promised that he would, but then he remarked that, in fact, the house would probably not be empty, as he had agreed to let a cousin of his have the use of the rooms to sleep in while he was away. I was not very pleased to hear this, and I remarked that I should not much care to hand the keys of any rooms of mine to another person. He agreed with me, and admitted that he would rather have avoided the arrangement; 'but,' he said, 'what could I do? The man is my cousin and quite a decent fellow. He happens to be coming up to town just at the time when I shall be away, and it will be a great convenience to him to have a place where he can turn in and save the expense of an hotel. He may not use the rooms after all, but if he does, I don't expect that you will see much of him, as he will only be coming to the rooms to sleep. His days will be occupied in various business calls. I must admit,' he added, 'that I wish him at Halifax, but he asked me to let him have the use of the rooms, and I didn't feel that I could refuse.'
"'Well,' I said, 'I should have refused. But he is your cousin, so I suppose you know all about him.'
"'Oh, yes,' he replied; 'he is quite a responsible sort of man; and I have cautioned him to be careful.'
"That struck me as a rather curious remark, so I said: 'How do you mean? What did you caution him about?' and he replied: 'Oh, I just cautioned him not to do himself too well in the matter of drinks in the evening, and I made him promise not to smoke in bed.'
"'Does he usually smoke i
n bed?' I asked; and he replied: 'I think he likes to take a book to bed with him and have a read and a smoke before going to sleep. But he has promised solemnly that he won't.'
"'Well,' I said, 'I hope he won't. It is a shockingly dangerous habit. He might easily drop off to sleep and let his cigarette fall on the bed-clothes.'
"'He doesn't smoke cigarettes in bed,' said Haire. 'He smokes a pipe; his favourite is a big French clay bowl in the form of a death's head with glass eyes and a cherry-wood stem. He loves that pipe. But you need not worry; he has sworn not to smoke in bed.'
"I was not very happy about the affair, but I didn't like to make a fuss. So I made no further objection."
"I think," said the coroner, "that you ought to have forbidden him to lend the rooms. However, you didn't. Did you learn what this man's name was?"
"Yes, I asked Mr. Haire, in case I should see the man and have occasion to speak to him. His name was Moxdale—Cecil Moxdale."
"Then we may take it that the body which is the subject of this inquiry is that of Cecil Moxdale. Did you ever see him?"
"I think I saw him once. That would be just before six in the evening of the 14th of April. I was standing inside the doorway of my premises when Mr. Haire passed with another man, whom I assumed to be Mr. Moxdale from his resemblance to Mr. Haire. The two men went to the street door which is the entrance to Mr. Haire's staircase and entered together."
"Could you give us any description of Moxdale?"
"He was a biggish man—about five feet nine or ten—with dark hair and a rather full dark moustache. That is all I noticed. I only took a passing glance at him."
"From what you said just now," the coroner suggested, "I suppose we may assume that you connect the outbreak of the fire with this unfortunate man?"
"I do," the witness replied. "I have no doubt that he lit up his pipe notwithstanding his promise, and set his bedclothes on fire. That would account for everything, if you remember that there were a number of parcels under the bed which were almost certainly filled with inflammable films."
"Yes," the coroner agreed. "Of course, it is only a surmise, but it is certainly a very probable one. And that, I suppose, Mr. Green, is all that you have to tell us."
"Yes, sir," was the reply, "that is about all I know of the case."
The coroner glanced at the jury and asked if there were any questions, and, when the foreman replied that there were none, the witness was allowed to retire when the depositions had been read and signed.
There was a short pause, during which the coroner glanced at the depositions and, apparently, reflected on the last witness's evidence. "I think," he said at length, "that, before going further into the details of this deplorable affair, we had better hear what the doctors have to tell us. It may seem, having regard to the circumstances in which deceased met his death and the condition of the body, that the taking of medical evidence is more or less of a formality; but, still, it is necessary that we should have a definite statement as to the cause of death. We will begin with the evidence of the divisional surgeon, Dr. William Robertson."
As his name was mentioned, our colleague rose and stepped up to the table, where the coroner's officer placed a chair for him.
XIII. THE FACTS AND THE VERDICT
"You have, I believe," said the coroner when the preliminary questions had been answered, "made an examination of the body which is now lying in the mortuary?"
"Yes, I examined that body very thoroughly. It appears to be that of a strongly-built man about five feet ten inches in height. His age was rather difficult to judge, and I cannot say more than that he was apparently between forty and fifty, but even that is not a very reliable estimate. The body had been exposed to such intense heat that the soft tissues were completely carbonized, and, in some parts, entirely burned away. Of the feet, for instance, there was nothing left but white incinerated bone."
"The jury, when viewing the body, were greatly impressed by the strange posture in which it lay. Do you attach any significance to that?"
"No. The distortion of the trunk and limbs was due to the shrinkage of the soft parts under the effects of intense heat. Such distortion is not unusual in bodies which have been burned."
"Can you make any statement as to the cause of death?"
"My examination disclosed nothing on which an opinion could be based. The condition of the body was such as to obliterate any signs that there might have been. I assume that deceased died from the effects of the poisonous fumes given off by the burning celluloid—that he was, in fact, suffocated. But that is not properly a medical opinion. There is, however, one point which I ought to mention. The neck was dislocated and the little bone called the odontoid process was broken."
"You mean, in effect," said the coroner, "that the neck was broken. But surely a broken neck would seem to be a sufficient cause of death."
"It would be in ordinary circumstances; but in this case I think it is to be explained by the shrinkage. My view is that the contraction of the muscles and the soft structures generally displaced the bones and broke off the odontoid process."
"Can you say, positively, that the dislocation was produced in that way?"
"No. That is my opinion, but I may be wrong. Dr. Thorndyke, who examined the body at the same time as I did, took a different view."
"We shall hear Dr. Thorndyke's views presently. But doesn't it seem to you a rather important point?"
"No. There doesn't seem to me to be much in it. The man was alone in the house and must, in any case, have met his death by accident. In the circumstances, it doesn't seem to matter much what the exact, immediate cause of death may have been."
The coroner looked a little dissatisfied with this answer, but he made no comment, proceeding at once to the next point.
"You have given us a general description of the man. Did you discover anything that would assist in establishing his identity?"
"Nothing beyond the measurements and the fact that he had a fairly good set of natural teeth. The measurements and the general description would be useful for identification if there were any known person with whom they could be compared. They are not very specific characters, but if there is any missing person who might be the deceased, they might settle definitely whether this body could, or could not, be that of the missing person."
"Yes," said the coroner, "but that is of more interest to the police than to us. Is there anything further that you have to tell us?"
"No," replied the witness, "I think that is all that I have to say."
Thereupon, when the depositions had been read and signed the witness retired and his place was taken by Thorndyke.
"You examined this body at the same time as Dr. Robertson, I think?" the coroner suggested.
"Yes, we made the examination together, and we compared the results so far as the measurements were concerned."
"You were, of course, unable to make any suggestion as to the identity of deceased?"
"Yes. Identity is a matter of comparison, and there was no known person with whom to compare the body. But I secured, and made notes of, all available data for identification if they should be needed at any future time."
"It was stated by the last witness that there was a dislocation of the neck with a fracture of the odontoid process. Will you explain that to the jury and give us your views as to its significance in this case?"
"The odontoid process is a small peg of bone which rises from the second vertebra, or neck-bone, and forms a pivot on which the head turns. When the neck is dislocated, the displacement usually occurs between the first and the second vertebra, and then, in most cases, the odontoid process is broken. In the case of deceased, the first and second vertebrae were separated and the odontoid process was broken. That is to say that deceased had a dislocated neck, or, as it is commonly expressed, a broken neck."
"In your opinion, was the neck broken before or after death?"
"I should say that it was broken before death; that, in fact, the di
slocation of the neck was the immediate cause of death."
"Do you say positively that it was so?"
"No. I merely formed that opinion from consideration of the appearances of the structures. The broken surfaces of the odontoid process had been exposed to the fire for some appreciable time, which suggested that the fracture had occurred before the shrinkage. And then it appeared to me that the force required to break the process was greater than the shrinkage would account for. Still, it is only an opinion. Dr. Robertson attributed the fracture to the shrinkage, and he is as likely to be right as I am."
"Supposing death to have been caused by the dislocation, what significance would you attach to that circumstance?"
"None at all, if the facts are as stated. If the man was alone in the house when the fire broke out, the exact cause of death would be a matter of no importance."
"Can you suggest any way in which the neck might have been broken in the circumstances which are believed to have existed?"
"There are many possible ways. For instance, if the man was asleep and was suddenly aroused by the fire, he might have scrambled out of bed, entangled the bedclothes, and fallen on his head. Or again, he might have escaped from the bedroom and fallen down the stairs. The body was found in the cellar. There is no evidence as to where the man was when death took place."
"At any rate, you do not consider the broken neck in any way incompatible with accidental death?"
"Not in the least; and, as I said before, Dr. Robertson's explanation may be the correct one, after all."
"Would you agree that, for the purposes of this inquiry, the question as to which of you is right is of no importance?"
"According to my present knowledge and belief, I should say that it is of no importance at all."
This was the sum of Thorndyke's evidence, and, when he had signed the depositions and returned to his seat, the name of Inspector Blandy was called; whereupon that officer advanced to the table and greeted the coroner and the jury with his habitual benevolent smile. He polished off the preliminaries with the readiness born of long experience and then, having, by the coroner's invitation, seated himself, he awaited the interrogation.
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