"Then the next question is, Where is Mrs. Schiller?"
The inspector smiled a pensive smile. "I wish," he replied, "that I could answer that question. Ever since the discovery, we have been trying to get into touch with her, but we cannot learn anything as to her whereabouts. She is said to be in Birmingham, but that is a rather vague address even if it is correct. We have advertised in the papers, asking her to communicate with us, but there has been no reply."
"In effect, then, she has disappeared?"
"That is what it seems to amount to. At any rate she is missing."
"The importance of the matter is," said the coroner, "that if this is her key, there must have been some kind of contact between her and deceased."
"Precisely, sir," Blandy agreed. "That is why we are so anxious to get into touch with her."
This was the inspector’s final contribution, and, when he had signed the depositions and retired to his seat, the name of Julia Mitchens was called, and that lady proceeded to give her evidence, which was largely negative. She had never seen or heard of a person named Emma Robey. Of her tenant, Mrs. Schiller, she knew practically nothing. The lady had engaged the ground-floor rooms, furnished, but had added some furniture. No references were given but the rent was paid—in cash—monthly, in advance. She had said that she needed no attendance but wanted to be left alone to do her work, which was that of an artist. Witness seldom saw her excepting when she paid the rent. She was pleasant in manner but not intimate. She had a separate electric bell with a small brass name-plate under it, and a removable brass plate on the wall, which she took down every evening. She had her own latch-key and keys of the bedroom and the sitting-room. The bedroom door was kept locked, and she always locked the sitting-room door when she went out.
Witness never saw any visitors except Mr. Pedley and a coloured gentleman, and them very rarely. Had known Mr. Pedley by sight for some years. Does not know whether Mrs. Schiller ever stayed away from home. Had noticed the absence of the plate from the wall for about three weeks, and, later, had become aware of an unpleasant odour in the hall.
"To come back to the subject of the keys," said the coroner. "A key was found in the lock of the sitting-room door. If Inspector Blandy will lend us that key for a moment, can you tell us for certain whether it is the one that you gave to Mrs. Schiller?"
"I am sure I can, sir," was the reply.
Here the inspector produced the key, and, having taken the precaution to tie a small piece of string round the bow, passed it to the coroner who handed it to the witness.
"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Mitchens after a single glance at it, "this is Mrs. Schiller’s own key."
"You speak quite confidently," said the coroner. "How are you able to distinguish this key from all other keys?"
"It is this way, sir," she replied. "When Mrs. Schiller engaged the rooms there was a big old-fashioned lock on the sitting-room door with a large clumsy key. Mrs. Schiller found this very inconvenient, so I got the locksmith to fix a more modern lock with a smaller key. He supplied two keys with the lock and I decided to keep one in reserve in case the other should be lost; but I thought it better to mark the two keys to prevent mistakes, so my husband filed a nick on the handle of the one that Mrs. Schiller was to have, and two nicks on the other to show that it was the duplicate. This key has one nick, so it must be Mrs. Schiller’s, and here is the duplicate with the two nicks on it."
As she spoke, she took a key from her handbag and laid it, with the other, on the table.
The coroner took up the two keys and having rapidly compared their bows, passed them to the jury, from whom they presently found their way back to their respective owners.
"This evidence," said the coroner, "is very important and perfectly conclusive. We now know for certain that the key which was found in the door was Mrs. Schiller’s own key. How it came there, Mrs. Schiller alone can explain. I suppose," he added, turning to the witness, "you cannot give us any hint as to where she may possibly be?"
"No, indeed, sir," was the reply. "I had no idea that she had gone away; and when I first noticed the—er—unpleasantness, I thought she was lying dead in her room."
"By the way, you had the duplicate key. Why did you not try to enter that room?"
"We did try, sir; but the other key was in the lock."
"Yes, of course. Well, Mrs. Mitchens, you have given us some very important evidence, and now, if nothing else occurs to you I think we need not detain you any longer."
The next witness was Tom Pedley. But Tom knew nothing about anything, and said so. To his relief no questions were asked about Lotta’s artistic abilities; and the only contribution that he made was a brief history of his acquaintance with Lotta, a very definite statement of his relations with her and a rather sketchy description of the expedition to Epping Forest, that being the last occasion on which he had seen her. He was followed by Nathaniel Polton, who testified that the door was undoubtedly locked when he tried it, and, from the smoothness with which the key turned, he inferred that the lock had been kept oiled. He had had no difficulty in unlocking it with a simple bent wire appliance (which he had unfortunately forgotten to bring with him) and could with equal ease have relocked it. He knew nothing of Mrs. Schiller, who was virtually a stranger to him.
The evidence of the last two witnesses had been "harkened to" by the jury with somewhat languid interest; but when the name of the next witness was called and the rather commanding figure of Mr. William Vanderpuye arose, attention was visibly sharpened. Realizing this, the new witness, striking in appearance and faultlessly "turned out," seemed, naturally, a little self-conscious as he walked across to the table; but, having been sworn, he stated his personal particulars—as a barrister of the Inner Temple—confidently enough and thereafter gave his evidence clearly and with perfect dignity and composure.
Of the tragedy, itself, he knew nothing and had heard of it first from the coroner’s officer. He had never seen or heard of a person named Emma Robey, and the circumstances connected with her death were entirely unknown to him. This closed the first part of his examination and the rest of his evidence was concerned exclusively with Lotta Schiller. Having described the opening of his acquaintance with her in Tom Pedley’s studio, he answered the coroner’s questions frankly and fully though he volunteered nothing.
"Did you see much of Mrs. Schiller?" the coroner asked.
"Yes; for a time I used to see her almost daily, and we often spent whole days together."
"And how did you spend your time on these occasions?"
"Principally in seeing the sights of the town: theatres, concerts, cinemas, museums and picture galleries. We took our meals at restaurants."
"Did you usually meet by appointment?"
"No, I nearly always called for her at her rooms, and saw her home at night."
"When you saw her home, did you go into the house?"
"No, never. I just saw her to her door. When I called for her I used sometimes to go in for a few minutes, but never at night."
"I am going to ask you a question which you are not bound to answer if you have any reasons for objecting. It is this: What were your exact relations with Mrs. Schiller? Were you just friends, or were you on affectionate terms, or were you, in effect, lovers? Remember, I am not pressing you for an answer."
"There is nothing that I need conceal," Vanderpuye replied calmly. "We were rather more than ordinary friends. I may say that our relations were affectionate, at least on my side; I can’t answer for her, though she seemed rather devoted to me. But we certainly were not lovers."
"You were not, for instance, on kissing terms?"
"No, I never kissed her. She made it quite clear that kissing was not permissible."
"Reference has been made to certain lockets that were exchanged. You would not regard them as love-tokens?"
"No. They were made at her suggestion to serve as souvenirs when I should have gone back to Africa."
"When did you last see Mrs.
Schiller?"
"On the eighteenth of November, the day of our trip to Epping Forest which Mr. Pedley has spoken of."
"Would you give us some particulars of what happened after you parted from Mr. Pedley?"
"We walked across to High Beach, as he had directed us, and had lunch at the King’s Oak. Then we went for a ramble in the forest and soon lost our way. After wandering about for a long time we met a forester who directed us to Loughton, and, with some difficulty, as it was then getting dark, we found our way there and eventually caught a train to London. I saw her home and said good-night to her on her doorstep at about half-past nine. It was in the train that she first told me that she was going to stay with some friends at Birmingham."
"Did she give you her address there?"
"No. She said that it would be best that no letters should pass between us and that she might be visiting friends elsewhere; but she promised to let me know when she would be returning, though she did not know when that might be. Since then I have neither seen her nor heard from her."
This was the substance of Vanderpuye’s evidence, and, after one or two further questions, which elicited nothing new, the coroner glanced through his notes.
"I think the witness has told us all that he knows about this strange affair, and, unless the members of the jury wish to put any questions, we need not detain him any longer."
He glanced inquiringly at the jurors, and, as no one made any sign, the depositions were read, the signature added, and the coroner, having thanked the witness for the frank and helpful way in which he had given his evidence, released him; whereupon he retired to his chair beside Mr. Polton.
The next witness—who proved also to be the last—was a small elderly woman of somewhat foxy aspect who advanced to the table with a complacent smirk and gave her evidence readily and with obvious enjoyment. Her name was Jane Bigham, address, 98 Jacob Street, no occupation except that she supplemented the small income left to her by her late husband by knitting socks and other articles for sale. She usually sat at the window, partly for the sake of the light, but principally because, being an expert knitter who had no need to keep her eyes on her work, she could entertain herself by observing what was going on in the street. She knew all her neighbours by sight and a good deal about their habits and doings; and as her house was exactly opposite that of Mrs. Mitchens, she had often seen Mrs. Schiller. She remembered that lady moving in with her little bits of furniture about six months ago, and the brass plate being fixed up ("which I went across the very same day to read the name on it").
"You seem to have taken an interest in Mrs. Schiller," the coroner remarked with a smile.
"I did sir. I wondered what a woman like her was doing in our quiet street with her paint and her powder and her high-heeled shoes; in fact I suspected that she was no better than she ought to be."
"Very few of us are, Mrs. Bigham," said the coroner, "but it is not a crime to wear high-heeled shoes or to paint and powder. Most women do nowadays."
"So they do, sir, the more shame to them. At any rate, within a week of her coming, I saw her go to Mr. Pedley’s door and ring the bell, and when he opened the door I could see that he didn’t know her, and looked as if he didn’t want to. But she went in and stayed half an hour. After that she often used to go there, and once or twice Mr. Pedley went to her rooms about tea-time, and sometimes they used to come home together as if they’d met somewhere.
"Then, a month or two later, a coloured gentleman appeared on the scene—the one that has just given evidence, Mr. Vanderboy. At first he used to go to Mr. Pedley’s, and she seemed to know that he was there for she would slip round and ring the bell and then she and Mr. Vanderboy would come out together. Then he took to calling for her and they would go off together and not come back until night—sometimes quite late."
Here an intelligent juryman protested that "we had all this before," and the coroner agreed that "we had better get on. Will you kindly tell us," he continued, "when you last saw Mrs. Schiller."
The witness directed a baleful glance at the juryman and replied after a resentful sniff:
"About three weeks ago, it would be. I saw her come home with Mr. Vanderboy about half-past nine at night, and, by the look of her I reckoned she’s had a drop too much."
"What made you think that?" the coroner demanded.
"Well, sir, she looked a bit unsteady on her legs, and she held on to his arm; which was not her ‘abit. And then when they came to the door, it was him that put in the latch-key and opened it and helped her in."
"Did, he go into the house?"
"Yes, and he stayed there about an hour and a half, for I saw him come out at a few minutes past eleven. I just chanced to go to the window at that time" (the coroner smiled grimly at the coincidence) "and there he was coming out carrying a bag—or a small suitcase it might have been—which he hadn’t got when he went in; and mighty careful he was not to make a noise, for, instead of slamming the door, he put in the latch-key and closed the door without a sound. Which was curious, for it seemed as if he had a latch-key of his own."
"Did you ever see Mr. Vanderpuye go into the house on any other occasion?"
"Well, I can’t say that I ever did. But if he had a latch-key—"
Here the intelligent juryman interrupted with the question:
"Can the witness swear, sir, that the man she saw was Mr. Vanderpuye?"
"What do you say, Mrs. Bigham?" the coroner asked. "Are you perfectly certain that the man was Mr. Vanderpuye?"
"Well, sir, he certainly looked like him. Besides, who else could he have been?"
"The question is, did you clearly and definitely recognize him as Mr. Vanderpuye?"
"Why, as to clearly and definitely recognizing a person across the street on a dark December night, and no street lamp near, it’s hardly possible. Of course, I couldn’t see the colour of his features, but he looked to me like Mr. Vanderboy. Besides, who else could he—"
"Never mind who he might be. Can you swear that he was Mr. Vanderpuye and not some other man; Mr. Pedley, for instance?"
"Lord! I never thought of that. Perhaps you’re right, sir, being next door, too. But no, it couldn’t have been, because I saw him walk away towards Hampstead Road."
"I was not suggesting that the man was Mr. Pedley. I was merely giving an instance. The fact is that you did not actually recognize him at all. You assumed that he was Mr. Vanderpuye. Is that not so?"
The witness reluctantly admitted that it was; and the coroner then proceeded to the identification of the woman with a similar result. There had been no actual recognition. The witness had taken it for granted that she was Mrs. Schiller because "she certainly looked like her, and then who else could she be?" etc.
By this time the coroner and the jury had had enough of Mrs. Bigham, who was, accordingly, dethroned and sent back regretfully to her chair. Then Mrs. Mitchens and Vanderpuye were recalled and briefly re-examined, but neither could throw any light on the incident. Mrs. Mitchens and her husband were early birds and usually retired to their bedroom in the second-floor back at ten o’clock; and Vanderpuye repeated his statement that he had never entered the house at night. This completed the evidence and the coroner proceeded at once to his brief but lucid summing up.
"I need not, members of the jury," he began, "weary you with a recapitulation of the evidence which you have listened to so attentively, but merely suggest to you the conclusions which seem to emerge from it.
"Our function is to ascertain when, where, and how deceased, a woman of whom we know nothing but that her name was Emma Robey, came by her death. The place we know was 39 Jacob Street; the exact date is less certain; but the death occurred about three weeks before the discovery of the body on the thirtieth of December, that is approximately on the ninth of December. The cause of death was a very large dose of potassium cyanide either taken by deceased herself, or given to her by some other person. If she took the poison, herself, she may have done so inadvertently, or w
ith the deliberate intention of taking her own life. If it was given to her by some other person, that person is guilty of wilful murder.
"There are thus three possibilities: accident, suicide, and murder. Accident we may dismiss since there is no evidence suggesting it; and we are left with the alternatives of suicide and murder. Now what evidence is there to support the theory of suicide? There are two facts which, taken together, seem at the first glance to point conclusively to self-destruction. First, the finger-marks on the tumbler and water-jug were undoubtedly those of deceased’s own fingers. Secondly, deceased was found alone in a locked room with the key on the inside of the door. These two facts, as I have said, seem to furnish convincing evidence of suicide. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that an experienced police surgeon and an experienced detective-inspector both appear to have suspected from the first and in spite of that evidence that this was a case, not of suicide but of murder; and when they came to give evidence, they gave substantial reasons for their suspicions. Let us consider first the evidence of Inspector Blandy. From him we learn that the evidence of the finger-prints is practically worthless since they could easily have been made by a murderer from the victim’s fingers after death.
"Then we come to the locked door. Now, the fact that Mr. Polton unlocked that door from the outside and could as easily have locked it destroys at once the conclusive significance of that item of evidence. It proves that it was possible for the door to have been locked from the outside. But the inspector’s evidence goes further. It goes to prove that the door was, in fact, locked from the outside. I need not remind you of his convincing demonstration, but I must impress on you the enormous evidential value of the match which he found. That match bore marks that exactly fitted the bow of that particular key and also the clear impression of a loop of string. It was found close to the door in the position in which one would have expected to find it if it had been used in the way which he described and demonstrated; and the door, itself, bore a mark of the exact kind and in the exact place in which it would have been made by a taut string used in that way On the supposition that the door had been locked from the outside with a match and string, all those appearances are perfectly consistent and understandable. On any other supposition they are completely incomprehensible. I submit that there is no escape from the evidence of that match. We are compelled to believe that the door was locked from the outside and therefore that it could not have been locked by deceased.
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