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  JOHN THORNDYKE'S CASES

  RELATED BY CHRISTOPHER JERVIS, M.D.

  AND EDITED BY R. AUSTIN FREEMANAUTHOR OF "THE GOLDEN POOL," ETC.

  WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. M. BROCK, ANDNINE FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, ETC.

  PROFESSOR POPPELBAUM IS ENLIGHTENED.]

  TO MY FRIEND

  FRANK STANDFIELD

  IN MEMORY OF MANY A PLEASANT EVENINGSPENT WITH MICROSCOPE AND CAMERATHIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED

  PREFACE

  The stories in this collection, inasmuch as they constitute a somewhatnew departure in this class of literature, require a few words ofintroduction. The primary function of all fiction is to furnishentertainment to the reader, and this fact has not been lost sight of.But the interest of so-called "detective" fiction is, I believe, greatlyenhanced by a careful adherence to the probable, and a strict avoidanceof physical impossibilities; and, in accordance with this belief, I havebeen scrupulous in confining myself to authentic facts and practicablemethods. The stories have, for the most part, a medico-legal motive, andthe methods of solution described in them are similar to those employedin actual practice by medical jurists. The stories illustrate, in fact,the application to the detection of crime of the ordinary methods ofscientific research. I may add that the experiments described have inall cases been performed by me, and that the micro-photographs are, ofcourse, from the actual specimens.

  I take this opportunity of thanking those of my friends who have invarious ways assisted me, and especially the friend to whom I havededicated this book; by whom I have been relieved of the veryconsiderable labour of making the micro-photographs, and greatlyassisted in procuring and preparing specimens. I must also thank Messrs.Pearson for kindly allowing me the use of Mr. H. M. Brock's admirableand sympathetic drawings, and the artist himself for the care with whichhe has maintained strict fidelity to the text.

  R. A. F.

  Gravesend,_September 21, 1909_.

  CONTENTS

  I. THE MAN WITH THE NAILED SHOESII. THE STRANGER'S LATCHKEYIII. THE ANTHROPOLOGIST AT LARGEIV. THE BLUE SEQUINV. THE MOABITE CIPHERVI. THE MANDARIN'S PEARLVII. THE ALUMINIUM DAGGERVIII. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEEP SEA

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  PROFESSOR POPPLEBAUM IS ENLIGHTENED, _Frontispiece_PLAN OF ST. BRIDGET'S BAYTHE SERGEANT'S SKETCHFLUFF FROM KEY-BARRELTHE STRANGER IS RUN TO EARTHTRANSVERSE SECTIONS OF HUMAN HAIRTHORNDYKE'S STRATEGYTHE DISCOVERYTHE MOABITE CIPHRETHE PROFESSOR'S ANALYSISTHE APPARITION IN THE MIRRORTHE ALUMINUM DAGGERTHE SAND FROM THE MURDERED WOMAN'S PILLOWHUMAN HAIR, SHOWING ROOTSSUPERINTENDENT MILLER RISES TO THE OCCASION

  JOHN THORNDYKE'S CASES

  I

  THE MAN WITH THE NAILED SHOES

  There are, I suppose, few places even on the East Coast of England morelonely and remote than the village of Little Sundersley and the countrythat surrounds it. Far from any railway, and some miles distant from anyconsiderable town, it remains an outpost of civilization, in whichprimitive manners and customs and old-world tradition linger on into anage that has elsewhere forgotten them. In the summer, it is true, asmall contingent of visitors, adventurous in spirit, though mostly ofsedate and solitary habits, make their appearance to swell its meagrepopulation, and impart to the wide stretches of smooth sand that fringeits shores a fleeting air of life and sober gaiety; but in lateSeptember--the season of the year in which I made its acquaintance--itspasture-lands lie desolate, the rugged paths along the cliffs are seldomtrodden by human foot, and the sands are a desert waste on which, fordays together, no footprint appears save that left by some passingsea-bird.

  I had been assured by my medical agent, Mr. Turcival, that I should findthe practice of which I was now taking charge "an exceedingly softbillet, and suitable for a studious man;" and certainly he had notmisled me, for the patients were, in fact, so few that I was quiteconcerned for my principal, and rather dull for want of work. Hence,when my friend John Thorndyke, the well-known medico-legal expert,proposed to come down and stay with me for a weekend and perhaps a fewdays beyond, I hailed the proposal with delight, and welcomed him withopen arms.

  "You certainly don't seem to be overworked, Jervis," he remarked, as weturned out of the gate after tea, on the day of his arrival, for astroll on the shore. "Is this a new practice, or an old one in a stateof senile decay?"

  "Why, the fact is," I answered, "there is virtually no practice.Cooper--my principal--has been here about six years, and as he hasprivate means he has never made any serious effort to build one up; andthe other man, Dr. Burrows, being uncommonly keen, and the people veryconservative, Cooper has never really got his foot in. However, itdoesn't seem to trouble him."

  "Well, if he is satisfied, I suppose you are," said Thorndyke, with asmile. "You are getting a seaside holiday, and being paid for it. But Ididn't know you were as near to the sea as this."

  We were entering, as he spoke, an artificial gap-way cut through the lowcliff, forming a steep cart-track down to the shore. It was locallyknown as Sundersley Gap, and was used principally, when used at all, bythe farmers' carts which came down to gather seaweed after a gale.

  "What a magnificent stretch of sand!" continued Thorndyke, as we reachedthe bottom, and stood looking out seaward across the deserted beach."There is something very majestic and solemn in a great expanse ofsandy shore when the tide is out, and I know of nothing which is capableof conveying the impression of solitude so completely. The smooth,unbroken surface not only displays itself untenanted for the moment, butit offers convincing testimony that it has lain thus undisturbed througha considerable lapse of time. Here, for instance, we have clear evidencethat for several days only two pairs of feet besides our own havetrodden this gap."

  "How do you arrive at the 'several days'?" I asked.

  "In the simplest manner possible," he replied. "The moon is now in thethird quarter, and the tides are consequently neap-tides. You can seequite plainly the two lines of seaweed and jetsam which indicate thehigh-water marks of the spring-tides and the neap-tides respectively.The strip of comparatively dry sand between them, over which the waterhas not risen for several days, is, as you see, marked by only two setsof footprints, and those footprints will not be completely obliteratedby the sea until the next spring-tide--nearly a week from to-day."

  "Yes, I see now, and the thing appears obvious enough when one has heardthe explanation. But it is really rather odd that no one should havepassed through this gap for days, and then that four persons should havecome here within quite a short interval of one another."

  "What makes you think they have done so?" Thorndyke asked.

  "Well," I replied, "both of these sets of footprints appear to be quitefresh, and to have been made about the same time."

  "Not at the same time, Jervis," rejoined Thorndyke. "There is certainlyan interval of several hours between them, though precisely how manyhours we cannot judge, since there has been so little wind lately todisturb them; but the fisherman unquestionably passed here not more thanthree hours ago, and I should say probably within an hour; whereas theother man--who seems to have come up from a boat to fetch something ofconsiderable weight--returned through the gap certainly not less, andprobably more, than four hours ago."

  I gazed at my friend in blank astonishment, for these events befell inthe days before I had joined him as his assistant, and his specialknowledge and powers of inference were not then fully appreciated by me.

  "It is clear, Thorndyke," I said, "that footprints have a very differentmeaning to you from what they have for me. I don't see in the least howyou have reached any of these conclusions."

  "I suppose not," was the reply; "but, you see, special knowledge of thi
skind is the stock-in-trade of the medical jurist, and has to be acquiredby special study, though the present example is one of the greatestsimplicity. But let us consider it point by point; and first we willtake this set of footprints which I have inferred to be a fisherman's.Note their enormous size. They should be the footprints of a giant. Butthe length of the stride shows that they were made by a rather shortman. Then observe the massiveness of the soles, and the fact that thereare no nails in them. Note also the peculiar clumsy tread--the deep toeand heel marks, as if the walker had wooden legs, or fixed ankles andknees. From that character we can safely infer high boots of thick,rigid leather, so that we can diagnose high boots, massive and stiff,with nailless soles, and many sizes too large for the wearer. But theonly boot that answers this description is the fisherman'sthigh-boot--made of enormous size to enable him to wear in the wintertwo or three pairs of thick knitted stockings, one over the other. Nowlook at the other footprints; there is a double track, you see, one setcoming from the sea and one going towards it. As the man (who wasbow-legged and turned his toes in) has trodden in his own footprints, itis obvious that he came from the sea, and returned to it. But observethe difference in the two sets of prints; the returning ones are muchdeeper than the others, and the stride much shorter. Evidently he wascarrying something when he returned, and that something was very heavy.Moreover, we can see, by the greater depth of the toe impressions, thathe was stooping forward as he walked, and so probably carried the weighton his back. Is that quite clear?"

  "Perfectly," I replied. "But how do you arrive at the interval of timebetween the visits of the two men?"

  "That also is quite simple. The tide is now about halfway out; it isthus about three hours since high water. Now, the fisherman walked justabout the neap-tide, high-water mark, sometimes above it and sometimesbelow. But none of his footprints have been obliterated; therefore hepassed after high water--that is, less than three hours ago; and sincehis footprints are all equally distinct, he could not have passed whenthe sand was very wet. Therefore he probably passed less than an hourago. The other man's footprints, on the other hand, reach only to theneap-tide, high-water mark, where they end abruptly. The sea has washedover the remainder of the tracks and obliterated them. Therefore hepassed not less than three hours and not more than four daysago--probably within twenty-four hours."

  As Thorndyke concluded his demonstration the sound of voices was borneto us from above, mingled with the tramping of feet, and immediatelyafterwards a very singular party appeared at the head of the gapdescending towards the shore. First came a short burly fisherman clad inoilskins and sou'-wester, clumping along awkwardly in his greatsea-boots, then the local police-sergeant in company with myprofessional rival Dr. Burrows, while the rear of the procession wasbrought up by two constables carrying a stretcher. As he reached thebottom of the gap the fisherman, who was evidently acting as guide,turned along the shore, retracing his own tracks, and the processionfollowed in his wake.

  "A surgeon, a stretcher, two constables, and a police-sergeant,"observed Thorndyke. "What does that suggest to your mind, Jervis?"

  "A fall from the cliff," I replied, "or a body washed up on the shore."

  "Probably," he rejoined; "but we may as well walk in that direction."

  We turned to follow the retreating procession, and as we strode alongthe smooth surface left by the retiring tide Thorndyke resumed:

  "The subject of footprints has always interested me deeply for tworeasons. First, the evidence furnished by footprints is constantly beingbrought forward, and is often of cardinal importance; and, secondly, thewhole subject is capable of really systematic and scientific treatment.In the main the data are anatomical, but age, sex, occupation, health,and disease all give their various indications. Clearly, for instance,the footprints of an old man will differ from those of a young man ofthe same height, and I need not point out to you that those of a personsuffering from locomotor ataxia or paralysis agitans would be quiteunmistakable."

  "Yes, I see that plainly enough," I said.

  "Here, now," he continued, "is a case in point." He halted to point withhis stick at a row of footprints that appeared suddenly above high-watermark, and having proceeded a short distance, crossed the line again, andvanished where the waves had washed over them. They were easilydistinguished from any of the others by the clear impressions ofcircular rubber heels.

  "Do you see anything remarkable about them?" he asked.

  "I notice that they are considerably deeper than our own," I answered.

  "Yes, and the boots are about the same size as ours, whereas the strideis considerably shorter--quite a short stride, in fact. Now there is apretty constant ratio between the length of the foot and the length ofthe leg, between the length of leg and the height of the person, andbetween the stature and the length of stride. A long foot means a longleg, a tall man, and a long stride. But here we have a long foot and ashort stride. What do you make of that?" He laid down his stick--asmooth partridge cane, one side of which was marked by small lines intoinches and feet--beside the footprints to demonstrate the discrepancy.

  "The depth of the footprints shows that he was a much heavier man thaneither of us," I suggested; "perhaps he was unusually fat."

  "Yes," said Thorndyke, "that seems to be the explanation. The carryingof a dead weight shortens the stride, and fat is practically a deadweight. The conclusion is that he was about five feet ten inches high,and excessively fat." He picked up his cane, and we resumed our walk,keeping an eye on the procession ahead until it had disappeared round acurve in the coast-line, when we mended our pace somewhat. Presently wereached a small headland, and, turning the shoulder of cliff, came fullupon the party which had preceded us. The men had halted in a narrowbay, and now stood looking down at a prostrate figure beside which thesurgeon was kneeling.

  "We were wrong, you see," observed Thorndyke. "He has not fallen overthe cliff, nor has he been washed up by the sea. He is lying abovehigh-water mark, and those footprints that we have been examining appearto be his."

  As we approached, the sergeant turned and held up his hand.

  "I'll ask you not to walk round the body just now, gentlemen," he said."There seems to have been foul play here, and I want to be clear aboutthe tracks before anyone crosses them."

  Acknowledging this caution, we advanced to where the constables werestanding, and looked down with some curiosity at the dead man. He was atall, frail-looking man, thin to the point of emaciation, and appearedto be about thirty-five years of age. He lay in an easy posture, withhalf-closed eyes and a placid expression that contrasted strangelyenough with the tragic circumstances of his death.

  "It is a clear case of murder," said Dr. Burrows, dusting the sand fromhis knees as he stood up. "There is a deep knife-wound above the heart,which must have caused death almost instantaneously."

  "How long should you say he has been dead, Doctor?" asked the sergeant.

  "Twelve hours at least," was the reply. "He is quite cold and stiff."

  PLAN OF ST. BRIDGET'S BAY.

  + Position of body. D D D, Tracks of Hearn's shoes.A, Top of Shepherd's Path. E, Tracks of the nailed shoes.B, Overhanging cliff. F, Shepherd's Path ascending shelving cliff.C, Footpath along edge of cliff.]

  "Twelve hours, eh?" repeated the officer. "That would bring it to aboutsix o'clock this morning."

  "I won't commit myself to a definite time," said Dr. Burrows hastily. "Ionly say not _less_ than twelve hours. It might have been considerablymore."

  "Ah!" said the sergeant. "Well, he made a pretty good fight for hislife, to all appearances." He nodded at the sand, which for some feetaround the body bore the deeply indented marks of feet, as though afurious struggle had taken place. "It's a mighty queer affair," pursuedthe sergeant, addressing Dr. Burrows. "There seems to have been only oneman in it--there is only one set of footprints besides those of thedeceased--and we've got to find out who he is; and I reckon there won'tbe much trouble about that, seeing the
kind of trade-marks he has leftbehind him."

  "No," agreed the surgeon; "there ought not to be much trouble inidentifying those boots. He would seem to be a labourer, judging by thehob-nails."

  "No, sir; not a labourer," dissented the sergeant. "The foot is toosmall, for one thing; and then the nails are not regular hob-nails.They're a good deal smaller; and a labourer's boots would have the nailsall round the edges, and there would be iron tips on the heels, andprobably on the toes too. Now these have got no tips, and the nails arearranged in a pattern on the soles and heels. They are probablyshooting-boots or sporting shoes of some kind." He strode to and frowith his notebook in his hand, writing down hasty memoranda, andstooping to scrutinize the impressions in the sand. The surgeon alsobusied himself in noting down the facts concerning which he would haveto give evidence, while Thorndyke regarded in silence and with an air ofintense preoccupation the footprints around the body which remained totestify to the circumstances of the crime.

  "It is pretty clear, up to a certain point," the sergeant observed, ashe concluded his investigations, "how the affair happened, and it ispretty clear, too, that the murder was premeditated. You see, Doctor,the deceased gentleman, Mr. Hearn, was apparently walking home from PortMarston; we saw his footprints along the shore--those rubber heels makethem easy to identify--and he didn't go down Sundersley Gap. Heprobably meant to climb up the cliff by that little track that you seethere, which the people about here call the Shepherd's Path. Now themurderer must have known that he was coming, and waited upon the cliffto keep a lookout. When he saw Mr. Hearn enter the bay, he came down thepath and attacked him, and, after a tough struggle, succeeded instabbing him. Then he turned and went back up the path. You can see thedouble track between the path and the place where the struggle tookplace, and the footprints going to the path are on top of those comingfrom it."

  "If you follow the tracks," said Dr. Burrows, "you ought to be able tosee where the murderer went to."

  "I'm afraid not," replied the sergeant. "There are no marks on the pathitself--the rock is too hard, and so is the ground above, I fear. ButI'll go over it carefully all the same."

  The investigations being so far concluded, the body was lifted on to thestretcher, and the cortege, consisting of the bearers, the Doctor, andthe fisherman, moved off towards the Gap, while the sergeant, havingcivilly wished us "Good-evening," scrambled up the Shepherd's Path, andvanished above.

  "A very smart officer that," said Thorndyke. "I should like to know whathe wrote in his notebook."

  "His account of the circumstances of the murder seemed a very reasonableone," I said.

  "Very. He noted the plain and essential facts, and drew the naturalconclusions from them. But there are some very singular features in thiscase; so singular that I am disposed to make a few notes for my owninformation."

  He stooped over the place where the body had lain, and having narrowlyexamined the sand there and in the place where the dead man's feet hadrested, drew out his notebook and made a memorandum. He next made arapid sketch-plan of the bay, marking the position of the body and thevarious impressions in the sand, and then, following the double trackleading from and to the Shepherd's Path, scrutinized the footprints withthe deepest attention, making copious notes and sketches in his book.

  "We may as well go up by the Shepherd's Path," said Thorndyke. "I thinkwe are equal to the climb, and there may be visible traces of themurderer after all. The rock is only a sandstone, and not a very hardone either."

  We approached the foot of the little rugged track which zigzagged up theface of the cliff, and, stooping down among the stiff, dry herbage,examined the surface. Here, at the bottom of the path, where the rockwas softened by the weather, there were several distinct impressions onthe crumbling surface of the murderer's nailed boots, though they weresomewhat confused by the tracks of the sergeant, whose boots wereheavily nailed. But as we ascended the marks became rather lessdistinct, and at quite a short distance from the foot of the cliff welost them altogether, though we had no difficulty in following the morerecent traces of the sergeant's passage up the path.

  When we reached the top of the cliff we paused to scan the path that ranalong its edge, but here, too, although the sergeant's heavy boots hadleft quite visible impressions on the ground, there were no signs of anyother feet. At a little distance the sagacious officer himself waspursuing his investigations, walking backwards and forwards with hisbody bent double, and his eyes fixed on the ground.

  "Not a trace of him anywhere," said he, straightening himself up as weapproached. "I was afraid there wouldn't be after all this dry weather.I shall have to try a different tack. This is a small place, and ifthose boots belong to anyone living here they'll be sure to be known."

  "The deceased gentleman--Mr. Hearn, I think you called him," saidThorndyke as we turned towards the village--"is he a native of thelocality?"

  "Oh no, sir," replied the officer. "He is almost a stranger. He has onlybeen here about three weeks; but, you know, in a little place like thisa man soon gets to be known--and his business, too, for that matter," headded, with a smile.

  "What was his business, then?" asked Thorndyke.

  "Pleasure, I believe. He was down here for a holiday, though it's a goodway past the season; but, then, he had a friend living here, and thatmakes a difference. Mr. Draper up at the Poplars was an old friend ofhis, I understand. I am going to call on him now."

  We walked on along the footpath that led towards the village, but hadonly proceeded two or three hundred yards when a loud hail drew ourattention to a man running across a field towards us from the directionof the cliff.

  "Why, here is Mr. Draper himself," exclaimed the sergeant, stoppingshort and waving his hand. "I expect he has heard the news already."

  Thorndyke and I also halted, and with some curiosity watched theapproach of this new party to the tragedy. As the stranger drew near wesaw that he was a tall, athletic-looking man of about forty, dressed ina Norfolk knickerbocker suit, and having the appearance of an ordinarycountry gentleman, excepting that he carried in his hand, in place of awalking-stick, the staff of a butterfly-net, the folding ring and bag ofwhich partly projected from his pocket.

  "Is it true, Sergeant?" he exclaimed as he came up to us, panting fromhis exertions. "About Mr. Hearn, I mean. There is a rumour that he hasbeen found dead on the beach."

  "It's quite true, sir, I am sorry to say; and, what is worse, he hasbeen murdered."

  "My God! you don't say so!"

  He turned towards us a face that must ordinarily have been jovialenough, but was now white and scared and, after a brief pause, heexclaimed:

  "Murdered! Good God! Poor old Hearn! How did it happen, Sergeant? andwhen? and is there any clue to the murderer?"

  "We can't say for certain when it happened," replied the sergeant, "andas to the question of clues, I was just coming up to call on you."

  "On me!" exclaimed Draper, with a startled glance at the officer. "Whatfor?"

  "Well, we should like to know something about Mr. Hearn--who he was, andwhether he had any enemies, and so forth; anything, in fact, that wouldgive as a hint where to look for the murderer. And you are the onlyperson in the place who knew him at all intimately."

  Mr Draper's pallid face turned a shade paler, and he glanced about himwith an obviously embarrassed air.

  "I'm afraid," he began in a hesitating manner, "I'm afraid I shan't beable to help you much. I didn't know much about his affairs. You see hewas--well--only a casual acquaintance--"

  "Well," interrupted the sergeant, "you can tell us who and what he was,and where he lived, and so forth. We'll find out the rest if you give usthe start."

  "I see," said Draper. "Yes, I expect you will." His eyes glancedrestlessly to and fro, and he added presently: "You must come upto-morrow, and have a talk with me about him, and I'll see what I canremember."

  "I'd rather come this evening," said the sergeant firmly.

  "Not this evening," pleaded Draper. "
I'm feeling rather--this affair,you know, has upset me. I couldn't give proper attention--"

  His sentence petered out into a hesitating mumble, and the officerlooked at him in evident surprise at his nervous, embarrassed manner.His own attitude, however, was perfectly firm, though polite.

  "I don't like pressing you, sir," said he, "but time is precious--we'llhave to go single file here; this pond is a public nuisance. They oughtto bank it up at this end. After you, sir."

  The pond to which the sergeant alluded had evidently extended at onetime right across the path, but now, thanks to the dry weather, a narrowisthmus of half-dried mud traversed the morass, and along this Mr.Draper proceeded to pick his way. The sergeant was about to follow, whensuddenly he stopped short with his eyes riveted upon the muddy track. Asingle glance showed me the cause of his surprise, for on the stiff,putty-like surface, standing out with the sharp distinctness of a waxmould, were the fresh footprints of the man who had just passed, eachfootprint displaying on its sole the impression of stud-nails arrangedin a diamond-shaped pattern, and on its heel a group of similar nailsarranged in a cross.

  The sergeant hesitated for only a moment, in which he turned a quickstartled glance upon us; then he followed, walking gingerly along theedge of the path as if to avoid treading in his predecessor'sfootprints. Instinctively we did the same, following closely, andanxiously awaiting the next development of the tragedy. For a minute ortwo we all proceeded in silence, the sergeant being evidently at a losshow to act, and Mr. Draper busy with his own thoughts. At length theformer spoke.

  "You think, Mr. Draper, you would rather that I looked in on youto-morrow about this affair?"

  "Much rather, if you wouldn't mind," was the eager reply.

  "Then, in that case," said the sergeant, looking at his watch, "as I'vegot a good deal to see to this evening, I'll leave you here, and make myway to the station."

  With a farewell flourish of his hand he climbed over a stile, and when,a few moments later, I caught a glimpse of him through an opening in thehedge, he was running across the meadow like a hare.

  The departure of the police-officer was apparently a great relief to Mr.Draper, who at once fell back and began to talk with us.

  "You are Dr. Jervis, I think," said he. "I saw you coming out of Dr.Cooper's house yesterday. We know everything that is happening in thevillage, you see." He laughed nervously, and added: "But I don't knowyour friend."

  I introduced Thorndyke, at the mention of whose name our newacquaintance knitted his brows, and glanced inquisitively at my friend.

  "Thorndyke," he repeated; "the name seems familiar to me. Are you in theLaw, sir?"

  Thorndyke admitted the impeachment, and our companion, having againbestowed on him a look full of curiosity, continued: "This horribleaffair will interest you, no doubt, from a professional point of view.You were present when my poor friend's body was found, I think?"

  "No," replied Thorndyke; "we came up afterwards, when they were removingit."

  Our companion then proceeded to question us about the murder, butreceived from Thorndyke only the most general and ambiguous replies. Norwas there time to go into the matter at length, for the footpathpresently emerged on to the road close to Mr. Draper's house.

  "You will excuse my not asking you in to-night," said he, "but you willunderstand that I am not in much form for visitors just now."

  We assured him that we fully understood, and, having wished him"Good-evening," pursued our way towards the village.

  "The sergeant is off to get a warrant, I suppose," I observed.

  "Yes; and mighty anxious lest his man should be off before he canexecute it. But he is fishing in deeper waters than he thinks, Jervis.This is a very singular and complicated case; one of the strangest, infact, that I have ever met. I shall follow its development with deepinterest."

  "The sergeant seems pretty cocksure, all the same," I said.

  "He is not to blame for that," replied Thorndyke. "He is acting on theobvious appearances, which is the proper thing to do in the first place.Perhaps his notebook contains more than I think it does. But we shallsee."

  When we entered the village I stopped to settle some business with thechemist, who acted as Dr. Cooper's dispenser, suggesting to Thorndykethat he should walk on to the house; but when I emerged from the shopsome ten minutes later he was waiting outside, with a smallishbrown-paper parcel under each arm. Of one of these parcels I insisted onrelieving him, in spite of his protests, but when he at length handed itto me its weight completely took me by surprise.

  "I should have let them send this home on a barrow," I remarked.

  "So I should have done," he replied, "only I did not wish to drawattention to my purchase, or give my address."

  Accepting this hint I refrained from making any inquiries as to thenature of the contents (although I must confess to considerablecuriosity on the subject), and on arriving home I assisted him todeposit the two mysterious parcels in his room.

  When I came downstairs a disagreeable surprise awaited me. Hitherto thelong evenings had been spent by me in solitary and undisturbed enjoymentof Dr. Cooper's excellent library, but to-night a perverse fate decreedthat I must wander abroad, because, forsooth, a preposterous farmer, whoresided in a hamlet five miles distant, had chosen the evening of myguest's arrival to dislocate his bucolic elbow. I half hoped thatThorndyke would offer to accompany me, but he made no such suggestion,and in fact seemed by no means afflicted at the prospect of my absence.

  "I have plenty to occupy me while you are away," he said cheerfully; andwith this assurance to comfort me I mounted my bicycle and rode offsomewhat sulkily along the dark road.

  My visit occupied in all a trifle under two hours, and when I reachedhome, ravenously hungry and heated by my ride, half-past nine hadstruck, and the village had begun to settle down for the night.

  "Sergeant Payne is a-waiting in the surgery, sir," the housemaidannounced as I entered the hall.

  "Confound Sergeant Payne!" I exclaimed. "Is Dr. Thorndyke with him?"

  "No, sir," replied the grinning damsel. "Dr. Thorndyke is hout."

  "Hout!" I repeated (my surprise leading to unintentional mimicry).

  "Yes, sir. He went hout soon after you, sir, on his bicycle. He had abasket strapped on to it--leastways a hamper--and he borrowed a basinand a kitchen-spoon from the cook."

  I stared at the girl in astonishment. The ways of John Thorndyke were,indeed, beyond all understanding.

  "Well, let me have some dinner or supper at once," I said, "and I willsee what the sergeant wants."

  The officer rose as I entered the surgery, and, laying his helmet on thetable, approached me with an air of secrecy and importance.

  "Well, sir," said he, "the fat's in the fire. I've arrested Mr. Draper,and I've got him locked up in the court-house. But I wish it had beensomeone else."

  "So does he, I expect," I remarked.

  "You see, sir," continued the sergeant, "we all like Mr. Draper. He'sbeen among us a matter of seven years, and he's like one of ourselves.However, what I've come about is this; it seems the gentleman who waswith you this evening is Dr. Thorndyke, the great expert. Now Mr. Draperseems to have heard about him, as most of us have, and he is veryanxious for him to take up the defence. Do you think he would consent?"

  "I expect so," I answered, remembering Thorndyke's keen interest in thecase; "but I will ask him when he comes in."

  "Thank you, sir," said the sergeant. "And perhaps you wouldn't mindstepping round to the court-house presently yourself. He looks uncommonqueer, does Mr. Draper, and no wonder, so I'd like you to take a look athim, and if you could bring Dr. Thorndyke with you, he'd like it, and soshould I, for, I assure you, sir, that although a conviction would meana step up the ladder for me, I'd be glad enough to find that I'd made amistake."

  I was just showing my visitor out when a bicycle swept in through theopen gate, and Thorndyke dismounted at the door, revealing a squarehamper--evidently abstracted from the surgery-
-strapped on to a carrierat the back. I conveyed the sergeant's request to him at once, and askedif he was willing to take up the case.

  "As to taking up the defence," he replied, "I will consider the matter;but in any case I will come up and see the prisoner."

  With this the sergeant departed, and Thorndyke, having unstrapped thehamper with as much care as if it contained a collection of pricelessporcelain, bore it tenderly up to his bedroom; whence he appeared, aftera considerable interval, smilingly apologetic for the delay.

  "I thought you were dressing for dinner," I grumbled as he took his seatat the table.

  "No," he replied. "I have been considering this murder. Really it is amost singular case, and promises to be uncommonly complicated, too."

  "Then I assume that you will undertake the defence?"

  "I shall if Draper gives a reasonably straightforward account ofhimself."

  It appeared that this condition was likely to be fulfilled, for when wearrived at the court-house (where the prisoner was accommodated in aspare office, under rather free-and-easy conditions considering thenature of the charge) we found Mr. Draper in an eminently communicativeframe of mind.

  "I want you, Dr. Thorndyke, to undertake my defence in this terribleaffair, because I feel confident that you will be able to clear me. AndI promise you that there shall be no reservation or concealment on mypart of anything that you ought to know."

  "Very well," said Thorndyke. "By the way, I see you have changed yourshoes."

  "Yes, the sergeant took possession of those I was wearing. He saidsomething about comparing them with some footprints, but there can't beany footprints like those shoes here in Sundersley. The nails are fixedin the soles in quite a peculiar pattern. I had them made in Edinburgh."

  "Have you more than one pair?"

  "No. I have no other nailed boots."

  "That is important," said Thorndyke. "And now I judge that you havesomething to tell us that bears on this crime. Am I right?"

  "Yes. There is something that I am afraid it is necessary for you toknow, although it is very painful to me to revive memories of my pastthat I had hoped were buried for ever. But perhaps, after all, it maynot be necessary for these confidences to be revealed to anyone butyourself."

  "I hope not," said Thorndyke; "and if it is not necessary you may relyupon me not to allow any of your secrets to leak out. But you are wiseto tell me everything that may in any way bear upon the case."

  At this juncture, seeing that confidential matters were about to bediscussed, I rose and prepared to withdraw; but Draper waved me backinto my chair.

  "You need not go away, Dr. Jervis," he said. "It is through you that Ihave the benefit of Dr. Thorndyke's help, and I know that you doctorscan be trusted to keep your own counsel and your clients' secrets. Andnow for some confessions of mine. In the first place, it is my painfulduty to tell you that I am a discharged convict--an 'old lag,' as thecant phrase has it."

  He coloured a dusky red as he made this statement, and glanced furtivelyat Thorndyke to observe its effect. But he might as well have looked ata wooden figure-head or a stone mask as at my friend's immovable visage;and when his communication had been acknowledged by a slight nod, heproceeded:

  "The history of my wrong-doing is the history of hundreds of others. Iwas a clerk in a bank, and getting on as well as I could expect in thatnot very progressive avocation, when I had the misfortune to make fourvery undesirable acquaintances. They were all young men, though ratherolder than myself, and were close friends, forming a sort of littlecommunity or club. They were not what is usually described as 'fast.'They were quite sober and decently-behaved young follows, but they werevery decidedly addicted to gambling in a small way, and they sooninfected me. Before long I was the keenest gambler of them all. Cards,billiards, pool, and various forms of betting began to be the chiefpleasures of my life, and not only was the bulk of my scanty salaryoften consumed in the inevitable losses, but presently I found myselfconsiderably in debt, without any visible means of discharging myliabilities. It is true that my four friends were my chief--in fact,almost my only--creditors, but still, the debts existed, and had to bepaid.

  "Now these four friends of mine--named respectively Leach, Pitford,Hearn, and Jezzard--were uncommonly clever men, though the full extentof their cleverness was not appreciated by me until too late. And I,too, was clever in my way, and a most undesirable way it was, for Ipossessed the fatal gift of imitating handwriting and signatures withthe most remarkable accuracy. So perfect were my copies that the writersthemselves were frequently unable to distinguish their own signaturesfrom my imitations, and many a time was my skill invoked by some of mycompanions to play off practical jokes upon the others. But these jestswere strictly confined to our own little set, for my four friends weremost careful and anxious that my dangerous accomplishment should notbecome known to outsiders.

  "And now follows the consequence which you have no doubt foreseen. Mydebts, though small, were accumulating, and I saw no prospect of beingable to pay them. Then, one night, Jezzard made a proposition. We hadbeen playing bridge at his rooms, and once more my ill luck had causedme to increase my debt. I scribbled out an IOU, and pushed it across thetable to Jezzard, who picked it up with a very wry face, and pocketedit.

  "'Look here, Ted,' he said presently, 'this paper is all very well, but,you know, I can't pay my debts with it. My creditors demand hard cash.'

  "'I'm very sorry,' I replied, 'but I can't help it.'

  "'Yes, you can,' said he, 'and I'll tell you how.' He then propounded ascheme which I at first rejected with indignation, but which, when theothers backed him up, I at last allowed myself to be talked into, andactually put into execution. I contrived, by taking advantage of thecarelessness of some of my superiors at the bank, to get possession ofsome blank cheque forms, which I filled up with small amounts--not morethan two or three pounds--and signed with careful imitations of thesignatures of some of our clients. Jezzard got some stamps made forstamping on the account numbers, and when this had been done I handedover to him the whole collection of forged cheques in settlement of mydebts to all of my four companions.

  "The cheques were duly presented--by whom I do not know; and although,to my dismay, the modest sums for which I had drawn them had beenskilfully altered into quite considerable amounts, they were all paidwithout demur excepting one. That one, which had been altered from threepounds to thirty-nine, was drawn upon an account which was alreadyslightly overdrawn. The cashier became suspicious; the cheque wasimpounded, and the client communicated with. Then, of course, the mineexploded. Not only was this particular forgery detected, but inquirieswere set afoot which soon brought to light the others. Presentlycircumstances, which I need not describe, threw some suspicion on me. Iat once lost my nerve, and finally made a full confession.

  "The inevitable prosecution followed. It was not conducted vindictively.Still, I had actually committed the forgeries, and though I endeavouredto cast a part of the blame on to the shoulders of my treacherousconfederates, I did not succeed. Jezzard, it is true, was arrested, butwas discharged for lack of evidence, and, consequently, the whole burdenof the forgery fell upon me. The jury, of course, convicted me, and Iwas sentenced to seven years' penal servitude.

  "During the time that I was in prison an uncle of mine died in Canada,and by the provisions of his will I inherited the whole of his veryconsiderable property, so that when the time arrived for my release, Icame out of prison, not only free, but comparatively rich. I at oncedropped my own name, and, assuming that of Alfred Draper, began to lookabout for some quiet spot in which I might spend the rest of my days inpeace, and with little chance of my identity being discovered. Such aplace I found in Sundersley, and here I have lived for the last sevenyears, liked and respected, I think, by my neighbours, who have littlesuspected that they were harbouring in their midst a convicted felon.

  "All this time I had neither seen nor heard anything of my fourconfederates, and I hoped and believed that they had
passed completelyout of my life. But they had not. Only a month ago I met them once more,to my sorrow, and from the day of that meeting all the peace andsecurity of my quiet existence at Sundersley have vanished. Like evilspirits they have stolen into my life, changing my happiness into bittermisery, filling my days with dark forebodings and my nights withterror."

  Here Mr. Draper paused, and seemed to sink into a gloomy reverie.

  "Under what circumstances did you meet these men?" Thorndyke asked.

  "Ah!" exclaimed Draper, arousing with sudden excitement, "thecircumstances were very singular and suspicious. I had gone over toEastwich for the day to do some shopping. About eleven o'clock in theforenoon I was making some purchases in a shop when I noticed two menlooking in the window, or rather pretending to do so, whilst theyconversed earnestly. They were smartly dressed, in a horsy fashion, andlooked like well-to-do farmers, as they might very naturally have beensince it was market-day. But it seemed to me that their faces werefamiliar to me. I looked at them more attentively, and then it suddenlydawned upon me, most unpleasantly, that they resembled Leach andJezzard. And yet they were not quite like. The resemblance was there,but the differences were greater than the lapse of time would accountfor. Moreover, the man who resembled Jezzard had a rather large mole onthe left cheek just under the eye, while the other man had an eyeglassstuck in one eye, and wore a waxed moustache, whereas Leach had alwaysbeen clean-shaven, and had never used an eyeglass.

  "As I was speculating upon the resemblance they looked up, and caught myintent and inquisitive eye, whereupon they moved away from the window;and when, having completed my purchases, I came out into the street,they were nowhere to be seen.

  "That evening, as I was walking by the river outside the town beforereturning to the station, I overtook a yacht which was being toweddown-stream. Three men were walking ahead on the bank with a longtow-line, and one man stood in the cockpit steering. As I approached,and was reading the name _Otter_ on the stern, the man at the helmlooked round, and with a start of surprise I recognized my oldacquaintance Hearn. The recognition, however, was not mutual, for I hadgrown a beard in the interval, and I passed on without appearing tonotice him; but when I overtook the other three men, and recognized, asI had feared, the other three members of the gang, I must have lookedrather hard at Jezzard, for he suddenly halted, and exclaimed: 'Why,it's our old friend Ted! Our long-lost and lamented brother!' He heldout his hand with effusive cordiality, and began to make inquiries as tomy welfare; but I cut him short with the remark that I was not proposingto renew the acquaintance, and, turning off on to a footpath that ledaway from the river, strode off without looking back.

  "Naturally this meeting exercised my mind a good deal, and when Ithought of the two men whom I had seen in the town, I could hardlybelieve that their likeness to my quondam friends was a merecoincidence. And yet when I had met Leach and Jezzard by the river, Ihad found them little altered, and had particularly noticed thatJezzard had no mole on his face, and that Leach was clean-shaven as ofold.

  "But a day or two later all my doubts were resolved by a paragraph inthe local paper. It appeared that on the day of my visit to Eastwich anumber of forged cheques had been cashed at the three banks. They hadbeen presented by three well-dressed, horsy-looking men who looked likewell-to-do farmers. One of them had a mole on the left cheek, anotherwas distinguished by a waxed moustache and a single eyeglass, while thedescription of the third I did not recognize. None of the cheques hadbeen drawn for large amounts, though the total sum obtained by theforgers was nearly four hundred pounds; but the most interesting pointwas that the cheque-forms had been manufactured by photographic process,and the water-mark skilfully, though not quite perfectly, imitated.Evidently the swindlers were clever and careful men, and willing to takea good deal of trouble for the sake of security, and the result of theirprecautions was that the police could make no guess as to theiridentity.

  "The very next day, happening to walk over to Port Marston, I came uponthe _Otter_ lying moored alongside the quay in the harbour. As soon as Irecognized the yacht, I turned quickly and walked away, but a minutelater I ran into Leach and Jezzard, who were returning to their craft.Jezzard greeted me with an air of surprise. 'What! Still hanging abouthere, Ted?' he exclaimed. 'That is not discreet of you, dear boy. Ishould earnestly advise you to clear out.'

  "'What do you mean?' I asked.

  "'Tut, tut!' said he. 'We read the papers like other people, and we knownow what business took you to Eastwich. But it's foolish of you to hangabout the neighbourhood where you might be spotted at any moment.'

  "The implied accusation took me aback so completely that I stood staringat him in speechless astonishment, and at that unlucky moment atradesman, from whom I had ordered some house-linen, passed along thequay. Seeing me, he stopped and touched his hat.

  "'Beg pardon, Mr. Draper,' said he, 'but I shall be sending my cart upto Sundersley to-morrow morning if that will do for you.'

  "I said that it would, and as the man turned away, Jezzard's face brokeout into a cunning smile.

  "So you are Mr. Draper, of Sundersley, now, are you?' said he. 'Well, Ihope you won't be too proud to come and look in on your old friends. Weshall be staying here for some time.'

  "That same night Hearn made his appearance at my house. He had come asan emissary from the gang, to ask me to do some work for them--toexecute some forgeries, in fact. Of course I refused, and prettybluntly, too, whereupon Hearn began to throw out vague hints as to whatmight happen if I made enemies of the gang, and to utter veiled, butquite intelligible, threats. You will say that I was an idiot not tosend him packing, and threaten to hand over the whole gang to thepolice; but I was never a man of strong nerve, and I don't mindadmitting that I was mortally afraid of that cunning devil, Jezzard.

  "The next thing that happened was that Hearn came and took lodgings inSundersley, and, in spite of my efforts to avoid him, he haunted mecontinually. The yacht, too, had evidently settled down for some time ata berth in the harbour, for I heard that a local smack-boy had beenengaged as a deck-hand; and I frequently encountered Jezzard and theother members of the gang, who all professed to believe that I hadcommitted the Eastwich forgeries. One day I was foolish enough to allowmyself to be lured on to the yacht for a few minutes, and when I wouldhave gone ashore, I found that the shore ropes had been cast off, andthat the vessel was already moving out of the harbour. At first I wasfurious, but the three scoundrels were so jovial and good-natured, andso delighted with the joke of taking me for a sail against my will, thatI presently cooled down, and having changed into a pair of rubber-soledshoes (so that I should not make dents in the smooth deck with myhobnails), bore a hand at sailing the yacht, and spent quite a pleasantday.

  "From that time I found myself gradually drifting back into a state ofintimacy with these agreeable scoundrels, and daily becoming more andmore afraid of them. In a moment of imbecility I mentioned what I hadseen from the shop-window at Eastwich, and, though they passed thematter off with a joke, I could see that they were mightily disturbed byit. Their efforts to induce me to join them were redoubled, and Hearntook to calling almost daily at my house--usually with documents andsignatures which he tried to persuade me to copy.

  "A few evenings ago he made a new and startling proposition. We werewalking in my garden, and he had been urging me once more to rejoin thegang--unsuccessfully, I need not say. Presently he sat down on a seatagainst a yew-hedge at the bottom of the garden, and, after an intervalof silence, said suddenly:

  "'Then you absolutely refuse to go in with us?'

  "'Of course I do,' I replied. 'Why should I mix myself up with a gang ofcrooks when I have ample means and a decent position?'

  "'Of course,' he agreed, 'you'd be a fool if you did. But, you see, youknow all about this Eastwich job, to say nothing of our other littleexploits, and you gave us away once before. Consequently, you can takeit from me that, now Jezzard has run you to earth, he won't leave you inpeace until you have given us
some kind of a hold on you. You know toomuch, you see, and as long as you have a clean sheet you are a standingmenace to us. That is the position. You know it, and Jezzard knows it,and he is a desperate man, and as cunning as the devil.'

  "'I know that,' I said gloomily.

  "'Very well,' continued Hearn. 'Now I'm going to make you an offer.Promise me a small annuity--you can easily afford it--or pay me asubstantial sum down, and I will set you free for ever from Jezzard andthe others.'

  "'How will you do that?' I asked.

  "'Very simply,' he replied. 'I am sick of them all, and sick of thisrisky, uncertain mode of life. Now I am ready to clean off my own slateand set you free at the same time; but I must have some means oflivelihood in view.'

  "'You mean that you will turn King's evidence?' I asked.

  "'Yes, if you will pay me a couple of hundred a year, or, say, twothousand down on the conviction of the gang.'

  "I was so taken aback that for some time I made no reply, and as I satconsidering this amazing proposition, the silence was suddenly brokenby a suppressed sneeze from the other side of the hedge.

  "Hearn and I started to our feet. Immediately hurried footsteps wereheard in the lane outside the hedge. We raced up the garden to the gateand out through a side alley, but when we reached the lane there was nota soul in sight. We made a brief and fruitless search in the immediateneighbourhood, and then turned back to the house. Hearn was deathly paleand very agitated, and I must confess that I was a good deal upset bythe incident.

  "'This is devilish awkward,' said Hearn.

  "'It is rather,' I admitted; 'but I expect it was only some inquisitiveyokel.'

  "'I don't feel so sure of that,' said he. 'At any rate, we were starklunatics to sit up against a hedge to talk secrets.'

  "He paced the garden with me for some time in gloomy silence, andpresently, after a brief request that I would think over his proposal,took himself off.

  "I did not see him again until I met him last night on the yacht.Pitford called on me in the morning, and invited me to come and dinewith them. I at first declined, for my housekeeper was going to spendthe evening with her sister at Eastwich, and stay there for the night,and I did not much like leaving the house empty. However, I agreedeventually, stipulating that I should be allowed to come home early, andI accordingly went. Hearn and Pitford were waiting in the boat by thesteps--for the yacht had been moved out to a buoy--and we went on boardand spent a very pleasant and lively evening. Pitford put me ashore atten o'clock, and I walked straight home, and went to bed. Hearn wouldhave come with me, but the others insisted on his remaining, sayingthat they had some matters of business to discuss."

  "Which way did you walk home?" asked Thorndyke.

  "I came through the town, and along the main road."

  "And that is all you know about this affair?"

  "Absolutely all," replied Draper. "I have now admitted you to secrets ofmy past life that I had hoped never to have to reveal to any humancreature, and I still have some faint hope that it may not be necessaryfor you to divulge what I have told you."

  "Your secrets shall not be revealed unless it is absolutelyindispensable that they should be," said Thorndyke; "but you are placingyour life in my hands, and you must leave me perfectly free to act as Ithink best."

  With this he gathered his notes together, and we took our departure.

  "A very singular history, this, Jervis," he said, when, having wishedthe sergeant "Good-night," we stepped out on to the dark road. "What doyou think of it?"

  "I hardly know what to think," I answered, "but, on the whole, it seemsrather against Draper than otherwise. He admits that he is an oldcriminal, and it appears that he was being persecuted and blackmailed bythe man Hearn. It is true that he represents Jezzard as being theleading spirit and prime mover in the persecution, but we have only hisword for that. Hearn was in lodgings near him, and was undoubtedlytaking the most active part in the business, and it is quite possible,and indeed probable, that Hearn was the actual _deus ex machina_."

  Thorndyke nodded. "Yes," he said, "that is certainly the line theprosecution will take if we allow the story to become known. Ha! whatis this? We are going to have some rain."

  "Yes, and wind too. We are in for an autumn gale, I think."

  "And that," said Thorndyke, "may turn out to be an important factor inour case."

  "How can the weather affect your case?" I asked in some surprise. But,as the rain suddenly descended in a pelting shower, my companion brokeinto a run, leaving my question unanswered.

  On the following morning, which was fair and sunny after the stormynight, Dr. Burrows called for my friend. He was on his way to theextemporized mortuary to make the _post-mortem_ examination of themurdered man's body. Thorndyke, having notified the coroner that he waswatching the case on behalf of the accused, had been authorized to bepresent at the autopsy; but the authorization did not include me, and,as Dr. Burrows did not issue any invitation, I was not able to bepresent. I met them, however, as they were returning, and it seemed tome that Dr. Burrows appeared a little huffy.

  "Your friend," said he, in a rather injured tone, "is really the mostoutrageous stickler for forms and ceremonies that I have ever met."

  Thorndyke looked at him with an amused twinkle, and chuckledindulgently.

  "Here was a body," Dr. Burrows continued irritably, "found undercircumstances clearly indicative of murder, and bearing a knife-woundthat nearly divided the arch of the aorta; in spite of which, I assureyou that Dr. Thorndyke insisted on weighing the body, and examiningevery organ--lungs, liver, stomach, and brain--yes, actually thebrain!--as if there had been no clue whatever to the cause of death.And then, as a climax, he insisted on sending the contents of thestomach in a jar, sealed with our respective seals, in charge of aspecial messenger, to Professor Copland, for analysis and report. Ithought he was going to demand an examination for the tubercle bacillus,but he didn't; which," concluded Dr. Burrows, suddenly becoming sourlyfacetious, "was an oversight, for, after all, the fellow may have diedof consumption."

  Thorndyke chuckled again, and I murmured that the precautions appearedto have been somewhat excessive.

  "Not at all," was the smiling response. "You are losing sight of ourfunction. We are the expert and impartial umpires, and it is ourbusiness to ascertain, with scientific accuracy, the cause of death. The_prima facie_ appearances in this case suggest that the deceased wasmurdered by Draper, and that is the hypothesis advanced. But that is noconcern of ours. It is not our function to confirm an hypothesissuggested by outside circumstances, but rather, on the contrary, to makecertain that no other explanation is possible. And that is my invariablepractice. No matter how glaringly obvious the appearances may be, Irefuse to take anything for granted."

  Dr. Burrows received this statement with a grunt of dissent, but thearrival of his dogcart put a stop to further discussion.

  Thorndyke was not subpoenaed for the inquest. Dr. Burrows and thesergeant having been present immediately after the finding of the body,his evidence was not considered necessary, and, moreover, he was knownto be watching the case in the interests of the accused. Like myself,therefore, he was present as a spectator, but as a highly interestedone, for he took very complete shorthand notes of the whole of theevidence and the coroner's comments.

  I shall not describe the proceedings in detail. The jury, having beentaken to view the body, trooped into the room on tiptoe, looking paleand awe-stricken, and took their seats; and thereafter, from time totime, directed glances of furtive curiosity at Draper as he stood,pallid and haggard, confronting the court, with a burly rural constableon either side.

  The medical evidence was taken first. Dr. Burrows, having been sworn,began, with sarcastic emphasis, to describe the condition of the lungsand liver, until he was interrupted by the coroner.

  "Is all this necessary?" the latter inquired. "I mean, is it material tothe subject of the inquiry?"

  "I should say not," replied Dr. Burrows. "It appears
to me to be quiteirrelevant, but Dr. Thorndyke, who is watching the case for the defence,thought it necessary."

  "I think," said the coroner, "you had better give us only the facts thatare material. The jury want you to tell them what you consider to havebeen the cause of death. They don't want a lecture on pathology."

  "The cause of death," said Dr. Burrows, "was a penetrating wound of thechest, apparently inflicted with a large knife. The weapon enteredbetween the second and third ribs on the left side close to the sternumor breast-bone. It wounded the left lung, and partially divided both thepulmonary artery and the aorta--the two principal arteries of the body."

  "Was this injury alone sufficient to cause death?" the coroner asked.

  "Yes," was the reply; "and death from injury to these great vesselswould be practically instantaneous."

  "Could the injury have been self-inflicted?"

  "So far as the position and nature of the wound are concerned," repliedthe witness, "self-infliction would be quite possible. But since deathwould follow in a few seconds at the most, the weapon would be foundeither in the wound, or grasped in the hand, or, at least, quite closeto the body. But in this case no weapon was found at all, and the woundmust therefore certainly have been homicidal."

  "Did you see the body before it was moved?"

  "Yes. It was lying on its back, with the arms extended and the legsnearly straight; and the sand in the neighbourhood of the body wastrampled as if a furious struggle had taken place."

  "Did you notice anything remarkable about the footprints in the sand?"

  "I did," replied Dr. Burrows. "They were the footprints of two personsonly. One of these was evidently the deceased, whose footmarks could beeasily identified by the circular rubber heels. The other footprintswere those of a person--apparently a man--who wore shoes, or boots, thesoles of which were studded with nails; and these nails were arranged ina very peculiar and unusual manner, for those on the soles formed alozenge or diamond shape, and those on the heel were set out in the formof a cross."

  "Have you ever seen shoes or boots with the nails arranged in thismanner?"

  "Yes. I have seen a pair of shoes which I am informed belong to theaccused; the nails in them are arranged as I have described."

  "Would you say that the footprints of which you have spoken were madeby those shoes?"

  "No; I could not say that. I can only say that, to the best of mybelief, the pattern on the shoes is similar to that in the footprints."

  This was the sum of Dr. Burrows' evidence, and to all of it Thorndykelistened with an immovable countenance, though with the closestattention. Equally attentive was the accused man, though not equallyimpassive; indeed, so great was his agitation that presently one of theconstables asked permission to get him a chair.

  The next witness was Arthur Jezzard. He testified that he had viewed thebody, and identified it as that of Charles Hearn; that he had beenacquainted with deceased for some years, but knew practically nothing ofhis affairs. At the time of his death deceased was lodging in thevillage.

  "Why did he leave the yacht?" the coroner inquired. "Was there any kindof disagreement!"

  "Not in the least," replied Jezzard. "He grew tired of the confinementof the yacht, and came to live ashore for a change. But we were the bestof friends, and he intended to come with us when we sailed."

  "When did you see him last?"

  "On the night before the body was found--that is, last Monday. He hadbeen dining on the yacht, and we put him ashore about midnight. He saidas we were rowing him ashore that he intended to walk home along thesands ss the tide was out. He went up the stone steps by thewatch-house, and turned at the top to wish us good-night. That was thelast time I saw him alive."

  "Do you know anything of the relations between the accused and thedeceased?" the coroner asked.

  "Very little," replied Jezzard. "Mr. Draper was introduced to us by thedeceased about a month ago. I believe they had been acquainted someyears, and they appeared to be on excellent terms. There was noindication of any quarrel or disagreement between them."

  "What time did the accused leave the yacht on the night of the murder?"

  "About ten o'clock. He said that he wanted to get home early, as hishousekeeper was away and he did not like the house to be left with noone in it."

  This was the whole of Jezzard's evidence, and was confirmed by that ofLeach and Pitford. Then, when the fisherman had deposed to the discoveryof the body, the sergeant was called, and stepped forward, grasping acarpet-bag, and looking as uncomfortable as if he had been the accusedinstead of a witness. He described the circumstances under which he sawthe body, giving the exact time and place with official precision.

  "You have heard Dr. Burrows' description of the footprints?" the coronerinquired.

  "Yes. There were two sets. One set were evidently made by deceased. Theyshowed that he entered St. Bridget's Bay from the direction of PortMarston. He had been walking along the shore just about high-water mark,sometimes above and sometimes below. Where he had walked belowhigh-water mark the footprints had of course been washed away by thesea."

  "How far back did you trace the footprints of deceased?"

  "About two-thirds of the way to Sundersley Gap. Then they disappearedbelow high-water mark. Later in the evening I walked from the Gap intoPort Marston, but could not find any further traces of deceased. Hemust have walked between the tide-marks all the way from Port Marston tobeyond Sundersley. When these footprints entered St. Bridget's Bay theybecame mixed up with the footprints of another man, and the shore wastrampled for a space of a dozen yards as if a furious struggle had takenplace. The strange man's tracks came down from the Shepherd's Path, andwent up it again; but, owing to the hardness of the ground from the dryweather, the tracks disappeared a short distance up the path, and Icould not find them again."

  "What were these strange footprints like?" inquired the coroner.

  "They were very peculiar," replied the sergeant. "They were made byshoes armed with smallish hob-nails, which were arranged in adiamond-shaped pattern on the holes and in a cross on the heels. Imeasured the footprints carefully, and made a drawing of each foot atthe time." Here the sergeant produced a long notebook of funerealaspect, and, having opened it at a marked place, handed it to thecoroner, who examined it attentively, and then passed it on to the jury.From the jury it was presently transferred to Thorndyke, and, lookingover his shoulder, I saw a very workmanlike sketch of a pair offootprints with the principal dimensions inserted.

  Thorndyke surveyed the drawing critically, jotted down a few briefnotes, and returned the sergeant's notebook to the coroner, who, as hetook it, turned once more to the officer.

  "Have you any clue, sergeant, to the person who made these footprints?"he asked.

  By way of reply the sergeant opened his carpet-bag, and, extractingtherefrom a pair of smart but stoutly made shoes, laid them on thetable.

  "Those shoes," he said, "are the property of the accused; he was wearingthem when I arrested him. They appear to correspond exactly to thefootprints of the murderer. The measurements are the same, and the nailswith which they are studded are arranged in a similar pattern."

  The Sergeant's Sketch

  Extreme length, 113/4 inches.Width at A, 41/2 inches.Length of heel, 31/4 inchesWidth of heel at cross, 3 inches.]

  "Would you swear that the footprints were made with these shoes?" askedthe coroner.

  "No, sir, I would not," was the decided answer. "I would only swear tothe similarity of size and pattern."

  "Had you ever seen these shoes before you made the drawing?"

  "No, sir," replied the sergeant; and he then related the incident of thefootprints in the soft earth by the pond which led him to make thearrest.

  The coroner gazed reflectively at the shoes which he held in his hand,and from them to the drawing; then, passing them to the foreman of thejury, he remarked:

  "Well, gentlemen, it is not for me to tell you whether these shoesanswer to the descr
iption given by Dr. Burrows and the sergeant, orwhether they resemble the drawing which, as you have heard, was made bythe officer on the spot and before he had seen the shoes; that is amatter for you to decide. Meanwhile, there is another question that wemust consider." He turned to the sergeant and asked: "Have you made anyinquiries as to the movements of the accused on the night of themurder?"

  "I have," replied the sergeant, "and I find that, on that night, theaccused was alone in the house, his housekeeper having gone over toEastwich. Two men saw him in the town about ten o'clock, apparentlywalking in the direction of Sundersley."

  This concluded the sergeant's evidence, and when one or two morewitnesses had been examined without eliciting any fresh facts, thecoroner briefly recapitulated the evidence, and requested the jury toconsider their verdict. Thereupon a solemn hush fell upon the court,broken only by the whispers of the jurymen, as they consulted together;and the spectators gazed in awed expectancy from the accused to thewhispering jury. I glanced at Draper, sitting huddled in his chair, hisclammy face as pale as that of the corpse in the mortuary hard by, hishands tremulous and restless; and, scoundrel as I believed him to be, Icould not but pity the abject misery that was written large all overhim, from his damp hair to his incessantly shifting feet.

  The jury took but a short time to consider their verdict. At the end offive minutes the foreman announced that they were agreed, and, in answerto the coroner's formal inquiry, stood up and replied:

  "We find that the deceased met his death by being stabbed in the chestby the accused man, Alfred Draper."

  "That is a verdict of wilful murder," said the coroner, and he enteredit accordingly in his notes. The Court now rose. The spectatorsreluctantly trooped out, the jurymen stood up and stretched themselves,and the two constables, under the guidance of the sergeant, carried thewretched Draper in a fainting condition to a closed fly that was waitingoutside.

  "I was not greatly impressed by the activity of the defence," I remarkedmaliciously as we walked home.

  Thorndyke smiled. "You surely did not expect me to cast my pearls offorensic learning before a coroner's jury," said he.

  "I expected that you would have something to say on behalf of yourclient," I replied. "As it was, his accusers had it all their own way."

  "And why not?" he asked. "Of what concern to us is the verdict of thecoroner's jury?"

  "It would have seemed more decent to make some sort of defence," Ireplied.

  "My dear Jervis," he rejoined, "you do not seem to appreciate the greatvirtue of what Lord Beaconsfield so felicitously called 'a policy ofmasterly inactivity'; and yet that is one of the great lessons that amedical training impresses on the student."

  "That may be so," said I. "But the result, up to the present, of yourmasterly policy is that a verdict of wilful murder stands against yourclient, and I don't see what other verdict the jury could have found."

  "Neither do I," said Thorndyke.

  I had written to my principal, Dr. Cooper, describing the stirringevents that were taking place in the village, and had received a replyfrom him instructing me to place the house at Thorndyke's disposal, andto give him every facility for his work. In accordance with which edictmy colleague took possession of a well-lighted, disused stable-loft, andannounced his intention of moving his things into it. Now, as these"things" included the mysterious contents of the hamper that thehousemaid had seen, I was possessed with a consuming desire to bepresent at the "flitting," and I do not mind confessing that I purposelylurked about the stairs in the hopes of thus picking up a few crumbs ofinformation.

  But Thorndyke was one too many for me. A misbegotten infant in thevillage having been seized with inopportune convulsions, I wascompelled, most reluctantly, to hasten to its relief; and I returnedonly in time to find Thorndyke in the act of locking the door of theloft.

  "A nice light, roomy place to work in," he remarked, as he descended thesteps, slipping the key into his pocket.

  "Yes," I replied, and added boldly: "What do you intend to do up there?"

  "Work up the case for the defence," he replied, "and, as I have nowheard all that the prosecution have to say, I shall be able to forgeahead."

  This was vague enough, but I consoled myself with the reflection thatin a very few days I should, in common with the rest of the world, be inpossession of the results of his mysterious proceedings. For, in view ofthe approaching assizes, preparations were being made to push the casethrough the magistrate's court as quickly as possible in order to obtaina committal in time for the ensuing sessions. Draper had, of course,been already charged before a justice of the peace and evidence ofarrest taken, and it was expected that the adjourned hearing wouldcommence before the local magistrates on the fifth day after theinquest.

  The events of these five days kept me in a positive ferment ofcuriosity. In the first place an inspector of the Criminal InvestigationDepartment came down and browsed about the place in company with thesergeant. Then Mr. Bashfield, who was to conduct the prosecution, cameand took up his abode at the "Cat and Chicken." But the most surprisingvisitor was Thorndyke's laboratory assistant, Polton, who appeared oneevening with a large trunk and a sailor's hammock, and announced that hewas going to take up his quarters in the loft.

  As to Thorndyke himself, his proceedings were beyond speculation. Fromtime to time he made mysterious appearances at the windows of the loft,usually arrayed in what looked suspiciously like a nightshirt. SometimesI would see him holding a negative up to the light, at othersmanipulating a photographic printing-frame; and once I observed him witha paintbrush and a large gallipot; on which I turned away in despair,and nearly collided with the inspector.

  "Dr. Thorndyke is staying with you, I hear," said the latter, gazingearnestly at my colleague's back, which was presented for his inspectionat the window.

  "Yes," I answered. "Those are his temporary premises."

  "That is where he does his bedevilments, I suppose?" the officersuggested.

  "He conducts his experiments there," I corrected haughtily.

  "That's what I mean," said the inspector; and, as Thorndyke at thismoment turned and opened the window, our visitor began to ascend thesteps.

  "I've just called to ask if I could have a few words with you, Doctor,"said the inspector, as he reached the door.

  "Certainly," Thorndyke replied blandly. "If you will go down and waitwith Dr. Jervis, I will be with you in five minutes."

  The officer came down the steps grinning, and I thought I heard himmurmur "Sold!" But this may have been an illusion. However, Thorndykepresently emerged, and he and the officer strode away into theshrubbery. What the inspector's business was, or whether he had anybusiness at all, I never learned; but the incident seemed to throw somelight on the presence of Polton and the sailor's hammock. And thisreference to Polton reminds me of a very singular change that took placeabout this time in the habits of this usually staid and sedate littleman; who, abandoning the somewhat clerical style of dress that heordinarily affected, broke out into a semi-nautical costume, in which hewould sally forth every morning in the direction of Port Marston. Andthere, on more than one occasion, I saw him leaning against a post bythe harbour, or lounging outside a waterside tavern in earnest andamicable conversation with sundry nautical characters.

  On the afternoon of the day before the opening of the proceedings wehad two new visitors. One of them, a grey-haired spectacled man, was astranger to me, and for some reason I failed to recall his name,Copland, though I was sure I had heard it before. The other was Anstey,the barrister who usually worked with Thorndyke in cases that went intoCourt. I saw very little of either of them, however, for they retiredalmost immediately to the loft, where, with short intervals for meals,they remained for the rest of the day, and, I believe, far into thenight. Thorndyke requested me not to mention the names of his visitorsto anyone, and at the same time apologized for the secrecy of hisproceedings.

  "But you are a doctor, Jervis," he concluded, "and you know whatprofes
sional confidences are; and you will understand how greatly it isin our favour that we know exactly what the prosecution can do, whilethey are absolutely in the dark as to our line of defence."

  I assured him that I fully understood his position, and with thisassurance he retired, evidently relieved, to the council chamber.

  The proceedings, which opened on the following day, and at which I waspresent throughout, need not be described in detail. The evidence forthe prosecution was, of course, mainly a repetition of that given at theinquest. Mr. Bashfield's opening statement, however, I shall give atlength, inasmuch as it summarized very clearly the whole of the caseagainst the prisoner.

  "The case that is now before the Court," said the counsel, "involves acharge of wilful murder against the prisoner Alfred Draper, and thefacts, in so far as they are known, are briefly these: On the night ofMonday, the 27th of September, the deceased, Charles Hearn, dined withsome friends on board the yacht _Otter_. About midnight he came ashore,and proceeded to walk towards Sundersley along the beach. As he enteredSt. Bridget's Bay, a man, who appears to have been lying in wait, andwho came down the Shepherd's Path, met him, and a deadly struggle seemsto have taken place. The deceased received a wound of a kind calculatedto cause almost instantaneous death, and apparently fell down dead.

  "And now, what was the motive of this terrible crime? It was notrobbery, for nothing appears to have been taken from the corpse. Moneyand valuables were found, as far as is known, intact. Nor, clearly, wasit a case of a casual affray. We are, consequently, driven to theconclusion that the motive was a personal one, a motive of interest orrevenge, and with this view the time, the place, and the evidentdeliberateness of the murder are in full agreement.

  "So much for the motive. The next question is, Who was the perpetratorof this shocking crime? And the answer to that question is given in avery singular and dramatic circumstance, a circumstance that illustratesonce more the amazing lack of precaution shown by persons who commitsuch crimes. The murderer was wearing a very remarkable pair of shoes,and those shoes left very remarkable footprints in the smooth sand, andthose footprints were seen and examined by a very acute and painstakingpolice-officer, Sergeant Payne, whose evidence you will hear presently.The sergeant not only examined the footprints, he made careful drawingsof them on the spot--on the spot, mind you, not from memory--and he madevery exact measurements of them, which he duly noted down. And fromthose drawings and those measurements, those tell-tale shoes have beenidentified, and are here for your inspection.

  "And now, who is the owner of those very singular, those almost uniqueshoes? I have said that the motive of this murder must have been apersonal one, and, behold! the owner of those shoes happens to be theone person in the whole of this district who could have had a motive forcompassing the murdered man's death. Those shoes belong to, and weretaken from the foot of, the prisoner, Alfred Draper, and the prisoner,Alfred Draper, is the only person living in this neighbourhood who wasacquainted with the deceased.

  "It has been stated in evidence at the inquest that the relations ofthese two men, the prisoner and the deceased, were entirely friendly;but I shall prove to you that they were not so friendly as has beensupposed. I shall prove to you, by the evidence of the prisoner'shousekeeper, that the deceased was often an unwelcome visitor at thehouse, that the prisoner often denied himself when he was really at homeand disengaged, and, in short, that he appeared constantly to shun andavoid the deceased.

  "One more question and I have finished. Where was the prisoner on thenight of the murder? The answer is that he was in a house little morethan half a mile from the scene of the crime. And who was with him inthat house? Who was there to observe and testify to his going forth andhis coming home? No one. He was alone in the house. On that night, ofall nights, he was alone. Not a soul was there to rouse at the creak ofa door or the tread of a shoe--to tell as whether he slept or whether hestole forth in the dead of the night.

  "Such are the facts of this case. I believe that they are not disputed,and I assert that, taken together, they are susceptible of only oneexplanation, which is that the prisoner, Alfred Draper, is the man whomurdered the deceased, Charles Hearn."

  Immediately on the conclusion of this address, the witnesses werecalled, and the evidence given was identical with that at the inquest.The only new witness for the prosecution was Draper's housekeeper, andher evidence fully bore out Mr. Bashfield's statement. The sergeant'saccount of the footprints was listened to with breathless interest, andat its conclusion the presiding magistrate--a retired solicitor, oncewell known in criminal practice--put a question which interested me asshowing how clearly Thorndyke had foreseen the course of events,recalling, as it did, his remark on the night when we were caught in therain.

  "Did you," the magistrate asked, "take these shoes down to the beach andcompare them with the actual footprints?"

  "I obtained the shoes at night," replied the sergeant, "and I took themdown to the shore at daybreak the next morning. But, unfortunately,there had been a storm in the night, and the footprints were almostobliterated by the wind and rain."

  When the sergeant had stepped down, Mr. Bashfield announced that thatwas the case for the prosecution. He then resumed his seat, turning aninquisitive eye on Anstey and Thorndyke.

  The former immediately rose and opened the case for the defence with abrief statement.

  "The learned counsel for the prosecution," said he, "has told us thatthe facts now in the possession of the Court admit of but oneexplanation--that of the guilt of the accused. That may or may not be;but I shall now proceed to lay before the Court certain freshfacts--facts, I may say, of the most singular and startling character,which will, I think, lead to a very different conclusion. I shall say nomore, but call the witnesses forthwith, and let the evidence speak foritself."

  The first witness for the defence was Thorndyke; and as he entered thebox I observed Polton take up a position close behind him with a largewicker trunk. Having been sworn, and requested by Anstey to tell theCourt what he knew about the case, he commenced without preamble:

  "About half-past four in the afternoon of the 28th of September I walkeddown Sundersley Gap with Dr. Jervis. Our attention was attracted bycertain footprints in the sand, particularly those of a man who hadlanded from a boat, had walked up the Gap, and presently returned,apparently to the boat.

  "As we were standing there Sergeant Payne and Dr. Burrows passed downthe Gap with two constables carrying a stretcher. We followed at adistance, and as we walked along the shore we encountered another set offootprints--those which the sergeant has described as the footprints ofthe deceased. We examined these carefully, and endeavoured to frame adescription of the person by whom they had been made."

  "And did your description agree with the characters of the deceased?"the magistrate asked.

  "Not in the least," replied Thorndyke, whereupon the magistrate, theinspector, and Mr. Bashfield laughed long and heartily.

  "When we turned into St. Bridget's Bay, I saw the body of deceased lyingon the sand close to the cliff. The sand all round was covered withfootprints, as if a prolonged, fierce struggle had taken place. Therewere two sets of footprints, one set being apparently those of thedeceased and the other those of a man with nailed shoes of a verypeculiar and conspicuous pattern. The incredible folly that the wearingof such shoes indicated caused me to look more closely at thefootprints, and then I made the surprising discovery that there had inreality been no struggle; that, in fact, the two sets of footprints hadbeen made at different times."

  "At different times!" the magistrate exclaimed in astonishment.

  "Yes. The interval between them may have been one of hours or one onlyof seconds, but the undoubted fact is that the two sets of footprintswere made, not simultaneously, but in succession."

  "But how did you arrive at that fact?" the magistrate asked.

  "It was very obvious when one looked," said Thorndyke. "The marks of thedeceased man's shoes showed that he repeatedly trod in
his ownfootprints; but never in a single instance did he tread in thefootprints of the other man, although they covered the same area. Theman with the nailed shoes, on the contrary, not only trod in his ownfootprints, but with equal frequency in those of the deceased. Moreover,when the body was removed, I observed that the footprints in the sand onwhich it was lying were exclusively those of the deceased. There was nota sign of any nail-marked footprint under the corpse, although therewere many close around it. It was evident, therefore, that thefootprints of the deceased were made first and those of the nailed shoesafterwards."

  As Thorndyke paused the magistrate rubbed his nose thoughtfully, andthe inspector gazed at the witness with a puzzled frown.

  "The singularity of this fact," my colleague resumed, "made me look atthe footprints yet more critically, and then I made another discovery.There was a double track of the nailed shoes, leading apparently fromand back to the Shepherd's Path. But on examining these tracks moreclosely, I was astonished to find that the man who had made them hadbeen walking backwards; that, in fact, he had walked backwards from thebody to the Shepherd's Path, had ascended it for a short distance, hadturned round, and returned, still walking backwards, to the face of thecliff near the corpse, and there the tracks vanished altogether. On thesand at this spot were some small, inconspicuous marks which might havebeen made by the end of a rope, and there were also a few smallfragments which had fallen from the cliff above. Observing these, Iexamined the surface of the cliff, and at one spot, about six feet abovethe beach, I found a freshly rubbed spot on which were parallelscratches such as might have been made by the nailed sole of a boot. Ithen ascended the Shepherd's Path, and examined the cliff from above,and here I found on the extreme edge a rather deep indentation, such aswould be made by a taut rope, and, on lying down and looking over, Icould see, some five feet from the top, another rubbed spot with verydistinct parallel scratches."

  "You appear to infer," said the chairman, "that this man performed theseastonishing evolutions and was then hauled up the cliff?"

  "That is what the appearances suggested," replied Thorndyke.

  The chairman pursed up his lips, raised his eyebrows, and glanceddoubtfully at his brother magistrates. Then, with a resigned air, hebowed to the witness to indicate that he was listening.

  "That same night," Thorndyke resumed, "I cycled down to the shore,through the Gap, with a supply of plaster of Paris, and proceeded totake plaster moulds of the more important of the footprints." (Here themagistrates, the inspector, and Mr. Bashfield with one accord sat up atattention; Sergeant Payne swore quite audibly; and I experienced asudden illumination respecting a certain basin and kitchen spoon whichhad so puzzled me on the night of Thorndyke's arrival.) "As I thoughtthat liquid plaster might confuse or even obliterate the prints in sand,I filled up the respective footprints with dry plaster, pressed it downlightly, and then cautiously poured water on to it. The moulds, whichare excellent impressions, of course show the appearance of the bootswhich made the footprints, and from these moulds I have prepared castswhich reproduce the footprints themselves.

  "The first mould that I made was that of one of the tracks from the boatup to the Gap, and of this I shall speak presently. I next made a mouldof one of the footprints which have been described as those of thedeceased."

  "Have been described!" exclaimed the chairman. "The deceased wascertainly there, and there were no other footprints, so, if they werenot his, he must have flown to where he was found."

  "I will call them the footprints of the deceased," replied Thorndykeimperturbably. "I took a mould of one of them, and with it, on the samemould, one of my own footprints. Here is the mould, and here is a castfrom it." (He turned and took them from the triumphant Polton, who hadtenderly lifted them out of the trunk in readiness.) "On looking at thecast, it will be seen that the appearances are not such as would beexpected. The deceased was five feet nine inches high, but was very thinand light, weighing only nine stone six pounds, as I ascertained byweighing the body, whereas I am five feet eleven and weigh nearlythirteen stone. But yet the footprint of the deceased is nearly twice asdeep as mine--that is to say, the lighter man has sunk into the sandnearly twice as deeply as the heavier man."

  The magistrates were now deeply attentive. They were no longer simplylistening to the despised utterances of a mere scientific expert. Thecast lay before them with the two footprints side by side; the evidenceappealed to their own senses and was proportionately convincing.

  "This is very singular," said the chairman; "but perhaps you can explainthe discrepancy?"

  "I think I can," replied Thorndyke; "but I should prefer to place allthe facts before you first."

  "Undoubtedly that would be better," the chairman agreed. "Pray proceed."

  "There was another remarkable peculiarity about these footprints,"Thorndyke continued, "and that was their distance apart--the length ofthe stride, in fact. I measured the steps carefully from heel to heel,and found them only nineteen and a half inches. But a man of Hearn'sheight would have an ordinary stride of about thirty-six inches--more ifhe was walking fast. Walking with a stride of nineteen and a half incheshe would look as if his legs were tied together.

  "I next proceeded to the Bay, and took two moulds from the footprintsof the man with the nailed shoes, a right and a left. Here is a castfrom the mould, and it shows very clearly that the man was walkingbackwards."

  "How does it show that?" asked the magistrate.

  "There are several distinctive points. For instance, the absence of theusual 'kick off' at the toe, the slight drag behind the heel, showingthe direction in which the foot was lifted, and the undisturbedimpression of the sole."

  "You have spoken of moulds and casts. What is the difference betweenthem?"

  "A mould is a direct, and therefore reversed, impression. A cast is theimpression of a mould, and therefore a facsimile of the object. If Ipour liquid plaster on a coin, when it sets I have a mould, a sunkimpression, of the coin. If I pour melted wax into the mould I obtain acast, a facsimile of the coin. A footprint is a mould of the foot. Amould of the footprint is a cast of the foot, and a cast from the mouldreproduces the footprint."

  "Thank you," said the magistrate. "Then your moulds from these twofootprints are really facsimiles of the murderer's shoes, and can becompared with these shoes which have been put in evidence?"

  "Yes, and when we compare them they demonstrate a very important fact."

  "What is that?"

  "It is that the prisoner's shoes were not the shoes that made thosefootprints." A buzz of astonishment ran through the court, but Thorndykecontinued stolidly: "The prisoner's shoes were not in my possession, soI went on to Barker's pond, on the clay margin of which I had seenfootprints actually made by the prisoner. I took moulds of thosefootprints, and compared them with these from the sand. There areseveral important differences, which you will see if you compare them.To facilitate the comparison I have made transparent photographs of bothsets of moulds to the same scale. Now, if we put the photograph of themould of the prisoner's right shoe over that of the murderer's rightshoe, and hold the two superposed photographs up to the light, we cannotmake the two pictures coincide. They are exactly of the same length, butthe shoes are of different shape. Moreover, if we put one of the nailsin one photograph over the corresponding nail in the other photograph,we cannot make the rest of the nails coincide. But the most conclusivefact of all--from which there is no possible escape--is that the numberof nails in the two shoes is not the same. In the sole of the prisoner'sright shoe there are forty nails; in that of the murderer there areforty-one. The murderer has one nail too many."

  There was a deathly silence in the court as the magistrates and Mr.Bashfield pored over the moulds and the prisoner's shoes, and examinedthe photographs against the light. Then the chairman asked: "Are theseall the facts, or have you something more to tell us?" He was evidentlyanxious to get the key to this riddle.

  "There is more evidence, your Worship," said Anstey.
"The witnessexamined the body of deceased." Then, turning to Thorndyke, he asked:

  "You were present at the _post-mortem_ examination?"

  "I was."

  "Did you form any opinion as to the cause of death?"

  "Yes. I came to the conclusion that death was occasioned by an overdoseof morphia."

  A universal gasp of amazement greeted this statement. Then the presidingmagistrate protested breathlessly:

  "But there was a wound, which we have been told was capable of causinginstantaneous death. Was that not the case?"

  "There was undoubtedly such a wound," replied Thorndyke. "But when thatwound was inflicted the deceased had already been dead from a quarter tohalf an hour."

  "This is incredible!" exclaimed the magistrate. "But, no doubt, you cangive us your reasons for this amazing conclusion?"

  "My opinion," said Thorndyke, "was based on several facts. In the firstplace, a wound inflicted on a living body gapes rather widely, owing tothe retraction of the living skin. The skin of a dead body does notretract, and the wound, consequently, does not gape. This wound gapedvery slightly, showing that death was recent, I should say, within halfan hour. Then a wound on the living body becomes filled with blood, andblood is shed freely on the clothing. But the wound on the deceasedcontained only a little blood-clot. There was hardly any blood on theclothing, and I had already noticed that there was none on the sandwhere the body had lain."

  "And you consider this quite conclusive?" the magistrate askeddoubtfully.

  "I do," answered Thorndyke. "But there was other evidence which wasbeyond all question. The weapon had partially divided both the aorta andthe pulmonary artery--the main arteries of the body. Now, during life,these great vessels are full of blood at a high internal pressure,whereas after death they become almost empty. It follows that, if thiswound had been inflicted during life, the cavity in which those vesselslie would have become filled with blood. As a matter of fact, itcontained practically no blood, only the merest oozing from some smallveins, so that it is certain that the wound was inflicted after death.The presence and nature of the poison I ascertained by analyzing certainsecretions from the body, and the analysis enabled me to judge that thequantity of the poison was large; but the contents of the stomach weresent to Professor Copland for more exact examination."

  "Is the result of Professor Copland's analysis known?" the magistrateasked Anstey.

  "The professor is here, your Worship," replied Anstey, "and is preparedto swear to having obtained over one grain of morphia from the contentsof the stomach; and as this, which is in itself a poisonous dose, isonly the unabsorbed residue of what was actually swallowed, the totalquantity taken must have been very large indeed."

  "Thank you," said the magistrate. "And now, Dr. Thorndyke, if you havegiven us all the facts, perhaps you will tell us what conclusions youhave drawn from them."

  "The facts which I have stated," said Thorndyke, "appear to me toindicate the following sequence of events. The deceased died aboutmidnight on September 27, from the effects of a poisonous dose ofmorphia, how or by whom administered I offer no opinion. I think thathis body was conveyed in a boat to Sundersley Gap. The boat probablycontained three men, of whom one remained in charge of it, one walkedup the Gap and along the cliff towards St. Bridget's Bay, and the third,having put on the shoes of the deceased, carried the body along theshore to the Bay. This would account for the great depth and shortstride of the tracks that have been spoken of as those of the deceased.Having reached the Bay, I believe that this man laid the corpse down onhis tracks, and then trampled the sand in the neighbourhood. He nexttook off deceased's shoes and put them on the corpse; then he put on apair of boots or shoes which he had been carrying--perhaps hung roundhis neck--and which had been prepared with nails to imitate Draper'sshoes. In these shoes he again trampled over the area near the corpse.Then he walked backwards to the Shepherd's Path, and from it again,still backwards, to the face of the cliff. Here his accomplice hadlowered a rope, by which he climbed up to the top. At the top he tookoff the nailed shoes, and the two men walked back to the Gap, where theman who had carried the rope took his confederate on his back, andcarried him down to the boat to avoid leaving the tracks of stockingedfeet. The tracks that I saw at the Gap certainly indicated that the manwas carrying something very heavy when he returned to the boat."

  "But why should the man have climbed a rope up the cliff when he couldhave walked up the Shepherd's Path?" the magistrate asked.

  "Because," replied Thorndyke, "there would then have been a set oftracks leading out of the Bay without a corresponding set leading intoit; and this would have instantly suggested to a smartpolice-officer--such as Sergeant Payne--a landing from a boat."

  "Your explanation is highly ingenious," said the magistrate, "andappears to cover all the very remarkable facts. Have you anything moreto tell us?"

  "No, your Worship," was the reply, "excepting" (here he took from Poltonthe last pair of moulds and passed them up to the magistrate) "that youwill probably find these moulds of importance presently."

  As Thorndyke stepped from the box--for there was nocross-examination--the magistrates scrutinized the moulds with an air ofperplexity; but they were too discreet to make any remark.

  When the evidence of Professor Copland (which showed that anunquestionably lethal dose of morphia must have been swallowed) had beentaken, the clerk called out the--to me--unfamiliar name of Jacob Gummer.Thereupon an enormous pair of brown dreadnought trousers, from the upperend of which a smack-boy's head and shoulders protruded, walked into thewitness-box.

  Jacob admitted at the outset that he was a smack-master's apprentice,and that he had been "hired out" by his master to one Mr. Jezzard asdeck-hand and cabin-boy of the yacht _Otter_.

  "Now, Gummer," said Anstey, "do you remember the prisoner coming onboard the yacht?"

  "Yes. He has been on board twice. The first time was about a month ago.He went for a sail with us then. The second time was on the night whenMr. Hearn was murdered."

  "Do you remember what sort of boots the prisoner was wearing the firsttime he came?"

  "Yes. They were shoes with a lot of nails in the soles. I remember thembecause Mr. Jezzard made him take them off and put on a canvas pair."

  "What was done with the nailed shoes?"

  "Mr. Jezzard took 'em below to the cabin."

  "And did Mr. Jezzard come up on deck again directly?"

  "No. He stayed down in the cabin about ten minutes."

  "Do you remember a parcel being delivered on board from a Londonboot-maker?"

  "Yes. The postman brought it about four or five days after Mr. Draperhad been on board. It was labelled 'Walker Bros., Boot and Shoe Makers,London.' Mr. Jezzard took a pair of shoes from it, for I saw them on thelocker in the cabin the same day."

  "Did you ever see him wear them?"

  "No. I never see 'em again."

  "Have you ever heard sounds of hammering on the yacht?"

  "Yes. The night after the parcel came I was on the quay alongside, and Iheard someone a-hammering in the cabin."

  "What did the hammering sound like?"

  "It sounded like a cobbler a-hammering in nails."

  "Have you over seen any boot-nails on the yacht?"

  "Yes. When I was a-clearin' up the cabin the next mornin', I found ahobnail on the floor in a corner by the locker."

  "Were you on board on the night when Mr. Hearn died?"

  "Yes. I'd been ashore, but I came aboard about half-past nine."

  "Did you see Mr. Hearn go ashore?"

  "I see him leave the yacht. I had turned into my bunk and gone to sleep,when Mr. Jezzard calls down to me: 'We're putting Mr. Hearn ashore,'says he; 'and then,' he says, 'we're a-going for an hour's fishing. Youneedn't sit up,' he says, and with that he shuts the scuttle. Then I gotup and slid back the scuttle and put my head out, and I see Mr. Jezzardand Mr. Leach a-helpin' Mr. Hearn acrost the deck. Mr. Hearn he lookedas if he was drunk. They got him into the boa
t--and a rare job theyhad--and Mr. Pitford, what was in the boat already, he pushed off. Andthen I popped my head in again, 'cause I didn't want them to see me."

  "Did they row to the steps?"

  "No. I put my head out again when they were gone, and I heard 'em rowround the yacht, and then pull out towards the mouth of the harbour. Icouldn't see the boat, 'cause it was a very dark night."

  "Very well. Now I am going to ask you about another matter. Do you knowanyone of the name of Polton?"

  "Yes," replied Gummer, turning a dusky red. "I've just found out hisreal name. I thought he was called Simmons."

  "Tell us what you know about him," said Anstey, with a mischievoussmile.

  "Well," said the boy, with a ferocious scowl at the bland and smilingPolton, "one day he come down to the yacht when the gentlemen had goneashore. I believe he'd seen 'em go. And he offers me ten shillin' to lethim see all the boots and shoes we'd got on board. I didn't see no harm,so I turns out the whole lot in the cabin for him to look at. While hewas lookin' at 'em he asks me to fetch a pair of mine from the fo'c'sle,so I fetches 'em. When I come back he was pitchin' the boots and shoesback into the locker. Then, presently, he nips off, and when he wasgone I looked over the shoes, and then I found there was a pair missing.They was an old pair of Mr. Jezzard's, and what made him nick 'em ismore than I can understand."

  "Would you know those shoes if you saw them!"

  "Yes, I should," replied the lad.

  "Are these the pair?" Anstey handed the boy a pair of dilapidated canvasshoes, which he seized eagerly.

  "Yes, these is the ones what he stole!" he exclaimed.

  Anstey took them back from the boy's reluctant hands, and passed them upto the magistrate's desk. "I think," said he, "that if your Worship willcompare these shoes with the last pair of moulds, you will have no doubtthat these are the shoes which made the footprints from the sea toSundersley Gap and back again."

  The magistrates together compared the shoes and the moulds amidst abreathless silence. At length the chairman laid them down on the desk.

  "It is impossible to doubt it," said he. "The broken heel and the tearin the rubber sole, with the remains of the chequered pattern, make theidentity practically certain."

  As the chairman made this statement I involuntarily glanced round to theplace where Jezzard was sitting. But he was not there; neither he, norPitford, nor Leach. Taking advantage of the preoccupation of the Court,they had quietly slipped out of the door. But I was not the only personwho had noted their absence. The inspector and the sergeant were alreadyin earnest consultation, and a minute later they, too, hurriedlydeparted.

  The proceedings now speedily came to an end. After a brief discussionwith his brother-magistrates, the chairman addressed the Court.

  "The remarkable and I may say startling evidence, which has been heardin this court to-day, if it has not fixed the guilt of this crime on anyindividual, has, at any rate, made it clear to our satisfaction that theprisoner is not the guilty person, and he is accordingly discharged. Mr.Draper, I have great pleasure in informing you that you are at libertyto leave the court, and that you do so entirely clear of all suspicion;and I congratulate you very heartily on the skill and ingenuity of yourlegal advisers, but for which the decision of the Court would, I amafraid, have been very different."

  That evening, lawyers, witnesses, and the jubilant and grateful clientgathered round a truly festive board to dine, and fight over again thebattle of the day. But we were scarcely halfway through our meal when,to the indignation of the servants, Sergeant Payne burst breathlesslyinto the room.

  "They've gone, sir!" he exclaimed, addressing Thorndyke. "They've givenus the slip for good."

  "Why, how can that be?" asked Thorndyke.

  "They're dead, sir! All three of them!"

  "Dead!" we all exclaimed.

  "Yes. They made a burst for the yacht when they left the court, and theygot on board and put out to sea at once, hoping, no doubt, to get clearas the light was just failing. But they were in such a hurry that theydid not see a steam trawler that was entering, and was hidden by thepier. Then, just at the entrance, as the yacht was creeping out, thetrawler hit her amidships, and fairly cut her in two. The three men werein the water in an instant, and were swept away in the eddy behind thenorth pier; and before any boat could put out to them they had all goneunder. Jezzard's body came up on the beach just as I was coming away."

  We were all silent and a little awed, but if any of us felt regret atthe catastrophe, it was at the thought that three such cold-bloodedvillains should have made so easy an exit; and to one of us, at least,the news came as a blessed relief.