The Vanishing Man Page 10

  CHAPTER X

  THE NEW ALLIANCE

  The "Great Lexicographer"--tutelary deity of my adopted habitat--hashanded down to shuddering posterity a definition of the act of eatingwhich might have been framed by a dyspeptic ghoul. "Eat: to devour withthe mouth." It is a shocking view to take of so genial a function:cynical, indelicate, and finally unforgivable by reason of its veryaccuracy. For, after all, that is what eating amounts to, if one mustneeds express it with such crude brutality. But if "the ingestion ofalimentary substances"--to ring a modern change upon the olderformula--is in itself a process material even unto carnality, it isundeniable that it forms a highly agreeable accompaniment to morepsychic manifestations.

  And so, as the lamplight, re-enforced by accessory candles, falls on thelittle table in the first-floor room looking on Fetter Lane--only nowthe curtains are drawn--the conversation is not the less friendly andbright for a running accompaniment executed with knives and forks, forclink of goblet and jovial gurgle of wine-flask. On the contrary, to oneof us, at least--to wit, Godfrey Bellingham--the occasion is one ofuncommon festivity, and his boyish enjoyment of the simple feast makespathetic suggestions of hard times, faced uncomplainingly, but keenlyfelt nevertheless.

  The talk flitted from topic to topic, mainly concerning itself withmatters artistic, and never for one moment approaching the criticalsubject of John Bellingham's will. From the stepped pyramid of Sakkarawith its encaustic tiles to mediaeval church floors; from Elizabethanwoodwork to Mycaenaean pottery, and thence to the industrial arts of theStone Age and the civilisation of the Aztecs. I began to suspect that mytwo legal friends were so carried away by the interest of theconversation that they had forgotten the secret purpose of the meeting,for the dessert had been placed on the table (by Mrs. Gummer with themanner of a bereaved dependant dispensing funeral bakemeats), and stillno reference had been made to the "case." But it seemed that Thorndykewas but playing a waiting game; was only allowing the intimacy to ripenwhile he watched for the opportunity. And that opportunity came, even asMrs. Gummer vanished spectrally with a tray of plates and glasses.

  "So you had a visitor last night, Doctor," said Mr. Bellingham. "I meanmy friend Jellicoe. He told us he had seen you, and mighty curious hewas about you. I have never known Jellicoe to be so inquisitive before.What did you think of him?"

  "A quaint old cock. I found him highly amusing. We entertained oneanother for quite a long time with cross questions and crooked answers;I affecting eager curiosity, he replying with a defensive attitude ofuniversal ignorance. It was a most diverting encounter."

  "He needn't have been so close," Miss Bellingham remarked, "seeing thatall the world will be regaled with our affairs before long."

  "They are proposing to take the case into Court, then?" said Thorndyke.

  "Yes," said Mr. Bellingham. "Jellicoe came to tell me that my cousin,Hurst, has instructed his solicitors to make the application and toinvite me to join him. Actually he came to deliver an ultimatum fromHurst--But, I mustn't disturb the harmony of this festive gathering withlitigious discords."

  "Now, why mustn't you?" asked Thorndyke. "Why is a subject in which weare all keenly interested to be _tabu_? You don't mind telling us aboutit, do you?"

  "No, of course not. But what do you think of a man who buttonholes adoctor at a dinner-party to retail a list of his ailments?"

  "It depends on what his ailments are," replied Thorndyke. "If he is achronic dyspeptic and wishes to expound the virtues of Doctor Snaffler'sPurple Pills for Pimply People, he is merely a bore. But if he chancesto suffer from some rare and choice disease, such as Trypanosomiasis orAcromegaly, the doctor will be delighted to listen."

  "Then are we to understand," Miss Bellingham asked, "that we are rareand choice products, in a legal sense?"

  "Undoubtedly," replied Thorndyke. "The case of John Bellingham is, inmany respects, unique. It will be followed with the deepest interest bythe profession at large, and especially by medical jurists."

  "How gratifying that should be to us!" said Miss Bellingham. "We mayeven attain undying fame in textbooks and treatises; and yet we are notso very much puffed up with our importance."

  "No," said her father; "we could do without the fame quite well, andso, I think, could Hurst. Did Berkeley tell you of the proposal that hemade?"

  "Yes," said Thorndyke; "and I gather from what you say that he hasrepeated it."

  "Yes. He sent Jellicoe to give me another chance, and I was tempted totake it; but my daughter was strongly against any compromise, andprobably she is right. At any rate, she is more concerned than I am."

  "What view did Mr. Jellicoe take?" Thorndyke asked.

  "Oh, he was very cautious and reserved, but he didn't disguise hisfeeling that I should be wise to take a certainty in lieu of a veryproblematical fortune. He would certainly like me to agree, for henaturally wishes to get the affair settled and pocket his legacy."

  "And have you definitely refused?"

  "Yes; quite definitely. So Hurst will apply for permission to presumedeath and prove the will, and Jellicoe will support him; he says he hasno choice."

  "And you?"

  "I suppose I shall oppose the application, though I don't quite know onwhat grounds."

  "Before you take any definite steps," said Thorndyke, "you ought to givethe matter very careful consideration. I take it that you have verylittle doubt that your brother is dead. And if he is dead, any benefitthat you may receive under the will must be conditional on the previousassumption or proof of death. But perhaps you have taken advice?"

  "No, I have not. As our friend the Doctor has probably told you, mymeans--or rather, the lack of them--do not admit of my gettingprofessional advice. Hence my delicacy about discussing the case withyou."

  "Then do you propose to conduct your case in person?"

  "Yes; if it is necessary for me to appear in Court, as I suppose it willbe, if I oppose the application."

  Thorndyke reflected for a few moments, and then said gravely:

  "You had much better not appear in person to conduct your case, Mr.Bellingham, for several reasons. To begin with, Mr. Hurst is sure to berepresented by a capable counsel, and you will find yourself quiteunable to meet the sudden exigencies of a contest in Court. You will beout-manoeuvred. Then there is the judge to be considered."

  "But surely one can rely on the judge dealing fairly with a man who isunable to afford a solicitor and counsel?"

  "Undoubtedly, as a rule, a judge will give an unrepresented litigantevery assistance and consideration. English judges in general arehigh-minded men with a deep sense of their great responsibilities. Butyou cannot afford to take any chances. You must consider the exceptions.A judge has been a counsel, and he may carry to the bench some of theprofessional prejudices of the bar. Indeed, if you consider the absurdlicence permitted to counsel in their treatment of witnesses, and thehostile attitude adopted by some judges towards medical and otherscientific men who have to give their evidence, you will see that thejudicial mind is not always quite as judicial as one would wish,especially when the privileges and immunities of the profession areconcerned. Now, your appearance in person to conduct your case must,unavoidably, cause some inconvenience to the Court. Your ignorance ofprocedure and legal details must occasion some delay; and if the judgeshould happen to be an irritable man he might resent the inconvenienceand delay. I don't say that that would affect his decision--I don'tthink it would--but I am sure that it would be wise to avoid givingoffence to the judge. And, above all, it is most desirable to be able todetect and reply to any manoeuvres on the part of the opposing counsel,which you certainly would not be able to do."

  "This is excellent advice, Doctor Thorndyke," said Bellingham, with agrim smile; "but I am afraid I shall have to take my chance."

  "Not necessarily," said Thorndyke. "I am going to make a littleproposal, which I will ask you to consider without prejudice as a mutualaccommodation. You see, your case is one of exceptional interest--itwill become a tex
tbook case, as Miss Bellingham has prophesied; and,since it lies within my specialty, it will be necessary for me, in anycase, to follow it in the closest detail. Now, it would be much moresatisfactory to me to study it from within than from without, to saynothing of the credit which would accrue to me if I should be able toconduct it to a successful issue. I am therefore going to ask you to putyour case in my hands and let me see what can be done with it. I knowthis is an unusual course for a professional man to take, but I think itis not improper under the circumstances."

  Mr. Bellingham pondered in silence for a few moments, and then, after aglance at his daughter, began rather hesitatingly: "It is exceedinglygenerous of you, Doctor Thorndyke--"

  "Pardon me," interrupted Thorndyke, "it is not. My motives, as I haveexplained, are purely egoistic."

  Mr. Bellingham laughed uneasily and again glanced at his daughter, who,however, pursued her occupation of peeling a pear with calm deliberationand without lifting her eyes. Getting no help from her, he asked: "Doyou think that there is any possibility whatever of a successful issue?"

  "Yes, a remote possibility--very remote, I fear, as things look atpresent; but if I thought the case absolutely hopeless I should adviseyou to stand aside and let events take their course."

  "Supposing the case to come to a favourable termination, would you allowme to settle your fees in the ordinary way?"

  "If the choice lay with me," replied Thorndyke, "I should say 'yes' withpleasure. But it does not. The attitude of the profession is verydefinitely unfavourable to 'speculative' practice. You may remember thewell-known firm of Dodson and Fogg, who gained thereby much profit, butlittle credit. But why discuss contingencies of this kind? If I bringyour case to a successful issue I shall have done very well for myself.We shall have benefited one another mutually. Come now, Miss Bellingham,I appeal to you. We have eaten salt together, to say nothing of pigeonpie and other cates. Won't you back me up, and at the same time do akindness to Doctor Berkeley?"

  "Why, is Doctor Berkeley interested in our decision?"

  "Certainly he is, as you will appreciate when I tell you that heactually tried to bribe me secretly out of his own pocket."

  "Did you?" she asked, looking at me with an expression that ratheralarmed me.

  "Well, not exactly," I replied, mighty hot and uncomfortable, andwishing Thorndyke at the devil with his confidences. "I merely mentionedthat the--the--solicitor's costs, you know, and that sort of thing--butyou needn't jump on me, Miss Bellingham; Doctor Thorndyke did all thatwas necessary in that way."

  She continued to look at me thoughtfully as I stammered out my excuses,and then said: "I wasn't going to. I was only thinking that poverty hasits compensations. You are all so very good to us; and, for my part, Ishould accept Doctor Thorndyke's generous offer most gratefully, andthank him for making it so easy for us."

  "Very well, my dear," said Mr. Bellingham; "we will enjoy the sweets ofpoverty, as you say--we have sampled the other kind of thing prettyfreely--and do ourselves the pleasure of accepting a great kindness,most delicately offered."

  "Thank you," said Thorndyke. "You have justified my faith in you, MissBellingham, and in the power of Doctor Berkeley's salt. I understandthat you place your affairs in my hands?"

  "Entirely and thankfully," replied Mr. Bellingham. "Whatever you thinkbest to be done we agree to beforehand."

  "Then," said I, "let us drink success to the Cause. Port, if you please,Miss Bellingham; the vintage is not recorded, but it is quite wholesome,and a suitable medium for the sodium chloride of friendship." I filledher glass, and, when the bottle had made its circuit, we stood up andsolemnly pledged the new alliance.

  "There is just one thing that I would say before we dismiss the subjectfor the present," said Thorndyke. "It is a good thing to keep one's owncounsel. When you get formal notice from Mr. Hurst's solicitors thatproceedings are being commenced, you may refer them to Mr. Marchmont ofGray's Inn, who will nominally act for you. He will actually havenothing to do, but we must preserve the fiction that I am instructed bya solicitor. Meanwhile, and until the case goes into Court, I think itvery necessary that neither Mr. Jellicoe nor anyone else should knowthat I am to be connected with it. We must keep the other side in thedark, if we can."

  "We will be as secret as the grave," said Mr. Bellingham; "and, as amatter of fact, it will be quite easy, since it happens, by a curiouscoincidence, that I am already acquainted with Mr. Marchmont. He actedfor Stephen Blackmore, you remember, in that case that you unravelled sowonderfully. I knew the Blackmores."

  "Did you?" said Thorndyke. "What a small world it is! And what aremarkable affair that was! The intricacies and cross-issues made itquite absorbingly interesting; and it is noteworthy for me in anotherrespect, for it was one of the first cases in which I was associatedwith Doctor Jervis."

  "Yes, and a mighty useful associate I was," remarked Jervis, "though Idid pick up one or two facts by accident. And, by the way, the Blackmorecase had certain points in common with your case, Mr. Bellingham. Therewas a disappearance and a disputed will, and the man who vanished was ascholar and an antiquarian."

  "Cases in our specialty are apt to have certain general resemblances,"said Thorndyke; and as he spoke he directed a keen glance at his junior,the significance of which I partly understood when he abruptly changedthe subject.

  "The newspaper reports of your brother's disappearance, Mr. Bellingham,were remarkably full of detail. There were even plans of your house andthat of Mr. Hurst. Do you know who supplied the information?"

  "No, I don't," replied Mr. Bellingham. "I know that I didn't. Somenewspaper men came to me for information, but I sent them packing. So, Iunderstand, did Hurst; and as for Jellicoe, you might as wellcross-examine an oyster."

  "Well," said Thorndyke, "the Press-men have queer methods of getting'copy'; but still, someone must have given them that description of yourbrother and those plans. It would be interesting to know who it was.However, we don't know; and now let us dismiss these legal topics, withsuitable apologies for having introduced them."

  "And perhaps," said I, "we may as well adjourn to what we will call thedrawing-room--it is really Barnard's den--and leave the housekeeper towrestle with the debris."

  We migrated to the cheerfully shabby little apartment, and, when Mrs.Gummer had served coffee, with gloomy resignation (as who should say:"If you will drink this sort of stuff I suppose you must, but don'tblame _me_ for the consequences"), I settled Mr. Bellingham in Barnard'sfavourite lop-sided easy chair--the depressed seat of which suggestedits customary use by an elephant of sedentary habits--and opened thediminutive piano.

  "I wonder if Miss Bellingham would give us a little music?" I said.

  "I wonder if she could?" was the smiling response. "Do you know," shecontinued, "I have not touched a piano for nearly two years? It will bequite an interesting experiment--to me; but if it fails, you will be thesufferers. So you must choose."

  "My verdict," said Mr. Bellingham, "is _fiat experimentum_, though Iwon't complete the quotation, as that would seem to disparage DoctorBarnard's piano. But before you begin, Ruth, there is one ratherdisagreeable matter that I want to dispose of, so that I may not disturbthe harmony with it later."

  He paused, and we all looked at him expectantly.

  "I suppose, Doctor Thorndyke," he said, "you read the newspapers?"

  "I don't," replied Thorndyke. "But I ascertain, for purely businesspurposes, what they contain."

  "Then," said Mr. Bellingham, "you have probably met with some accountsof the finding of certain human remains, apparently portions of amutilated body?"

  "Yes, I have seen those reports and filed them for future reference."

  "Exactly. Well, now, it can hardly be necessary for me to tell you thatthose remains--the mutilated remains of some poor murdered creature, asthere can be no doubt they are--have seemed to have a very dreadfulsignificance for me. You will understand what I mean; and I want to askyou if--if they have made a similar suggestion to y
ou."

  Thorndyke paused before replying, with his eyes bent thoughtfully onthe floor, and we all looked at him anxiously.

  "It is very natural," he said at length, "that you should associatethese remains with the mystery of your brother's disappearance. I shouldlike to say that you are wrong in doing so, but if I did I should beuncandid. There are certain facts that do, undoubtedly, seem to suggesta connection, and, up to the present, there are no definite facts of acontrary significance."

  Mr. Bellingham sighed deeply and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  "It is a horrible affair!" he said huskily; "horrible! Would you mind,Doctor Thorndyke, telling us just how the matter stands in youropinion--what the probabilities are, for and against?"

  Again Thorndyke reflected awhile, and it seemed to me that he was notvery willing to discuss the subject. However, the question had beenasked pointedly, and eventually he answered:

  "At the present stage of the investigation it is not very easy to statethe balance of probabilities. The matter is still quite speculative. Thebones which have been found hitherto (for we are dealing with askeleton, not with a body) have been exclusively those which are uselessfor personal identification; which is, in itself, a rather curious andstriking fact. The general character and dimensions of the bones seem tosuggest a middle-aged man of about your brother's height, and the dateof deposition appears to be in agreement with the date of hisdisappearance."

  "Is it known, then, when they were deposited?" Mr. Bellingham asked.

  "In the case of those found at Sidcup it seems possible to deduce anapproximate date. The watercress-bed was cleaned out about two yearsago, so they could not have been lying there longer than that; and theircondition suggests that they could not have been there much less thantwo years, as there is apparently not a vestige of the soft structuresleft. Of course, I am speaking from the newspaper reports only; I haveno direct knowledge of the matter."

  "Have they found any considerable part of the body yet? I haven't beenreading the papers myself. My little friend, Miss Oman, brought a greatbundle of 'em for me to read, but I couldn't stand it; I pitched thewhole boiling of 'em out of the window."

  I thought I detected a slight twinkle in Thorndyke's eye, but heanswered quite gravely:

  "I think I can give you the particulars from memory, though I won'tguarantee the dates. The original discovery was made, apparently quiteaccidentally, at Sidcup on the fifteenth of July. It consisted of acomplete left arm, minus the third finger and including the bones of theshoulder--the shoulder-blade and collar-bone. This discovery seems tohave set the local population, especially the juvenile part of it,searching all the ponds and streams of the neighbourhood--"

  "Cannibals!" interjected Mr. Bellingham.

  "With the result that there was dredged up out of a pond near St. MaryCray, in Kent, a right thigh-bone. There is a slight clue to identity inrespect of this bone, since the head of it has a small patch of what iscalled 'eburnation'--that is a sort of porcelain-like polish that occurson the parts of bones that form a joint when the natural covering ofcartilage is destroyed by disease. It is produced by the unprotectedsurface of one bone grinding against the similarly unprotected surfaceof another."

  "And how," Mr. Bellingham asked, "would that help the identification?"

  "It would indicate," replied Thorndyke, "that the deceased had probablysuffered from rheumatoid arthritis--what is commonly known as rheumaticgout--and he would probably have limped slightly and complained of somepain in the right hip."

  "I am afraid that doesn't help us much," said Mr. Bellingham; "for, yousee, John had a pretty pronounced limp from another cause, an old injuryto his left ankle; and as to complaining of pain--well, he was a hardyold fellow and not much given to making complaints of any kind. Butdon't let me interrupt you."

  "The next discovery," continued Thorndyke, "was made near Lee, by thepolice this time. They seem to have developed sudden activity in thematter, and in searching the neighbourhood of West Kent they dragged outof a pond near Lee the bones of a right foot. Now, if it had been theleft instead of the right we might have had a clue, as I understand thatyour brother had fractured his left ankle, and there might have beensome traces of the injury on the foot itself."

  "Yes," said Mr. Bellingham, "I suppose there might. The injury wasdescribed as a Pott's fracture."

  "Exactly. Well, now, after this discovery at Lee it seems that thepolice set on foot a systematic search of all the ponds and small piecesof water around London, and on the twenty-third, they found in theCuckoo Pits in Epping Forest, not far from Woodford, the bones of aright arm (including those of the shoulder, as before), which seem to bepart of the same body."

  "Yes," said Mr. Bellingham, "I heard of that. Quite close to my oldhouse. Horrible! horrible! It gave me the shudders to think of it--tothink that poor old John may have been waylaid and murdered when he wasactually coming to see me. He may even have got into the grounds by theback gate, if it was left unfastened, and been followed in there andmurdered. You remember that a scarab from his watch-chain was foundthere? But is it clear that this arm was the fellow of the arm that wasfound at Sidcup?"

  "It seems to agree in character and dimensions," said Thorndyke, "andthe agreement is strongly supported by a discovery that was made twodays later."

  "What is that?" Mr. Bellingham demanded.

  "It is the lower half of a trunk which the police dredged out of arather deep pond on the skirts of the forest at Loughton--Staple's Pond,it is called. The bones found were the pelvis--that is, the twohipbones--and six vertebrae, or joints of the backbone. Havingdiscovered these, the police dammed the stream and pumped the pond dry,but no other bones were found; which is rather odd, as there should havebeen a pair of ribs belonging to the upper vertebra--the twelfth dorsalvertebra. It suggests some curious questions as to the method ofdismemberment; but I mustn't go into unpleasant details. The point isthat the cavity of the right hip-joint showed a patch of eburnationcorresponding to that on the head of the right thigh-bone that was foundat St. Mary Cray. So there can be very little doubt that these bones areall part of the same body."

  "I see," grunted Mr. Bellingham; and he added, after a moment'sthought: "Now, the question is, Are these bones the remains of mybrother John? What do you say, Doctor Thorndyke?"

  "I say that the question cannot be answered on the facts at presentknown to us. It can only be said that they may be, and that some of thecircumstances suggest that they are. But we can only wait for furtherdiscoveries. At any moment the police may light upon some portion of theskeleton which will settle the question definitely one way or theother."

  "I suppose," said Mr. Bellingham, "I can't be of any service to you inthe matter of identification?"

  "Indeed you can," said Thorndyke, "and I was going to ask you to assistme. What I want you to do is this: Write down a full description of yourbrother, including every detail known to you, together with an accountof every illness or injury from which you know him to have suffered; andalso the names and, if possible, the addresses of any doctors, surgeons,or dentists who may have attended him at any time. The dentists areparticularly important, as their information would be invaluable if theskull belonging to these bones should be discovered."

  Mr. Bellingham shuddered.

  "It's a shocking idea," he said; "but, of course, you are quite right.You must have the facts if you are to form an opinion. I will write outwhat you want and send it to you without delay. And now, for God's sake,let us throw off this nightmare, for a little while, at least! What isthere, Ruth, among Doctor Barnard's music that you can manage?"

  Barnard's collection in general inclined to the severely classical, butwe disinterred from the heap a few lighter works of an old-fashionedkind, including a volume of Mendelssohn's _Lieder ohne Worte_, and withone of these Miss Bellingham made trial of her skill, playing it withexcellent taste and quite adequate execution. That, at least, was herfather's verdict; for, as to me, I found it the perfection of happ
inessmerely to sit and look at her--a state of mind that would have been inno wise disturbed even by _Silvery Waves_ or _The Maiden's Prayer_.

  Thus with simple, homely music, and conversation always cheerful andsometimes brilliant, slipped away one of the pleasantest evenings of mylife, and slipped away all too soon. St. Dunstan's clock was the fly inthe ointment, for it boomed out intrusively the hour of eleven just asmy guests were beginning thoroughly to appreciate one another; andthereby carried the sun (with a minor paternal satellite) out of thefirmament of my heaven. For I had, in my professional capacity, givenstrict injunctions that Mr. Bellingham should on no account sit up late;and now, in my social capacity, I had smilingly to hear "the doctor'sorders" quoted. It was a scurvy return for all my care.

  When Mr. and Miss Bellingham departed, Thorndyke and Jervis would havegone too; but noting my bereaved condition, and being withalcompassionate and tender of heart, they were persuaded to stay awhileand bear me company in a consolatory pipe.