Читать книгу The Case Of Miss Elliott - Baroness Orczy - Страница 6

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The man in the corner had long ceased speaking and was placing quietly before me a number of photographs. One by one I saw the series of faces which had been watched so eagerly in the coroner’s court that memorable afternoon by an excited crowd.

“So the fate of poor Miss Elliott has remained wrapt in mystery?” I said thoughtfully at last.

“To everyone,” rejoined the funny creature, “except to me.”

“Ah! What is your theory, then?”

“A simple one, dear lady; so simple that it really amazes me that no one, not even you, my faithful pupil, ever thought of it.”

“It may be so simple that it becomes idiotic,” I retorted with lofty disdain.

“Well, that may be. Shall I at any rate try to make it clear?”

“If you like.”

“For this I think the best way would be, if you were to follow me through what transpired before the inquest. But first tell me, what do you think of Dr Earnshaw’s statement?”

“Well,” I replied, “a good many people thought that it was he who murdered Miss Elliott, and that his story of meeting Dr Stapylton with her was a lie from beginning to end.”

“Impossible!” he retorted, making an elaborate knot in his bit of string. “Dr Earnshaw’s friends, with whom he had been dining that night, swore that he was not in evening dress, nor wore a high hat. And on that point— the evening dress, and the hat— Constable Fiske was most positive.”

“Then Dr Earnshaw was mistaken, and it was not Dr Stapylton he met.”

“Impossible!” he shrieked, whilst another knot went to join its fellows. “He spoke to Dr Stapylton, and Dr Stapylton spoke to him.”

“Very well, then,” I argued; “why should Dr Stapylton tell a lie about it? He had such a conclusive alibi that there could be no object in his making a false statement about that.”

“No object!” shrieked the excited creature. “Why, don’t you see that he had to tell the lie in order to set police, coroner, and jury by the ears, because he did not wish it to be even remotely hinted at, that the man whom Dr Earnshaw saw with Miss Elliott, and the man whom Constable Fiske saw with her ten minutes later, were two different persons?”

“Two different persons!” I ejaculated.

“Ay! two confederates in this villainy. No one has ever attempted to deny the truth of the shaky finances of the Home; no one has really denied that Miss Elliott suspected certain defalcations and was trying to force the hands of the Honorary Treasurer towards a full enquiry. That the Honorary Treasurer knew where all the money went to was pretty clear all along— his magnificent house in Hamilton Terrace fully testifies to that. That the President of the institution was a party to these defalcations and largely profited by them I for one am equally convinced.”

“Dr Kinnaird?” I ejaculated in amazement.

“Ay, Dr Kinnaird. Do you mean to tell me that he alone among the entire staff of that Home was ignorant of those defalcations? Impossible! And if he knew of them, and did neither enquire into them nor attempt to stop them, then he must have been a party to them. Do you admit that?”

“Yes, I admit that,” I replied.

“Very well, then. The rest is quite simple; those two men, unworthy to bear the noble appellation of doctor, must for years have quietly stolen the money subscribed by the benevolent for the Home, and converted it to their own use: then, they suddenly find themselves face to face with immediate discovery in the shape of a young girl determined to unmask the systematic frauds of the past few years. That meant exposure, disgrace, ruin for them both, and they determine to be rid of her.

“Under the pretence of an evening walk, her so-called lover entices her to a lonely and suitable spot; his confederate is close by, hidden in the shadows, ready to give his assistance if the girl struggles and screams. But suddenly Dr Earnshaw appears. He recognizes Stapylton and challenges him. For a moment the villains are nonplussed, then Kinnaird— the cleverer of the two— steps forward, greets the two lovers unconcernedly, and after two minutes’ conversation casually reminds Stapylton of an appointment the latter is presumed to have at a club in St James’s Street.

“The latter understands and takes the hint, takes a quick farewell of the girl, leaving her in his friend’s charge, then, as fast as he can, goes off, presently takes a cab, leaving his friend to do the deed, whilst the alibi he can prove, coupled with Dr Earnshaw’s statement, was sure to bewilder and mislead the police and the public.

“Thus it was that though Dr Earnshaw saw and recognized Dr Stapylton, Constable Fiske saw Dr Kinnaird, whom he did not recognize, on whom no suspicion had fallen, and whose name had never been coupled with that of Miss Elliott. When Constable Fiske had turned his back, Kinnaird murdered the girl and went off quietly, whilst Dr Stapylton, on whom all suspicions were bound to fasten sooner or later, was able to prove the most perfect alibi ever concocted.

“One day I feel certain that the frauds at the Home will be discovered, and then who knows what else may see the light?

“Think of it all quietly when I am gone, and tomorrow when we meet tell me whether if I am wrong what is your explanation of this extraordinary mystery.”

Before I could reply he had gone, and I was left wondering, gazing at the photographs of two good-looking, highly respectable and respected men, whom an animated scarecrow had just boldly accused of committing one of the most dastardly crimes ever recorded in our annals.