Читать книгу The Peer and the Woman - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 8

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The next witness summoned before the coroner was the doctor, whose evidence was short and to the point. He described the means by which the deceased had met with his death as a complete severance of the jugular vein by one sweeping cut. Only the sharpest of knives and the strongest of arms, he added impressively, could have succeeded in inflicting such a ghastly wound—the most ferocious he had ever seen. The bruises on the cheek he had no hesitation in saying were caused by the convulsive grasp of the murderer while in the act of performing the hideous deed.

The coroner asked him only three questions.

"Could the wound which you have been describing have been self-inflicted?"

"Not easily," was the emphatic answer. "Had the wound gone an inch further it would have been a physical impossibility."

"How long did it strike you that, deceased had been dead after you were called in?"

"I examined him with a view of being able to answer that question. Scarcely more than two hours, I should think."

"Did you notice anything in the condition or disarrangement of the room which seemed to indicate any struggle between the murderer and the deceased?"

"Nothing. My idea is that the murderer stole quietly up to the back of the deceased's chair, and, leaning over, placed his hand over his mouth, in which case the points of his fingers would just reach the bruised part of his face; and then, drawing his head back with a quick movement, cut his throat."

A little shudder passed round the table at this graphic description, which the witness had been illustrating by gestures and a sweeping cut of his own throat with the edge of his hand. The doctor looked a little surprised. He didn't understand such a feeling. To him the technical details of the affair were far more interesting than its ethical horrors. But then he was a specialist and had no imagination.

The next witness was the last of any consequence. James Armson was called, and the Scotland Yard detective entered the room closely followed by Lord Clanavon. The latter quietly resumed his old seat and turned at once eagerly to the detective, listening to every word he uttered with keen anxiety.

Lord Clanavon, who recognized the fact that upon this man's capabilities would depend chiefly his chances of discovering his father's murderer, was not altogether impressed by his appearance. But he changed his opinion somewhat after listening to the concise and yet guarded manner in which he gave his evidence.

"Will you tell us, Mr. Armson," the coroner asked, "the history of your connection with this case as far as it has gone?"

The detective bowed respectfully, and told the story in a professional manner.

"I was talking to P.C. Chopping at the corner of Belton Street about seven o'clock on the morning in question when a footman turned the corner of Grosvenor Square and came running toward us. He was very incoherent, but we gathered from him that a murder had been committed at his master's house, and that he was anxious for P. C. Chopping to proceed there at once. We all set off together, and he brought us here and into the library. Lord Alceston was lying in the chair exactly as described by a former witness. The doctor and the witness Rogers were the only other occupants of the room. I immediately locked the door and while the doctor was examining deceased I made an inspection of the room. My first discovery was that there was a secret door opening out into Burton Street and that it was unlocked. I was also able to trace faint drops of blood between the door and the chair where the deceased man lay, which suggested to me that the murderer made his escape by that door, carrying in his hand the weapon which he had been using. Later in the morning a milkman brought to Scotland Yard the pocket-handkerchief and knife now in possession the coroner, which he picked up a few yards down the street."

The detective paused and waited while the articles he mentioned were produced and handed round. The handkerchief was a fine cambric one, but unmarked and was soaked and clotted with blood. The knife was distinctly a curiosity. The blade was curved slight in the shape of a scimiter, and was of exquisite steel sharpened both sides, and with an edge as keen as a razor's. The handle was curiously shaped and carved and was evidently of foreign workmanship. Altogether as a piece of evidence, the milkman's find was a most important one.

The detective had little else to say of importance and the other witnesses less. Then an adjournment was made to the library. No fresh discovery was made but it became evident to all how easy the committal of the crime might have been, supposing it to have been accomplished according to the general theory. The lock of the secret door behind the screen opened noiselessly, and the edges of the door were cased in india-rubber. The carpet was thick and soft as velvet, and the distance from the termination of the screen to the chair in which Lord Alceston had been sitting was scarcely more than a dozen yards.

Two further points were cleared up. The first of was with regard to the key of the door behind the screen, which, it was ascertained, had been discovered in the keyhole outside. The second was concerning the bank-notes which, according to Lady Alceston's evidence, the murdered man had in his possession. No trace was found of these, either on the person of the deceased or among his effects. The inference Was obvious—they had been taken away by the murderer, and who but Neillson could have known that his master had such a sum in his possession?

The coroner and his jurymen returned to the dining-room and were left to themselves while they considered their verdict. Lord Clanavon, after a few minutes' hesitation, walking up and down the hall with his hands behind him, made his way into the servants' quarters and asked for Burdett.

"Do you remember how long Neillson has been here, and where he came from?" he asked.

"He's been here longer than I can remember, my lord," Burdett answered, promptly. "We've just been reckoning it up; and a nicer, quieter, steadier sort o' chap I never knew. We can't none of us believe that he's had anything to do with this," he added.

"Neither can I," Lord Clanavon answered. "I liked Neillson. Do you know where he was before he came here?"

Burdett shook his head. "It's a strange thing, my lord, but I never heard him mention it. He was a quiet sort of a man about his own affairs—wonderfully close."

"He had pretty good wages, I suppose?"

"He had a hundred and fifty a y ear, my lord, and Groves, the butler, says that he couldn't have spent the odd fifty. He was a saving man, although he wasn't what you could call mean."

Lord Clanavon returned to his own little apartment on the ground-floor, feeling a little more bewildered than ever. Just as he entered it the dining-room door opened, and he heard the verdict passed from one to another—

"Wilful murder against Philip Neillson."