Читать книгу The Mystery of M. Felix - Farjeon Benjamin Leopold - Страница 11

"As was to be expected, the news of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix caused the greatest excitement. In small villages trifling incidents are sufficient to create an interest; in great cities events of magnitude are required to stir the pulses of the people; and in both village and city, to arouse the public from their normal condition of apathy, it is necessary that the incidents must have local color. Soho was sufficiently central, and, it may be added, sufficiently mixed and mysterious in the character of its population, to fulfil this imperative condition of popularity. Every resident in London knows the locality, and is to some extent familiar with it; it is contiguous to the most fashionable thoroughfares; it is within a stone's throw of theatres of magnificent proportions; it gives shelter to foreign princes deposed for a time from their high estate, and to foreign votaries of vice of both sexes who, being outlaws, cannot pursue their infamous courses in their native lands. If we were asked which part of London contains the most varied material for the weaving of modern romance we should unhesitatingly point to the region of Soho. A careless stroller through those thoroughfares little dreams of the strange and wondrous life which beats beneath the apparently placid, the undeniably squalid, aspect of this pregnant locality. The elderly woman, poorly clad and closely veiled, who glides past him is a prominent member of a Royal family who for a long period held the reins of power in one of the greatest European nations; she lives now in a garret upon dry bread and German sausage, and makes her own bed and fire. Yesterday she wore a crown of diamonds, to-day she wears a crown of sorrow. The attenuated man, whose worn-out garments hang loosely upon his spare body, and who is now studying carte du jour in the window of a low French restaurant, nervously fumbling at the same moment the few loose coins in his pocket, was, in years gone by, one of the greatest financiers in the world; yesterday he dealt in millions, had scores of carriages and hundreds of servants, paid fabulous prices for rare gems and pictures, and provided funds for mighty wars; to-day he is debating whether he can afford an eighteen-penny dinner. The man with an overhanging forehead, who strides onward with teeth closely set, and the fingers of whose hands are continually clinching and unclinching, is the head of a secret society whose members number hundreds of thousands, and whose deed of blood shall next week convulse the world with horror. We could dwell long upon this fascinating theme, but our business is with M. Felix, and we must not wander from him.

"As we have already stated, we were the first to give the public the intelligence of his strange disappearance, and so intense was the interest the news excited that our printing-machines could not supply one-fourth of the demand for the various editions of our journal. The letters we received upon the subject would form a curious chapter in a new 'Curiosities of Literature.'

"'Dear sir' (wrote one correspondent), 'you speak of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix as an unparalleled incident. Allow me to correct you, and from my own experience to furnish your readers with an identical case. It is now ten years ago since I formed the acquaintance of a gentleman of great attainments and peculiar habits, and whose nationality was always a matter of curiosity with me. Once or twice I delicately approached the subject, but he skilfully evaded it, and I did not feel warranted in pressing it. He was a wonderful chess-player, an accomplished linguist, and his knowledge of the niceties of every new discovery in science was simply marvellous. He had only one failing-he drank and smoked too much. In those days I also was a free liver. We were both single men, I certainly, he presumably; there are topics upon which it is good breeding to preserve a friendly delicacy. We met frequently, and dined together at least twice a week, at my expense. He was a good judge of wine and liquor, and very choice in his food. Being much superior to me in this respect, I invariably left it to him to decide where to dine and to arrange the courses. Perhaps occasionally we took half a bottle of wine too much, but that is neither here nor there. It was no one's business but our own. He took a peculiar interest in all new inventions, and was in the habit of throwing out hints of an extraordinary invention of his own which one day was to revolutionize the world. He told me very little of his discovery of which anyone could make use, but he was so jealous of his secret that he bound me down to solemn secrecy on the point; and I trust I am too much of a gentleman to violate the confidence he reposed in me. I may, however, without scruple, reveal that his invention related to combustion. One evening, when we had arranged to dine as usual together at the Royal, in Regent Street, he confided to me that he was in temporary want of funds, and I lent him all the money I had about me, some fifteen or sixteen pounds. Then we dined, and he paid for the dinner. Over the meal he talked more frequently than he was in the habit of doing of his invention. "It is near completion," he said, "and before I go to bed I intend to make some experiments which I am in hopes will put the finishing touch to it." Then he looked at me searchingly and thoughtfully, and said I might accompany him home if I liked, and assist in the experiments. Burning with curiosity, and delighted at this mark of his confidence, I gladly consented, and we issued forth and proceeded to his rooms, which, singularly enough, were in Glasshouse Street, at no very great distance from the house in which M. Felix lived. On our way he purchased two bottles of brandy, remarking that even when the soul was in its highest state of exaltation the body required nourishment and sustaining. I acquiesced. He lived on the second floor, in two rooms, one his bedroom, the other the room in which he conducted his experiments. There was no evidences of the nature of these experiments visible, and he explained this to me by stating that, distrusting his housekeeper, he kept them in his cupboard. The first thing he did was to light a large fire; then he brought forth a brass frying-pan, upon which he emptied a packet of powder. "You must not be frightened at what I am about to do," he said. "There is no very great danger in it, but it needs courage." Being already primed with the wine we had at dinner, and with three glasses of the brandy he had purchased, I told him I was prepared for anything. Then he informed me that his experiments must be made without light from candle or lamp; so that, with the exception of the fire, we were in darkness. Then he put the brass frying-pan on the fire, and a blue vapor floated through the room. I felt a little nervous, but I would not confess it, and I helped myself to another glass of brandy, and puffed away at a very large and very strong cigar with which he presented me. He bade me sit in a particular chair by a little table (upon which he considerately placed the two bottles of brandy, one by this time half empty), and he drew around me upon the floor, which was destitute of carpet, a circle with a piece of billiard chalk, and said that as long as I did not move outside that charmed circle I should be safe. "Help yourself to some more brandy," he said, "and do not be frightened." I obeyed him as to the brandy, but I must confess I was in great trepidation, more especially as the dim objects in the room appeared to be going round and round. He threw some more powder into the brass frying-pan, and this time the vapor was green. He then asked me if I had anything in the shape of metal upon my person, and I answered yes, of course; upon which he stated that I might be in danger unless I divested myself of them, as he was about to do. At a little distance from me, between me and the fire, he drew upon the floor a smaller circle with his piece of billiard chalk, and within it placed a trinket or two of his own. I handed him my gold watch and chain, my diamond ring, my pearl and ruby pin, and a valuable charm of gold which I kept in my pocket for luck. These he placed with his own trinkets within the smaller circle, and said that now no harm could befall me. The objects in the room went round more and more as he muttered some cabalistic words, and to prevent myself from being overcome by terror I took some more brandy. Then he threw about half a dozen little packets of powder into the fire, one after another, and all sorts of colors appeared, and filled the room with a peculiar smell, which so affected me that I helped myself to brandy. I must not forget to mention that he had locked the door and put the key in his pocket. "If what I am doing alarms you," he said, "you may close your eyes. You have great courage, and to prove my friendship for you I shall present you with half the profits of my invention." I tried to thank him, but to my surprise my words were not very clearly spoken. Presently my eyes began to close, and I fell asleep. When I awoke the room was in darkness. I called to my friend, but he did not answer me. Fearful lest he himself should have fallen a victim to his hazardous experiments, I rose unsteadily to my feet and felt around till my hands reached the door, which, of course, was locked. Luckily I had in my pocket a box of matches, and striking one I lit the candle. My friend was gone; I was alone in the room; but upon the floor was a small heap of ashes. Not only was my poor friend gone, but all his trinkets as well as my own were also gone. But there upon the floor was the fatal heap of ashes. I could arrive at but one conclusion, namely, that the combustion which was the kernel of his great invention had reduced him to ashes and destroyed him. There could be no other explanation of the extraordinary occurrence, because the door was still locked. Fearful lest I might be accused of his death, I forced the door open and fled, and from that day to this the affair has remained wrapped in mystery. This is the first time I have mentioned it, and I do so now in the interests of justice, lest some unfortunate person should be accused, as I might have been in the case of my friend, of spiriting M. Felix away. May not his disappearance be set down to combustion? Are there any charred marks upon the floor of the room where his body lay? Were any ashes left? Was he given to dangerous experiments? My own experiences may lead you, sir, to the proper solution of the mystery which hangs around his fate. I shall follow the further developments of the case of M. Felix with interest, and am, Yours, etc.'

"Another correspondent wrote:

"'Sir-I am a Spiritualist, and I possess the power of summoning from the Caverns of the Unseen and Unknown the spirits of any individual upon whom I may call. There is but one way of arriving at the truth of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix, and I offer to you the exclusive privilege of revealing this truth to an anxious and eager public. My fee will be five guineas. Upon your remitting to me this sum I undertake to summon the spirit of M. Felix, and to ascertain from his own lips what has become of his body. The power I possess is worth considerably more than the sum I name, and you, with this exclusive information in your possession, will obtain an advertisement for your valued newspaper which you could not otherwise obtain for five hundred times the amount. I enclose you my name and address, which you may or may not publish as you please, and upon the receipt of the five guineas I will set to work at once. If you decline my offer the disappearance of this particular body will forever remain a mystery. I urge you, in your own interests, not to neglect this opportunity.

"Another correspondent wrote:

"'Honored Sir-I have been reading all about M. Felix, and now comes the cruel news of his disappearance. Just as I was going to see his body and identify it! Just as I was going to realize a life-long dream! Will you allow me to explain, and will you render an inestimable service to a poor widow? I feel that you will, for you have a heart. Thirty-two years ago my husband left me suddenly. We were having tea, and in the middle of it he got up and said, "I'm off, and you'll never see me again." We had had a dispute about something (I beg you not ask me what; it was a private matter), when he acted thus. He was a most overbearing man, and I had enough to do to bear with him. He left the house there and then, and I have never set eyes on him since. His name was not Felix, but are you sure that was M. Felix's proper name. I advertised for him, and said all would be forgiven and forgotten, but he didn't turn up. I heard he had gone to Australia, and no doubt he made his fortune there, and came home to England to enjoy it; and as he was a man who never forgot and never forgave, he took the name? of Felix, and lived the lonely life he did. It was only yesterday the idea flashed across me that he was my long lost husband, and that, if he did not make a will disinheriting me, his lawful wife, his fortune belongs to me by every legal and moral right. I would put two or three questions to you, sir, to you who are always ready to help the oppressed. Did the supposed M. Felix make a will? If he did, where is it? Is there any portrait of him extant? I have a portrait of my poor husband-alas! much faded-but it stands to reason that it must differ considerably from the late portraits taken of the deceased. Show me M. Felix's portrait and I am ready to swear to my husband. I put only one more question. In the absence of any evidence whatever, and failing the discovery of the deceased's mortal remains, is it not competent for me to make oath that he was my husband, and thus establish my claim to any property he may have left behind him. In deep grief, I am, honored sir, your obliged and obedient servant, A LONELY WIDOW.'

"We could fill pages with letters of this description, but the three we have given are a sufficient indication of the interest excited by the incident. Among all these letters there was only one which offered any suggestion likely to be of practical value, and that was the letter we have printed, signed 'A LONELY WIDOW.' Her interesting hypothesis that M. Felix was her long lost husband was, of course, ridiculous, but she made mention of two subjects worthy of consideration. The first was did M. Felix make a will; the second, was there any portrait of him extant. If a will were in existence, it would probably be in the care of a firm of lawyers who could have no good reason for keeping it in the background. We set to work at once upon this trail, but it led to nothing. No lawyers were found in possession of such a document, and it was not forthcoming from other quarters. Nor were we more successful with respect to a portrait of M. Felix. Mrs. Middlemore had never seen one, and a private search through his rooms was futile. Indeed, it is a further proof of the strange secrecy in which M. Felix's life was conducted that not a document or written paper of any description was discovered in his apartments, not even a letter. Some important statements upon this head will be presented further on.

"In pursuance of the advice our reporter gave Mrs. Middlemore, she communicated to the police the fact of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix. There the matter rested, and would have been likely to rest but for the initiatory steps we had already taken to throw a light upon the mystery. It is all very well to say that nobody's business is everybody's business; it is not the case. People talked and wrote letters, but we acted. It must be admitted that the police were not in a position to move actively in the affair. No definite charge had been offered for their investigation; no person was accused of a crime; it had not even been proved that a crime had been committed. Conjecture was theirs, and that was all. The law cannot move, cannot act upon conjecture; facts of a crime, or even of a supposed crime, are necessary before the administration of justice can be called upon to adjudicate. Suggestions were thrown out as to the advisability of offering a reward for the discovery of the body, but who was to offer it? Even in the case of a deliberate and ascertained murder where the criminal is at large, the Government is notoriously slow in issuing such a proclamation, and the full weight of public opinion has frequently failed in inducing the authorities to offer a reward. It was not, therefore, to be expected that they would do so in this instance. Meanwhile there was one feature in the case which we desire to emphasize, and of which we never lost sight. Between the hours of twelve and one o'clock on the night of the 16th-17th January a man with a red scarf round his neck was seen to issue from the house in Gerard Street, in which M. Felix resided. The man still remained undiscovered. It matters not who saw him, whether Mrs. Middlemore, or Constables Wigg or Nightingale, or all three together. The fact seemed to be established that he had been in the house for some purpose, and had been seen to issue from it.

"Where was that man, and what motive had he for not coming forward?"