Читать книгу The Mystery of M. Felix - Farjeon Benjamin Leopold - Страница 8

"We hark back now to the point at which we left Constable Nightingale. He had returned to Gerard Street without having found the man. During his absence nothing further had occurred to alarm the housekeeper and the constable who kept her company, and they were in doubt as to what was best to be done. There was no evidence that the man had entered the house with the intention of robbing it, but he might have done so, and being disturbed before he effected his purpose, thought it expedient to make his escape as quickly as possible. They were debating this view when they were startled by what they declare was an 'apparition.' It was the apparition of a half-starved cat, which in some way must have found an entrance into the house before Mrs. Middlemore came back with her supper-beer. The cat did not belong to the house, for M. Felix had a horror of such creatures, and would not allow one to be kept on the premises. It was not the cat that startled them, but the color of the cat, which seemed to have been rolling itself in blood. They saw it only for an instant, and then it disappeared, and has not since been seen again; but it left its marks behind it. On the oil-cloth were marks of blood, made by the cat's paws. These signs decided their course of action, and they proceeded upstairs to the apartments occupied by M. Felix. They knocked and called out loudly to him, but received no answer. By an ingenious arrangement, devised presumably by M. Felix himself, the keyhole of the door by which they stood was masked by a brass plate, the secret of which was known only to M. Felix. The silence strengthened their apprehensions of foul play, and they determined to force the door open. To effect this it was necessary to obtain the assistance of a locksmith, and Constable Nightingale issued forth once more, and brought back with him not only a locksmith, but a doctor in the neighborhood, Dr. Lamb, who was coming home late from a professional visit. With some difficulty the door was forced open, and the first thing that met their eyes was a pool of blood on the floor of the sitting-room. They describe it as such, although subsequent examination proved that there was a decided exaggeration in calling it a pool, the quantity of blood which had fallen not being very serious. M. Felix was not in this room, but when they entered the bedroom adjoining they discovered him in an arm-chair, bearing the appearance of a man who had fallen asleep. He was not asleep, however; he was dead. The natural presumption was that he had been murdered, and that the blood on the floor was his, but Dr. Lamb very soon declared that this was not the case. M. Felix was dead, certainly, but his death was produced by natural causes, heart disease. In this conclusion Dr. Lamb was supported by other medical evidence which was sought on the following day, and this being supposed to be sufficiently established, the necessity of a post-mortem was not immediately recognized. The body was lifted on the bed, and there lay, dressed, as it had fallen into the arm-chair.

"Accounts of these strange occurrences did not appear in the morning newspapers of January 17th, and the first intimation the public received of them was through the evening papers of that date. Even in this initial stage we scented a mystery, and we despatched our reporters to Mrs. Middlemore to obtain such information as would prove interesting to our readers. Our reporters, however, were not able to see Mrs. Middlemore; neither were they able to get access to the house; some absurd orders on the part of the police were being carried out, which converted the house into a kind of safe. But such ridiculous methods are not difficult to circumvent, and we determined that the public should not be robbed of their privileges. On January 18th, that is, some thirty-four hours after the death of M. Felix, we inserted the following advertisement in the first edition of the Evening Moon, and repeated it in all our subsequent editions. We printed it in such bold type, and placed it in such a prominent position, that it could not fail to reach the eyes of persons who were interested in the case:

"'The Strange Death of M. Felix in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of eight in the morning and twelve at night on January 16th, or who are in possession of information which will throw light upon the circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at the office of the Evening Moon at any time after the appearance of this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all who may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's death.'

"Meanwhile, so far as the police were concerned, matters remained in abeyance. They seemed to do nothing, and certainly discovered nothing. One of our contemporaries, in a leading article, has suggested that the insertion of this advertisement in our columns was an attempt to tamper with justice, or, if not to tamper, to defeat its ends. We can afford to smile at such an insinuation. There was no case before the public courts, and no person was accused of anything whatever in connection with the strange affair. The action we took was taken in the cause of justice, to arouse it to action and assist it. In the lighted torch of publicity there is an irresistible moral force. It would be well if material light were thrown upon the black spaces in this mighty city-upon the black spaces in which crimes are committed, the perpetrators of which are enabled to escape because of the convenient darkness in which they carry their horrible plans to a successful issue. If old-time officialism refuses to stir out of the old routine of useless and pernicious methods, forces which are not amenable to red tapeism must take the reins, must take into their own hands the plain duties of lawful authority, duties which they neglect and evade to the injury of society at large. We do not preach socialism, we preach justice-and light.

"Thus far in our narrative we have brought matters up to the night of January 18th. The house in Gerard Street is dark and silent; the body of M. Felix is lying on the bed to which it was lifted from the arm-chair in which it was discovered.

"The night was unusually dark. The snow-storm had ceased on the previous day, and the reflected light of white thoroughfares no longer helped to dispel the pervading gloom.

"The morning newspapers of the 19th contained no items of particular interest in connection with the death of M. Felix. We were the first to announce an extraordinary and apparently inexplicable move in the mystery. In order to do this we published our first edition two hours earlier than usual.

"At nine o'clock on this morning one of our reporters, in the exercise of his duty, was outside the house in Gerard Street, looking up at the window of the sitting-room which M. Felix had occupied. He had exchanged a few words with a policeman in the street.

"'I am on the staff of the Evening Moon,' he said to the policeman. 'Is there anything new concerning M. Felix?'

"'Nothing,' replied the policeman, quite civilly, and passed on.

"Our reporter remained outside the house. Patient and persevering, he hoped to pick up some item of interest which he might be able to weave into a paragraph.

"Suddenly the street door was opened from within, and Mrs. Middlemore appeared. Her face was flushed, and in her eyes was a wandering look as she turned them this way and that. The moment our reporter observed these symptoms of distress he came to the conclusion that there was some interesting item of which he could avail himself. He stepped up to Mrs. Middlemore.

"'What is the matter?' he asked.

"'He's gone!' gasped Mrs. Middlemore, wringing her hands. 'He's vanished!'

"'Who has gone? Who has vanished?' inquired our reporter.

"'M. Felix,' said Mrs. Middlemore, in a faint tone.

"'My good creature,' said our reporter, 'you must be dreaming.'

"'I'm not dreaming,' said Mrs. Middlemore. 'He's vanished. If you don't believe me, go up and look for yourself. Where are the police. Oh, where are the police?'

"'Don't make a disturbance,' said our reporter, soothingly. 'Let us see if you're not mistaken.'

"Gladly availing himself of the invitation to go up and look for himself, our reporter entered the house, and ascended the stairs, followed by Mrs. Middlemore, moaning in a helpless, distracted fashion.

"The door of the sitting-room was open, and also the inner door, leading to the bedroom. There was no person, living or dead, in either of the rooms.

"'Where was he?' asked our reporter.

"'There, on the bed,' moaned Mrs. Middlemore. 'He was there last night before I locked the door; and when I looked in a minute ago he was gone.'

"It was undeniably true. The bed bore the impression of a human form, but that was all. The body of M. Felix had, indeed, disappeared!"