Читать книгу Felo de Se? - R. Austin Freeman - Страница 7

Table of Contents

THE events of the evening which I had spent with Gillum gave me a good deal to think about. There was no longer any mystery as to what he did with the large sums that he drew from the bank. He just gambled them away. As to how much it was possible for an inveterate gambler like Gillum to drop in any one transaction, I could form no guess. Apparently there was no limit excepting the total amount that the gambler possessed. I had heard and read of players who had lost thousands in a single game, but it had always seemed to me incredible. Now, however, judging by what I had seen, and still more by what Gillum had said, I felt that nothing could overstate the monstrous truth.

The reflection was a sad and depressing one. It made me quite unhappy. For Gillum was no longer a mere customer. He had become an acquaintance, almost a friend, and I had found him a pleasant, likeable man, and apparently a man of good intelligence apart from his insane hobby. It really distressed me to think of a man with his brilliant opportunities frittering away the means of achievement in this puerile sport. And then, what of the future? If his source of supply was a permanent one he might go on indefinitely, simply flinging away his income as fast as he received it. But suppose it were not a stable, continuing income. Suppose it should dwindle or cease? What then? It was pretty certain that this relatively wealthy man would very soon be reduced to actual poverty.

But the mystery of Gillum's expenditure was not completely solved. Apart from the big drafts in cash at irregular intervals there were those regular, periodic drafts which I had regarded with such suspicion. Had our evening's experiences thrown any light on them? I could not say positively that they had. And yet there was at least a suggestion. The whole atmosphere of that sordid gaming house with its deeply shady frequenters: the sinister-looking proprietor—manifestly hostile to Gillum—the painted Jezebel, his wife, the ruffian Cassidy, obviously a paid bully, and finally, Gillum's long and mysterious conference with Madame; if these did not actually offer a suggestion of blackmail, they did at least suggest the very conditions in which blackmail is apt to occur.

From Gillum and his affairs my thoughts turned at intervals to the dead man who had been the means of our introduction. I had read a brief notice of the discovery in the morning paper and had expected to receive on the same day a summons to attend the inquest. Actually, I did not receive it until the evening of the second day, when I found it awaiting me at my lodgings, requiring my attendance on the following day at two o'clock in the afternoon. Accordingly, on my arrival at the office in the morning, I showed it to our manager, and, having received his authority to absent myself from the bank, duly presented myself at the time and place appointed.

The body had been identified as that of a man named Abel Webb, and that was all that was said about him in the first place. Further particulars were left to transpire in the evidence.

There is no need for me to describe the proceedings in detail apart from the essentials. The coroner opened with a concise statement of the matter which formed the subject of the inquiry, the jury were then conducted to the mortuary to view the body, and when they had returned and taken their places the coroner proceeded to deal with the evidence.

"I think," said he, "that we had better begin by calling Mr. Mortimer. His evidence is of no great importance but it comes first in the order of time."

My name was accordingly called, and when I had given the necessary particulars concerning myself, the coroner said: "Now, Mr. Mortimer, just tell us how you came to be connected with the subject of this inquiry. We can ask any necessary questions later."

Thus directed, I gave a plain and rather bald account of my discovery of the body and the circumstances leading thereto, to which the jury listened with eager interest; naturally enough, since the coroner's statement had given but the barest indication of the nature of the case.

"We understand," said the coroner, "that you did not recognise deceased as a person whom you had ever seen before?"

"That is so," I replied. "The man was a stranger to me."

"Would it have been possible for anyone passing along the alley as you did to fail to notice the body?"

"Yes," I replied, "and not only possible but rather probable. It was dark in the alley and still darker in the church porch. I am not sure that I should have seen the body myself but for the fact that I had found the hat and was on the look-out for the owner. Moreover, I was walking very slowly at the moment when I saw the body."

"You think, then, that a person walking at an ordinary pace and not closely observing his surroundings, might have passed the porch without seeing the body?"

"I think it extremely likely," I answered. "In fact, while I was waiting for the constable, a man did actually pass through without noticing the body. He was certainly in a great hurry, but I think if he had not been, he still might not have noticed anything."

"That," said the coroner, addressing the jury, "is, of course, only an opinion, but it agrees with the facts to which the witness has deposed; and the point may be of some importance. Does anything further occur to you, Mr. Mortimer, or do you think that you have told us all that you have to tell?"

"I think I have told you all I know about the matter," I replied; whereupon the coroner, having invited the jury to ask any questions that they wished to ask and receiving no response, the depositions were read and signed and the next witness called.

Constable Walter Allen of the City Police, having completed the preliminaries, deposed as follows: "I was on duty in Cornhill on the evening of Monday the ninth of September. At eight-two p.m. on that evening I was accosted by the last witness, Mr. Robert Mortimer, who informed me that he had seen the dead body of a man lying in the passage leading from St. Michael's Alley to the churchyard. I went with him at once to the place mentioned and there saw the body of deceased in the church porch. The body was partly sitting and partly lying. It was seated on the lowest of the three steps and was leaning back in the corner against the church door. I examined the body sufficiently to assure myself that the man was really dead and then I went away and telephoned to the station in Old Jewry, reporting the discovery and returned to the passage to wait until I was relieved."

"You have heard what the last witness said about the darkness of the passage," said the coroner. "Do you agree that it would have been possible for anyone to pass through the passage without noticing the body?"

"Yes," the constable replied, "I do. It was growing dark out in the street, and in the passage, which is a sort of tunnel, the light was very dim; and in the porch, which is about eight feet deep, it was practically dark. A person might easily have passed through the covered passage without seeing the body in the porch."

This completed the constable's evidence, and as he retired, the name of Inspector Pryor was called; whereupon that officer came forward, and having been sworn, proceeded to give his testimony with professional conciseness and precision. Taking up the thread of the constable's story, he confirmed the description of the body and its position in the porch and agreed that it might have been lying there unnoticed for some time—perhaps as long as half an hour—before it was discovered.

"Were you able," the coroner asked, "to form any opinion as to how deceased met with his death?"

"Yes. When the body had been put on the stretcher, I examined the place where it had been lying and there I found the pieces of a broken hypodermic syringe and some drops of liquid on the stone step. The fragments of the syringe gave off a smell rather like bitter almonds and so did the liquid, which I took up with a piece of clean blotting-paper. The fragments of the syringe are in this box but the blotting-paper was handed to the medical officer."

He handed a small cardboard box to the coroner who opened it, peered in, sniffed at it, and passed it on to the jury. Then he asked: "Were there any finger-prints on the fragments of the syringe?"

"Only a few smears that were quite undecipherable. I examined the button of the plunger very carefully, but even there I could find nothing but a smear."

"You were able to ascertain the identity of deceased?"

"Yes, there were a number of letters in his pocket addressed to Abel Webb, Esq. which enabled us to make the necessary enquiries."

"Besides the syringe, did you find anything on the spot that could throw light on this mysterious affair? Any signs of a struggle, for instance?"

"Nothing whatever," was the reply. "But as to a struggle, seeing that the floor of the passage is paved and that of the porch tiled, there would hardly be any traces even if a struggle had occurred."

"No," said the coroner, "I suppose there would not." He reflected for a few moments, and then, as there was apparently nothing more to be got out of the Inspector, he intimated that the examination was concluded; and when the depositions had been read and signed, the officer retired.

"I think," said the coroner, "that, as I see that Dr. Ripley is present, we had better take the medical evidence next so as not to detain the doctor unnecessarily."

The new witness, a small, very alert-looking gentle man, having been sworn and having stated his name and professional qualifications, looked enquiringly at the coroner; who, after a brief glance at his notes, opened the examination.

"Perhaps, Doctor," said he, "it would save time if you were to give us your evidence in the form of a statement. You saw the body, I think, shortly after the discovery."

"Yes," replied the witness "On Monday evening, the ninth of September, at eight-fifty-six, I received a summons by telephone from the police to go to the mortuary to examine a body which had just been brought in. I went at once and arrived there at five minutes past nine. There I found the body of the deceased which had been undressed and laid on the mortuary table. At the first glance I formed the provisional opinion that deceased had died as a result of poisoning by hydrocyanic acid or some cyanide compound. The face, and especially the lips, were of a distinct violet colour. The eyes were wide open, set in a fixed stare. The jaws were firmly closed and there was slight stiffening of the muscles at the back of the neck. The hands were tightly clenched and the finger nails were blue. These are the usual appearances in cases of cyanide poisoning, but the froth on the lips, which nearly always occurs in such cases, was absent.

"I examined the body for bruises or other signs of violence, but there were none, excepting that on the left thigh, a couple of inches from the groin, was a very distinct puncture which looked as if it had been made with a hypodermic needle of unusually large size. I was shown a broken syringe which had been found close to the body. It was not an ordinary hypodermic syringe but a larger kind; what is known as a serum syringe; and the needle was not a regular serum needle, but a longer and stouter form with a larger bore, such as is used by veterinary surgeons. I produce for your inspection an exactly similar syringe, but fitted with an ordinary serum needle, which you can compare with the broken syringe that was handed to you by the inspector."

He laid the syringe on the table and paused while the coroner and the jury compared it with the fragments in the box. When they had made the comparison and put the two syringes aside, he resumed: "The broken syringe and the needle both contained minute quantities of a clear liquid, which I collected in a pipette for subsequent analysis. But, at the time, I could tell by the characteristic smell of bitter almonds that it was one of the cyanide compounds."

"So that, in effect," said the coroner, "you had then established the cause of death."

"Yes," was the reply, "there was practically no room for doubt. The body showed the distinctive appearances of cyanide poisoning. There was no froth on the lips, which suggested that the poison had not been swallowed. There was the mark of a hypodermic needle, and there was a syringe containing traces of a cyanide compound. It was all perfectly consistent."

"You subsequently made a post mortem examination?"

"Yes; and, as it is very important in cases of poisoning by hydrocyanic acid or cyanide, I made the post-mortem the same night. But first I analysed the liquid in the pipette; which I found to be a concentrated solution of potassium cyanide."

"Did the post-mortem throw any fresh light on the case?"

"Not very much, but it converted the inference into an ascertained fact. I can say with certainty that deceased died from the effects of a very large dose of potassium cyanide injected into the upper part of the thigh—the region which is known as Scarpa's Triangle. But one, possibly important, fact came to light, which was that the needle of the syringe entered the great vein of the thigh—the femoral vein."

"In what respect is that fact of importance?" the coroner asked.

"In its bearing on the rapidity with which the poison will have taken effect. Five grains of potassium cyanide will, if swallowed, produce death in about a quarter of an hour. The same quantity injected hypodermically would cause death in a minute or two at the most; while if it were injected into one of the great veins, death would probably follow in a matter of seconds. Now, in the present case, a much larger quantity was discharged directly into this great vein; from which I infer that death must have occurred practically instantaneously."

"Is it possible to say how much was injected?"

"Not in exact terms. I made only a qualitative analysis. Anything like an exact estimate of quantity would have involved a long and complicated procedure and it would have served no useful purpose. But I can say confidently, that the amount of cyanide injected was at least ten grains."

"When you first saw the body, did you form any opinion as to how long deceased had been dead?"

"Yes. Judging principally by the temperature of the body, I should say that he had been dead about an hour."

"You mentioned some stiffening of the muscles—apparently rigor mortis. Would that occur so soon after death?"

"The clenching of the jaws and hands was not due to rigor mortis. It was really cadaveric spasm and will have occurred at the moment of death. But the stiffening of the neck muscles did indicate the beginning of rigor mortis and was, of course, much earlier than in the average of cases. But there is nothing remarkable in this early onset. It very commonly occurs in cases of violent death and especially of suicide. I don't think deceased had been dead more than about an hour."

The coroner wrote down this statement and appeared to scan the preceding evidence before putting the next question. At length he looked up and turned to the witness.

"You say that death was due to poison injected by means of a syringe. Could that injection have been administered by deceased himself?"

"Yes. The site chosen was not a very convenient one for self-administration but it was well within reach, and self-administration would not have been difficult."

"So far as you could judge from your examination, was there anything that suggested either that deceased had or had not administered the poison to himself?"

"In a medical sense and in terms of mere physical possibility, there was no evidence one way or the other."

The coroner looked at the witness critically, and then remarked: "I seem to detect a note of doubt and reservation in your answer. Is that not so?"

"Perhaps it is," the doctor replied. "But I am here as a medical witness and my evidence is properly restricted to what I know, or can reasonably infer from my examination of the body."

"That is a highly correct attitude, doctor," said the coroner with a faint smile, "but I don't think we need be quite so particular. Have you any opinion, medical or other, as to whether deceased did or did not administer the poison to himself?"

"I have," the witness replied promptly. "My opinion is that he did not administer the poison to himself."

"That is perfectly definite," said the coroner, "and I am sure the jury would like to hear your reasons for that opinion, as I should myself."

"My opinion," said Dr. Ripley, "is based upon the circumstances of the deceased's death. Either he killed himself or was killed by some other person. There is no question of accident or misadventure. It is either suicide or homicide. If we consider the theory of suicide, we are confronted by two anomalies.

"The first is the syringe. Why should deceased have used a hypodermic syringe? There is no reason at all. In the case of morphia there would be a reason; for the poison acts comparatively slowly, and large doses, if swallowed, tend to cause vomiting and so defeat the suicide's ends. But cyanide poisons act very rapidly and tend to produce death before the stomach becomes disturbed. Suicide by means of potassium cyanide is not uncommon, but the usual method is to swallow one or more tablets; and this is quite efficient for the purpose. I have never before heard of a syringe being used for this poison.

"The conditions in the case of homicide are exactly the reverse. You can't compel a man to swallow a tablet or even a liquid poison. But you can stick a hypodermic needle into him even if he has time to resist. And then the peculiarities of this particular syringe are adapted to homicide but not at all to suicide. The big veterinary needle would cause considerable pain in insertion. Its only advantage, its large bore, enabling the syringe to be discharged rapidly, would be of no benefit to the suicide; but it would be of vital importance to a murderer, who would want to get the business over as quickly as possible and make off.

"The other anomaly is the place where the death occurred. Why should a suicide, having provided himself with the poison and the syringe, go forth to use them in a public thoroughfare when he could have done the business without disturbance in his own premises? And why, if he chose a public place, should he have selected a dark corner in an unfrequented passage? To a suicide, the solitude and obscurity of the place would offer no advantage. But to a murderer, those conditions would be essential; for he would want to get clear of the neighbourhood before the body was discovered. In short, the mode of death, the means used, and the place selected, were all unadapted to suicide, but perfectly adapted to homicide."

As the doctor concluded his exposition, a murmur of approval arose from the jury, and the coroner, who also appeared to be deeply impressed, commented "Dr. Ripley has given us, in a very ingenious and cogent argument, his reasons for taking a particular view of this case, and I am sure that when we come to consider the evidence as a whole, we shall give them due weight. And now, as he is a busy man, I think we ought not to detain him any longer, unless any of you wish for further information."

He looked enquiringly at the jury, and the foreman, in response to the implied invitation, signified that he would like to put a question.

"The doctor," said he, "has referred to the solitude and obscurity of the place where the body was found. I should like to ask him if he has any personal acquaintance with that place."

"Yes," replied the witness, "I know it very well indeed. My practice is in the City of London and I am perfectly familiar with all the courts and alleys that form the short cuts from one main thoroughfare to others. As to St. Michael's Alley, I think that hardly a week passes in which I do not pass through it at least once."

"And if you pass through it," said the foreman, "I suppose other people do."

"Undoubtedly," the witness agreed; "and in the day a fair number of people pass up and down the alley, although after business hours, when the City has emptied, it is very little frequented. But the point is that when I go up the alley I go straight up to Castle Court; I don't turn off through the covered passage. And other people do the same, and for the same reason, which is that the covered passage also leads to Castle Court but by a less direct route. The only people who habitually use the covered passage are those who are employed in the office building that faces the churchyard. When they have gone, there are probably periods of half an hour or more during which not a soul passes through that passage."

The foreman expressed himself as quite satisfied with the explanation and thanked the witness, who was then released to go about his business. When he had departed, the name of Alfred Stowell was called and a middle-aged, gentlemanly man came forward and took his place at the table. Mr. Stowell, having been sworn, gave his particulars, describing himself as the manager of The Cope Refrigerating Company, of Gracechurch Street, London.

"You have viewed the body of deceased," said the coroner. "Did you recognise it as that of anyone whom you knew?"

"Yes. It is the body of Mr. Abel Webb, lately my assistant manager."

"How long had he been with you?"

"Less than two months. He took up his duties with us on the twenty-second of last July."

"Do you know how he was employed before he came to you?"

"He was in the service of the Commonwealth and Dominion Steamship Company and had been for about ten years. He had served as purser on several of their ships and it was on account of his experience in that capacity that my firm engaged him."

"I don't quite follow that. In what way is a purser's experience of value to you?"

"The ships of the Commonwealth Line are engaged in the frozen meat trade, and Mr. Webb had a rather special knowledge of refrigerating plant, as well as of the trade in general."

"What sort of person was deceased—as to temperament, I mean? Did he strike you as a man who might possibly take his own life?"

"Most certainly not," the witness replied. "He was of a singularly cheerful and happy disposition and very pleased with his new occupation after the long years at sea."

"Have you any reason to suppose that he was in financial difficulties or in any way troubled about money?"

"No reason at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. I gathered from certain remarks that he let fall that he was in very comfortable circumstances. He was a bachelor without any dependants or responsibilities and had been steadily saving money all the time that he was at sea. That is what I understood from him. Of course, I have no first-hand knowledge of his affairs."

"So far as you know, had deceased any enemies?"

"I am not aware that he had, and I have no reason to suppose that he had. In the excellent testimonial from his late employers he was described as an amiable and kindly man who was universally liked. I know no more than that."

"Do you know of anything that could throw light on the manner and circumstances of his death?"

"Nothing whatever," was the reply; and as this seemed to conclude the evidence, the coroner asked the jury the usual question, and when the depositions had been signed the witness was released.

For some time after he had retired, the coroner sat scanning his notes with a manifestly dissatisfied air. At length he confided his difficulties to the jury.

"There is no denying," said he, "that the evidence which we have heard has left this mysterious affair to a great extent unelucidated; and the question arises as to whether it is advisable to adjourn the inquiry and endeavour to obtain further evidence. On the whole, as the police have not succeeded in discovering any of deceased's relatives, I am disposed to think that nothing would be gained by an adjournment. The further elucidation, if it is possible, seems to lie outside our province and within that of the police. Accordingly, I think it will be best for us to try to find a verdict on the evidence which is before us.

"It is unnecessary for me to recapitulate that evidence. It was all very clearly given and you have followed it closely and attentively. The question that you have to decide is: Who injected the poison? If deceased injected it himself; it is obviously a case of suicide. If you decide that it was injected by some other person you will have to find a verdict of wilful murder, since the injection could not have been given for any lawful purpose.

"The difficulty of deciding between suicide and murder is that there is no positive evidence of either. The medical evidence is to the effect that suicide was physically possible and that murder was physically possible. That is all that we have in the way of positive evidence. And in considering the medical evidence we must be careful to keep the facts separate from the opinions. The facts sworn to by the medical witness we can accept confidently; but the witness's opinions, weighty though they are, can be accepted only so far as your judgment confirms them. It is you who have to find the verdict, and that verdict must be based on the evidence which you have heard and on nothing else. That, I think, is all I need say, except to remind you that you are not in the position of a jury at a criminal trial, who are bound to decide yes or no, guilty or not guilty. If, having considered the evidence, you find it insufficient to enable you to decide between the alternatives of murder and suicide, you are at liberty to say so."

When the coroner had finished speaking, the members of the jury drew together and engaged in earnest and anxious consultation. It was a difficult question that they had to settle and they very properly took their time in debating it. At length the foreman announced that they had agreed on their verdict, and in reply to the coroner's question stated "We find that deceased died from the effects of a poison injected into his body with a syringe, but whether the injection was administered by himself or by some other person there is no evidence to show."

"Yes," said the coroner, "I don't see that you could have found otherwise. I shall record an open verdict and any further inquiries that may be necessary or possible will be conducted by the police."

The proceedings having now come to an end, the audience and the witnesses rose and filed out into the street; and as I took my way back to the bank I reflected a little uncomfortably on what I had heard. It was a horrible affair and profoundly mysterious. If I had been a member of the jury my verdict would have been the same as that had been recorded. But it would not have expressed my inward convictions. The doctor's convincing exposition, which still rang in my ears, had but confirmed in my mind an already formed belief.

The circumstance of the tragedy seemed to whisper 'Murder'; and as I entered Ball Court (instinctively avoiding the neighbourhood of the fatal passage) and threaded the maze of alleys into George Yard and Lombard Street, I looked about me with a shuddering interest, speculating on the way that poor Webb had gone to his death and wondering whether the callous murderer—with the charged syringe ready in his pocket—had walked at his side or had waylaid him in the covered passage.