CHAPTER VI.
THE "EVENING MOON" SPEAKS ITS MIND.
Yesterday, at the Martin Street Police Court, Antony Cowlrick wasbrought up for the seventh time, on the charge of being concerned inthe mysterious murder which took place at No. 119, Great Porter Square.The remarks we have from time to time made upon this case and uponthe arrest of Antony Cowlrick have been justified by the result. Theprisoner was finally discharged. All that was wanted to complete thetragical farce was a caution from the magistrate to the prisoner not todo it again.
We now intend to speak plainly; and the strong interest the case hasexcited will be our excuse if our comments are more lengthy than thosein which we generally indulge in our editorial columns. The elementsof mystery surrounding the awful murder were sufficiently complicatedwithout the assistance of the police. Their proceedings with respectto the man calling himself Antony Cowlrick have rendered the task ofbringing the murderer to justice one of enormous difficulty.
Our business at present is not so much with the murder itself as it iswith Antony Cowlrick and the police; but a brief recapitulation of thecircumstances of the murder is necessary for the proper understanding ofwhat is to follow.
On Tuesday, the 1st of July, a gentleman engaged a back room on thefirst floor of the house No. 119, Great Porter Square. There was a pianoin the room. The landlady of that house, who has undergone more than onelengthy examination, has stated that she "reckoned him up" as a man whohad just come from a voyage, and that there was something superior "inthe looks of him." When she asked him for his name he said it did notmatter, and he handed her four weeks' rent, telling her at the same timenot to trouble herself about a receipt. This was sufficient for thelandlady; she received the stranger as a tenant, and he took possessionof the room.
He led a remarkably quiet life. He did not trouble the landlady to cooka meal for him, although "attendance" was included in the sum chargedfor the rent of the room. He had but one visitor, a lady, who came soclosely veiled that no person in the house caught a glimpse of her face.She called three times, and when the street door was opened, asked for"the gentleman on the first floor," and went up to him without waitingfor an answer. This lady has not come forward, and she has not beentracked. After the 10th of July no female resembling in the slightestthe vague description given of her has called at No. 119, Great PorterSquare.
It happened, singularly enough, that on the 9th of July the house wasalmost empty. The landlady's niece was married on that day, and thelandlady was at the wedding; there was to be a dance in the evening, andshe did not expect to be home until very late. Invitations had not onlybeen given to the landlady, but to three of her lodgers, two of whomwere married. Another lodger, a violin player, was engaged for themusic. It was a kind of happy family affair, arranged by Fate. Only thegeneral servant and the stranger were left.
The servant was human, and took advantage of the golden opportunity. Ifwe had been in her place, and had "a young man," we should probably havedone the same. She did not have many holidays, and knowing that herservices would not be required, and that her mistress and the lodgerwould not be home till early in the morning, she made an appointmentwith her "young man," who treated her to the Alhambra. When theperformances at the Alhambra were concluded, this young person and heryoung man indulged in supper, and, tempted to daring by the opportunity,she did not return to the house until an hour past midnight. She noticednothing unusual when she entered; conscience-stricken at the late hourshe did not light a candle, but thankful that her mistress had notreturned, she crept down to her bedroom in the basement, and went tobed in the dark. She fell asleep at once, and we have the testimony ofher mistress that the girl is an exceedingly heavy sleeper, and mostdifficult to wake. We ourselves have a servant--a most desirablecreature, whom we are ready to part with on moderate terms--similarlyafflicted. Thus it may be said that, for many mysterious hours, theonly occupant of the house was the stranger who occupied the frontdrawing-room.
It was nearly four in the morning before the wedding guests, jaded withpleasure, found themselves in Great Porter Square. The wedding had beena jolly affair, and dancing had been prolonged beyond the anticipatedhour of breaking up. Jaded as they were, the spirits of the little knotof merrymakers were not quite exhausted, and as they paused before thedoor of No. 119, with the morning's sweet fresh light upon them, theylaughed and sang, and so inspired the musician that he took his violinfrom its green baize bag and struck up a jig. With their tired feetmoving to the measure they entered the house, the door of which wasopened by the landlady with her private key; they tripped up the stepsand lingered in the passage, dancing to the music. Exhilarated by theoccasion they wound in and out along the narrow passage, until the wifeof one of the lodgers suddenly uttered a shriek which drove the colourfrom their flushed faces.
"My God!" shrieked the terrified woman, "we are dancing in blood!"
[Decoration]