fact," Ireplied.
"You expect us to believe it?" he asked with a suspicious smile.
"Discredit it if you like, it's all the same to me," I replied ratherdisinterestedly, after which the officer turned on his heel and left.
I sank upon a chair in a semi-exhausted state, and tried to think ofsome way out of this maze, for I could plainly see none of my statementsappeared to have even the elements of truth.
The constable stood silently at the door, his arms folded, his gazefixed upon me. He was watching me, fearing, perhaps, lest I shouldattempt suicide to escape justice.
Shortly afterwards three men entered, accompanied by the inspector. Twowere detectives--I knew them at a glance--the other a tall, dark man,with curled moustaches, pointed beard, and a pair of keen grey eyes. Hespoke with authority, in a sharp, abrupt tone, and, as I afterwards,discovered, I was correct in thinking him the superintendent of thatdivision of Metropolitan police.
"I understand you give a false name, refuse your address, and decline tosay how you came possessed of this seal?" he said to me.
"The seal was given me by a man who is dead," I repeated, calmly.
"Has that man any relations living?"
"I don't know."
"What evidence can you bring to corroborate your statement that it wasgiven to you?"
"None. But stay--I have one friend whom I told of the occurrence,although I do not wish him to be brought into this matter."
"You refuse to name him, or call him on your behalf?" said the chiefofficer, raising his eyebrows. "I do."
"Are you aware of the significance of this symbol?"
"Perfectly--in a general sense."
"Then perhaps it will be no surprise to you to know that a lady namedInglewood was discovered murdered at her house in Bedford Place sometime ago, with an identical seal pinned upon her breast, and further,that a woman was found in Angel Court a short time back. Her throat wascut, and she lay within a few yards of where you were arrested. Uponher body was found a portion of paper to which part of a seal adhered,and this paper, which is in our possession, exactly fits the piece thathas been torn from the one found in your pocket-book."
"It does!" I cried, amazed, for in a moment I recognised the serioussuspicion now resting upon me.
"Now; what have you to say?"
"I have nothing to add," I said dreamily.
"And you still refuse your address?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then; we must find out for ourselves." After a few words tothe detectives in an undertone, he turned and said,--
"Inspector, you will charge him on suspicion of the wilful murder of thewoman--and, by the way, let one of the men sit with him to-night. I'mgoing down to the Yard."
"Very well, sir," replied the officer, and they all left the room, withthe exception of the statuesque constable.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
A GUILTLESS CRIME.
Down one dimly-lit, dreary corridor, along an other, and up a flight ofspiral stairs, I walked listlessly, with two warders at my side.
A low door opened, a breath of warm air, a hum of voices, and I wasstanding in the prisoners' dock at the Central Criminal Court, OldBailey.
As I entered and faced the grave-looking judge, and the aldermen intheir fur-trimmed scarlet robes seated beside him, I heard thestentorian voice of the usher cry "Silence," and immediately the clerkrose, and with a paper in his hand, said in clear monotonous tones:
"Prisoner at the bar, you are indicted for that you did on the night ofAugust the fifteenth, eighteen hundred and eighty-seven, wilfully murderEthel Inglewood, one of Her Majesty's subjects, at Number 67, BedfordPlace, Bloomsbury, by stabbing her with a knife. Are you guilty, or notguilty?"
Mr Roland, Q.C., who, with Mr Crane, had been retained for my defence,rose promptly and replied, "Prisoner pleads not guilty, m'lord."
There was a dead silence.
All that could be heard was the rustling of the briefs of the greatarray of counsel before me, and the busy hum and din of the city thatcame through the open window, while a stray streak of dusky sunlight,glinting across the sombre Court, fell like a bar of golden dust betweenmyself and the judge. The twelve benevolent-looking yet impassivejurymen sat motionless on my left, and on my right the crowd of eagerspectators craned their necks in their curiosity to obtain a glimpse ofone who was alleged to be the author of the mysterious crime.
Mine was a celebrated case.
Three weeks had nearly elapsed since my arrest, and Scotland Yard, sofar from being idle, had succeeded in working up evidence and chargingme with a horrible murder, for which I had been committed to take mytrial by the magistrate at Bow Street.
Of Vera I had seen nothing. Both Bob and Demetrius had visited mewhilst under remand and endeavoured to cheer me, although both admittedthey had been served with subpoenas by the prosecution, but of thenature of the evidence they wished them to give they were ignorant.
Rumours had reached me, even in my prison cell, of the intenseexcitement that had been caused by the news of my capture, and the plainfacts had, I heard, become so distorted in their progress from mouth tomouth that not only was it anticipated that my identity as the murdererwas completely established, but speculation had already planned for meanother atrocity in connection with the spot where I had been found.
The one topic of conversation was my arrest, and in private circles, aswell as in places of general meeting, little else was discussed. Thepublic pulse, in fact, was fevered.
With the opening of the trial the crisis had arrived.
I had been told that the counsel appearing to conduct my prosecutionwere Mr Norman Ayrton, Q.C., and Mr Paget, and as I glanced at thesegentlemen seated in close consultation I instinctively dreaded the cold,merciless face of the former, and the supercilious nonchalance of thelatter.
As perfect quietude was restored in the stifling Court with its longtiers of white expectant faces, Mr Ayrton gave his gown a twitch, andwith a preliminary cough, rose.
The warder handed me a chair, and, seating myself, I concentrated myattention upon the clear, concise utterances of the man who was doinghis utmost to fix the awful stigma upon me.
Turning to the judge, he said: "May it please your lordship, I appear onbehalf of the Crown to prosecute the prisoner at the bar. The casewhich your lordship and gentlemen of the jury have before you to-day isone of an abnormal and extraordinary nature. It will be within therecollection of the Court that during the last three years a series ofmysterious and diabolical murders have been committed, absolutely, asfar as at present known, without motive. What may have been the motiveof these, however, is not the point to which I desire to call yourattention, but to one utterly unaccountable crime, as it then appeared,which took place on the night of August the fifteenth, two years ago.On that occasion a lady named Mrs Ethel Inglewood, residing at 67,Bedford Place, Bloomsbury, was discovered murdered, and the connectinglink between that tragic occurrence and six of a similar character whichhad preceded it was the circumstance that a seal of peculiar design,fixed to a blank paper, was found pinned upon the breast of that lady.Of the seal, and the mysteries surrounding it, I shall be in a positionto give your lordship and the gentlemen of the jury some furtherinformation at a later stage in these proceedings.
"It is sufficient for my purpose at the present moment simply toindicate the fact that the seal, connected in such a peculiar mannerwith the previous outrages, was also a conspicuous object in this, andundoubtedly proved that the crime, if not the work of the same hand,emanated at any rate from the same source. The prisoner at the bar wasthe principal witness in the discovery of the murder of Mrs Inglewood,and gave evidence before the Coroner, when a verdict of wilful murderagainst some person unknown was returned. He professed, in theassistance which he then gave, to have been animated simply and solelyby the desire to bring the offender to justice. Considerable doubt wasentertained by the police with regard to the veracity of that statement,and I believe, my l
ord, it will be in my power to prove, by mostconclusive evidence, that the prisoner then committed the crime ofperjury in addition to the greater and more hideous one for which hestands here indicted."
Counsel then paused and examined the first folio of his brief.
To my disordered imagination it seemed as if I already stood convicted.
Again the eminent Queen's Counsel gave a preliminary cough, andresumed:--
"If I shall be in a position to establish beyond any shadow of doubtthat the prisoner really committed the murder in Bloomsbury, theevidence which can be adduced against him in regard to a second count,which, however, is not on the present indictment, is even still moreindubitable. On the night of March the fourth last, the body of awoman, which has never yet been identified, was discovered lying in ablind alley, called Angel Court, leading from Drury Lane. She was quitedead when