IV
THE BLUE SEQUIN
Thorndyke stood looking up and down the platform with anxiety thatincreased as the time drew near for the departure of the train.
"This is very unfortunate," he said, reluctantly stepping into an emptysmoking compartment as the guard executed a flourish with his greenflag. "I am afraid we have missed our friend." He closed the door, and,as the train began to move, thrust his head out of the window.
"Now I wonder if that will be he," he continued. "If so, he has caughtthe train by the skin of his teeth, and is now in one of the rearcompartments."
The subject of Thorndyke's speculations was Mr. Edward Stopford, of thefirm of Stopford and Myers, of Portugal Street, solicitors, and hisconnection with us at present arose out of a telegram that had reachedour chambers on the preceding evening. It was reply-paid, and ran thus:
"Can you come here to-morrow to direct defence? Important case. All costs undertaken by us.--STOPFORD AND MYERS."
Thorndyke's reply had been in the affirmative, and early on this presentmorning a further telegram--evidently posted overnight--had beendelivered:
"Shall leave for Woldhurst by 8.25 from Charing Cross. Will call for you if possible.--EDWARD STOPFORD."
He had not called, however, and, since he was unknown personally to usboth, we could not judge whether or not he had been among the passengerson the platform.
"It is most unfortunate," Thorndyke repeated, "for it deprives us ofthat preliminary consideration of the case which is so invaluable." Hefilled his pipe thoughtfully, and, having made a fruitless inspection ofthe platform at London Bridge, took up the paper that he had bought atthe bookstall, and began to turn over the leaves, running his eyequickly down the columns, unmindful of the journalistic baits inparagraph or article.
"It is a great disadvantage," he observed, while still glancing throughthe paper, "to come plump into an inquiry without preparation--to beconfronted with the details before one has a chance of considering thecase in general terms. For instance--"
He paused, leaving the sentence unfinished, and as I looked upinquiringly I saw that he had turned over another page, and was nowreading attentively.
"This looks like our case, Jervis," he said presently, handing me thepaper and indicating a paragraph at the top of the page. It was quitebrief, and was headed "Terrible Murder in Kent," the account being asfollows:
"A shocking crime was discovered yesterday morning at the little town ofWoldhurst, which lies on the branch line from Halbury Junction. Thediscovery was made by a porter who was inspecting the carriages of thetrain which had just come in. On opening the door of a first-classcompartment, he was horrified to find the body of a fashionably-dressedwoman stretched upon the floor. Medical aid was immediately summoned,and on the arrival of the divisional surgeon, Dr. Morton, it wasascertained that the woman had not been dead more than a few minutes.
THE DISCOVERY.]
"The state of the corpse leaves no doubt that a murder of a most brutalkind has been perpetrated, the cause of death being a penetrating woundof the head, inflicted with some pointed implement, which must have beenused with terrible violence, since it has perforated the skull andentered the brain. That robbery was not the motive of the crime is madeclear by the fact that an expensively fitted dressing-bag was found onthe rack, and that the dead woman's jewellery, including severalvaluable diamond rings, was untouched. It is rumoured that an arrest hasbeen made by the local police."
"A gruesome affair," I remarked, as I handed back the paper, "but thereport does not give us much information."
"It does not," Thorndyke agreed, "and yet it gives us something toconsider. Here is a perforating wound of the skull, inflicted with somepointed implement--that is, assuming that it is not a bullet wound. Now,what kind of implement would be capable of inflicting such an injury?How would such an implement be used in the confined space of arailway-carriage, and what sort of person would be in possession of suchan implement? These are preliminary questions that are worthconsidering, and I commend them to you, together with the furtherproblems of the possible motive--excluding robbery--and anycircumstances other than murder which might account for the injury."
"The choice of suitable implements is not very great," I observed.
"It is very limited, and most of them, such as a plasterer's pick or ageological hammer, are associated with certain definite occupations. Youhave a notebook?"
I had, and, accepting the hint, I produced it and pursued my furtherreflections in silence, while my companion, with his notebook also onhis knee, gazed steadily out of the window. And thus he remained,wrapped in thought, jotting down an entry now and again in his book,until the train slowed down at Halbury Junction, where we had to changeon to a branch line.
As we stepped out, I noticed a well-dressed man hurrying up the platformfrom the rear and eagerly scanning the faces of the few passengers whohad alighted. Soon he espied us, and, approaching quickly, asked, as helooked from one of us to the other:
"Dr. Thorndyke?"
"Yes," replied my colleague, adding: "And you, I presume, are Mr. EdwardStopford?"
The solicitor bowed. "This is a dreadful affair," he said, in anagitated manner. "I see you have the paper. A most shocking affair. I amimmensely relieved to find you here. Nearly missed the train, and fearedI should miss you."
"There appears to have been an arrest," Thorndyke began.
"Yes--my brother. Terrible business. Let us walk up the platform; ourtrain won't start for a quarter of an hour yet."
We deposited our joint Gladstone and Thorndyke's travelling-case in anempty first-class compartment, and then, with the solicitor between us,strolled up to the unfrequented end of the platform.
"My brother's position," said Mr. Stopford, "fills me with dismay--butlet me give you the facts in order, and you shall judge for yourself.This poor creature who has been murdered so brutally was a Miss EdithGrant. She was formerly an artist's model, and as such was a good dealemployed by my brother, who is a painter--Harold Stopford, you know,A.R.A. now--"
"I know his work very well, and charming work it is."
"I think so, too. Well, in those days he was quite a youngster--abouttwenty--and he became very intimate with Miss Grant, in quite aninnocent way, though not very discreet; but she was a nice respectablegirl, as most English models are, and no one thought any harm. However,a good many letters passed between them, and some little presents,amongst which was a beaded chain carrying a locket, and in this he wasfool enough to put his portrait and the inscription, 'Edith, fromHarold.'
"Later on Miss Grant, who had a rather good voice, went on the stage, inthe comic opera line, and, in consequence, her habits and associateschanged somewhat; and, as Harold had meanwhile become engaged, he wasnaturally anxious to get his letters back, and especially to exchangethe locket for some less compromising gift. The letters she eventuallysent him, but refused absolutely to part with the locket.
"Now, for the last month Harold has been staying at Halbury, makingsketching excursions into the surrounding country, and yesterdaymorning he took the train to Shinglehurst, the third station from here,and the one before Woldhurst.
"On the platform here he met Miss Grant, who had come down from London,and was going on to Worthing. They entered the branch train together,having a first-class compartment to themselves. It seems she was wearinghis locket at the time, and he made another appeal to her to make anexchange, which she refused, as before. The discussion appears to havebecome rather heated and angry on both sides, for the guard and a porterat Munsden both noticed that they seemed to be quarrelling; but theupshot of the affair was that the lady snapped the chain, and tossed ittogether with the locket to my brother, and they parted quite amiably atShinglehurst, where Harold got out. He was then carrying his fullsketching kit, including a large holland umbrella, the lower joint ofwhich is an ash staff fitted with a powerful steel spike for drivinginto the ground.
"It was about half-pas
t ten when he got out at Shinglehurst; by elevenhe had reached his pitch and got to work, and he painted steadily forthree hours. Then he packed up his traps, and was just starting on hisway back to the station, when he was met by the police and arrested.
"And now, observe the accumulation of circumstantial evidence againsthim. He was the last person seen in company with the murdered woman--forno one seems to have seen her after they left Munsden; he appeared to bequarrelling with her when she was last seen alive, he had a reason forpossibly wishing for her death, he was provided with an implement--aspiked staff--capable of inflicting the injury which caused her death,and, when he was searched, there was found in his possession the locketand broken chain, apparently removed from her person with violence.
"Against all this is, of course, his known character--he is the gentlestand most amiable of men--and his subsequent conduct--imbecile to thelast degree if he had been guilty; but, as a lawyer, I can't help seeingthat appearances are almost hopelessly against him."
"We won't say 'hopelessly,'" replied Thorndyke, as we took our places inthe carriage, "though I expect the police are pretty cocksure. When doesthe inquest open?"
"To-day at four. I have obtained an order from the coroner for you toexamine the body and be present at the _post-mortem_."
"Do you happen to know the exact position of the wound?"
"Yes; it is a little above and behind the left ear--a horrible roundhole, with a ragged cut or tear running from it to the side of theforehead."
"And how was the body lying?"
"Right along the floor, with the feet close to the off-side door."
"Was the wound on the head the only one?"
"No; there was a long cut or bruise on the right cheek--a contused woundthe police surgeon called it, which he believes to have been inflictedwith a heavy and rather blunt weapon. I have not heard of any otherwounds or bruises."
"Did anyone enter the train yesterday at Shinglehurst?" Thorndyke asked.
"No one entered the train after it left Halbury."
Thorndyke considered these statements in silence, and presently fellinto a brown study, from which he roused only as the train moved out ofShinglehurst station.
"It would be about here that the murder was committed," said Mr.Stopford; "at least, between here and Woldhurst."
Thorndyke nodded rather abstractedly, being engaged at the moment inobserving with great attention the objects that were visible from thewindows.
"I notice," he remarked presently, "a number of chips scattered aboutbetween the rails, and some of the chair-wedges look new. Have therebeen any platelayers at work lately?"
"Yes," answered Stopford, "they are on the line now, I believe--atleast, I saw a gang working near Woldhurst yesterday, and they are saidto have set a rick on fire; I saw it smoking when I came down."
"Indeed; and this middle line of rails is, I suppose, a sort of siding?"
"Yes; they shunt the goods trains and empty trucks on to it. There arethe remains of the rick--still smouldering, you see."
Thorndyke gazed absently at the blackened heap until an emptycattle-truck on the middle track hid it from view. This was succeeded bya line of goods-waggons, and these by a passenger coach, one compartmentof which--a first-class--was closed up and sealed. The train now beganto slow down rather suddenly, and a couple of minutes later we broughtup in Woldhurst station.
It was evident that rumours of Thorndyke's advent had preceded us, forthe entire staff--two porters, an inspector, and thestation-master--were waiting expectantly on the platform, and the lattercame forward, regardless of his dignity, to help us with our luggage.
"Do you think I could see the carriage?" Thorndyke asked the solicitor.
"Not the inside, sir," said the station-master, on being appealed to."The police have sealed it up. You would have to ask the inspector."
"Well, I can have a look at the outside, I suppose?" said Thorndyke, andto this the station-master readily agreed, and offered to accompany us.
"What other first-class passengers were there?" Thorndyke asked.
"None, sir. There was only one first-class coach, and the deceased wasthe only person in it. It has given us all a dreadful turn, this affairhas," he continued, as we set off up the line. "I was on the platformwhen the train came in. We were watching a rick that was burning up theline, and a rare blaze it made, too; and I was just saying that weshould have to move the cattle-truck that was on the mid-track, because,you see, sir, the smoke and sparks were blowing across, and I thought itwould frighten the poor beasts. And Mr. Felton he don't like his beastshandled roughly. He says it spoils the meat."
"No doubt he is right," said Thorndyke. "But now, tell me, do you thinkit is possible for any person to board or leave the train on theoff-side unobserved? Could a man, for instance, enter a compartment onthe off-side at one station and drop off as the train was slowing downat the next, without being seen?"
"I doubt it," replied the station-master. "Still, I wouldn't say it isimpossible."
"Thank you. Oh, and there's another question. You have a gang of men atwork on the line, I see. Now, do those men belong to the district?"
"No, sir; they are strangers, every one, and pretty rough diamonds someof 'em are. But I shouldn't say there was any real harm in 'em. If youwas suspecting any of 'em of being mixed up in this--"
"I am not," interrupted Thorndyke rather shortly. "I suspect nobody; butI wish to get all the facts of the case at the outset."
"Naturally, sir," replied the abashed official; and we pursued our wayin silence.
"Do you remember, by the way," said Thorndyke, as we approached theempty coach, "whether the off-side door of the compartment was closedand locked when the body was discovered?"
"It was closed, sir, but not locked. Why, sir, did you think--?"
"Nothing, nothing. The sealed compartment is the one, of course?"
Without waiting for a reply, he commenced his survey of the coach, whileI gently restrained our two companions from shadowing him, as they weredisposed to do. The off-side footboard occupied his attention specially,and when he had scrutinized minutely the part opposite the fatalcompartment, he walked slowly from end to end with his eyes but a fewinches from its surface, as though he was searching for something.
Near what had been the rear end he stopped, and drew from his pocket apiece of paper; then, with a moistened finger-tip he picked up from thefootboard some evidently minute object, which he carefully transferredto the paper, folding the latter and placing it in his pocket-book.
He next mounted the footboard, and, having peered in through the windowof the sealed compartment, produced from his pocket a small insufflatoror powder-blower, with which he blew a stream of impalpable smoke-likepowder on to the edges of the middle window, bestowing the closestattention on the irregular dusty patches in which it settled, and evenmeasuring one on the jamb of the window with a pocket-rule. At length hestepped down, and, having carefully looked over the near-side footboard,announced that he had finished for the present.
As we were returning down the line, we passed a working man, who seemedto be viewing the chairs and sleepers with more than casual interest.
"That, I suppose, is one of the plate-layers?" Thorndyke suggested tothe station-master.
"Yes, the foreman of the gang," was the reply.
"I'll just step back and have a word with him, if you will walk onslowly." And my colleague turned back briskly and overtook the man, withwhom he remained in conversation for some minutes.
"I think I see the police inspector on the platform," remarkedThorndyke, as we approached the station.
"Yes, there he is," said our guide. "Come down to see what you areafter, sir, I expect." Which was doubtless the case, although theofficer professed to be there by the merest chance.
"You would like to see the weapon, sir, I suppose?" he remarked, when hehad introduced himself.
"The umbrella-spike," Thorndyke corrected. "Yes, if I may. We are goingto the mort
uary now."
"Then you'll pass the station on the way; so, if you care to look in, Iwill walk up with you."
This proposition being agreed to, we all proceeded to thepolice-station, including the station-master, who was on the very tiptoeof curiosity.
"There you are, sir," said the inspector, unlocking his office, andushering us in. "Don't say we haven't given every facility to thedefence. There are all the effects of the accused, including the veryweapon the deed was done with."
"Come, come," protested Thorndyke; "we mustn't be premature." He tookthe stout ash staff from the officer, and, having examined theformidable spike through a lens, drew from his pocket a steelcalliper-gauge, with which he carefully measured the diameter of thespike, and the staff to which it was fixed. "And now," he said, when hehad made a note of the measurements in his book, "we will look at thecolour-box and the sketch. Ha! a very orderly man, your brother. Mr.Stopford. Tubes all in their places, palette-knives wiped clean, palettecleaned off and rubbed bright, brushes wiped--they ought to be washedbefore they stiffen--all this is very significant." He unstrapped thesketch from the blank canvas to which it was pinned, and, standing it ona chair in a good light, stepped back to look at it.
"And you tell me that that is only three hours' work!" he exclaimed,looking at the lawyer. "It is really a marvellous achievement."
"My brother is a very rapid worker," replied Stopford dejectedly.
"Yes, but this is not only amazingly rapid; it is in his very happiestvein--full of spirit and feeling. But we mustn't stay to look at itlonger." He replaced the canvas on its pins, and having glanced at thelocket and some other articles that lay in a drawer, thanked theinspector for his courtesy and withdrew.
"That sketch and the colour-box appear very suggestive to me," heremarked, as we walked up the street.
"To me also," said Stopford gloomily, "for they are under lock and key,like their owner, poor old fellow."
He sighed heavily, and we walked on in silence.
The mortuary-keeper had evidently heard of our arrival, for he waswaiting at the door with the key in his hand, and, on being shown thecoroner's order, unlocked the door, and we entered together; but, aftera momentary glance at the ghostly, shrouded figure lying upon the slatetable, Stopford turned pale and retreated, saying that he would wait forus outside with the mortuary-keeper.
As soon as the door was closed and locked on the inside, Thorndykeglanced curiously round the bare, whitewashed building. A stream ofsunlight poured in through the skylight, and fell upon the silent formthat lay so still under its covering-sheet, and one stray beam glancedinto a corner by the door, where, on a row of pegs and a deal table, thedead woman's clothing was displayed.
"There is something unspeakably sad in these poor relics, Jervis," saidThorndyke, as we stood before them. "To me they are more tragic, morefull of pathetic suggestion, than the corpse itself. See the smart,jaunty hat, and the costly skirts hanging there, so desolate andforlorn; the dainty _lingerie_ on the table, neatly folded--by themortuary-man's wife, I hope--the little French shoes and open-work silkstockings. How pathetically eloquent they are of harmless, womanlyvanity, and the gay, careless life, snapped short in the twinkling of aneye. But we must not give way to sentiment. There is another lifethreatened, and it is in our keeping."
He lifted the hat from its peg, and turned it over in his hand. It was,I think, what is called a "picture-hat"--a huge, flat, shapeless mass ofgauze and ribbon and feather, spangled over freely with dark-bluesequins. In one part of the brim was a ragged hole, and from this theglittering sequins dropped off in little showers when the hat was moved.
"This will have been worn tilted over on the left side," said Thorndyke,"judging by the general shape and the position of the hole."
"Yes," I agreed. "Like that of the Duchess of Devonshire inGainsborough's portrait."
"Exactly."
He shook a few of the sequins into the palm of his hand, and, replacingthe hat on its peg, dropped the little discs into an envelope, on whichhe wrote, "From the hat," and slipped it into his pocket. Then, steppingover to the table, he drew back the sheet reverently and even tenderlyfrom the dead woman's face, and looked down at it with grave pity. Itwas a comely face, white as marble, serene and peaceful in expression,with half-closed eyes, and framed with a mass of brassy, yellow hair;but its beauty was marred by a long linear wound, half cut, half bruise,running down the right cheek from the eye to the chin.
"A handsome girl," Thorndyke commented--"a dark-haired blonde. What asin to have disfigured herself so with that horrible peroxide." Hesmoothed the hair back from her forehead, and added: "She seems to haveapplied the stuff last about ten days ago. There is about a quarter ofan inch of dark hair at the roots. What do you make of that wound on thecheek?"
"It looks as if she had struck some sharp angle in falling, though, asthe seats are padded in first-class carriages, I don't see what shecould have struck."
"No. And now let us look at the other wound. Will you note down thedescription?" He handed me his notebook, and I wrote down as hedictated: "A clean-punched circular hole in skull, an inch behind andabove margin of left ear--diameter, an inch and seven-sixteenths;starred fracture of parietal bone; membranes perforated, and brainentered deeply; ragged scalp-wound, extending forward to margin of leftorbit; fragments of gauze and sequins in edges of wound. That will dofor the present. Dr. Morton will give us further details if we wantthem."
He pocketed his callipers and rule, drew from the bruised scalp one ortwo loose hairs, which he placed in the envelope with the sequins, and,having looked over the body for other wounds or bruises (of which therewere none), replaced the sheet, and prepared to depart.
As we walked away from the mortuary, Thorndyke was silent and deeplythoughtful, and I gathered that he was piecing together the facts thathe had acquired. At length Mr. Stopford, who had several times looked athim curiously, said:
"The _post-mortem_ will take place at three, and it is now onlyhalf-past eleven. What would you like to do next?"
Thorndyke, who, in spite of his mental preoccupation, had been lookingabout him in his usual keen, attentive way, halted suddenly.
"Your reference to the _post-mortem_," said he, "reminds me that Iforgot to put the ox-gall into my case."
"Ox-gall!" I exclaimed, endeavouring vainly to connect this substancewith the technique of the pathologist. "What were you going to dowith--"
But here I broke off, remembering my friend's dislike of any discussionof his methods before strangers.
"I suppose," he continued, "there would hardly be an artist's colourmanin a place of this size?"
"I should think not," said Stopford. "But couldn't you got the stufffrom a butcher? There's a shop just across the road."
"So there is," agreed Thorndyke, who had already observed the shop. "Thegall ought, of course, to be prepared, but we can filter itourselves--that is, if the butcher has any. We will try him, at anyrate."
He crossed the road towards the shop, over which the name "Felton"appeared in gilt lettering, and, addressing himself to the proprietor,who stood at the door, introduced himself and explained his wants.
"Ox-gall?" said the butcher. "No, sir, I haven't any just now; but I amhaving a beast killed this afternoon, and I can let you have some then.In fact," he added, after a pause, "as the matter is of importance, Ican have one killed at once if you wish it."
"That is very kind of you," said Thorndyke, "and it would greatly obligeme. Is the beast perfectly healthy?"
"They're in splendid condition, sir. I picked them out of the herdmyself. But you shall see them--ay, and choose the one that you'd likekilled."
"You are really very good," said Thorndyke warmly. "I will just run intothe chemist's next door, and get a suitable bottle, and then I willavail myself of your exceedingly kind offer."
He hurried into the chemist's shop, from which he presently emerged,carrying a white paper parcel; and we then followed the butcher down anarrow lane by
the side of his shop. It led to an enclosure containing asmall pen, in which were confined three handsome steers, whose glossy,black coats contrasted in a very striking manner with their long,greyish-white, nearly straight horns.
"These are certainly very fine beasts, Mr. Felton," said Thorndyke, aswe drew up beside the pen, "and in excellent condition, too."
He leaned over the pen and examined the beasts critically, especially asto their eyes and horns; then, approaching the nearest one, he raisedhis stick and bestowed a smart tap on the under-side of the right horn,following it by a similar tap on the left one, a proceeding that thebeast viewed with stolid surprise.
"The state of the horns," explained Thorndyke, as he moved on to thenext steer, "enables one to judge, to some extent, of the beast'shealth."
"Lord bless you, sir," laughed Mr. Felton, "they haven't got no feelingin their horns, else what good 'ud their horns be to 'em?"
Apparently he was right, for the second steer was as indifferent to asounding rap on either horn as the first. Nevertheless, when Thorndykeapproached the third steer, I unconsciously drew nearer to watch; and Inoticed that, as the stick struck the horn, the beast drew back inevident alarm, and that when the blow was repeated, it became manifestlyuneasy.
"He don't seem to like that," said the butcher. "Seems as if--Hullo,that's queer!"
Thorndyke had just brought his stick up against the left horn, andimmediately the beast had winced and started back, shaking his head andmoaning. There was not, however, room for him to back out of reach, andThorndyke, by leaning into the pen, was able to inspect the sensitivehorn, which he did with the closest attention, while the butcher lookedon with obvious perturbation.
"You don't think there's anything wrong with this beast, sir, I hope,"said he.
"I can't say without a further examination," replied Thorndyke. "It maybe the horn only that is affected. If you will have it sawn off close tothe head, and sent up to me at the hotel, I will look at it and tellyou. And, by way of preventing any mistakes, I will mark it and cover itup, to protect it from injury in the slaughter-house."
He opened his parcel and produced from it a wide-mouthed bottle labelled"Ox-gall," a sheet of gutta-percha tissue, a roller bandage, and a stickof sealing-wax. Handing the bottle to Mr. Felton, he encased the distalhalf of the horn in a covering by means of the tissue and the bandage,which he fixed securely with the sealing-wax.
"I'll saw the horn off and bring it up to the hotel myself, with theox-gall," said Mr. Felton. "You shall have them in half an hour."
He was as good as his word, for in half an hour Thorndyke was seated ata small table by the window of our private sitting-room in the BlackBull Hotel. The table was covered with newspaper, and on it lay the longgrey horn and Thorndyke's travelling-case, now open and displaying asmall microscope and its accessories. The butcher was seated solidly inan armchair waiting, with a half-suspicious eye on Thorndyke for thereport; and I was endeavouring by cheerful talk to keep Mr. Stopfordfrom sinking into utter despondency, though I, too, kept a furtivewatch on my colleague's rather mysterious proceedings.
I saw him unwind the bandage and apply the horn to his ear, bending itslightly to and fro. I watched him, as he scanned the surface closelythrough a lens, and observed him as he scraped some substance from thepointed end on to a glass slide, and, having applied a drop of somereagent, began to tease out the scraping with a pair of mounted needles.Presently he placed the slide under the microscope, and, having observedit attentively for a minute or two, turned round sharply.
"Come and look at this, Jervis," said he.
I wanted no second bidding, being on tenterhooks of curiosity, but cameover and applied my eye to the instrument.
"Well, what is it?" he asked.
"A multipolar nerve corpuscle--very shrivelled, but unmistakable."
"And this?"
He moved the slide to a fresh spot.
"Two pyramidal nerve corpuscles and some portions of fibres."
"And what do you say the tissue is?"
"Cortical brain substance, I should say, without a doubt."
"I entirely agree with you. And that being so," he added, turning to Mr.Stopford, "we may say that the case for the defence is practicallycomplete."
"What, in Heaven's name, do you mean?" exclaimed Stopford, starting up.
"I mean that we can now prove when and where and how Miss Grant met herdeath. Come and sit down here, and I will explain. No, you needn't goaway, Mr. Felton. We shall have to subpoena you. Perhaps," hecontinued, "we had better go over the facts and see what they suggest.And first we note the position of the body, lying with the feet close tothe off-side door, showing that, when she fell, the deceased wassitting, or more probably standing, close to that door. Next there isthis." He drew from his pocket a folded paper, which he opened,displaying a tiny blue disc. "It is one of the sequins with which herhat was trimmed, and I have in this envelope several more which I tookfrom the hat itself.
"This single sequin I picked up on the rear end of the off sidefootboard, and its presence there makes it nearly certain that at sometime Miss Grant had put her head out of the window on that side.
"The next item of evidence I obtained by dusting the margins of theoff-side window with a light powder, which made visible a greasyimpression three and a quarter inches long on the sharp corner of theright-hand jamb (right-hand from the inside, I mean).
"And now as to the evidence furnished by the body. The wound in theskull is behind and above the left ear, is roughly circular, andmeasures one inch and seven-sixteenths at most, and a ragged scalp-woundruns from it towards the left eye. On the right cheek is a linearcontused wound three and a quarter inches long. There are no otherinjuries.
"Our next facts are furnished by this." He took up the horn and tappedit with his finger, while the solicitor and Mr. Felton stared at him inspeechless wonder. "You notice it is a left horn, and you remember thatit was highly sensitive. If you put your ear to it while I strain it,you will hear the grating of a fracture in the bony core. Now look atthe pointed end, and you will see several deep scratches runninglengthwise, and where those scratches end the diameter of the horn is,as you see by this calliper-gauge, one inch and seven-sixteenths.Covering the scratches is a dry blood-stain, and at the extreme tip is asmall mass of a dried substance which Dr. Jervis and I have examinedwith the microscope and are satisfied is brain tissue."
"Good God!" exclaimed Stopford eagerly. "Do you mean to say--"
"Let us finish with the facts, Mr. Stopford," Thorndyke interrupted."Now, if you look closely at that blood-stain, you will see a shortpiece of hair stuck to the horn, and through this lens you can make outthe root-bulb. It is a golden hair, you notice, but near the root it isblack, and our calliper-gauge shows us that the black portion isfourteen sixty-fourths of an inch long. Now, in this envelope are somehairs that I removed from the dead woman's head. They also are goldenhairs, black at the roots, and when I measure the black portion I findit to be fourteen sixty-fourths of an inch long. Then, finally, there isthis."
He turned the horn over, and pointed to a small patch of dried blood.Embedded in it was a blue sequin.
Mr. Stopford and the butcher both gazed at the horn in silent amazement;then the former drew a deep breath and looked up at Thorndyke.
"No doubt," said he, "you can explain this mystery, but for my part I amutterly bewildered, though you are filling me with hope."
"And yet the matter is quite simple," returned Thorndyke, "even withthese few facts before us, which are only a selection from the body ofevidence in our possession. But I will state my theory, and you shalljudge." He rapidly sketched a rough plan on a sheet of paper, andcontinued: "These were the conditions when the train was approachingWoldhurst: Here was the passenger-coach, here was the burning rick, andhere was a cattle-truck. This steer was in that truck. Now my hypothesisis that at that time Miss Grant was standing with her head out of theoff-side window, watching the burning rick. Her wide hat, worn on the
left side, hid from her view the cattle-truck which she was approaching,and then this is what happened." He sketched another plan to a largerscale. "One of the steers--this one--had thrust its long horn outthrough the bars. The point of that horn struck the deceased's head,driving her face violently against the corner of the window, and then,in disengaging, ploughed its way through the scalp, and suffered afracture of its core from the violence of the wrench. This hypothesis isinherently probable, it fits all the facts, and those facts admit of noother explanation."
The solicitor sat for a moment as though dazed; then he rose impulsivelyand seized Thorndyke's hands. "I don't know what to say to you," heexclaimed huskily, "except that you have saved my brother's life, andfor that may God reward you!"
The butcher rose from his chair with a slow grin.
"It seems to me," said he, "as if that ox-gall was what you might call ablind, eh, sir?"
And Thorndyke smiled an inscrutable smile.
* * * * *
When we returned to town on the following day we were a party of four,which included Mr. Harold Stopford. The verdict of "Death bymisadventure," promptly returned by the coroner's jury, had beenshortly followed by his release from custody, and he now sat with hisbrother and me, listening with rapt attention to Thorndyke's analysis ofthe case.
"So, you see," the latter concluded, "I had six possible theories of thecause of death worked out before I reached Halbury, and it only remainedto select the one that fitted the facts. And when I had seen thecattle-truck, had picked up that sequin, had heard the description ofthe steers, and had seen the hat and the wounds, there was nothing leftto do but the filling in of details."
"And you never doubted my innocence?" asked Harold Stopford.
Thorndyke smiled at his quondam client.
"Not after I had seen your colour-box and your sketch," said he, "to saynothing of the spike."