Chapter VI
Jeffrey Blackmore, Deceased
Having made the above proposition, Thorndyke placed a fresh slip ofpaper on the blotting pad on his knee and looked inquiringly at Mr.Marchmont; who, in his turn, sighed and looked at the bundle ofdocuments on the table.
"What do you want to know?" he asked a little wearily.
"Everything," replied Thorndyke. "You have hinted at circumstances thatwould account for a change in Jeffrey's habits and that would explain analteration in the character of his signature. Let us have thosecircumstances. And, if I might venture on a suggestion, it would be thatwe take the events in the order in which they occurred or in which theybecame known."
"That's the worst of you, Thorndyke," Marchmont grumbled. "When a casehas been squeezed out to the last drop, in a legal sense, you want tobegin all over again with the family history of every one concerned anda list of his effects and household furniture. But I suppose you willhave to be humoured; and I imagine that the best way in which to giveyou the information you want will be to recite the circumstancessurrounding the death of Jeffrey Blackmore. Will that suit you?"
"Perfectly," replied Thorndyke; and thereupon Marchmont began:
"The death of Jeffrey Blackmore was discovered at about eleven o'clockin the morning of the fifteenth of March. It seems that a builder's manwas ascending a ladder to examine a gutter on number 31, New Inn, when,on passing a second-floor window that was open at the top, he looked inand perceived a gentleman lying on a bed. The gentleman was fullyclothed and had apparently lain down on the bed to rest; at least so thebuilder thought at the time, for he was merely passing the window onhis way up, and, very properly, did not make a minute examination. Butwhen, some ten minutes later, he came down and saw that the gentlemanwas still in the same position, he looked at him more attentively; andthis is what he noticed--but perhaps we had better have it in his ownwords as he told the story at the inquest.
"'When I came to look at the gentleman a bit more closely, it struck methat he looked rather queer. His face looked very white, or rather paleyellow, like parchment, and his mouth was open. He did not seem to bebreathing. On the bed by his side was a brass object of some kind--Icould not make out what it was--and he seemed to be holding some smallmetal object in his hand. I thought it rather a queer affair, so, when Icame down I went across to the lodge and told the porter about it. Theporter came out across the square with me and I showed him the window.Then he told me to go up the stairs to Mr. Blackmore's chambers on thesecond pair and knock and keep on knocking until I got an answer. I wentup and knocked and kept on knocking as loud as I could, but, though Ifetched everybody out of all the other chambers in the house, I couldn'tget any answer from Mr. Blackmore. So I went downstairs again and thenMr. Walker, the porter, sent me for a policeman.
"'I went out and met a policeman just by Dane's Inn and told him aboutthe affair, and he came back with me. He and the porter consultedtogether, and then they told me to go up the ladder and get in at thewindow and open the door of the chambers from the inside. So I went up;and as soon as I got in at the window I saw that the gentleman was dead.I went through the other room and opened the outer door and let in theporter and the policeman.'
"That," said Mr. Marchmont, laying down the paper containing thedepositions, "is the way in which poor Jeffrey Blackmore's death came tobe discovered.
"The constable reported to his inspector and the inspector sent for thedivisional surgeon, whom he accompanied to New Inn. I need not go intothe evidence given by the police officers, as the surgeon saw all thatthey saw and his statement covers everything that is known aboutJeffrey's death. This is what he says, after describing how he was sentfor and arrived at the Inn:
"'In the bedroom I found the body of a man between fifty and sixty yearsof age, which has since been identified in my presence as that of Mr.Jeffrey Blackmore. It was fully dressed and wore boots on which was amoderate amount of dry mud. It was lying on its back on the bed, whichdid not appear to have been slept in, and showed no sign of any struggleor disturbance. The right hand loosely grasped a hypodermic syringecontaining a few drops of clear liquid which I have since analysed andfound to be a concentrated solution of strophanthin.
"'On the bed, close to the left side of the body, was a brass opium-pipeof a pattern which I believe is made in China. The bowl of the pipecontained a small quantity of charcoal, and a fragment of opiumtogether with some ash, and there was on the bed a little ash whichappeared to have dropped from the bowl when the pipe fell or was laiddown. On the mantelshelf in the bedroom I found a small glass-stopperedjar containing about an ounce of solid opium, and another, larger jarcontaining wood charcoal broken up into small fragments. Also a bowlcontaining a quantity of ash with fragments of half-burned charcoal anda few minute particles of charred opium. By the side of the bowl were aknife, a kind of awl or pricker and a very small pair of tongs, which Ibelieve to have been used for carrying a piece of lighted charcoal tothe pipe.
"'On the dressing-table were two glass tubes labelled "HypodermicTabloids: Strophanthin 1/500 grain," and a minute glass mortar andpestle, of which the former contained a few crystals which have sincebeen analysed by me and found to be strophanthin.
"'On examining the body, I found that it had been dead about twelvehours. There were no marks of violence or any abnormal conditionexcepting a single puncture in the right thigh, apparently made by theneedle of the hypodermic syringe. The puncture was deep and vertical indirection as if the needle had been driven in through the clothing.
"'I made a post-mortem examination of the body and found that death wasdue to poisoning by strophanthin, which appeared to have been injectedinto the thigh. The two tubes which I found on the dressing-table wouldeach have contained, if full, twenty tabloids, each tabloidrepresenting one five-hundredth of a grain of strophanthin. Assumingthat the whole of this quantity was injected the amount taken would beforty five-hundredths, or about one twelfth of a grain. The ordinarymedicinal dose of strophanthin is one five-hundredth of a grain.
"'I also found in the body appreciable traces of morphine--the principalalkaloid of opium--from which I infer that the deceased was a confirmedopium-smoker. This inference was supported by the general condition ofthe body, which was ill-nourished and emaciated and presented all theappearances usually met with in the bodies of persons addicted to thehabitual use of opium.'
"That is the evidence of the surgeon. He was recalled later, as we shallsee, but, meanwhile, I think you will agree with me that the factstestified to by him fully account, not only for the change in Jeffrey'shabits--his solitary and secretive mode of life--but also for thealteration in his handwriting."
"Yes," agreed Thorndyke, "that seems to be so. By the way, what did thechange in the handwriting amount to?"
"Very little," replied Marchmont. "It was hardly perceptible. Just aslight loss of firmness and distinctness; such a trifling change as youwould expect to find in the handwriting of a man who had taken to drinkor drugs, or anything that might impair the steadiness of his hand. Ishould not have noticed it, myself, but, of course, the people at thebank are experts, constantly scrutinizing signatures and scrutinizingthem with a very critical eye."
"Is there any other evidence that bears on the case?" Thorndyke asked.
Marchmont turned over the bundle of papers and smiled grimly.
"My dear Thorndyke," he said, "none of this evidence has the slightestbearing on the case. It is all perfectly irrelevant as far as the willis concerned. But I know your little peculiarities and I am indulgingyou, as you see, to the top of your bent. The next evidence is that ofthe chief porter, a very worthy and intelligent man named Walker. Thisis what he says, after the usual preliminaries.
"'I have viewed the body which forms the subject of this inquiry. It isthat of Mr. Jeffrey Blackmore, the tenant of a set of chambers on thesecond floor of number thirty-one, New Inn. I have known the deceasednearly six months, and during that time have seen and conversed with himfr
equently. He took the chambers on the second of last October and cameinto residence at once. Tenants at New Inn have to furnish tworeferences. The references that the deceased gave were his bankers andhis brother, Mr. John Blackmore. I may say that the deceased was verywell known to me. He was a quiet, pleasant-mannered gentleman, and itwas his habit to drop in occasionally at the lodge and have a chat withme. I went into his chambers with him once or twice on some smallmatters of business and I noticed that there were always a number ofbooks and papers on the table. I understood from him that he spent mostof his time indoors engaged in study and writing. I know very littleabout his way of living. He had no laundress to look after his rooms, soI suppose he did his own house-work and cooking; but he told me that hetook most of his meals outside, at restaurants or his club.
"'Deceased impressed me as a rather melancholy, low-spirited gentleman.He was very much troubled about his eyesight and mentioned the matter tome on several occasions. He told me that he was practically blind in oneeye and that the sight of the other was failing rapidly. He said thatthis afflicted him greatly, because his only pleasure in life was in thereading of books, and that if he could not read he should not wish tolive. On another occasion he said that "to a blind man life was notworth living."
"'On the twelfth of last November he came to the lodge with a paper inhis hand which he said was his will'--But I needn't read that," saidMarchmont, turning over the leaf, "I've told you how the will was signedand witnessed. We will pass on to the day of poor Jeffrey's death.
"'On the fourteenth of March,' the porter says, 'at about half-past sixin the evening, the deceased came to the Inn in a four-wheeled cab. Thatwas the day of the great fog. I do not know if there was anyone in thecab with the deceased, but I think not, because he came to the lodgejust before eight o'clock and had a little talk with me. He said thathe had been overtaken by the fog and could not see at all. He was quiteblind and had been obliged to ask a stranger to call a cab for him as hecould not find his way through the streets. He then gave me a cheque forthe rent. I reminded him that the rent was not due until thetwenty-fifth, but he said he wished to pay it now. He also gave me somemoney to pay one or two small bills that were owing to some of thetradespeople--a milk-man, a baker and a stationer.
"'This struck me as very strange, because he had always managed hisbusiness and paid the tradespeople himself. He told me that the fog hadirritated his eye so that he could hardly read, and he was afraid heshould soon be quite blind. He was very depressed; so much so that Ifelt quite uneasy about him. When he left the lodge, he went back acrossthe square as if returning to his chambers. There was then no gate openexcepting the main gate where the lodge is situated. That was the lasttime that I saw the deceased alive.'"
Mr. Marchmont laid the paper on the table. "That is the porter'sevidence. The remaining depositions are those of Noble, the nightporter, John Blackmore and our friend here, Mr. Stephen. The nightporter had not much to tell. This is the substance of his evidence:
"'I have viewed the body of the deceased and identify it as that of Mr.Jeffrey Blackmore. I knew the deceased well by sight and occasionallyhad a few words with him. I know nothing of his habits excepting that heused to sit up rather late. It is one of my duties to go round the Innat night and call out the hours until one o'clock in the morning. Whencalling out "one o'clock" I often saw a light in the sitting-room of thedeceased's chambers. On the night of the fourteenth instant, the lightwas burning until past one o'clock, but it was in the bedroom. The lightin the sitting-room was out by ten o'clock.'
"We now come to John Blackmore's evidence. He says:
"'I have viewed the body of the deceased and recognize it as that of mybrother Jeffrey. I last saw him alive on the twenty-third of February,when I called at his chambers. He then seemed in a very despondent stateof mind and told me that his eyesight was fast failing. I was aware thathe occasionally smoked opium, but I did not know that it was a confirmedhabit. I urged him, on several occasions, to abandon the practice. Ihave no reason to believe that his affairs were in any way embarrassedor that he had any reason for making away with himself other than hisfailing eyesight; but, having regard to his state of mind when I lastsaw him, I am not surprised at what has happened.'
"That is the substance of John Blackmore's evidence, and, as to Mr.Stephen, his statement merely sets forth the fact that he had identifiedthe body as that of his uncle Jeffrey. And now I think you have all thefacts. Is there anything more that you want to ask me before I go, for Imust really run away now?"
"I should like," said Thorndyke, "to know a little more about theparties concerned in this affair. But perhaps Mr. Stephen can give methe information."
"I expect he can," said Marchmont; "at any rate, he knows more aboutthem than I do; so I will be off. If you should happen to think of anyway," he continued, with a sly smile, "of upsetting that will, just letme know, and I will lose no time in entering a caveat. Good-bye! Don'ttrouble to let me out."
As soon as he was gone, Thorndyke turned to Stephen Blackmore.
"I am going," he said, "to ask you a few questions which may appearrather trifling, but you must remember that my methods of inquiryconcern themselves with persons and things rather than with documents.For instance, I have not gathered very completely what sort of personyour uncle Jeffrey was. Could you tell me a little more about him?"
"What shall I tell you?" Stephen asked with a slightly embarrassed air.
"Well, begin with his personal appearance."
"That is rather difficult to describe," said Stephen. "He was amedium-sized man and about five feet seven--fair, slightly grey,clean-shaved, rather spare and slight, had grey eyes, wore spectaclesand stooped a little as he walked. He was quiet and gentle in manner,rather yielding and irresolute in character, and his health was not atall robust though he had no infirmity or disease excepting his badeyesight. His age was about fifty-five."
"How came he to be a civil-service pensioner at fifty-five?" askedThorndyke.
"Oh, that was through an accident. He had a nasty fall from a horse,and, being a rather nervous man, the shock was very severe. For sometime after he was a complete wreck. But the failure of his eyesight wasthe actual cause of his retirement. It seems that the fall damaged hiseyes in some way; in fact he practically lost the sight of one--theright--from that moment; and, as that had been his good eye, theaccident left his vision very much impaired. So that he was at firstgiven sick leave and then allowed to retire on a pension."
Thorndyke noted these particulars and then said:
"Your uncle has been more than once referred to as a man of studioushabits. Does that mean that he pursued any particular branch oflearning?"
"Yes. He was an enthusiastic Oriental scholar. His official duties hadtaken him at one time to Yokohama and Tokio and at another to Bagdad,and while at those places he gave a good deal of attention to thelanguages, literature and arts of the countries. He was also greatlyinterested in Babylonian and Assyrian archaeology, and I believe heassisted for some time in the excavations at Birs Nimroud."
"Indeed!" said Thorndyke. "This is very interesting. I had no idea thathe was a man of such considerable attainments. The facts mentioned byMr. Marchmont would hardly have led one to think of him as what he seemsto have been: a scholar of some distinction."
"I don't know that Mr. Marchmont realized the fact himself," saidStephen; "or that he would have considered it of any moment if he had.Nor, as far as that goes, do I. But, of course, I have no experience oflegal matters."
"You can never tell beforehand," said Thorndyke, "what facts may turnout to be of moment, so that it is best to collect all you can get. Bythe way, were you aware that your uncle was an opium-smoker?"
"No, I was not. I knew that he had an opium-pipe which he brought withhim when he came home from Japan; but I thought it was only a curio. Iremember him telling me that he once tried a few puffs at an opium-pipeand found it rather pleasant, though it gave him a headache. But I hadno idea he had contr
acted the habit; in fact, I may say that I wasutterly astonished when the fact came out at the inquest."
Thorndyke made a note of this answer, too, and said:
"I think that is all I have to ask you about your uncle Jeffrey. And nowas to Mr. John Blackmore. What sort of man is he?"
"I am afraid I can't tell you very much about him. Until I saw him atthe inquest, I had not met him since I was a boy. But he is a verydifferent kind of man from Uncle Jeffrey; different in appearance anddifferent in character."
"You would say that the two brothers were physically quite unlike,then?"
"Well," said Stephen, "I don't know that I ought to say that. Perhaps Iam exaggerating the difference. I am thinking of Uncle Jeffrey as he waswhen I saw him last and of uncle John as he appeared at the inquest.They were very different then. Jeffrey was thin, pale, clean shaven,wore spectacles and walked with a stoop. John is a shade taller, a shadegreyer, has good eyesight, a healthy, florid complexion, a brisk,upright carriage, is distinctly stout and wears a beard and moustachewhich are black and only very slightly streaked with grey. To me theylooked as unlike as two men could, though their features were really ofthe same type; indeed, I have heard it said that, as young men, theywere rather alike, and they both resembled their mother. But there is nodoubt as to their difference in character. Jeffrey was quiet, seriousand studious, whereas John rather inclined to what is called a fastlife; he used to frequent race meetings, and, I think, gambled a gooddeal at times."
"What is his profession?"
"That would be difficult to tell; he has so many; he is so veryversatile. I believe he began life as an articled pupil in thelaboratory of a large brewery, but he soon left that and went on thestage. He seems to have remained in 'the profession' for some years,touring about this country and making occasional visits to America. Thelife seemed to suit him and I believe he was decidedly successful as anactor. But suddenly he left the stage and blossomed out in connectionwith a bucket-shop in London."
"And what is he doing now?"
"At the inquest he described himself as a stockbroker, so I presume heis still connected with the bucket-shop."
Thorndyke rose, and taking down from the reference shelves a list ofmembers of the Stock Exchange, turned over the leaves.
"Yes," he said, replacing the volume, "he must be an outside broker. Hisname is not in the list of members of 'the House.' From what you tellme, it is easy to understand that there should have been no greatintimacy between the two brothers, without assuming any kind ofill-feeling. They simply had very little in common. Do you know ofanything more?"
"No. I have never heard of any actual quarrel or disagreement. Myimpression that they did not get on very well may have been, I think,due to the terms of the will, especially the first will. And theycertainly did not seek one another's society."
"That is not very conclusive," said Thorndyke. "As to the will, athrifty man is not usually much inclined to bequeath his savings to agentleman who may probably employ them in a merry little flutter on theturf or the Stock Exchange. And then there was yourself; clearly a moresuitable subject for a legacy, as your life is all before you. But thisis mere speculation and the matter is not of much importance, as far aswe can see. And now, tell me what John Blackmore's relations were withMrs. Wilson. I gather that she left the bulk of her property to Jeffrey,her younger brother. Is that so?"
"Yes. She left nothing to John. The fact is that they were hardly onspeaking terms. I believe John had treated her rather badly, or, at anyrate, she thought he had. Mr. Wilson, her late husband, dropped somemoney over an investment in connection with the bucket-shop that I spokeof, and I think she suspected John of having let him in. She may havebeen mistaken, but you know what ladies are when they get an idea intotheir heads."
"Did you know your aunt well?"
"No; very slightly. She lived down in Devonshire and saw very little ofany of us. She was a taciturn, strong-minded woman; quite unlike herbrothers. She seems to have resembled her father's family."
"You might give me her full name."
"Julia Elizabeth Wilson. Her husband's name was Edmund Wilson."
"Thank you. There is just one more point. What has happened to youruncle's chambers in New Inn since his death?"
"They have remained shut up. As all his effects were left to me, I havetaken over the tenancy for the present to avoid having them disturbed. Ithought of keeping them for my own use, but I don't think I could livein them after what I have seen."
"You have inspected them, then?"
"Yes; I have just looked through them. I went there on the day of theinquest."
"Now tell me: as you looked through those rooms, what kind of impressiondid they convey to you as to your uncle's habits and mode of life?"
Stephen smiled apologetically. "I am afraid," said he, "that they didnot convey any particular impression in that respect. I looked into thesitting-room and saw all his old familiar household gods, and then Iwent into the bedroom and saw the impression on the bed where his corpsehad lain; and that gave me such a sensation of horror that I came awayat once."
"But the appearance of the rooms must have conveyed something to yourmind," Thorndyke urged.
"I am afraid it did not. You see, I have not your analytical eye. Butperhaps you would like to look through them yourself? If you would, praydo so. They are my chambers now."
"I think I should like to glance round them," Thorndyke replied.
"Very well," said Stephen. "I will give you my card now, and I will lookin at the lodge presently and tell the porter to hand you the keywhenever you like to look over the rooms."
He took a card from his case, and, having written a few lines on it,handed it to Thorndyke.
"It is very good of you," he said, "to take so much trouble. Like Mr.Marchmont, I have no expectation of any result from your efforts, but Iam very grateful to you, all the same, for going into the case sothoroughly. I suppose you don't see any possibility of upsetting thatwill--if I may ask the question?"
"At present," replied Thorndyke, "I do not. But until I have carefullyweighed every fact connected with the case--whether it seems to have anybearing or not--I shall refrain from expressing, or even entertaining,an opinion either way."
Stephen Blackmore now took his leave; and Thorndyke, having collectedthe papers containing his notes, neatly punched a couple of holes intheir margins and inserted them into a small file, which he slipped intohis pocket.
"That," said he, "is the nucleus of the body of data on which ourinvestigations must be based; and I very much fear that it will notreceive any great additions. What do you think, Jervis?"
"The case looks about as hopeless as a case could look," I replied.
"That is what I think," said he; "and for that reason I am more thanordinarily keen on making something of it. I have not much more hopethan Marchmont has; but I shall squeeze the case as dry as a bone beforeI let go. What are you going to do? I have to attend a meeting of theboard of directors of the Griffin Life Office."
"Shall I walk down with you?"
"It is very good of you to offer, Jervis, but I think I will go alone. Iwant to run over these notes and get the facts of the case arranged inmy mind. When I have done that, I shall be ready to pick up new matter.Knowledge is of no use unless it is actually in your mind, so that itcan be produced at a moment's notice. So you had better get a book andyour pipe and spend a quiet hour by the fire while I assimilate themiscellaneous mental feast that we have just enjoyed. And you might do alittle rumination yourself."
With this, Thorndyke took his departure; and I, adopting his advice,drew my chair closer to the fire and filled my pipe. But I did notdiscover any inclination to read. The curious history that I had justheard, and Thorndyke's evident determination to elucidate it further,disposed me to meditation. Moreover, as his subordinate, it was mybusiness to occupy myself with his affairs. Wherefore, having stirredthe fire and got my pipe well alight, I abandoned myself to the renewedconsideration
of the facts relating to Jeffrey Blackmore's will.