CHAPTER XIV
The first night of his sojourn in Paris was spent at the residence of afriend who was also a well-known Stamp Collector. They dined at aRestaurant together, and spent the remainder of the evening at a Cafediscussing matters connected with their joint hobby. Had one looked inupon Jacob Burrell then, as he sat sipping a glass of brandy and water,it would have been difficult to imagine that this man who was soemphatic and precise about Water Marks, Batonne Papers, Misprints, andFudges, was in Paris for the sole reason of elucidating a terriblecrime, and in the hope of bringing the criminal to justice.
Next morning he was up early and, as soon as was compatible with callinghours, was on his way to the office of which Zevenboom had given him theaddress. Sending his name in to the head of the firm, he asked for aninterview. This was promptly granted him and he was ushered into theproprietor's office, a charming little apartment fragrant with the odourof the divine weed. Now Burrell's French is not particularly good, butMonsieur Zacroft's English was certainly a good deal worse. However,they managed after a fashion, and with the help of a clerk, to make eachother understand, and that was perhaps all that was wanted. Zacroftinquired with much solicitude after the bodily welfare of his goodfriend Zevenboom, and on being assured that the latter enjoyed excellenthealth, so far as Burrell was aware, proceeded to ask in what way hecould be of service to the Englishman. The latter immediately commencedto explain, speaking in a louder tone than usual and using manygesticulations, as an Englishman so often does, in the hope of makinghis meaning clearer to his auditor. Later on Burrell produced thecharred remnant of the cigarette. The Frenchman admitted that thecigarette shown to him was of the same brand as that manufactured byMessrs. Kosman & Constantinopolous of Cairo, of which wealthy firm, hetook care to point out, he was the Parisian representative. He was alsoacquainted with Mr. Victor Fensden, and admitted that he had suppliedthat gentleman with cigarettes of the brand mentioned for some yearspast.
Burrell admitted to himself that so far this was very good. He hopedthat there would be still better news to follow.
"Perhaps you can tell me when he obtained his last consignment fromyou?" he said, after a short pause.
The manager begged Burrell to excuse him while he went into his shop toask the question. When he returned he laid a piece of paper before theother. The latter took it up and examined it carefully, though he wasnot at all prepared to find that the information would be of much valueto him. The surprise he received, however, almost took his breath away.It was the work of a moment to whip out his pocket-book and to open it.
He turned the leaves until he arrived at the entry he wanted.
"And am I to understand you to say that Mr. Fensden wrote to you fromEngland for them? Are you quite sure of it?"
"Quite sure," replied the other, and intimated in exceedingly poorEnglish that he was prepared to show his customer's letter in proof ofthe genuineness of his assertion. He did so, and Burrell examined itcarefully. Ultimately he prevailed upon the other to permit him to keepthe letter.
"I wouldn't lose it for a thousand pounds," he said to himself. "Goodgracious, this is nothing less than a stupendous piece of luck. It's thelast thing in the world I should have thought of."
He thanked the little tobacco merchant for his courtesy, and bade himfarewell, promising to remember him most affectionately to Zevenboomwhen next he should see him. After that he went off to make arrangementsabout his journey from Paris to Naples.
It was at a late hour of the night when he reached that famous Italiancity. Tired out he betook himself to his hotel, slept the sleep of thejust, and rose in the morning with the pleasant feeling that the daybefore him was likely to prove a busy and also an exciting one. After hehad breakfasted, which he made a point of doing in the solid Englishfashion, he smoked a contemplative cigar, and interested himself afterhis own fashion in the billings and cooings of a young newly marriedcouple, who were staying at the hotel awaiting the arrival of theout-going Australian Mail Boat. Then, having discovered the interpreterwhom the hotel manager had found for him, he set off for the street inwhich he had been told Teresina Cardi and her mother had dwelt.
"'See Naples and die' they say," he muttered to himself, as he made hisway out of one into another tortuous and unsavoury street. "It shouldhave been '_smell_ Naples and die.' A connoisseur could discover ahundred fresh unsavouries in every hundred yards."
At last they found themselves in the street in question, and, after somelittle hunting, discovered the house in which the murdered girl hadresided with her mother. The interpreter questioned the head of thefamily who lived on the ground floor. With many flourishes and bows, thelatter, whose only work in life, it would appear, was to smokecigarettes upon the doorstep, informed him that the Signora Cardi wasdead and that the funeral had been a most imposing one.
"Ask him what has become of the daughter," said Burrell, who was anxiousto discover whether or not the man were aware of the murder.
"Gone," was the laconic reply. Eventually he condescended to add, "AnEnglishman came to see her, and the signorina went away with him. I cantell you no more."
He manufactured for himself another cigarette, with the air of a man whohas done everything he could to prove himself hospitable, and is notquite certain whether he has succeeded in the attempt. At this junctureBurrell rattled the money in his pocket.
"Ask him if he thinks he would know the man again if he were to seehim," he said. "Tell him also that I will pay him well for anyinformation he may give me."
A vehement debate ensued--which might have lasted from three to fiveminutes. At the end the interpreter translated.
"He says, your Excellency, that he could pick the man out from ahundred."
"He's been a jolly long time saying it," said Burrell, and as he spokehe took from his pocket half-a-dozen photographs which he had broughtwith him for that purpose. "However, he shall try!"
Among the number were likenesses of Fensden and Henderson. There werealso others of men who had nothing whatsoever to do with the case. Theproprietor of the ground floor rooms picked them up one by one andexamined them critically. When he reached Fensden's portrait he held itup immediately.
"That is the man," he said to the interpreter. "I need look no farther.I should know him anywhere."
Burrell replaced the photographs in his pocket.
"Ask him if he has any idea where the man he speaks of stayed when hewas in Naples," Burrell remarked to the man, but upon this subject itappeared that the other could give no sort of information, though hevolunteered for a reward to find out. This help, however, Burrelldeclined. After rewarding him, he retraced his steps to the hotel.
"It should not be difficult," he thought as he went along, "to discoverthe Englishman's abode during the time he was in Naples. He is not thesort of man to put up anywhere but at a good hotel."
Foreseeing for this reason that the number of the hotels at which theman he was inquiring about would be likely to stay, were limited, heresolved to institute investigations that afternoon. He was very soonsuccessful. At the second at which he called he discovered that Fensdenhad resided there and that he had left again on the 3rd of February. Themanager knew nothing of any _liaison_ with a girl of the city, nor couldhe say where his guest went after he left Naples. His servants wereequally ignorant, though one of them believed Signor Fensden'sdestination to have been Rome. Thanking the manager for his courtesy,Burrell left the hotel more than a little disappointed, to spend theremainder of the afternoon securing affidavits as to dates and generallyverifying the discoveries he had made.
"Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but to try Rome," he said tohimself, when he had considered the matter in all its details.
Early next morning he accordingly shook the highly scented dust ofNaples from his feet, and in due course reached the Italian capital. Hehad been there many times before, and in consequence he was a greatfavourite at the hotel where he usually resided. The owner welcomed himeffusively, somewhat as
he would have done a long-lost brother of whomhe stood in some little awe, and trusted that he had come to make a longstay.
"I am afraid not," said Burrell. "I have got an important piece ofbusiness on hand just now which must be completed as quickly aspossible. I am trying to hunt up the doings of an Englishman, who I havereason to believe came here from Naples with a Neapolitan girl, inFebruary last. Possibly he may have stayed with you. Here is hisphotograph. See if you can recognise him!"
He thereupon produced the photograph of Fensden, and laid it on thetable for the manager's inspection. The latter, however, shook his head.He could not remember the face among his guests.
"In that case I must begin my rounds of the hotels again, I suppose,"said Burrell.
After luncheon he did so. The result, however, was by no meanssatisfactory. He made inquiries at every hotel of importance, and atmany that were not, but try as he would he could glean no tidings of thepair whose doings he was so anxious to trace.
"It's evident I've gone wrong somewhere," he said to himself. "I don'tthink I will waste any more time in this place, but go straight on toVienna and look about me there. We know that the box hailed from theAustrian capital and that the wedding ring was manufactured in the samecountry. For my own part I don't believe they came to Rome at all."
Once more he resumed his journey and at length had the satisfaction offinding himself in Francis Joseph's famous city. He was very fond ofVienna, partly because he had made two important captures there, andpossibly more so for the reason that one of the best deals in stamps hehad ever effected was brought to a head in that delightful city. On thisoccasion he lost no time, but set to work immediately on his arrival. Inthis town, however, the search was not destined to prove a difficultone. He had not been more than twice unsuccessful when he tried theHotel National in the Kaearntner Strasse. The manager himself admittedthat he had a bad memory for faces, but he was quite sure of one thing,if they had stayed at his hotel, his head waiter would be sure torecollect them. That functionary was immediately summoned to thecouncil, and the photograph was placed before him. He had no soonerlooked upon it than he recognised it as being the likeness of thegentleman who had stayed there with an Italian girl. They had come toVienna to be married it was said.
"To be married?" said Burrell in astonishment. "What do you mean bythat? Weren't they married when they arrived?"
Before the waiter could answer, light had dawned upon the manager, whothereupon chimed in.
"Ah, my friend, I remember now," he said. "That was the gentleman whowas married at the Church of Funfhaus in the Gurtel Strasse. Now I canrecall the pair perfectly."
"The Church of Funfhaus in the Gurtel Strasse, you said, I think," saidBurrell, making a note of the name in his pocket-book for futurereference. "Pray how long did the happy couple remain with you?"
"For upward of a fortnight," the manager replied, consulting a book."But they were not happy all the time!"
"What do you mean by that? Why were they not happy?"
"For a very simple reason," the manager replied. "I mean that toward theend of their stay it was becoming plain to most of us that the gentlemanwas a little neglectful of his bride. Yet she was a beautiful girl! Ah!a beautiful girl!"
"It was the waning of the honeymoon," said Burrell cynically. "Poorgirl, it didn't last long." He paused for a while to pursue his ownthoughts, then he continued aloud, "Have you any idea where they wentafter they left here?"
The manager reflected for a moment.
"To Munich, I believe. But of that I am not quite certain. We will askAdolphe."
The head waiter was once more consulted, and corroborated his superior.The couple had left for Munich with the intention of proceeding later toParis. He was sure of this for the reason that he had heard thegentleman talking to the lady on the subject on the morning of theirdeparture.
The next day was spent by Burrell in collecting further evidence. Heinterviewed the worthy clergyman who had married them, obtained certainnecessary documents from him, discovered the jeweller who had sold themthe wedding ring, and when he had learned all he wanted to know, tookthe train and started for Munich.
In Munich he discovered the hotel at which they had stayed and sundryother particulars which might, or might not, prove useful later on.Thence he continued his journey to Paris, where more discoveries awaitedhim. At last, and none too soon, he boarded the steamer which was tocarry him to England. Even this short voyage was not devoid of interest,and by the time he reached London once more, he felt that there was notvery much standing between him and the end. But what remained was in allprobability more important than the beginning. There was a blank to befilled in, and filled in it must be, somehow or another, before thetrial commenced.
His first act on reaching home was to write out a true and completerecord of his doings since he had left London. This done he consultedthe memoranda he had received from the representative of Messrs. Kosman,Constantinopolous & Co., in Paris, and then set off by train to thelittle town of Staines. From Staines to the charming little village ofLaleham is a comparatively short and a most charming walk. It was almostmid-day by the time he reached the village and began to look about himfor Laburnum Cottage. When he discovered it it proved to be a prettylittle thatched building standing in a garden which in summer would bebright with hollyhocks, nasturtiums and other homely flowers. A card inthe window proclaimed the fact that apartments could be had within, butat that particular season of the year this announcement would be littlelikely to attract attention. Pushing open the gate, Burrell made his wayup the garden path to the neat little porch where he gave a smartrat-tat with his stick upon the door. The sound had scarcely died awaybefore it was opened to him by a stout, matronly person, dressed inblack, and wearing a cap and a neat white apron.
"Mrs. Raikes?" asked Burrell, to make sure she was the person he desiredto see.
"That is my name, sir," said the woman. "Perhaps you will tell me what Ican do for you."
"I want you to give me some information," Burrell answered. "I have comedown from London on purpose to see you."
"From London, sir," she exclaimed, as if that were rather a remarkablecircumstance. "Will you be pleased to step inside?" So saying, she heldthe door open for him to enter. He did so to find himself in a neatlittle sitting room, unostentatiously yet comfortably furnished. Threecases of stuffed birds decorated the walls, together with some pictureson religious subjects, a bookcase, the latter scantily furnished, andlast, but not least, a Chippendale sofa, and two or three chairs thatwould not have disgraced a ducal drawing-room.
"Kindly take a seat, sir," said Mrs. Raikes, dusting one of theaforementioned chairs with her apron as she spoke. "If it's apartmentsyou want I am quite sure I can satisfy you. Of course it's a bad seasonof the year, but at the end of the month we shall begin to fill up.There's some splendid boating on the river, as perhaps you know, and atnight, when the houseboats are all lit up, well, it's quite lively."
Her desire to impress him with the gaieties of the place was almostpathetic, and Burrell felt that he was acting meanly in permitting herto go on, without acquainting her with the real object of his visit.
"I am sorry to say that I am not in search of lodgings," he said. "Mybusiness is of an altogether different nature. In the first place, Ithink I ought to tell you that I am a detective."
"A detective?" she cried in horror. "Lor', I _do_ hope, sir, there'snothing wrong?"
"Not so far as you are concerned, you may be sure," he answered. "I havecome down here to make some inquiries regarding a gentleman who wasknown to be staying in your house some time back. His name was Fensden."
The woman shook her head.
"I haven't had a gentleman in my house of that name," she answered. "Infact, the only gentleman I have had since the beginning of the year wasa Mr. Onslow. The name of Fensden I don't remember at all."
Burrell consulted his pocket-book before he went further.
"And yet the information I receive
d was most complete," he continued."Victor Fensden, Esq., %George Onslow, Laburnum Cottage,Laleham-on-Thames. There couldn't be anything plainer than that, couldthere?"
"It seems all right, sir," said the woman. "There is only one LaburnumCottage, and Mr. Onslow was certainly staying with us. He had his wifewith him, a sweet young thing, which was more than could be said of thegentleman, I can assure you."
It was plain from this that she and Mr. Onslow had not been on the bestof terms. Burrell took from his pocket the photograph of Fensden, andhanded it to her. He was beginning to have an inkling of the truth.
"Is that the likeness of Fensden or of Mr. Onslow?" he inquired.
"Mr. Onslow, sir, to be sure," she replied, "and a very good one of himit is too. I hope he's not a friend of yours, because I couldn't abearhim. The way he treated his poor foreign wife of his was enough to makean honest woman's blood boil."
"So he had a foreign wife, had he?" said Burrell. "That's interesting.Tell me all you can about him."
"There's not much to be told, sir, except about his bullying and naggingthat poor young thing. She was a foreigner, as I have just said, but asnice a young lady as ever stepped in at my door. When they first cameshe told me that Mr. Onslow was an artist, and that they wanted to bequiet and away from London. They didn't mind putting up with theroughness of things, she said, so long as they could be quiet. Well,sir, they had this room and the bedroom above, and for the first fewdays everything went as smooth and as nice as could be. Then I noticedthat she took to crying, and that he went away day after day and oncefor two days. At last he disappeared altogether, leaving her without ahalfpenny in the world. Oh! I'd have liked to have seen the brute andhave given him a bit of my mind. It would have done him good, I'llpromise him that. I shall never forget that poor young thing in hertrouble. She waited and waited for him to come back, but at last whenthere was no sign of him, she came to me in my kitchen there to knowwhat she should do. 'I know you have not had your money, Mrs. Raikes,'she said in a kind of piteous foreign way, that went to my heart. 'I cannot stay here any longer, and so, if you'll trust me, I'll go away toLondon and try to find my husband. Even if I do not, you shall not loseby us.' I told her I didn't want the money, and that I was as sorry forher as a woman could be. Poor dear, I could see that her heart wasnearly broken."
"And what happened then?"
"Nothing, sir, except that she went away, and she hadn't been gone aweek before the money that was owing to me was sent in a Post OfficeOrder. From that day to this I've heard nothing of either of them andthat's the truth. Whether she found her husband I can not say, but ifshe'd take my advice she'd never try to."
"You are quite sure that you'd know the man again?"
"I am certain I should," the woman replied. "I hope, sir, in telling youall this, I've been doing no harm?"
"You have been doing a great deal of good," Burrell replied. "Shortlyafter she left you, poor Mrs. Onslow, as you call her, was most brutallymurdered, and I have been commissioned by the friends of the man who iswrongfully accused of the crime to endeavour to discover the realcriminal."
"Murdered, sir? you surely don't mean that?"
"I do! A more abominable crime has not been committed this century."
The good woman was honestly overcome by the news and during theremainder of the interview scarcely recovered her composure. Before heleft, Burrell cautioned her most strongly against saying anything aboutthe case to her neighbours, and this injunction she promised faithfullyto observe.
"By the way," said the detective, before he left, "do you rememberwhether this man Onslow received any letters while he was staying withyou?"
"Only one, sir, so far as I know," the woman replied.
"You're quite sure of that?"
"Quite sure, sir, and why I happen to be so certain is that it caused abit of unpleasantness between them. I was brushing the stairs just outthere, when the letter arrived. It was Mrs. Onslow that took it in, andwhen she saw the post-mark she asked him who it was that he knew atRichmond. He snatched the letter from her and told her to mind her ownbusiness. That afternoon he went out and never came back. It's my beliefit was some woman at Richmond as enticed him away."
"Have you any other reason for supposing that except the post-mark onthe envelope?"
"Well, sir," returned the woman, "to be candid with you, I have, thoughperhaps it's a tale I shouldn't tell. I was so sorry for that poor youngthing that I couldn't get her trouble out of my head, and nothing wouldserve but that I must watch him. I saw him sitting down at the head ofthe table where you are now, sir, about half-an-hour after he hadspoken so cross to his wife, and she, poor dear, was upstairs crying,and I noticed that he was writing a telegram. Presently he calls to me.'Mrs. Raikes,' said he, 'want to send a telegram at once, who can takeit for me?' 'There's Mrs. Hawkins's little boy next door, sir,' says I,'he's taken messages for gentlemen I've had in the house before now, andalways done it very well. I saw him playing in the field at the back ofthe house only this minute.' 'Call him in to me, then,' says he, 'and heshall have sixpence for his trouble.' I called the lad in, and Mr.Onslow gave him the message, and then off he went with it, but not sofast but that I was able to run across to the corner of the field at theback there, and catch him on the road. 'Tommy,' I said, 'let me have alook at that telegram.' He was a good little boy, and handed it over tome without a word. It was addressed to 'Montgomery, 13 Bridgeworth Road,Richmond.' There was no other name to it, and the only other word was'yes.' It didn't seem to me that there was anything out of the commonabout it, and so I thought no more of it, until you spoke of his havingletters just now."
"I think I'll make a note of the address in case it should be useful,"said Burrell. "And now I'll be off, thanking you again, Mrs. Raikes, forthe information you have given me."
On leaving the cottage he walked back to Staines, caught a train toLondon, and hastened to his house. Later on he made his way to EustonStation. Another twenty hours elapsed before he was able to acquire theinformation he wanted there--but he had the satisfaction of knowing,when he had obtained it, that there remained now only one link to beforged, and then the chain of evidence would be complete. That link wasforged at Richmond, and next day he handed in his report to theastonished Codey.
"Good heavens, Burrell," said that astute gentleman, "this is asmarvellous as it is horrible. What do you think?"
"I think, sir, that we shall be able to prove that Mr. Henderson isinnocent."
* * * * *
At last, after all the weary waiting, the great day arrived. TheSessions had commenced at the Old Bailey. For two or three days prior tothis, Godfrey had been busy with his solicitor and his counsel. It wasnot, however, until the afternoon before the commencement that he couldelicit from Codey any information as to Burrell's discoveries.Immediately he was ushered into the room where Codey was awaiting him,Godfrey saw from the expression upon the other's face, that there wassomething to tell.
"You--have good news for me," he said, as they shook hands.
"The very best of news," Codey replied. "My dear sir, you may restassured that your innocence is completely established. The whole plothas come to light, and, when we give the word, the authorities will beable to lay their hands upon the man who committed the deed."
"But who is the man?" Godfrey hastened to ask, scarcely able to speakfor excitement. His pulse was beating like a sledge hammer inside hishead, until it seemed as if his brain must burst.
"Don't ask me that now," said Codey. "Put your trust in me untilto-morrow. Then you shall know everything. Believe me, I have my ownvery good reasons for asking this favour of you. Rest assured of onething; at latest the day after to-morrow you will be at liberty to gowhere and do what you please."
"But why can not it be settled at once? Why must it be the day afterto-morrow? It is cruel to keep me in suspense!"
"Don't you understand that we can not bring forward our witnesses untilthe proper moment arrives?" s
aid the lawyer. "The English law has itsidiosyncrasies, and even in a case of life and death, the formalitiesmust be observed. There is one thing, however, I can promise you; thatis, that when the truth comes out, it will be admitted that such asensation has not been caused in a Court of Justice before."
And with this assurance, meagre as it was, Godfrey had perforce to becontent.