CHAPTER XI
MR. ERRINGTON
"Did you ever see Mr. Errington, the gentleman so closely connected withthe mysterious death on the Underground Railway?" asked the man in thecorner as he placed one or two of his little snap-shot photos beforeMiss Polly Burton.
"There he is, to the very life. Fairly good-looking, a pleasant faceenough, but ordinary, absolutely ordinary.
"It was this absence of any peculiarity which very nearly, but notquite, placed the halter round Mr. Errington's neck.
"But I am going too fast, and you will lose the thread.
"The public, of course, never heard how it actually came about that Mr.Errington, the wealthy bachelor of Albert Mansions, of the Grosvenor,and other young dandies' clubs, one fine day found himself before themagistrates at Bow Street, charged with being concerned in the death ofMary Beatrice Hazeldene, late of No. 19, Addison Row.
"I can assure you both press and public were literally flabbergasted.You see, Mr. Errington was a well-known and very popular member of acertain smart section of London society. He was a constant visitor atthe opera, the racecourse, the Park, and the Carlton, he had a greatmany friends, and there was consequently quite a large attendance at thepolice court that morning.
"What had transpired was this:
"After the very scrappy bits of evidence which came to light at theinquest, two gentlemen bethought themselves that perhaps they had someduty to perform towards the State and the public generally. Accordinglythey had come forward, offering to throw what light they could upon themysterious affair on the Underground Railway.
"The police naturally felt that their information, such as it was, camerather late in the day, but as it proved of paramount importance, andthe two gentlemen, moreover, were of undoubtedly good position in theworld, they were thankful for what they could get, and actedaccordingly; they accordingly brought Mr. Errington up before themagistrate on a charge of murder.
"The accused looked pale and worried when I first caught sight of him inthe court that day, which was not to be wondered at, considering theterrible position in which he found himself.
"He had been arrested at Marseilles, where he was preparing to start forColombo.
"I don't think he realized how terrible his position really was untillater in the proceedings, when all the evidence relating to the arresthad been heard, and Emma Funnel had repeated her statement as to Mr.Errington's call at 19, Addison Row, in the morning, and Mrs. Hazeldenestarting off for St. Paul's Churchyard at 3.30 in the afternoon.
"Mr. Hazeldene had nothing to add to the statements he had made at thecoroner's inquest. He had last seen his wife alive on the morning of thefatal day. She had seemed very well and cheerful.
"I think every one present understood that he was trying to say aslittle as possible that could in any way couple his deceased wife's namewith that of the accused.
"And yet, from the servant's evidence, it undoubtedly leaked out thatMrs. Hazeldene, who was young, pretty, and evidently fond of admiration,had once or twice annoyed her husband by her somewhat open, yetperfectly innocent, flirtation with Mr. Errington.
"I think every one was most agreeably impressed by the widower'smoderate and dignified attitude. You will see his photo there, amongthis bundle. That is just how he appeared in court. In deep black, ofcourse, but without any sign of ostentation in his mourning. He hadallowed his beard to grow lately, and wore it closely cut in a point.
"After his evidence, the sensation of the day occurred. A tall,dark-haired man, with the word 'City' written metaphorically all overhim, had kissed the book, and was waiting to tell the truth, and nothingbut the truth.
"He gave his name as Andrew Campbell, head of the firm of Campbell &Co., brokers, of Throgmorton Street.
"In the afternoon of March 18th Mr. Campbell, travelling on theUnderground Railway, had noticed a very pretty woman in the samecarriage as himself. She had asked him if she was in the right train forAldersgate. Mr. Campbell replied in the affirmative, and then buriedhimself in the Stock Exchange quotations of his evening paper.
"At Gower Street, a gentleman in a tweed suit and bowler hat got intothe carriage, and took a seat opposite the lady.
"She seemed very much astonished at seeing him, but Mr. Andrew Campbelldid not recollect the exact words she said.
"The two talked to one another a good deal, and certainly the ladyappeared animated and cheerful. Witness took no notice of them; he wasvery much engrossed in some calculations, and finally got out atFarringdon Street. He noticed that the man in the tweed suit also gotout close behind him, having shaken hands with the lady, and said in apleasant way: '_Au revoir_! Don't be late to-night.' Mr. Campbell didnot hear the lady's reply, and soon lost sight of the man in the crowd.
"Every one was on tenter-hooks, and eagerly waiting for the palpitatingmoment when witness would describe and identify the man who last hadseen and spoken to the unfortunate woman, within five minutes probablyof her strange and unaccountable death.
"Personally I knew what was coming before the Scotch stockbroker spoke.
"I could have jotted down the graphic and lifelike description he wouldgive of a probable murderer. It would have fitted equally well the manwho sat and had luncheon at this table just now; it would certainly havedescribed five out of every ten young Englishmen you know.
"The individual was of medium height, he wore a moustache which was notvery fair nor yet very dark, his hair was between colours. He wore abowler hat, and a tweed suit--and--and--that was all--Mr. Campbell mightperhaps know him again, but then again, he might not--he was not payingmuch attention--the gentleman was sitting on the same side of thecarriage as himself--and he had his hat on all the time. He himself wasbusy with his newspaper--yes--he might know him again--but he reallycould not say.
"Mr. Andrew Campbell's evidence was not worth very much, you will say.No, it was not in itself, and would not have justified any arrest wereit not for the additional statements made by Mr. James Verner, managerof Messrs. Rodney & Co., colour printers.
"Mr. Verner is a personal friend of Mr. Andrew Campbell, and it appearsthat at Farringdon Street, where he was waiting for his train, he sawMr. Campbell get out of a first-class railway carriage. Mr. Verner spoketo him for a second, and then, just as the train was moving off, hestepped into the same compartment which had just been vacated by thestockbroker and the man in the tweed suit. He vaguely recollects a ladysitting in the opposite corner to his own, with her face turned awayfrom him, apparently asleep, but he paid no special attention to her. Hewas like nearly all business men when they are travelling--engrossed inhis paper. Presently a special quotation interested him; he wished tomake a note of it, took out a pencil from his waistcoat pocket, andseeing a clean piece of paste-board on the floor, he picked it up, andscribbled on it the memorandum, which he wished to keep. He thenslipped the card into his pocket-book.
"'It was only two or three days later,' added Mr. Verner in the midst ofbreathless silence, 'that I had occasion to refer to these same notesagain.
"'In the meanwhile the papers had been full of the mysterious death onthe Underground Railway, and the names of those connected with it werepretty familiar to me. It was, therefore, with much astonishment that onlooking at the paste-board which I had casually picked up in the railwaycarriage I saw the name on it, "Frank Errington."'
"There was no doubt that the sensation in court was almostunprecedented. Never since the days of the Fenchurch Street mystery, andthe trial of Smethurst, had I seen so much excitement. Mind you, I wasnot excited--I knew by now every detail of that crime as if I hadcommitted it myself. In fact, I could not have done it better, althoughI have been a student of crime for many years now. Many peoplethere--his friends, mostly--believed that Errington was doomed. I thinkhe thought so, too, for I could see that his face was terribly white,and he now and then passed his tongue over his lips, as if they wereparched.
"You see he was in the awful dilemma--a perfectly natural one, by theway--o
f being absolutely incapable of _proving_ an _alibi_. Thecrime--if crime there was--had been committed three weeks ago. A manabout town like Mr. Frank Errington might remember that he spent certainhours of a special afternoon at his club, or in the Park, but it is verydoubtful in nine cases out of ten if he can find a friend who couldpositively swear as to having seen him there. No! no! Mr. Errington wasin a tight corner, and he knew it. You see, there were--besides theevidence--two or three circumstances which did not improve matters forhim. His hobby in the direction of toxicology, to begin with. The policehad found in his room every description of poisonous substances,including prussic acid.
"Then, again, that journey to Marseilles, the start for Colombo, was,though perfectly innocent, a very unfortunate one. Mr. Errington hadgone on an aimless voyage, but the public thought that he had fled,terrified at his own crime. Sir Arthur Inglewood, however, here againdisplayed his marvellous skill on behalf of his client by the masterlyway in which he literally turned all the witnesses for the Crown insideout.
"Having first got Mr. Andrew Campbell to state positively that in theaccused he certainly did _not_ recognize the man in the tweed suit, theeminent lawyer, after twenty minutes' cross-examination, had socompletely upset the stockbroker's equanimity that it is very likely hewould not have recognized his own office-boy.
"But through all his flurry and all his annoyance Mr. Andrew Campbellremained very sure of one thing; namely, that the lady was alive andcheerful, and talking pleasantly with the man in the tweed suit up tothe moment when the latter, having shaken hands with her, left her witha pleasant '_Au revoir_! Don't be late to-night.' He had heard neitherscream nor struggle, and in his opinion, if the individual in the tweedsuit had administered a dose of poison to his companion, it must havebeen with her own knowledge and free will; and the lady in the trainmost emphatically neither looked nor spoke like a woman prepared for asudden and violent death.
"Mr. James Verner, against that, swore equally positively that he hadstood in full view of the carriage door from the moment that Mr.Campbell got out until he himself stepped into the compartment, thatthere was no one else in that carriage between Farringdon Street andAldgate, and that the lady, to the best of his belief, had made nomovement during the whole of that journey.
"No; Frank Errington was _not_ committed for trial on the capitalcharge," said the man in the corner with one of his sardonic smiles,"thanks to the cleverness of Sir Arthur Inglewood, his lawyer. Heabsolutely denied his identity with the man in the tweed suit, and sworehe had not seen Mrs. Hazeldene since eleven o'clock in the morning ofthat fatal day. There was no _proof_ that he had; moreover, according toMr. Campbell's opinion, the man in the tweed suit was in all probabilitynot the murderer. Common sense would not admit that a woman could have adeadly poison injected into her without her knowledge, while chattingpleasantly to her murderer.
"Mr. Errington lives abroad now. He is about to marry. I don't think anyof his real friends for a moment believed that he committed thedastardly crime. The police think they know better. They do know thismuch, that it could not have been a case of suicide, that if the man whoundoubtedly travelled with Mrs. Hazeldene on that fatal afternoon had nocrime upon his conscience he would long ago have come forward and thrownwhat light he could upon the mystery.
"As to who that man was, the police in their blindness have not thefaintest doubt. Under the unshakable belief that Errington is guiltythey have spent the last few months in unceasing labour to try and findfurther and stronger proofs of his guilt. But they won't find them,because there are none. There are no positive proofs against the actualmurderer, for he was one of those clever blackguards who think ofeverything, foresee every eventuality, who know human nature well, andcan foretell exactly what evidence will be brought against them, and actaccordingly.
"This blackguard from the first kept the figure, the personality, ofFrank Errington before his mind. Frank Errington was the dust which thescoundrel threw metaphorically in the eyes of the police, and you mustadmit that he succeeded in blinding them--to the extent even of makingthem entirely forget the one simple little sentence, overheard by Mr.Andrew Campbell, and which was, of course, the clue to the wholething--the only slip the cunning rogue made--'_Au revoir_! Don't be lateto-night.' Mrs. Hazeldene was going that night to the opera with herhusband--
"You are astonished?" he added with a shrug of the shoulders, "you donot see the tragedy yet, as I have seen it before me all along. Thefrivolous young wife, the flirtation with the friend?--all a blind, allpretence. I took the trouble which the police should have takenimmediately, of finding out something about the finances of theHazeldene _menage_. Money is in nine cases out of ten the keynote to acrime.
"I found that the will of Mary Beatrice Hazeldene had been proved bythe husband, her sole executor, the estate being sworn at L15,000. Ifound out, moreover, that Mr. Edward Sholto Hazeldene was a poorshipper's clerk when he married the daughter of a wealthy builder inKensington--and then I made note of the fact that the disconsolatewidower had allowed his beard to grow since the death of his wife.
"There's no doubt that he was a clever rogue," added the strangecreature, leaning excitedly over the table, and peering into Polly'sface. "Do you know how that deadly poison was injected into the poorwoman's system? By the simplest of all means, one known to everyscoundrel in Southern Europe. A ring--yes! a ring, which has a tinyhollow needle capable of holding a sufficient quantity of prussic acidto have killed two persons instead of one. The man in the tweed suitshook hands with his fair companion--probably she hardly felt the prick,not sufficiently in any case to make her utter a scream. And, mind you,the scoundrel had every facility, through his friendship with Mr.Errington, of procuring what poison he required, not to mention hisfriend's visiting card. We cannot gauge how many months ago he began totry and copy Frank Errington in his style of dress, the cut of hismoustache, his general appearance, making the change probably sogradual, that no one in his own _entourage_ would notice it. Heselected for his model a man his own height and build, with the samecoloured hair."
"But there was the terrible risk of being identified by hisfellow-traveller in the Underground," suggested Polly.
"Yes, there certainly was that risk; he chose to take it, and he waswise. He reckoned that several days would in any case elapse before thatperson, who, by the way, was a business man absorbed in his newspaper,would actually see him again. The great secret of successful crime is tostudy human nature," added the man in the corner, as he began lookingfor his hat and coat. "Edward Hazeldene knew it well."
"But the ring?"
"He may have bought that when he was on his honeymoon," he suggestedwith a grim chuckle; "the tragedy was not planned in a week, it may havetaken years to mature. But you will own that there goes a frightfulscoundrel unhung. I have left you his photograph as he was a year ago,and as he is now. You will see he has shaved his beard again, but alsohis moustache. I fancy he is a friend now of Mr. Andrew Campbell."
He left Miss Polly Burton wondering, not knowing what to believe.
And that is why she missed her appointment with Mr. Richard Frobisher(of the _London Mail_) to go and see Maud Allan dance at the PalaceTheatre that afternoon.