CHAPTER SEVEN
"COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE"
Once the affair had been reported to the local police, news of thetragedy spread over the neighbourhood with amazing velocity, and by nineo'clock next morning there wasn't a soul within a radius of five mileswho had not heard of it; by ten the Common and the immediate vicinity ofGleer Cottage were literally black with morbid-minded sightseers andreporters.
As yet, however, none but the police and the representatives of thepress had been permitted to cross the threshold of the house or toobtain even the merest glimpse of the murdered man. For all that,certain facts relative to the position in which the body had been found,together with the mysterious marks upon his shirt bosom, had leaked out,and as Scotland Yard, as represented by Cleek and Superintendent Narkom,had chosen to remain silent for the present relative to such clues ashad been discovered, this gave room for some fine flights of fancy onthe part of the representatives of the press.
The special correspondent of the _Evening Planet_ "discovered" that theCount was "a well-known Austrian nobleman" who had offended the famousRavaschol group, and was the author of the equally famous "Ninth Clause"which had acted so disastrously against it--a circumstance which, the_Planet_ claimed, left no shadow of a doubt regarding "the true meaningof the mysterious markings upon the shirt bosom of the unfortunategentleman." Whereupon the representative of its bitterest rival, the_Morning Star_, as promptly discovered that he was nothing of the sort;that he had been "positively identified" as the former keeper of a sortof club in Soho much frequented by Russian, German, French, and Italiananarchists; and that, on its being discovered by those gentry that hehad sold to the police of their several countries secrets thus learned,he had been obliged to disappear from his regular haunts in order tosave his skin. And, furthermore, as the address of the house in whichthat club had been maintained, and from which he had carried on hissystem of betrayal, was 63 Essex Row, the explanation of the markingswas quite clear--to wit: "Four and two make six; one and two make three;furthermore, the peculiar formation of the repeated figure 2 is, ofcourse, a rude attempt to make it serve for the letter S. as well;which, taken in conjunction with the three X's, leaves no room for doubtthat these markings stand for Number Sixty-three Essex Row and fornothing else."
Now as it happened that 63 Essex Row had, at one time in its career,been the seat of just such a club and just such a proceeding as the_Morning Star_ stated, nothing was left the _Evening Planet_ butsneeringly to point out that "the imaginative genius of our esteemedcontemporary should not let it fail to remember that the manLovetski--to whom it doubtless refers, and whose mysterious vanishmentsome years ago has never been cleared up--had his supporters as well ashis accusers. It was clearly shown at the time that although he dwelt inthe house where the 'club' in question held forth, there never was anyabsolute proof that he was himself in any way actually connected withit, his vocation being that of a maker of dressing for boots, shoes,ladies' bags, and leather goods generally, which dressing hemanufactured upon the premises."
This statement, being correct, gave the _Morning Star_ a chance toclinch its argument yet more forcibly and to prove itself betterinformed than its rival by coming out in its next issue with thedeclaration that "there can no longer be any question relative to theidentity of the murdered man. That he is, or rather was, thelong-vanished Ferdinand Lovetski who was formerly identified with theclub _and_ the boot-dressing industry carried on at 63 Essex Row, isestablished beyond all cavil, since the marks smeared upon his shirtbosom are now known to have been made with shoe-blacking of that varietywhich is applied and polished with a cloth, and which has of recentyears almost entirely superseded the brush-applied variety of ourfathers' and grandfathers' days!"
Narkom, much impressed thereby, showed these two articles from the_Morning Star_ to Cleek.
"An ingenious young man that reporter, Mr. Narkom, and his deductionsregarding those marks reflect great credit upon him," said the latter."For it is positively certain that whoever he may or may not have been,the man certainly was _not_ the Count de Louvisan, for the simple reasonthat there is _no_ 'Count de Louvisan' in the Austrian nobility, thetitle having lapsed some years ago. The theory that the dead man is thatFerdinand Lovetski who formerly lived at 63 Essex Row, however, willbear looking into. It is well thought out. I should, perhaps, be moreimpressed with the genius of the chap who worked out so likely asolution to those mysterious figures if he hadn't made me lose faith inhis powers of observation by the 'shoe blacking' statement. It is not abad _guess_, in the circumstances--for each would leave marks verysimilar, if one trusted to the eye alone--but I happen to _know_ thatthe figures were _not_ smeared on with shoe-blacking, but with a stickof that greasy, highly scented black cosmetic which some actresses usefor their eyelashes and some men employ to disguise the gray hairs inthe moustache. You know the kind of stuff I mean. It is always wrappedin a brilliant, ruby-coloured tin foil; is to be found in most barbers'and hairdressers' establishments, and is very heavily and peculiarlyperfumed. You will remember that, when I wanted to ascertain if theodour of the _Huile Violette_ emanated from the body of the dead man ornot, I told you he _was_ scented, but _not_ with violets? Very well, thescent which was upon him was the peculiar spicy fragrance of thatparticular kind of cosmetic; and I had only to get one whiff of hisshirt bosom to understand what had been used to make those marks uponit."
"My dear Cleek, could you be sure of that?" ventured Narkom. "I know thekind of stuff you mean. But few Englishmen use it these days, though Iremember it was once very popular. It comes in light brown shades forfair people, as well as in black for dark ones; and the Count wasextremely fair, almost flaxen. Could you be positive then that what yousmelt was not on his hair or moustache? If he had used the light sort itwould not show, remember."
"My dear Mr. Narkom, have you so poor an opinion of my methods that youfancy I would be likely to be slipshod in my examination, and to passover so important a possibility as that? The man had brilliantine on hishair and moustache, and the latter had been dressed with curling irons!Believe me, when we find who put those marks upon him, we shall findsome one who is addicted to the use of black cosmetic of the kind whichI have mentioned."
And afterward, when the rush of events had crowded yet more importantones from his mind, Mr. Maverick Narkom remembered those words and setthat statement down in his diary as another proof of the amazingthoroughness and the shrewd far-sightedness of this remarkable man.