CHAPTER x.x.x
FRIENDS
"Yes," interrupted Polly eagerly, since, for once, her ac.u.men had been at least as sharp as his, "but suspicion of that horrible crime only shifted its taint from one friend to another, and, of course, I know-"
"But that"s just it," he quietly interrupted, "you don"t know-Mr. Walter Hatherell, of course, you mean. So did every one else at once. The friend, weak and willing, committing a crime on behalf of his cowardly, yet more a.s.sertive friend who had tempted him to evil. It was a good theory; and was held pretty generally, I fancy, even by the police.
"I say "even" because they worked really hard in order to build up a case against young Hatherell, but the great difficulty was that of time. At the hour when the policeman had seen the two men outside Park Square together, Walter Hatherell was still sitting in the Harewood Club, which he never left until twenty minutes to two. Had he wished to waylay and rob Aaron Cohen he would not have waited surely till the time when presumably the latter would already have reached home.
"Moreover, twenty minutes was an incredibly short time in which to walk from Hanover Square to Regent"s Park without the chance of cutting across the squares, to look for a man, whose whereabouts you could not determine to within twenty yards or so, to have an argument with him, murder him, and ransack his pockets. And then there was the total absence of motive."
"But-" said Polly meditatively, for she remembered now that the Regent"s Park murder, as it had been popularly called, was one of those which had remained as impenetrable a mystery as any other crime had ever been in the annals of the police.
The man in the corner c.o.c.ked his funny birdlike head well on one side and looked at her, highly amused evidently at her perplexity.
"You do not see how that murder was committed?" he asked with a grin.
Polly was bound to admit that she did not.
"If you had happened to have been in Mr. John Ashley"s predicament," he persisted, "you do not see how you could conveniently have done away with Mr. Aaron Cohen, pocketed his winnings, and then led the police of your country entirely by the nose, by proving an indisputable alibi?"
"I could not arrange conveniently," she retorted, "to be in two different places half a mile apart at one and the same time."
"No! I quite admit that you could not do this unless you also had a friend-"
"A friend? But you say-"
"I say that I admired Mr. John Ashley, for his was the head which planned the whole thing, but he could not have accomplished the fascinating and terrible drama without the help of willing and able hands."
"Even then-" she protested.
"Point number one," he began excitedly, fidgeting with his inevitable piece of string. "John Ashley and his friend Walter Hatherell leave the club together, and together decide on the plan of campaign. Hatherell returns to the club, and Ashley goes to fetch the revolver-the revolver which played such an important part in the drama, but not the part a.s.signed to it by the police. Now try to follow Ashley closely, as he dogs Aaron Cohen"s footsteps. Do you believe that he entered into conversation with him? That he walked by his side? That he asked for delay? No! He sneaked behind him and caught him by the throat, as the garroters used to do in the fog. Cohen was apoplectic, and Ashley is young and powerful. Moreover, he meant to kill-"
"But the two men talked together outside the Square gates," protested Polly, "one of whom was Cohen, and the other Ashley."
"Pardon me," he said, jumping up in his seat like a monkey on a stick, "there were not two men talking outside the Square gates. According to the testimony of James Funnell, the constable, two men were leaning arm in arm against the railings and one man was talking."
"Then you think that-"
"At the hour when James Funnell heard Holy Trinity clock striking half-past two Aaron Cohen was already dead. Look how simple the whole thing is," he added eagerly, "and how easy after that-easy, but oh, dear me! how wonderfully, how stupendously clever. As soon as James Funnell has pa.s.sed on, John Ashley, having opened the gate, lifts the body of Aaron Cohen in his arms and carries him across the Square. The Square is deserted, of course, but the way is easy enough, and we must presume that Ashley had been in it before. Anyway, there was no fear of meeting any one.
"In the meantime Hatherell has left the club: as fast as his athletic legs can carry him he rushes along Oxford Street and Portland Place. It had been arranged between the two miscreants that the Square gate should be left on the latch.
"Close on Ashley"s heels now, Hatherell too cuts across the Square, and reaches the further gate in good time to give his confederate a hand in disposing the body against the railings. Then, without another instant"s delay, Ashley runs back across the gardens, straight to the Ashton Club, throwing away the keys of the dead man, on the very spot where he had made it a point of being seen and heard by a pa.s.ser-by.
"Hatherell gives his friend six or seven minutes" start, then he begins the altercation which lasts two or three minutes, and finally rouses the neighbourhood with cries of "Murder" and report of pistol in order to establish that the crime was committed at the hour when its perpetrator has already made out an indisputable alibi."
"I don"t know what you think of it all, of course," added the funny creature as he fumbled for his coat and his gloves, "but I call the planning of that murder-on the part of novices, mind you-one of the cleverest pieces of strategy I have ever come across. It is one of those cases where there is no possibility whatever now of bringing the crime home to its perpetrator or his abettor. They have not left a single proof behind them; they foresaw everything, and each acted his part with a coolness and courage which, applied to a great and good cause, would have made fine statesmen of them both.
"As it is, I fear, they are just a pair of young blackguards, who have escaped human justice, and have only deserved the full and ungrudging admiration of yours very sincerely."
He had gone. Polly wanted to call him back, but his meagre person was no longer visible through the gla.s.s door. There were many things she would have wished to ask of him-what were his proofs, his facts? His were theories, after all, and yet, somehow, she felt that he had solved once again one of the darkest mysteries of great criminal London.
CHAPTER x.x.xI
THE DE GENNEVILLE PEERAGE
The man in the corner rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and looked out upon the busy street below.
"I suppose," he said, "there is some truth in the saying that Providence watches over bankrupts, kittens, and lawyers."
"I didn"t know there was such a saying," replied Polly, with guarded dignity.
"Isn"t there? Perhaps I am misquoting; anyway, there should be. Kittens, it seems, live and thrive through social and domestic upheavals which would annihilate a self-supporting tom-cat, and to-day I read in the morning papers the account of a n.o.ble lord"s bankruptcy, and in the society ones that of his visit at the house of a Cabinet minister, where he is the most honoured guest. As for lawyers, when Providence had exhausted all other means of securing their welfare, it brought forth the peerage cases."
"I believe, as a matter of fact, that this special dispensation of Providence, as you call it, requires more technical knowledge than any other legal complication that comes before the law courts," she said.
"And also a great deal more money in the client"s pocket than any other complication. Now, take the Brockelsby peerage case. Have you any idea how much money was spent over that soap bubble, which only burst after many hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds went in lawyers" and counsels" fees?"
"I suppose a great deal of money was spent on both sides," she replied, "until that sudden, awful issue-"
"Which settled the dispute effectually," he interrupted with a dry chuckle. "Of course, it is very doubtful if any reputable solicitor would have taken up the case. Timothy Beddingfield, the Birmingham lawyer, is a gentleman who-well-has had some misfortunes, shall we say? He is still on the rolls, mind you, but I doubt if any case would have its chances improved by his conducting it. Against that there is just this to be said, that some of these old peerages have such peculiar histories, and own such wonderful archives, that a claim is always worth investigating-you never know what may be the rights of it.
"I believe that, at first, every one laughed over the pretensions of the Hon. Robert Ingram de Genneville to the joint t.i.tle and part revenues of the old barony of Genneville, but, obviously, he might have got his case. It certainly sounded almost like a fairy-tale, this claim based upon the supposed validity of an ancient doc.u.ment over 400 years old. It was then that a mediaeval Lord de Genneville, more endowed with muscle than common sense, became during his turbulent existence much embarra.s.sed and hopelessly puzzled through the presentation made to him by his lady of twin-born sons.
"His embarra.s.sment chiefly arose from the fact that my lady"s attendants, while ministering to the comfort of the mother, had, in a moment of absent-mindedness, so placed the two infants in their cot that subsequently no one, not even-perhaps least of all-the mother, could tell which was the one who had been the first to make his appearance into this troublesome and puzzling world.
"After many years of cogitation, during which the Lord de Genneville approached nearer to the grave and his sons to man"s estate, he gave up trying to solve the riddle as to which of the twins should succeed to his t.i.tle and revenues; he appealed to his Liege Lord and King-Edward, fourth of that name-and with the latter"s august sanction he drew up a certain doc.u.ment, wherein he enacted that both his sons should, after his death, share his t.i.tles and goodly revenues, and that the first son born in wedlock of either father should subsequently be the sole heir.
"In this doc.u.ment was also added that if in future times should any Lords de Genneville be similarly afflicted with twin sons, who had equal rights to be considered the eldest born, the same rule should apply as to the succession.
"Subsequently a Lord de Genneville was created Earl of Brockelsby by one of the Stuart kings, but for four hundred years after its enactment the extraordinary deed of succession remained a mere tradition, the Countesses of Brockelsby having, seemingly, no predilection for twins. But in 1878 the mistress of Brockelsby Castle presented her lord with twin-born sons.
"Fortunately, in modern times, science is more wide-awake, and attendants more careful. The twin brothers did not get mixed up, and one of them was styled Viscount Tirlemont, and was heir to the earldom, whilst the other, born two hours later, was that fascinating, dashing young Guardsman, well known at Hurlingham, Goodwood, London, and in his own county-the Hon. Robert Ingram de Genneville.
"It certainly was an evil day for this brilliant young scion of the ancient race when he lent an ear to Timothy Beddingfield. This man, and his family before him, had been solicitors to the Earls of Brockelsby for many generations, but Timothy, owing to certain "irregularities," had forfeited the confidence of his client, the late earl.
"He was still in practice in Birmingham, however, and, of course, knew the ancient family tradition anent the twin succession. Whether he was prompted by revenge or merely self-advertis.e.m.e.nt no one knows.
"Certain it is that he did advise the Hon. Robert de Genneville-who apparently had more debts than he conveniently could pay, and more extravagant tastes than he could gratify on a younger son"s portion-to lay a claim, on his father"s death, to the joint t.i.tle and a moiety of the revenues of the ancient barony of Genneville, that claim being based upon the validity of the fifteenth-century doc.u.ment.