The Seven Secrets Part 39

To describe in technical detail the examination we made would not interest the general reader of this strange narrative. The average man or woman knows nothing or cares less for the duodenum or the pylorus; therefore it is not my intention to go into long and wearying detail.

Suffice it to say that we preserved certain portions of the body for subsequent examination, and together were engaged the whole evening in the laboratory of the hospital. Tatham was well skilled in the minutiae of the tests. The exact determination of the cause of death in cases of poisoning always depends partly on the symptoms noted before death, and partly on the appearances found after death. Regarding the former, neither of us knew anything; hence our difficulties were greatly increased. The object of the a.n.a.lyst is to obtain the substances which he has to examine chemically in as pure a condition as possible, so that there may be no doubt about the results of his tests; also, of course, to separate active substances from those that are inert, all being mixed together in the stomach and alimentary ca.n.a.l. Again, in dealing with such fluids as the blood, or the tissues of the body, their natural const.i.tuents must be got rid of before the foreign and poisonous body can be reached. There is this difficulty further to contend with: that some of the most poisonous of substances are of unstable composition and are readily altered by chemical reagents; to this group belong many vegetable and most animal poisons. These, therefore, must be treated differently from the more stable inorganic compounds. With an inorganic poison we may destroy all organic materials mixed with it, trusting to find the poison still recognisable after this process. Not so with an organic substance; that must be separated by other than destructive means.

Through the whole evening we tested for the various groups of poisons--corrosives, simple irritants, specific irritants and neurotics. It was a long and scientific search.

Some of the tests with which I was not acquainted I watched with the keenest interest, for, of all the medical men in London, Tatham was the most up to date in such a.n.a.lyses.

At length, after much work with acids, filtration, and distillation, we determined that a neurotic had been employed, and that its action on the vasomotor system of the nerves was very similar, if not identical, with nitrate of amyl.

Further than that, even Tatham, expert in such matters, could not proceed. Hours of hard work resulted in that conclusion, and with it we were compelled to be satisfied.

In due course the inquest was held at Shadwell, and with Ambler I attended as a witness. The reporters, of course, expected a sensation; but, on the contrary, our evidence went to show that, as the poisonous substance was found in the "quartern" bottle on deceased's table, death was in all probability due to suicide.

Some members of the jury took an opposite view. Then the letters we had found concealed were produced by the police, and, of course, created a certain amount of interest. But to the readers of newspapers the poisoning of a costermonger at Shadwell is of little interest as compared with a similar catastrophe in that quarter of London vaguely known as "the West End." The letters were suspicious, and both coroner and jury accepted them as evidence that Lane was engaged upon an elaborate scheme of blackmail.

"Who is this Mary Courtenay, who writes to him from Neneford?"

inquired the coroner of the inspector.

"Well, sir," the latter responded, "the writer herself is dead. She was found drowned a few days ago near her home under suspicious circ.u.mstances."

Then the reporters commenced to realize that something extraordinary was underlying the inquiry.

"Ah!" remarked the coroner, one of the most acute officials of his cla.s.s. "Then, in face of this, her letter seems to be more than curious. For aught we know the tragedy at Neneford may have been wilful murder; and we have now the suicide of the a.s.sa.s.sin?"

"That, sir, is the police theory," replied the inspector.

"Police theory be hanged!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ambler, almost loud enough to be heard. "The police know nothing of the case, and will never learn anything. If the jury are content to accept such an explanation, and brand poor Lane as a murderer, they must be allowed to do so."

I knew Jevons held coroners' juries in the most supreme contempt; sometimes rather unreasonably so, I thought.

"Well," the coroner said, "this is certainly remarkable evidence," and he turned the dead woman's letter over in his hand. "It is quite plain that the deceased approached the lady ostensibly to give her warning of some danger, but really to blackmail her; for what reason does not at present appear. He may have feared her threat to give information to the police; hence his crime, and subsequent suicide."

"Listen!" exclaimed Jevons in my ear. "They are actually trying the dead man for a crime he could not possibly have committed! They've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, as usual. Why don't they give a verdict of suicide and have done with it. We can't afford to waste a whole day explaining theories to a set of uneducated gentlemen of the Whitechapel Road. The English law is utterly ridiculous where coroners' juries are concerned."

The coroner heard his whispering, and looked towards us severely.

"We have not had sufficient time to investigate the whole of the facts connected with Mrs. Courtenay's mysterious death," the inspector went on. "You will probably recollect, sir, a mystery down at Kew some little time ago. It was fully reported in the papers, and created considerable sensation--an old gentleman was murdered under remarkable circ.u.mstances. Well, sir, the gentleman in question was Mrs.

Courtenay's husband."

The coroner sat back in his chair and stared at the officer who had spoken, while in the court a great sensation was caused. Mention of the Kew Mystery brought its details vividly back to the minds of everyone. Yes. After all, the death of that poor costermonger, Lanky Lane, was of greater public interest than the representatives of the Press antic.i.p.ated.

"Are you quite certain of this?" the coroner queried.

"Yes, sir. I am here by the direction of the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard to give evidence. I was engaged upon the case at Kew, and have also made inquiries into the mystery at Neneford."

"Then you have suspicion that the deceased was--well, a person of bad character?"

"We have."

"Fools!" growled Ambler. "Lane was a policeman's 'nose,' and often obtained payment from Scotland Yard for information regarding the doings of a certain gang of thieves. And yet they actually declare him to be a bad character. Preposterous!"

"Do you apply for an adjournment?"

"No, sir. We antic.i.p.ate that the verdict will be suicide--the only one possible in face of the evidence."

And then, as though the jury were compelled to act upon the inspector's suggestion, they returned a simple verdict. "That the deceased committed suicide by poisoning while of unsound mind."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

SIR BERNARD'S DECISION.

For fully a week I saw nothing of Ambler.

Sir Bernard was unwell, and remained down at Hove; therefore I was compelled to attend to his practice. There were several serious cases, the patients being persons of note; thus I was kept very busy.

My friend's silence was puzzling. I wrote to him, but received no response. A wire to his office in the City elicited the fact that Mr.

Jevons was out of town. Probably he was still pursuing the inquiry he had so actively taken up. Nevertheless, I was dissatisfied that he should leave me so entirely in the dark as to his intentions and discoveries.

Ethelwynn came to town for the day, and I spent several hours shopping with her. She was strangely nervous, and all the old spontaneous gaiety seemed to have left her. She had read in the papers of the curious connection between the death of the man Lane and that of her unfortunate sister; therefore our conversation was mainly upon the river mystery. Sometimes she seemed ill at ease with me, as though fearing some discovery. Perhaps, however, it was merely my fancy.

I loved her. She was all the world to me; and yet in her eyes I seemed to read some hidden secret which she was endeavouring, with all the power at her command, to conceal. In such circ.u.mstances there was bound to arise between us a certain reserve that we had not before known. Her conversation was carried on in a mechanical manner, as though distracted by her inner thoughts; and when, after having tea together in Bond Street, we drove to the station, and I saw her off on her return to Neneford, my mind was full of darkest apprehensions.

Yes. That interview convinced me more than ever that she was, in some manner, cognisant of the truth. The secret existence of old Mr.

Courtenay, the man whom I myself had p.r.o.nounced dead, was the crowning point of the strange affair; and yet I felt by some inward intuition that this fact was not unknown to her.

All the remarkable events of that moonlit night when I had followed husband and wife along the river-bank came back to me, and I saw vividly the old man's face, haggard and drawn, just as it had been in life. Surely there could be no stranger current of events than those which formed the Seven Secrets. They were beyond explanation--all of them. I knew nothing. I had certainly seen results; but I knew not their cause.

Nitrate of amyl was not a drug which a costermonger would select with a view to committing suicide. Indeed, I daresay few of my readers, unless they are doctors or chemists, have ever before heard of it.

Therefore my own conclusion, fully endorsed by the erratic Ambler, was that the poor fellow had been secretly poisoned.

Nearly a fortnight pa.s.sed, and I heard nothing of Ambler. He was still "out of town." Day by day pa.s.sed, but nothing of note transpired. Sir Bernard was still suffering from a slight touch of sciatica at home, and on visiting him one Sunday I found him confined to his bed, grumbling and peevish. He was eccentric in his miserly habits and his hatred of society, beyond doubt; and the absurdities which his enemies attributed to him were not altogether unfounded. But he had, at all events, the rare quality of entertaining for his profession a respect nearly akin to enthusiasm. Indeed, according to his views, the faculty possessed almost infallible qualities. In confidence he had more than once admitted to me that certain of his colleagues practising in Harley Street were amazing donkeys; but he would never have allowed anyone else to say so. From the moment a man acquired that diploma which gave him the right over life and death, that man became, in his eyes, an august personage for the world at large. It was a crime, he thought, for a patient not to submit to his decision, and certainly it must be admitted that his success in the treatment of nervous disorders had been most remarkable.

"You were at that lecture by Deboutin, of Paris, the other day!" he exclaimed to me suddenly, while I was seated at his bedside describing the work I had been doing for him in London. "Why didn't you tell me you were going there?"

"I went quite unexpectedly--with a friend."

"With whom?"

"Ambler Jevons."

"Oh, that detective fellow!" laughed the old physician. "Well," he added, "it was all very interesting, wasn't it?"

"Very--especially your own demonstrations. I had no idea that you were in correspondence with Deboutin."

He laughed; then, with a knowing look, said: