“Mrs. Chapman had nothing more of interest to say. The prisoner certainly was her lodger. She had last seen him on the evening of the 16th going up to his room with his candle. Mary the servant had much the same story to relate as her mistress.
“ ‘I think it was ’im, right enough,’ said Mary guardedly. ‘I didn’t see ’im, but I went up to ’is landing and stopped a moment outside ’is door. I could ’ear loud voices in the room—gentlemen talking.’
“ ‘I suppose you would not do such a thing as to listen, Mary?’ queried Mr. Pepys with a smile.
“ ‘No, sir,’ said Mary with a bland smile, ‘I didn’t catch what the gentlemen said, but one of them spoke so loud I thought they must be quarrelling.’
“ ‘Mr. Skinner was the only person in possession of a latchkey, I presume. No one else could have come in without ringing at the door?’
“ ‘Oh no, sir.’
“That was all. So far, you see, the case was progressing splendidly for the Crown against the prisoner. The contention, of course, was that Skinner had met Mr. Morton, brought him home with him, assaulted, drugged, then gagged and bound him, and finally robbed him of whatever money he had in his possession, which, according to certain affidavits which presently would be placed before the magistrate, amounted to £10,000 in notes.
“But in all this there still remained the great element of mystery for which the public and the magistrate would demand an explanation: namely, what were the relationships between Mr. Morton and Skinner, which had induced the former to refuse the prosecution of the man who had not only robbed him, but had so nearly succeeded in leaving him to die a terrible and lingering death?
“Mr. Morton was too ill as yet to appear in person. Dr. Mellish had absolutely forbidden his patient to undergo the fatigue and excitement of giving evidence himself in court that day. But his depositions had been taken at his bedside, were sworn to by him, and were now placed before the magistrate by the prosecuting counsel, and the facts they revealed were certainly as remarkable as they were brief and enigmatical.
“As they were read by Mr. Pepys, an awed and expectant hush seemed to descend over the large crowd gathered there, and all necks were strained eagerly forward to catch a glimpse of a tall, elegant woman, faultlessly dressed and wearing exquisite jewellery, but whose handsome face wore, as the prosecuting counsel read her husband’s deposition, a more and more ashen hue.
“ ‘This, your Honour, is the statement made upon oath by Mr. Francis Morton,’ commenced Mr. Pepys in that loud, sonorous voice of his which sounds so impressive in a crowded and hushed court. ‘ “I was obliged, for certain reasons which I refuse to disclose, to make a payment of a large sum of money to a man whom I did not know and have never seen. It was in a matter of which my wife was cognisant and which had entirely to do with her own affairs. I was merely the go-between, as I thought it was not fit that she should see to this matter herself. The individual in question had made certain demands, of which she kept me in ignorance as long as she could, not wishing to unnecessarily worry me. At last she decided to place the whole matter before me, and I agreed with her that it would be best to satisfy the man’s demands.
“ ‘ “I then wrote to that individual whose name I do not wish to disclose, addressing the letter, as my wife directed me to do, to the Brighton post office, saying that I was ready to pay the £10,000 to him, at any place or time and in what manner he might appoint. I received a reply which bore the Brighton postmark, and which desired me to be outside Furnival’s, the drapers, in West Street, at 9:30 on the morning of March 17th, and to bring the money (£10,000) in Bank of England notes.
“ ‘ “On the 16th my wife gave me a cheque for the amount and I cashed it at her bank—Bird’s in Fleet Street. At half-past nine the following morning I was at the appointed place. An individual wearing a grey overcoat, bowler hat, and red tie accosted me by name and requested me to walk as far as his lodgings in the King’s Parade. I followed him. Neither of us spoke. He stopped at a house which bore the name ‘Russell House,’ and which I shall be able to swear to as soon as I am able to go out. He let himself in with a latchkey, and asked me to follow him up to his room on the third floor. I thought I noticed when we were in the room that he locked the door; however, I had nothing of any value about me except the £10,000, which I was ready to give him. We had not exchanged the slightest word.
“ ‘ “I gave him the notes, and he folded them and put them in his pocketbook. Then I turned towards the door, and, without the slightest warning, I felt myself suddenly gripped by the shoulder, while a handkerchief was pressed to my nose and mouth. I struggled as best I could, but the handkerchief was saturated with chloroform, and I soon lost consciousness. I hazily remember the man saying to me in short, jerky sentences, spoken at intervals while I was still weakly struggling:
“ ‘ “What a fool you must think me, my dear sir! Did you really think that I was going to let you quietly walk out of here, straight to the police-station, eh? Such dodges have been done before, I know, when a man’s silence has to be bought for money. Find out who he is, see where he lives, give him the money, then inform against him. No you
