The Murders in Praed Street

of it, suicide fits in best with what we know. It is a fact that Copperdock’s mind was to some extent unhinged. He declared that he met the black sailor, when a reliable witness declares that no such person was about. In fact, the only person besides Copperdock who seriously claims to have seen this black sailor is a degenerate youth who is also a convicted pickpocket. It is highly probable that the counters were numbered, and the envelopes containing them typed in Mr. Copperdock’s office. Whyland assures me that the only link between the victims was Copperdock, not in any definite form, certainly, but still definite enough to make the coincidence remarkable. I am inclined to believe that Copperdock was at the bottom of it all somehow. My difficulty will be to prove it.”

“You think, I gather, that this Mr. Copperdock suffered from a peculiar form of homicidal mania, which finally culminated in his taking his own life?” suggested the Professor. “I admit that such cases are not unknown, but the theory involves you in many difficulties. I mention only one of them, the first that occurs to me. Where did he obtain this synthetic alkaloid? These substances are not articles of commerce, they are not, so far as I am aware, used in medicine. They are only produced experimentally in research laboratories. Farwell had a well-equipped laboratory, as you probably remember, which accounts for his use of such a poison. But how could a man in Copperdock’s position procure it?”

Hanslet shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Professor,” he replied. “I confess that I turn to the theory of Copperdock as the murderer because it seems to present fewer difficulties than any other. The whole thing seems to me to involve a mass of contradictions, whichever way you look at it. It’s for that very reason I came to see you, Professor. But you must at least admit that madness in some form must be responsible. What rational motive could there be for the murder of half a dozen men entirely unconnected with one another, and whose deaths could be of no possible benefit to the murderer?”

“I am prepared to admit nothing until I have further examined the facts,” replied the Professor severely. “Now, Harold, will you read me your notes upon the first murder? Thank you. I should like all details relating to Mr. Tovey, please, Inspector.”

It was long past midnight before they reached the end of the catalogue, and the Professor was satisfied that he knew everything which Hanslet could tell him.

“You will, of course, let me know if any fresh facts come to light,” he said, as Hanslet rose to take his leave. “Meanwhile, I will consider the matter. If I come to any definite conclusions I will let you know. Good night, and pray accept my most sincere thanks for presenting me with a most absorbing problem.”

XIV

The Morlandson Trial

The Professor came down to breakfast next morning looking even more weary than on the previous day. Harold, looking at him anxiously, guessed that he had hardly slept at all during the night. Some absorbing train of thought, whether started by Hanslet’s story of the previous evening or not, had taken possession of his brain. But, in spite of his weariness, there was a queer gleam in the piercing eyes behind the powerful spectacles, which Harold knew from past experience to be the light of battle.

“I have some work for you today, my boy,” he said, as soon as the meal was over. “I want you to go to the British Museum and look up the reports of the trials for murder at the Old Bailey during the first ten years of the present century. Among them you will find the trial of a doctor for the murder of one of his patients by giving him an overdose of morphia. I believe that the doctor’s name began with an M, and I fancy that his patient had a title. More than this I cannot tell you, my memory, I regret to say, is not what it used to be. I want you to make a précis of that trial and of the sentence.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Harold, and forthwith started on his quest. He could not guess the purpose for which the Professor required this information, but it could obviously have nothing to do with these intriguing murders in Praed Street which Hanslet had described. Unless, perhaps, the Professor had seen some parallel between the methods of the unknown criminal and those of this vague doctor whose name began with an M. You never could predict the direction from which the Professor would approach a problem. All that you could be certain of was that it would be different from the one you anticipated.

Arrived at the Museum, where he was a frequent visitor on similar errands, he went carefully through the index to the Law Reports. It was not until he came to the year 1906, that he met with anything which corresponded to the data which the Professor had given him. Then he found a reference to the trial of one Doctor Morlandson for the murder of Lord Whatley. This must be the case to which his employer had referred. He turned up the records, and proceeded to make a careful abstract.

It appeared that Lord Whatley had been a man of middle age, and of some considerable wealth. Dr. Morlandson was his regular medical attendant, and in 1905 he had been compelled to warn his patient that he was suffering from cancer, and that though an operation might be successful, there was grave doubt that it would permanently remove the source of the trouble. However, Lord Whatley consented to undergo the operation. He was removed to a nursing home, and a specialist was called in. The patient went through the ordeal satisfactorily, and after a while he returned home.

But, by the beginning of the following year, the symptoms reasserted themselves, and