“Yes; but Mrs. John Blackmore is not much like Mrs. Schallibaum, excepting that she has a cast in the left eye. She is a dark woman with very heavy eyebrows.”
“That is to say that she differs from Mrs. Schallibaum in those peculiarities that can be artificially changed and resembles her in the one feature that is unchangeable. Do you know if her Christian name happens to be Pauline?”
“Yes, it is. She was a Miss Pauline Hagenbeck, a member of an American theatrical company. What made you ask?”
“The name which Jervis heard poor Jeffrey struggling to pronounce seemed to me to resemble Pauline more than any other name.”
“There is one little point that strikes me,” said Marchmont. “Is it not rather remarkable that the porter should have noticed no difference between the body of Jeffrey and the living man whom he knew by sight, and who must, after all, have been distinctly different in appearance?”
“I am glad you raised that question,” Thorndyke replied, “for that very difficulty presented itself to me at the beginning of the case. But on thinking it over, I decided that it was an imaginary difficulty, assuming, as we do, that there was a good deal of resemblance between the two men. Put yourself in the porter’s place and follow his mental processes. He is informed that a dead man is lying on the bed in Mr. Blackmore’s rooms. Naturally, he assumes that the dead man is Mr. Blackmore—who, by the way, had hinted at suicide only the night before. With this idea he enters the chambers and sees a man a good deal like Mr. Blackmore and wearing Mr. Blackmore’s clothes, lying on Mr. Blackmore’s bed. The idea that the body could be that of some other person has never entered his mind. If he notes any difference of appearance he will put that down to the effects of death; for everyone knows that a man dead looks somewhat different from the same man alive. I take it as evidence of great acuteness on the part of John Blackmore that he should have calculated so cleverly, not only the mental process of the porter, but the erroneous reasoning which everyone would base on the porter’s conclusions. For, since the body was actually Jeffrey’s, and was identified by the porter as that of his tenant, it has been assumed by everyone that no question was possible as to the identity of Jeffrey Blackmore and the tenant of New Inn.”
There was a brief silence, and then Marchmont asked:
“May we take it that we have now heard all the evidence?”
“Yes,” replied Thorndyke. “That is my case.”
“Have you given information to the police?” Stephen asked eagerly.
“Yes. As soon as I had obtained the statement of the cabman, Ridley, and felt that I had enough evidence to secure a conviction, I called at Scotland Yard and had an interview with the Assistant Commissioner. The case is in the hands of Superintendent Miller of the Criminal Investigation Department, a most acute and energetic officer. I have been expecting to hear that the warrant has been executed, for Mr. Miller is usually very punctilious in keeping me informed of the progress of the cases to which I introduce him. We shall hear tomorrow, no doubt.”
“And, for the present,” said Marchmont, “the case seems to have passed out of our hands.”
“I shall enter a caveat, all the same,” said Mr. Winwood.
“That doesn’t seem very necessary,” Marchmont objected. “The evidence that we have heard is amply sufficient to ensure a conviction and there will be plenty more when the police go into the case. And a conviction on the charges of forgery and murder would, of course, invalidate the second will.”
“I shall enter a caveat, all the same,” repeated Mr. Winwood.
As the two partners showed a disposition to become heated over this question, Thorndyke suggested that they might discuss it at leisure by the light of subsequent events. Acting on this hint—for it was now close upon midnight—our visitors prepared to depart; and were, in fact, just making their way towards the door when the bell rang. Thorndyke flung open the door, and, as he recognized his visitor, greeted him with evident satisfaction.
“Ha! Mr. Miller; we were just speaking of you. These gentlemen are Mr. Stephen Blackmore and his solicitors, Mr. Marchmont and Mr. Winwood. You know Dr. Jervis, I think.”
The officer bowed to our friends and remarked:
“I am just in time, it seems. A few minutes more and I should have missed these gentlemen. I don’t know what you’ll think of my news.”
“You haven’t let that villain escape, I hope,” Stephen exclaimed.
“Well,” said the Superintendent, “he is out of my hands and yours too; and so is the woman. Perhaps I had better tell you what has happened.”
“If you would be so kind,” said Thorndyke, motioning the officer to a chair.
The superintendent seated himself with the manner of a man who has had a long and strenuous day, and forthwith began his story.
“As soon as we had your information, we procured a warrant for the arrest of both parties, and then I went straight to their flat with Inspector Badger and a sergeant. There we learned from the attendant that they were away from home and were not expected back until today about noon. We kept a watch on the premises, and this morning, about the time appointed, a man and a woman, answering to the description, arrived at the flat. We followed them in and saw them enter the lift, and we were going to get into the lift too, when the man pulled the rope, and away they went. There was nothing for us to do but run up the stairs, which we did as fast as we could race; but they got to their landing first,
