The Brooklyn Murders

murder mysteries by thinking them out as logical problems. He had made his name by solving the great “Antedated Murder Mystery,” when everyone else had been hopelessly in fault; and a man’s life and a great fortune had both depended on his skill in reasoning out the truth. He was a small man, with quick, nervous movements, and a curious way of closing his eyes and holding up his hands before him with the tips of his fingers pressed tightly together when he was discussing a case. He was reputed to have but a scant respect for most of his colleagues at Scotland Yard; but he made an exception in favour of Inspector Blaikie, whose pertinacity in following up clues worked in excellently with his own skill at putting two and two together. Blaikie, he would often say, could not reason; but he could find things out. He, Wilson, stuck there in his office, could not go hunting for clues; but he and Blaikie together were a first-class combination. He was sitting at his desk, busy with a mass of papers, when the inspector entered. He at once put his work aside and settled down to discuss the new case. Word of the second murder had already been sent to him over the telephone; and he had seen that the case was certain to make a stir. The connection of the victims with Sir Vernon Brooklyn and the Piccadilly Theatre was enough to ensure a first-class newspaper sensation. There was an unusual note of eagerness in his voice as he asked for the latest news.

“The trouble about this case, sir,” said Inspector Blaikie, “is that it’s as plain as a pikestaff; but what the clues plainly indicate cannot possibly be true. Perhaps I had better tell you the whole story from the beginning.”

Superintendent Wilson nodded, put the tips of his fingers together, leant back in his chair, and finally closed his eyes. He had composed himself to listen.

“I went to Liskeard House shortly before half-past eight this morning, on receipt of a telephone message stating that a murder had been committed.”

“Who sent the message?”

“One of the servants. They had found the body when they went in to clean the room in the morning. I went to the house, as I say. In a room on the second floor, a study, I found the body, which the servants identified as that of Mr. John Prinsep, by whom the second floor was occupied. Mr. Prinsep was managing director of the Brooklyn Corporation and nephew of Sir Vernon Brooklyn.”

The superintendent nodded.

“The body was lying on the floor with the face upwards. A knife, which I have since found to be of a peculiar type used by architects and draughtsmen, was protruding from the chest in the region of the heart. On the side of the head was a very clearly marked contusion, obviously caused by a heavy blow from some blunt instrument, which cannot have been any object of furniture in the room. The dead man’s doctor, Dr. Manton, and the police surgeon agree that this blow, and not the knife wound, was the cause of death. The knife did not touch any vital part, and the doctors believe that the wound in the chest was inflicted after death.”

“You say ‘believe.’ Are they certain?”

“No; almost certain, but not so as to swear to it. I at once made an examination of the room. The dead man had evidently been sitting at his desk, and had fallen from his chair on being struck from behind on the left-hand side. On the desk was a mass of papers relating to the financial affairs of a Mr. Walter Brooklyn, a brother, I find, of Sir Vernon Brooklyn, and therefore uncle to the deceased. I have the papers here.”

The inspector handed over a bundle which the superintendent placed beside him on the table. “Go on,” he said.

“Lying on the floor, at some distance from the body, was this walking-stick, which may, or may not, have some connection with the crime. There were at least thirty or forty walking-sticks standing in a corner; but this was lying on the floor behind the study chair to the left⁠—that is, at the point from which the murderer seems to have approached his victim. The servants say that they do not remember seeing the stick before; but they cannot be certain, as the deceased collected sticks. This is evidently a curio, made, I think, of rhinoceros horn.”

The superintendent examined the stick for a moment, and then put it down beside him.

“Dr. Manton then arrived, and, after a preliminary examination, asked that the body should be removed to the adjoining bedroom. When it was lifted up there was revealed, lying beneath it, this handkerchief which, as you see, is marked in the corner with the name ‘G. Brooklyn.’ Mr. George Brooklyn, I have ascertained, is also a nephew of Sir Vernon Brooklyn. He is, moreover, an architect by profession, and might therefore easily have been in possession of the knife found embedded in the body. Winter, the butler at the house, has often seen him using a knife of this precise pattern.”

“H’m,” said the superintendent.

“I made inquiries among the servants. The last of them to see Mr. Prinsep alive was the butler, Winter, who collected from him his late letters for the post. That was at 10:30 or thereabouts. The deceased was sitting at his table, working at a lot of figures. He seemed in a bad temper, but that, Winter says, was nothing unusual. But from the same Winter I obtained a very valuable piece of evidence. At about a quarter to eleven Mr. George Brooklyn called to see the deceased. He said he would show himself upstairs, and did so. He was seen by Winter and the other servants leaving the house by the front door at about 11:30. It was on receiving this information that I telephoned to you asking for the immediate arrest of Mr. George Brooklyn,