Part 10 (1/2)

The detective had, of course, not recognised them and when he inquired what was the matter I merely explained that two drunken men had struck me on the head when pa.s.sing, and that I had been alarmed.

”Well,” he grunted, ”you needn't have kicked up such a fuss. We thought you were being killed, at least!”

”The fact is,” I responded lamely, ”I was frightened. I'm from the country, you see, and don't appreciate the horseplay of your London hooligans.”

”Then you'd better not take evening walks along this place,” was the man Bullen's response, while the ragged newsvendor picked up my battered silk hat, and handing it to me with a grim laugh, said--

”You'll want a new 'un, sir. Them 'ooligans likes toppers. Some o'

Jimmy Boyle's gang agin, I 'spect.”

To which the detective answered--

”I expect so. They'll get into trouble one of these nights.”

And so the curious incident ended. I walked with them to the further end of Britten Street, taking leave of the unsuspecting detective in the King's Road. He returned to his vigil, but I laughed within myself knowing how ingeniously the wily pair had slipped through his fingers.

On my drive back to the club I wondered whether I had acted wisely. At any rate I had made the acquaintance of the woman Lejeune, and had succeeded in showing her that I was prepared to aid her in exchange for the secret upon the knowledge of which Lolita's future depended.

Whether she would keep faith with me was quite another matter.

I deeply regretted that I had not been able to ascertain the name of the man who had been Lolita's companion and had talked so earnestly with her in the wood. Without doubt he knew of the tragedy in the park--if, indeed, he were not the actual murderer. This latter suspicion became somehow impressed upon me. His face had gone ashen grey when I had revealed to them that a detective was awaiting them round the corner.

Was it possible that he had come to London in order to hide, knowing that the Metropolis is the best place to secrete oneself in all the world.

Next day at noon I sat in the schoolroom at Sibberton, listening to the opening of the Coroner's inquiry into the tragedy. The facts having already got into the papers, the small room was crowded to suffocation by villagers and outsiders. The jury had viewed the body over at the _Stanchester Arms_ opposite, and after a few introductory remarks from the Coroner, a solicitor from Northampton, I was called as the first witness.

I told how I had obtained the a.s.sistance of the publican Warr, and described how we had found the body of the murdered man. Then, when I had concluded, the foreman of the jury, a man who combined the avocation of baker and local preacher, asked--

”What first aroused your attention?”

”I heard a noise,” I replied. I did not intend to tell them the truth-- that it was a woman's cry. ”A noise from behind the trees in the avenue,” I added. ”It was very dark at that point.”

”You saw no one?”

”n.o.body. I came to the village at once for a.s.sistance.”

”Any other questions to ask?” inquired the Coroner of the jury.

”I would like, sir, to inquire whether Mr Woodhouse had any suspicion of the body having been searched before he discovered it?” asked Redway, the police officer.

My answer was a negative one. I feared he was about to question me regarding the footprints, and held my breath in fear and expectation.

”What time elapsed between the hour when you heard the noise and the discovery of the tragic occurrence?” the Coroner asked.

”About half an hour.”

A dozen other questions upon points of detail were put to me, but they were of no importance. Neither was the evidence given by Warr or any other of the witnesses, except perhaps that of Dr Pink, who, in his sharp way and using many medical terms which conveyed no meaning to the majority of those in the room, explained that the result of the post-mortem was that the man had been fatally stabbed.

”The instrument used was not an ordinary knife,” the doctor continued.

”From the appearance of the wound it must have been inflicted by a long thin triangular instrument almost like a skewer. With a sharp point this would penetrate the man's clothing much more easily than a knife or dagger, which requires considerable force to drive to the heart. My colleague, Doctor Newman, agrees with me that such an instrument as was used could be used fatally with very little force. It was, at the point, almost as sharp as a needle, and each of the three sides were keen-edged as razors--a terrible weapon. I don't think it was much more than a quarter of an inch across at its widest part.”