The Old Man in the Corner - Baroness Orczy
"The police gave all the evidence required with regard to the finding of
Mr. Morton in the room at Russell House and also to the arrest of
Skinner at the Langham Hotel in London. It appears that the prisoner
seemed completely taken aback at the charge preferred against him, and
declared that though he knew Mr. Francis Morton slightly in business he
knew nothing as to his private life.
"'Prisoner stated,' continued Inspector Buckle, 'that he was not even
aware Mr. Morton lived in Brighton, but I have evidence here, which I
will place before your Honour, to prove that the prisoner was seen in
the company of Mr. Morton at 9.30 o'clock on the morning of the
assault.'
"Cross-examined by Mr. Matthew Quiller, the detective-inspector admitted
that prisoner merely said that he did not know that Mr. Morton was a
_resident_ of Brighton--he never denied having met him there.
"The witness, or rather witnesses, referred to by the police were two
Brighton tradesmen who knew Mr. Morton by sight and had seen him on the
morning of the 17th walking with the accused.
"In this instance Mr. Quiller had no question to ask of the witnesses,
and it was generally understood that the prisoner did not wish to
contradict their statement.
"Constable Hartrick told the story of the finding of the unfortunate
Mr. Morton after his four days' incarceration. The constable had been
sent round by the chief inspector, after certain information given by
Mrs. Chapman, the landlady of Russell House. He had found the door
locked and forced it open. Mr. Morton was in an arm-chair, with several
yards of rope wound loosely round him; he was almost unconscious, and
there was a thick wool shawl tied round his mouth which must have
deadened any cry or groan the poor gentleman might have uttered. But, as
a matter of fact, the constable was under the impression that Mr. Morton
had been either drugged or stunned in some way at first, which had left
him weak and faint and prevented him from making himself heard or
extricating himself from his bonds, which were very clumsily, evidently
very hastily, wound round his body.
"The medical officer who was called in, and also Dr. Mellish who
attended Mr. Morton, both said that he seemed dazed by some stupefying
drug, and also, of course, terribly weak and faint with the want of
food.
"The first witness of real importance was Mrs. Chapman, the proprietress
of Russell House, whose original information to the police led to the
discovery of Mr. Morton. In answer to Mr. Pepys, she said that on March
1st the accused called at her house and gave his name as Mr. Edward
Skinner.
"'He required, he said, a furnished room at a moderate rental for a
permanency, with full attendance when he was in, but he added that he
would often be away for two or three days, or even longer, at a time.
"'He told me that he was a traveller for a tea-house,' continued Mrs.
Chapman, 'and I showed him the front room on the third floor, as he did
not want to pay more than twelve shillings a week. I asked him for a
reference, but he put three sovereigns in my hand, and said with a laugh
that he supposed paying for his room a month in advance was sufficient
reference; if I didn't like him after that, I could give him a week's
notice to quit.'
"'You did not think of asking him the name of the firm for which he
travelled?' asked Mr. Pepys.
"'No, I was quite satisfied as he paid me for the room. The next day he
sent in his luggage and took possession of the room. He went out most
mornings on business, but was always in Brighton for Saturday and
Sunday. On the 16th he told me that he was going to Liverpool for a
couple of days; he slept in the house that night, and went off early on
the 17th, taking his portmanteau with him.'
"'At what time did he leave?' asked Mr. Pepys.
"'I couldn't say exactly,' replied Mrs. Chapman with some hesitation.
'You see this is the off season here. None of my rooms are let, except
the one to Mr. Skinner, and I only have one servant. I keep four during
the summer, autumn, and winter season,' she added with conscious pride,
fearing that her former statement might prejudice the reputation of
Russell House. 'I thought I had heard Mr. Skinner go out about nine
o'clock, but about an hour later the girl and I were both in the
basement, and we heard the front door open and shut with a bang, and
then a step in the hall.
"'"That's Mr. Skinner," said Mary. "So it is," I said, "why, I thought
he had gone an hour ago." "He did go out then," said Mary, "for he left
his bedroom door open and I went in to do his bed and tidy his room."
"Just go and see if that's him, Mary," I said, and Mary ran up to the
hall and up the stairs, and came back to tell me that that was Mr.
Skinner all right enough; he had gone straight up to his room. Mary
didn't see him, but he had another gentleman with him, as she could hear
them talking in Mr. Skinner's room.'
"'Then you can't tell us at what time the prisoner left the house
finally?'
"'No, that I can't. I went out shopping soon after that. When I came in
it was twelve o'clock. I went up to the third floor and found that Mr.
Skinner had locked his door and taken the key with him. As I knew Mary
had already done, the room I did not trouble more about it, though I did
think it strange for a gentleman to look up his room and not leave the
key with me.'
"'And, of course, you heard no noise of any kind in the room then?'
"'No. Not that day or the next, but on the third day Mary and I both
thought we heard a funny sound. I said that Mr. Skinner had left his
window open, and it was the blind flapping against the window-pane; but
when we heard that funny noise again I put my ear to the keyhole and I
thought I could hear a groan. I was very frightened, and sent Mary for
the police.'
"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 latch-key, 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
L10,000 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 L10,000 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 (L10,000) 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 latch-key, 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 L10,000, 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
pocket-book. 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 don't! not
this time. I am off to the Containing with this L10,000, and I can get
to Newhaven in time for the midday boat, so you'll have to keep quiet
until I am the other side of the Channel, my friend. You won't be much
inconvenienced; my landlady will hear your groans presently and release
you, so you'll be all right. There, now, drink this--that's better.' He
forced something bitter down my throat, then I remember nothing more.
"'"When I regained consciousness I was sitting in an arm-chair with some
rope tied round me and a wool shawl round my mouth. I hadn't the
strength to make the slightest effort to disentangle myself or to utter
a scream. I felt terribly sick and faint."'
"Mr. Reginald Pepys had finished reading, and no one in that crowded
court had thought of uttering a sound; the magistrate's eyes were fixed
upon the handsome lady in the magnificent gown, who was mopping her eyes
with a dainty lace handkerchief.
"The extraordinary narrative of the victim of so daring an outrage had
kept every one in suspense; one thing was still expected to make the
measure of sensation as full as it had ever been over any criminal case,
and that was Mrs. Morton's evidence. She was called by the prosecuting
counsel, and slowly, gracefully, she entered the witness-box. There was
no doubt that she had felt keenly the tortures which her husband had
undergone, and also the humiliation of seeing her name dragged forcibly
into this ugly, blackmailing scandal.
"Closely questioned by Mr. Reginald Pepys, she was forced to admit that
the man who blackmailed her was connected with her early life in a way
which would have brought terrible disgrace upon her and upon her
children. The story she told, amidst many tears and sobs, and much use
of her beautiful lace handkerchief and beringed hands, was exceedingly
pathetic.
"It appears that when she was barely seventeen she was inveigled into a
secret marriage with one of those foreign adventurers who swarm in every
country, and who styled himself Comte Armand de la Tremouille. He seems
to have been a blackguard of unusually low pattern, for, after he had
extracted from her some L200 of her pin money and a few diamond
brooches, he left her one fine day with a laconic word to say that he
was sailing for Europe by the _Argentina_, and would not be back for
some time. She was in love with the brute, poor young soul, for when, a
week later, she read that the _Argentina_ was wrecked, and presumably
every soul on board had perished, she wept very many bitter tears over
her early widowhood.
"Fortunately her father, a very wealthy pork-butcher of Chicago, had
known nothing of his daughter's culpable foolishness. Four years later
he took her to London, where she met Mr. Francis Morton and married him.
She led six or seven years of very happy married life when one day, like
a thunderbolt from a clear, blue sky, she received a typewritten letter,
signed 'Armand de la Tremouille,' full of protestations of undying love,
telling a long and pathetic tale of years of suffering in a foreign
land, whither he had drifted after having been rescued almost
miraculously from the wreck of the _Argentina_, and where he never had
been able to scrape a sufficient amount of money to pay for his passage
home. At last fate had favoured him. He had, after many vicissitudes,
found the whereabouts of his dear wife, and was now ready to forgive all
that was past and take her to his loving arms once again.
"What followed was the usual course of events when there is a blackguard
and a fool of a woman. She was terrorised and did not dare to tell her
husband for some time; she corresponded with the Comte de la Tremouille,
begging him for her sake and in memory of the past not to attempt to see
her. She found him amenable to reason in the shape of several hundred
pounds which passed through the Brighton post office into his hands. At
last one day, by accident, Mr. Morton came across one of the Comte de la
Tremouille's interesting letters. She confessed everything, throwing
herself upon her husband's mercy.
"Now, Mr. Francis Morton was a business man, who viewed life practically
and soberly. He liked his wife, who kept him in luxury, and wished to
keep her, whereas the Comte de la Tremouille seemed willing enough to
give her up for a consideration. Mrs. Morton, who had the sole and
absolute control of her fortune, on the other hand, was willing enough
to pay the price and hush up the scandal, which she believed--since she
was a bit of a fool--would land her in prison for bigamy. Mr. Francis
Morton wrote to the Comte de la Tremouille that his wife was ready to
pay him the sum of L10,000 which he demanded in payment for her absolute
liberty and his own complete disappearance out of her life now and for
ever. The appointment was made, and Mr. Morton left his house at 9 a.m.
on March 17th with the L10,000 in his pocket.
"The public and the magistrate had hung breathless upon her words. There
was nothing but sympathy felt for this handsome woman, who throughout
had been more sinned against than sinning, and whose gravest fault seems
to have been a total lack of intelligence in dealing with her own life.
But I can assure you of one thing, that in no case within my
recollection was there ever such a sensation in a court as when the
magistrate, after a few minutes' silence, said gently to Mrs. Morton:
"'And now, Mrs. Morton, will you kindly look at the prisoner, and tell
me if in him you recognize your former husband?'
"And she, without even turning to look at the accused, said quietly:
"'Oh no! your Honour! of course that man is _not_ the Comte de la
Tremouille.'"
CHAPTER XXVI
A SENSATION
"I can assure you that the situation was quite dramatic," continued the
man in the corner, whilst his funny, claw-like hands took up a bit of
string with renewed feverishness.
"In answer to further questions from the magistrate, she declared that
she had never seen the accused; he might have been the go-between,
however, that she could not say. The letters she received were all
typewritten, but signed 'Armand de la Tremouille,' and certainly the
signature was identical with that on the letters she used to receive
from him years ago, all of which she had kept.
"'And did it _never_ strike you,' asked the magistrate with a smile,
'that the letters you received might be forgeries?'
"'How could they be?' she replied decisively; no one knew of my marriage
to the Comte de la Tremouille, no one in England certainly. And,
besides, if some one did know the Comte intimately enough to forge his
handwriting and to blackmail me, why should that some one have waited
all these years? I have been married seven years, your Honour.'
"That was true enough, and there the matter rested as far as she was
concerned. But the identity of Mr. Francis Morton's assailant had to be
finally established, of course, before the prisoner was committed for
trial. Dr. Mellish promised that Mr. Morton would be allowed to come to
court for half an hour and identify the accused on the following day,
and the case was adjourned until then. The accused was led away between
two constables, bail being refused, and Brighton had perforce to
moderate its impatience until the Wednesday.
"On that day the court was crowded to overflowing; actors, playwrights,
literary men of all sorts had fought for admission to study for
themselves the various phases and faces in connection with the case.
Mrs. Morton was not present when the prisoner, quiet and self-possessed,
was brought in and placed in the dock. His solicitor was with him, and a
sensational defence was expected.
"Presently there was a stir in the court, and that certain sound, half
rustle, half sigh, which preludes an expected palpitating event. Mr.
Morton, pale, thin, wearing yet in his hollow eyes the stamp of those
five days of suffering, walked into court leaning on the arm of his
doctor--Mrs. Morton was not with him.
"He was at once accommodated with a chair in the witness-box, and the
magistrate, after a few words of kindly sympathy, asked him if he had
anything to add to his written statement. On Mr. Morton replying in the
negative, the magistrate added:
"'And now, Mr. Morton, will you kindly look at the accused in the dock
and tell me whether you recognize the person who took you to the room in
Russell House and then assaulted you?'
"Slowly the sick man turned towards the prisoner and looked at him; then
he shook his head and replied quietly:
"'No, sir, that certainly was not the man.'
"'You are quite sure?' asked the magistrate in amazement, while the
crowd literally gasped with wonder.
"'I swear it,' asserted Mr. Morton.
"'Can you describe the man who assaulted you?'
"'Certainly. He was dark, of swarthy complexion, tall, thin, with bushy
eyebrows and thick black hair and short beard. He spoke English with
just the faintest suspicion of a foreign accent.'
"The prisoner, as I told you before, was English in every feature.
English in his ruddy complexion, and absolutely English in his speech.
"After that the case for the prosecution began to collapse. Every one
had expected a sensational defence, and Mr. Matthew Quiller, counsel
for Skinner, fully justified all these expectations. He had no fewer
than four witnesses present who swore positively that at 9.45 a.m. on
the morning of Wednesday, March 17th, the prisoner was in the express
train leaving Brighton for Victoria.
"Not being endowed with the gift of being in two places at once, and Mr.
Morton having added the whole weight of his own evidence in Mr. Edward
Skinner's favour, that gentleman was once more remanded by the
magistrate, pending further investigation by the police, bail being
allowed this time in two sureties of L50 each."
CHAPTER XXVII
TWO BLACKGUARDS
"Tell me what you think of it," said the man in the corner, seeing that
Polly remained silent and puzzled.
"Well," she replied dubiously, "I suppose that the so-called Armand de
la Tremouille's story was true in substance. That he did not perish on
the _Argentina_, but drifted home, and blackmailed his former wife."
"Doesn't it strike you that there are at least two very strong points
against that theory?" he asked, making two gigantic knots in his piece
of string.
"Two?"
"Yes. In the first place, if the blackmailer was the 'Comte de la
Tremouille' returned to life, why should he have been content to take
L10,000 from a lady who was his lawful wife, and who could keep him in
luxury for the rest of his natural life upon her large fortune, which
was close upon a quarter of a million? The real Comte de la Tremouille,
remember, had never found it difficult to get money out of his wife
during their brief married life, whatever Mr. Morton's subsequent
experience in the same direction might have been. And, secondly, why
should he have typewritten his letters to his wife?"
"Because--"
"That was a point which, to my mind, the police never made the most of.
Now, my experience in criminal cases has invariably been that when a
typewritten letter figures in one, that letter is a forgery. It is not
very difficult to imitate a signature, but it is a jolly sight more
difficult to imitate a handwriting throughout an entire letter."
"Then, do you think--"
"I think, if you will allow me," he interrupted excitedly, "that we will
go through the points--the sensible, tangible points of the case.
Firstly: Mr. Morton disappears with L10,000 in his pocket for four
entire days; at the end of that time he is discovered loosely tied to an
arm-chair, and a wool shawl round his mouth. Secondly: A man named
Skinner is accused of the outrage. Mr. Morton, although he himself is
able, mind you, to furnish the best defence possible for Skinner, by
denying his identity with the man who assaulted him, refuses to
prosecute. Why?"
"He did not wish to drag his wife's name into the case."
"He must have known that the Crown would take up the case. Then, again,
how is it no one saw him in the company of the swarthy foreigner he
described?"
"Two witnesses did see Mr. Morton in company with Skinner," argued
Polly.
"Yes, at 9.20 in West Street; that would give Edward Skinner time to
catch the 9.45 at the station, and to entrust Mr. Morton with the
latch-key of Russell House," remarked the man in the corner dryly.
"What nonsense!" Polly ejaculated.
"Nonsense, is it?" he said, tugging wildly at his bit of string; "is it
nonsense to affirm that if a man wants to make sure that his victim
shall not escape, he does not usually wind rope 'loosely' round his
figure, nor does he throw a wool shawl lightly round his mouth. The
police were idiotic beyond words; they themselves discovered that Morton
was so 'loosely' fastened to his chair that very little movement would
have disentangled him, and yet it never struck them that nothing was
easier for that particular type of scoundrel to sit down in an arm-chair
and wind a few yards of rope round himself, then, having wrapped a wool
shawl round his throat, to slip his two arms inside the ropes."
"But what object would a man in Mr. Morton's position have for playing
such extraordinary pranks?"
"Ah, the motive! There you are! What do I always tell you? Seek the
motive! Now, what was Mr. Morton's position? He was the husband of a
lady who owned a quarter of a million of money, not one penny of which
he could touch without her consent, as it was settled on herself, and
who, after the terrible way in which she had been plundered and then
abandoned in her early youth, no doubt kept a very tight hold upon the
purse-strings. Mr. Morton's subsequent life has proved that he had
certain expensive, not altogether avowable, tastes. One day he discovers
the old love letters of the 'Comte Armand de la Tremouille.'