Christopher Quarles: College Professor and Master Detective Page 6

  CHAPTER VI

  THE MYSTERY OF "OLD MRS JARDINE"

  My association with Professor Quarles undoubtedly had an effect uponmy method of going to work in the elucidation of mysteries, and notalways with a good result. His methods were his own, eminentlysuccessful when he used them, but dangerous in the hands of others. Inattempting to theorize I am convinced I have sometimes lost sight offacts.

  I am not sure that this reflection applies to the case of old Mrs.Jardine, but somehow my mind never seemed to get a firm grip of theaffair. I was conscious of being indefinite, and had an unpleasantsensation that I had failed to see the obvious.

  Old Mrs. Jardine lived at Wimbledon, in a house of some size standingin a well-grown garden. She was an invalid, confined to thehouse--indeed, to three or four rooms which opened into one another onthe first floor--and she must have been an absolute annuity to Dr.Hawes, who visited her nearly every day. The household consisted ofold Mrs. Jardine, Mrs. Harrison, also an elderly lady, who was hercompanion, Martha Wakeling, housekeeper and cook, who had been manyyears in her service; and a housemaid named Sarah Paget.

  Into this household, in which no one took any particular interest,came tragedy, and the Wimbledon mystery developed into a sensation.

  Early one morning Sarah Paget arrived at the doctor's, saying hermistress had been taken suddenly ill, and would he come immediately.She did not know what was the matter. The cook had sent her.

  Three days before Dr. Hawes had gone away for a holiday, and hispractice was in the hands of a locum, a young doctor named Dolman. Hewent at once. Mrs. Jardine was dead upon her bed. She had been foundin the morning by Martha Wakeling lying just as the doctor saw her.She had been attacked in her sleep, Dolman thought, and her head hadbeen smashed with some heavy instrument; Mrs. Harrison, the companion,had disappeared. Of course, the police were sent for at once, and thecase came into my hands that same day.

  Dr. Dolman had seen his patient for the first time on the previousafternoon. Dr. Hawes had told him that she was something of a crank,could only walk a little, and suffered from indigestion and generaldebility, which was hardly wonderful, since she would make no effortto go out even for a drive. She seemed to enjoy being a confirmedinvalid under constant medical treatment, and would certainly resentany neglect.

  "She was sitting in an arm-chair when I saw her," Dolman told me, "andwas in good spirits; inclined to be facetious, in fact, and to enjoyher little joke at my expense. She wanted to know what a young mancould possibly know about an old woman's ailments, and wondered thatHawes was content to leave his patients in such inexperienced hands asmine. I do not think she was as bad as she would have people believe."

  Dolman had not spoken to Mrs. Harrison, but he had seen her. She wassitting in the adjoining room doing some needlework. He had takenlittle notice of her, and was doubtful if he would know her again.

  Martha Wakeling said it was her custom to go into her mistress's roomon her way down in the morning, and she had found her dead on the bed.She had heard no noise in the night. Mrs. Harrison occupied a roomopening out of Mrs. Jardine's, and it was empty that morning. The bedhad been slept in, but the companion had gone.

  "Was she on good terms with Mrs. Jardine?" I asked.

  "Yes, oh, yes."

  "You say it rather doubtfully?"

  "The mistress wasn't always easy to get on with, and I daresay shetried Mrs. Harrison at times."

  "And so Mrs. Harrison murdered her in a fit of anger," I suggested.

  "I don't say that. She is not to be found; that's all I know forcertain."

  "Where did Mrs. Harrison come from? Who was she?"

  "I think she answered the mistress's advertisement."

  "How long has she been here?" I asked.

  "Just over a year. Mrs. Jardine didn't get on well with the last twocompanions she had. They were younger women, and the place was toodull for them. They wanted to go out more, and Mrs. Jardine wantedsomeone who was content to live the kind of life she did. So she gotthis elderly companion."

  "Mrs. Harrison had friends, I suppose?"

  "I never saw nor heard of any."

  "But she received letters?"

  "I can't call to mind that she ever did. I fancy she was one of thelonely sort."

  She was also uninteresting and commonplace in appearance, according toMartha Wakeling's description. The word-picture I managed to draw upfor circulation had nothing distinctive about it. Nor did Martha knowmuch of her mistress's relations. Mrs. Jardine had not been onfriendly terms with them, and had not seen any of them in her time, asfar as she knew; the only one she had heard mentioned was a nephew, aMr. Thomas Jardine, who lived somewhere in London.

  The upper floor of the house was unfurnished and locked up, and anunfastened window on the ground floor, opening into the garden,suggested the way Mrs. Harrison had left. I took immediate steps todelay the publication of the news of the tragedy. There were points inthe case which might modify first suspicions considerably, and a fewhours of unhampered investigation might be of great value.

  Even a perfunctory search among Mrs. Jardine's papers proved that ifshe had not seen her nephew recently she had heard from him. I foundtwo letters asking for money, a whine in them, and at the same time anunderlying threat, as though the writer had it in his power to domischief. Apparently Mrs. Jardine had a past which might account forher being a crank. A talk with her nephew should prove interesting.

  I went to the address given in the letters--a flat in Hammersmith--butit was not until next morning that I got an interview with ThomasJardine.

  He was a big loose-limbed man, a gentleman come down in the worldthrough dissipation. I told him I had come on behalf of Mrs. Jardine,and his first words showed that he was either an excellent actor orthat the news of his aunt's death had not yet reached him.

  "If you are her business man and have brought me a check, you arewelcome," he said.

  "I have not brought the check--at present."

  "Come, there's a hopeful tone about you," he returned, "and I'm hardup enough not to be particular or spiteful. Is the old girl willing tocome to terms?"

  "I am in rather a difficult position," I answered, carefully feelingmy way. "I want to do the best I can for both sides, and, as you areprobably aware, Mrs. Jardine is not one to talk very fully, even toher man of business."

  "I warrant she has given you her version of the story."

  "But not yours. I should like to hear yours."

  "They won't agree; but the unvarnished truth is this. She was a MissStuart, or called herself so, and my uncle met her on a sea trip. Hewas in such a hurry to put his head in the noose that he married herwithout knowing anything about her. He imagined he had caught anangel; instead--well, to put it mildly, he had found an adventuress.She had taken good care to discover she had got hold of a rich man,and soon began her tricks. She alienated my uncle from his family, notparticular about the truth so long as she got her way. My father wasthe kind of man who never succeeds at anything, and my uncle wasconstantly helping him. This came to an end when Mrs. Jardine got holdof the reins. She didn't spend money; she got it out of her husbandand hoarded it, no doubt conscious that her opportunity of doing somight suddenly come to an end. It did. My father made it his businessto hunt up her past history. It wasn't edifying. A lot she denied, butplenty remained which there was no denying. She had been a decoy forContinental thieves, she had seen the inside of a prison, and itwould have been unsafe for her to travel in certain countries. She andmy uncle separated. You can imagine Mrs. Jardine's feelings toward myfather, but my uncle also seemed to hate him for having opened hiseyes. I believe he gave him a sum of money and told him he would havenothing more to do with him. My uncle was a religious man, had strongviews of right and wrong--some stupid views, too. When he died, toeverybody's astonishment he had left his money to Mrs. Jardine for herlife. At her death it was to come to my father for his life, andafterward to his son, without any restrictions whatever."

  "To y
ou?" I said.

  "To me. My father has been dead some years, so as long as that oldwoman lives I am being kept out of my own. That is my side of thestory."

  I nodded, showing extreme interest--which, indeed, I felt. But for thefact that the companion was missing, this man's position would be avery unpleasant one. No one could have more interest in his aunt'sdeath than he had.

  "I daresay the old woman has told you that her husband's accusationswere all false, and that by leaving such a will he repented before hedied," Jardine went on, "but I have told you the facts."

  "And yet you have written to her for money," I said quietly.

  "So she has shown you the letters, has she?"

  "I have seen them. Why write to her when you could so easily raisemoney on your expectations?"

  "Raise money! Good heavens, I've raised every penny to be got from Jewor Gentile. There are the letters which came this morning. I haven'topened them yet, the outside is quite enough; money-lenders'complaints, half of them, and the other half bills demanding immediatepayment. If you've ever had dealings with the fraternity, you can tellwhat is inside by the look of the envelope."

  I turned the letters over; he was probably right as to their contents.There was one, however, in a woman's handwriting which interested me.I almost passed it to him, and then thought better of it.

  "It struck me that there was a threatening tone in your letters," Isaid.

  "Perhaps. I was not averse from frightening her a little if I could."

  "Not very generous," I said.

  "I don't feel generous. She'd have to come down very handsomely tomake me drink her health."

  "If your story is the correct one, there may be a reason for your auntleading so secluded a life," I went on. "In marrying your uncle shemay have tricked her confederates."

  "It is more than possible," Jardine answered.

  "Do you know any of them who would be likely to do her an injury?" Iasked.

  "You're thinking I would give the old woman away to them?" he laughed."No; I have worked on the shady side at times, but I am not so bad asthat."

  "I wasn't thinking so."

  "Then I don't understand your question. Is it likely I should haveacquaintances in a gang of Continental thieves?"

  "The night before last Mrs. Jardine was murdered," I said quietly.

  The man sprang from his chair.

  "Murdered! Then--by heaven! you're--you're thinking that----"

  "And her companion, a Mrs. Harrison, is not to be found," I added.

  "Mrs. Jardine--dead! Then I come into my own. The night beforelast--where was I? Drunk. I didn't get home."

  "I know that. I called here yesterday."

  "Are you thinking that I had a hand in it?"

  "I am looking for her companion," I answered.

  Had there been no missing companion I should have been very doubtfulabout Thomas Jardine; as it was, the two became connected in my mind.I left the Hammersmith flat, stopping outside to give instructions tothe man I had brought with me to keep a watch upon Jardine'smovements.

  Then I went to Wimbledon to see Martha Wakeling again, but I did nottell her I had seen Jardine.

  "Do you think you could find me any of Mrs. Harrison's handwriting?" Iasked.

  "I believe I can," she said, after a moment's thought. "She wrote astore's order the other day which was not sent. I believe it's in thisdrawer. Yes, here it is."

  I glanced at it and put it in my pocket.

  "I wonder whether this nephew has anything to do with the affair?" Isaid contemplatively.

  "No," she said with decision.

  "Why are you so certain? You said you didn't know him."

  "I don't."

  "I have discovered one thing," I said carelessly. "By Mrs. Jardine'sdeath he comes into a lot of money."

  "I've heard my mistress say something of the kind."

  "You see, there would be a motive for the murder."

  "The thing is to find Mrs. Harrison," she said. "A woman doesn't goaway in the middle of the night unless she has a good reason for doingso."

  Details of the crime, so far as they were known, were now published,and the description of Mrs. Harrison was circulated in the press.

  When the inquest was adjourned, no doubt most people were surprised.Although I did not suppose the companion innocent, I was not satisfiedthat she alone was responsible for the crime. I had wondered whetherthe letter which I had seen in Jardine's flat had come from her, butthe store's order which Martha Wakeling had given me proved that I waswrong. Possibly Mrs. Harrison was a member of the gang which Mrs.Jardine had forsaken, and the murder was one of revenge; yet ThomasJardine profited so greatly that I could not dismiss him from mycalculations. Besides, the old lady's will was suggestive. Over herhusband's money she had no control, but she had saved a considerableamount, and, as though to make restitution to her husband's family,but with a curious reservation--only if she died a natural death.

  Should she die by violence or accident, this money went to her"faithful servant and friend, Martha Wakeling." It was evident she hadfeared violence--apparently from her nephew--and it was significantthat her papers proved that, although Jardine knew he was her heir, hewas not aware of the condition.

  Before the day fixed for the hearing of the adjourned inquest I wentto see Christopher Quarles.

  I had nearly finished the story before he showed any interest, andthen we went to the empty room, with Zena with us, where I had to tellthe tale all over again. He had to have his own way, or there wasnothing to be got out of him at all.

  "Was there no information to be had from Sarah Paget?" he asked, whenI had finished.

  "None whatever."

  "Did Mrs. Jardine keep much money in the house?"

  "Martha Wakeling says not."

  "Then the companion was likely to get little by murdering hermistress," said Quarles.

  "Either she did it in a fit of uncontrollable passion," I said, "orthe motive was revenge."

  "Possible solutions," returned the professor, "but robbed of theirweight when we consider the motives which Thomas Jardine and MarthaWakeling had."

  "I think----"

  "One moment, Wigan; I am not theorizing, I am using facts. Bymurdering his aunt, Jardine lost her money----"

  "He inherited three or four thousand a year," I interrupted.

  "Which was mortgaged up to the hilt or over it; he told you sohimself. Mrs. Jardine's money would have been very useful to him, andby killing her he would lose all chance of it."

  "He did not know the condition," I said.

  "So far as we know," Quarles answered. "I don't think we must considerthat point as proved. Now take Martha Wakeling's position. By theviolent death of her mistress she will come into this money. Was thereany provision for her in the will if Mrs. Jardine died a naturaldeath?"

  "She got a legacy of a hundred pounds."

  "You appreciate the enormous difference," said Quarles with thatexasperating smile he had when he thinks he has driven his opponentinto a corner.

  "At any rate, we have no reason to suppose that Jardine did know thecondition," I returned. "I do not believe he committed the murder, butI am inclined to think he and Mrs. Harrison are accomplices."

  "A theory--my method, Wigan. Very good, but by the handwriting on thatenvelope you have tried to establish a connection between Jardine andMrs. Harrison, and have failed."

  "At present," I said irritably.

  "It is a pity that some of the old superstitions do not hold good,"said Quarles, "or at least are without significance in these practicaldays. You might have confronted Jardine with his victim, and thewounds might have given evidence by bleeding afresh. I suppose youhaven't done this?"

  "No, Jardine has not seen his aunt," I answered, still irritably.

  The professor looked at Zena.

  "It is curious the tragedy should happen while Dr. Hawes was away,"Zena said. "What kind of man is his locum, Mr. Wigan?"

  "Quite above suspic
ion," I answered.

  "Ah, your question sets me theorizing, Zena," said Quarles, "and wehave got to watch Martha Wakeling, Wigan. Yes, I am going to help you,and we'll start to-morrow morning."

  We returned to the dining-room, and after a pleasant hour, duringwhich we appeared to forget that such a place as Wimbledon existed, Ileft, far more of a lover than a detective.

  Next morning Quarles called for me.

  "We'll go to the stores first," he said. "I have a fancy to look atthe items in the list sent. There might be some drug which would makeMrs. Jardine sleep more soundly."

  "The list was not sent. I have it here."

  "I mean the one sent in place of that," said the professor. "Of courseone was sent. People who are not in the habit of having much money inthe house would see that the store cupboard was replenished."

  He was right. A list was shown to us, and I had some difficulty in notshowing signs of excitement. The writing was the same as that on theenvelope in Jardine's flat. It was peculiar writing, and I could swearto it.

  "I think we shall find that Martha Wakeling wrote that," said Quarles."If so, we establish a link between her and Jardine which neither ofthem has mentioned."

  "But since she would profit by the crime, why should she communicatewith him?"

  "We are going to find out," he answered. "I presume you have not beenkeeping any particular watch upon Martha Wakeling?"

  "No."

  "Has she mentioned what she intends to do when this affair is over?"

  "I think she said she would go back to her old village somewhere inEssex."

  "Quite a rich woman, eh?" laughed Quarles. "But I doubt the statementabout her old village. She is more likely to go where she is notknown."

  "You will change your opinion when you have talked to her."

  "I hope to know all about her before I talk to her," Quarlesreturned. "We are going to Wimbledon, but not to an interview yet."

  Arriving there, I went to the house to make sure that Martha Wakelingwas there, and then, taking care not to be seen, joined the professorin the garden, where we hid in a shrubbery to watch anyone who camefrom or went to the house. It was a long wait--indeed, Quarles wasrather doubtful whether anything would happen that day--but in theafternoon Martha Wakeling came out and passed into the road.

  "We have got to follow her and not be seen," said Quarles.

  There was some difficulty in doing so, for she was evidently carefulnot to be followed. She went to the station, and by District Railwayto Victoria, and to a house in the Buckingham Palace Road.

  "We must find out whom it is she comes to visit here, Wigan," saidQuarles. "We will wait a few minutes, and then you must insure that weare shown up without being announced. I do not fancy we shall meetwith any resistance."

  The woman who opened the door to us showed no desire for secrecy. Thelady who had just come in did not live there, she explained. If Iwanted to see her, would I send in my name? It was not until I toldher that I was a detective that she led the way to the first floor,and we entered the room unannounced.

  In an armchair sat an elderly woman, and from a chair at her sideMartha Wakeling rose quickly. Quarles had entered the room first, andshe did not notice me in the doorway.

  "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she asked.

  "It is a surprise to find you in London," I said, coming forward.

  "You! Yes, my sister is----"

  Quarles had crossed toward the woman in the arm-chair.

  "I am glad to see the journey has not hurt you, Mrs. Jardine," he saidquietly.

  * * * * *

  It was a bow drawn at a venture, but Martha Wakeling's little cry ofconsternation was enough to prove that Quarles was right.

  * * * * *

  The arrest of Mrs. Jardine for the murder of her companion created asensation, and I am doubtful whether the plea of insanity which savedher from the gallows and sent her to a criminal lunatic asylum wasaltogether justified.

  The method in her madness was so extraordinary that the result of thetrial would have been different, I fancy, had not Martha Wakeling'scourage and care of her mistress aroused everybody's sympathy.

  Martha Wakeling knew little of her mistress's past, but she had alwaysknown that she was not such an invalid as she pretended to be. If shechose to live that kind of life, it was nobody's business but her own,and the servant never suspected that she was afraid of being seen bysome of her former associates.

  Martha's story made it clear that Mrs. Jardine had nursed a greathatred for her husband's family, especially for her nephew, the son ofthe man who had made the accusations against her. Her will, her everyaction in the tragedy, pointed to premeditation. She chose the timewhen Dr. Hawes was away, and, saying it would be an excellent joke tomislead a young doctor, she arranged that Mrs. Harrison should takeher place when Dolman came. The companion could not refuse, verypossibly enjoyed the joke.

  Martha Wakeling knew of this arrangement, thought it silly, but neversuspected any sinister intention.

  In the middle of the night her mistress woke her up, and told her thatshe had killed Mrs. Harrison. Mrs. Jardine was excited, and explainedthat everyone would suppose that she herself had been murdered, andthat her will and papers, and her nephew's impecunious position, wouldcertainly bring the crime home to him. This was her revenge. She wasmad; Martha was convinced of that. Mrs. Jardine never seemed in doubtthat her servant, who was the only person who knew the truth, wouldhelp her. Mrs. Jardine intended to go away that night, and when theaffair was over Martha would join her, and they could go and livequietly somewhere. She did not want her husband's money--she hadenough of her own, and, since by her will it would come to Martha,there was no difficulty. Martha refused to be a party to such a crime,and succeeded in showing her mistress that she was in danger. Even ifthe body was taken for Mrs. Jardine, it was Mrs. Harrison who would besuspected, not Thomas Jardine. Poor Mrs. Harrison was dead, nothingcould alter that, and Martha schemed to protect her mistress. She sofar entered into her plan as to let it be supposed that the dead womanwas Mrs. Jardine. Since the companion would not be found, the hue andcry would be after her. All that day her mistress was concealed in thehouse, as much afraid now as she had been exultant before, and in theevening Martha got her a lodging in Buckingham Palace Road.

  Afterward she intended to take her away to some place where they werenot known and look after her. Three times she had been to see her,fearful that her mistress might betray herself. And she had writtento Thomas Jardine to warn him that his aunt had made no secret of herhatred, and that it might be said he had killed her. Thatcommunication Thomas Jardine had thought wise to keep to himself--forthe present, at any rate--fully alive to the fact that, since he wasdrunk and quite unable to prove an alibi on the fatal night, and thatit was not proved that the companion had committed a motiveless crime,he was in danger of arrest.

  * * * * *

  Zena had said it was curious the tragedy should happen while Dr. Haweswas away, and the professor declared it was this remark which had ledhim to believe that the dead woman was Mrs. Harrison and not Mrs.Jardine. On this supposition the attitude of Martha Wakeling wasunderstandable. She might naturally wish to protect her mistress, andshe was the only person who could help her in the deception.

  The fact that I had given her a reason to suppose that I suspected thenephew would show her the necessity of warning him, and at the sametime she would attempt to throw all the suspicion on Mrs. Harrison,who was past suffering.

  This was Quarles's theory, and he had found the fact to support it inthe handwriting of the store's order.