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."

The public heard this and sat mystified.

"Then it would appear very much as though the crime were a premeditated one," remarked the Coroner, looking up when he had finished laboriously writing down the depositions with his scratchy quill.

"Undoubtedly," replied the doctor. "The man is a complete stranger, and no doubt kept an appointment at that spot and was done to death. The steel inflicted a mortal wound, and he must have expired in a few moments."

"Any questions to ask the doctor?" inquired the Coroner turning to the twelve villagers who sat in a row in their Sunday clothes.

There was no response, therefore Redway was called, and the public, to whom he was well-known, were instantly on the alert.

"Philip Redway, inspector, Northamptonshire Constabulary," he commenced, giving his evidence with the business-like air of police officials. "I was called by Constable Knight of Sibberton at five AM on the 18th of August and drove back with him to a spot in Sibberton Park where the deceased had been discovered. I examined the ground carefully and found certain marks of footprints, casts of which I have taken. I afterwards saw the body of the deceased, but do not identify him. His description has been circulated throughout the Kingdom, but up to the present no one has recognised him. I have also had the body photographed."

"These footprints?" asked the Coroner, laying down his pen and looking at the inspector. "Are you of opinion that they will form any substantial clue to the a.s.sa.s.sin?"

"The marks were those of a woman's feet," Redway explained, whereat there was a stir of sensation among the public, who sat so quiet and open-mouthed that the proverbial pin might hitherto have been heard had it been dropped.

"Recent?"

"No doubt," was his reply. "There were also the marks of the boots worn by deceased--and of others. The latter were probably those of Mr Woodhouse, Mr Warr and Constable Knight. They were so overtrodden that it was very difficult to recognise any distinctly. One fact, however, that I might mention, sir, and which adds a peculiar mystery to this case, is that I discovered that certain footprints had been deliberately erased."

"Erased!" exclaimed the Coroner, surprised. "How do you mean?"

"Scratched over by some person who was able to visit the spot before I could arrive there."

"Some accomplice?"

"It seems so. The spot was unfortunately left unguarded during Knight's absence to warn me, and in that time it would appear that some one went there and deliberately set about to defeat the ends of justice."

"This seems very curious and suspicious, gentlemen," remarked the Coroner, re-adjusting his gold pince-nez as he turned to the twelve expectant jurymen. "If the theory of the police is true, then some second person, having knowledge of the crime, risked arrest and actually went to the spot and effaced those tell-tale marks. That the a.s.sa.s.sin had an accomplice is thus proved without a doubt. Therefore I think that under such peculiar circ.u.mstances you should leave the matter in the hands of the police to investigate. They will, I hope, be able both to establish the dead man's ident.i.ty, and to fix the crime upon the guilty person. In cases such as this it is always best for the jury to return a verdict of `Wilful Murder against some person or persons unknown,' as it allows the police an entirely free hand afterwards, and prevents them from being compelled in evidence to disclose the nature or direction of the inquiries."

"Redway's a fool. He'll discover nothing," whispered the Earl to me, as he stood beside me in the further corner of the schoolroom. "If Sir Stephen had stirred up Scotland Yard we might have hoped for success.

But now it's in Redway's hands we may rest a.s.sured it will be bungled from the very first."

"I fear so," was my reply, although at heart I was honestly glad that the inquiries were left to the local constabulary.

"Well, sir," exclaimed the foreman of the jury to the Coroner, "we are, I think, entirely in your hands."

"You've heard the evidence, and that is as far as we can proceed to-day," he said. "Of course if you deem it wiser to adjourn for a week you may do so. You are here to decide not who committed the murder but to inquire by what means the deceased came by his death. About the latter I think you can have no doubt, and if you return a verdict in accordance with the evidence--a verdict of wilful murder--then the police will push their inquiries, I hope, to some successful issue. Are you all agreed?"

The twelve villagers in their Sunday tweeds whispered together and the local baker at last replied in the affirmative. Then the verdict was signed, and Knight in a loud voice thanked the jury for their attendance and declared the court closed.

Thus ended the official inquiry into the death of the man unknown--the man who had carried secreted within his vest the paper with those strange cabalistic numbers written upon it, and who, strangest of all, had worn in the ring upon his finger a portrait of my love!

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CERTAIN QUESTIONS AND THEIR ANSWERS.

The inquest concluded, I walked back to the Hall with the Earl. The latter was annoyed that the Home Secretary had not acted upon his suggestion. He was young, and therefore impetuous sometimes, as a man of his great wealth is perhaps apt to be. Since his marriage he had, I noticed, become more quick-tempered, restless and rather less good-humoured than in his buoyant bachelor days. The gay irresponsibility of Marigold, his wife, worried him, I knew, and I therefore looked upon his irritability as only natural.