The Mystery of M. Felix. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

minutes elapsed before he joined you?'

      "'About that.'

      "'You explained to him what had occurred?'

      "'Yes, with the assistance of Mrs. Middlemore.'

      "'You both explained it together?'

      "'Well, first one spoke, then the other.'

      "'Did you tell Nightingale that the man had fled in the direction of Oxford Street?'

      "'No.'

      "'In point of fact, you did not see the man come out of the house?'

      "'No.'

      "'And? therefore, could not have given Nightingale the direction?'

      "'No, of course I could not.'

      "Now for Mrs. Middlemore:

      "'When the man rushed by you from the house, you screamed loudly for the police?'

      "'As loud as I could.'

      "'How many times did you call?'

      "'I kep' on calling till Constable Wigg came up.'

      "'He did not come the moment you raised your voice?'

      "'No, not immediate. Per'aps in two or three minutes.'

      "'If we say two minutes we shall be within the mark?'

      "'Yes.'

      "'Did you inform Constable Nightingale that the man ran away in the direction of Oxford Street?'

      "'No; I was so flustered that I didn't see which way he run.'

      "These are all the extracts we need give for the purpose of our illustration, merely asking the reader to bear in mind that each witness was examined without the others being present. Is it quite unreasonable to infer that, had they been examined in each other's presence, their answers would not have been exactly as they are reported in the public prints?

      "Constable Nightingale has since given an explanation of this discrepancy by the admission that he must have made a mistake in supposing that he received from Constable Wigg the information of the route the man took when he scurried off; but we submit that this explanation is not entirely satisfactory.

      "Another thing. Constable Nightingale states that he was engaged in the search for an hour, and that during the whole of that time he did not meet a single person on the road. How is that statement to be received? He was hunting in some of the busiest thoroughfares in London, and it bears the form of an accusation that he did not for a whole hour observe one policeman on his beat. He was on his, he declares, at the time he heard Constable Wigg's whistle. Constable Wigg was on his beat, according to his own declaration, when he blew it. Were they the only two constables in a thronged locality who were faithfully performing their duty? Doubtless the other constables on duty would indignantly repudiate the allegation, but Constable Nightingale distinctly implies as much. We do not wish to be hard on this officer, who bears a good character in the force. His movements and proceedings between the hours of twelve and two on the night of the 16th may have been innocent enough, or, if not quite blameless, excusable enough on such a tempestuous night, but we unhesitatingly say that his evidence is suspicious, and that we are not inclined to accept it as veracious.

      "Still another thing. We have ascertained from persons acquainted with Constable Nightingale, that he was very proud of his silver watch, which he was lucky enough to win in a raffle, and that he was in the habit of boasting that it never stopped, and never lost or gained a minute. It is singular, therefore, that on this eventful night it should have stopped for the first time, and at a time when it might be most important to fix the occurrence of events to a minute. Perhaps Constable Nightingale's watch stopped in sympathy with the stoppage of Mrs. Middlemore's kitchen clock.

      "We are anxious to do justice to the parties, and we hasten to say that at our request they have allowed a competent watchmaker to examine Constable Nightingale's watch and Mrs. Middlemore's clock; but this watchmaker reports that they are in perfect order, and that he can find no reason why they should both have stopped almost at the same moment.

      "If any of our readers consider that we are straining too hard on trifles, we reply that the importance of so-called trifles cannot be over-estimated. The world's greatest poet has said, 'Trifles light as air are in their confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ.'"

      CHAPTER VIII.

      A STARTLING PHASE IN THE MYSTERY

      "We hark back now to the point at which we left Constable Nightingale. He had returned to Gerard Street without having found the man. During his absence nothing further had occurred to alarm the housekeeper and the constable who kept her company, and they were in doubt as to what was best to be done. There was no evidence that the man had entered the house with the intention of robbing it, but he might have done so, and being disturbed before he effected his purpose, thought it expedient to make his escape as quickly as possible. They were debating this view when they were startled by what they declare was an 'apparition.' It was the apparition of a half-starved cat, which in some way must have found an entrance into the house before Mrs. Middlemore came back with her supper-beer. The cat did not belong to the house, for M. Felix had a horror of such creatures, and would not allow one to be kept on the premises. It was not the cat that startled them, but the color of the cat, which seemed to have been rolling itself in blood. They saw it only for an instant, and then it disappeared, and has not since been seen again; but it left its marks behind it. On the oil-cloth were marks of blood, made by the cat's paws. These signs decided their course of action, and they proceeded upstairs to the apartments occupied by M. Felix. They knocked and called out loudly to him, but received no answer. By an ingenious arrangement, devised presumably by M. Felix himself, the keyhole of the door by which they stood was masked by a brass plate, the secret of which was known only to M. Felix. The silence strengthened their apprehensions of foul play, and they determined to force the door open. To effect this it was necessary to obtain the assistance of a locksmith, and Constable Nightingale issued forth once more, and brought back with him not only a locksmith, but a doctor in the neighborhood, Dr. Lamb, who was coming home late from a professional visit. With some difficulty the door was forced open, and the first thing that met their eyes was a pool of blood on the floor of the sitting-room. They describe it as such, although subsequent examination proved that there was a decided exaggeration in calling it a pool, the quantity of blood which had fallen not being very serious. M. Felix was not in this room, but when they entered the bedroom adjoining they discovered him in an arm-chair, bearing the appearance of a man who had fallen asleep. He was not asleep, however; he was dead. The natural presumption was that he had been murdered, and that the blood on the floor was his, but Dr. Lamb very soon declared that this was not the case. M. Felix was dead, certainly, but his death was produced by natural causes, heart disease. In this conclusion Dr. Lamb was supported by other medical evidence which was sought on the following day, and this being supposed to be sufficiently established, the necessity of a post-mortem was not immediately recognized. The body was lifted on the bed, and there lay, dressed, as it had fallen into the arm-chair.

      "Accounts of these strange occurrences did not appear in the morning newspapers of January 17th, and the first intimation the public received of them was through the evening papers of that date. Even in this initial stage we scented a mystery, and we despatched our reporters to Mrs. Middlemore to obtain such information as would prove interesting to our readers. Our reporters, however, were not able to see Mrs. Middlemore; neither were they able to get access to the house; some absurd orders on the part of the police were being carried out, which converted the house into a kind of safe. But such ridiculous methods are not difficult to circumvent, and we determined that the public should not be robbed of their privileges. On January 18th, that is, some thirty-four hours after the death of M. Felix, we inserted the following advertisement in the first edition of the Evening Moon, and repeated it in all our subsequent editions. We printed it in such bold type, and placed it in such a prominent position, that it could not fail to reach the eyes of persons who were interested in the case:

      "'The Strange Death of M. Felix in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of eight in the morning and twelve at night on January 16th, or who are in possession of information which will throw