Whoso Findeth a Wife

With sudden resolve I determined to travel back to Staines and, by possession of the knowledge of her mysterious visit to that village, worm from her its object. At that moment Denman entered, and I drank the brandy at one gulp, afterwards ordering the fly and driving back to Horsham station, whence I returned to London.

At my flat in Rossetti Mansions, Chelsea, I found a telegram from the Staines police summoning me to the inquest to be held next morning at eleven o’clock, and also one from Ella asking me to return. The latter I felt inclined to disregard; the former I could not. Her words and actions were, indeed, beyond comprehension, but in the light of this knowledge I had by mere chance acquired, it seemed plain that her declaration of her unworthiness of my love was something more than the natural outcome of highly-strung nerves and a romantic disposition. Women of certain temperaments are prone to self-accusation, and I had brought myself to believe her words to be mere hysterical utterances; but now, alas! I saw there was some deep motive underlying them. I had been tricked. I had, it seemed, been unduly jealous of Beck, and unsuspecting of my real enemy, the man whose lips were closed in death.

I now regretted his end, not as a friend regrets, but merely because no effort would be availing to compel his lying tongue to speak the truth. Yet, if he were my rival for Ella’s hand, might he not have lied when questioned regarding the events of that fateful afternoon when the secret defensive alliance had been so mysteriously exchanged for a dummy? Jealousy knows neither limit nor remorse.

Next morning, after spending the greater part of the night sitting alone smoking and endeavouring to penetrate the ever-increasing veil of mystery that had apparently enveloped her, I travelled down to Staines, arriving there just in time to take a cab to the Town Hall, where the inquest was to be held. The town was agog, for a crowd of those unable to enter because the room was already filled to overflowing, stood in the open space outside, eagerly discussing the tragic affair in all its various aspects, and hazarding the wildest and most impossible theories. Entering the hall, I elbowed my way forward, and as I did so I heard my name shouted loudly by a police constable. I was required as a witness, and succeeded in struggling through to the baize-covered table whereat the grave-faced Coroner sat.

He stretched forth his hand to give me the copy of Holy Writ whereon to take the oath, when suddenly my eyes fell upon a watch and a collection of miscellaneous articles lying upon the table, the contents of the dead man’s pockets.

One small object alone riveted my attention. Heedless of the Coroner’s words I snatched it up and examined it closely.

Next second I stood breathless and aghast, dumbfounded by an amazing discovery that staggered belief.

Chapter Seven

Ella’s Suspicions

The formula of the oath fell upon my ears in a dull monotone, as mechanically I raised the Bible to my lips, afterwards replying to the Coroner’s formal questions regarding my name, address and occupation. The discovery I had made filled me with fierce, bitter hatred against my dead companion, and, dazed by the startling suddenness of the revelation, I stood like a man in a dream.

Dr Diplock, the Coroner, noticed it, and his sharp injunction to answer his question brought me back to a knowledge of my surroundings. I was standing in full view of an assembly of some three hundred persons, so filled by curiosity, and eager to hear my story, that the silence was complete.

“I beg your pardon, but I did not hear the question,” I said, bracing myself with effort.

“The deceased was your friend, I believe?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He shared a furnished cottage with me at Shepperton. I have known him for some time.”

“Were you with him at the day of his death?”

“I left him at Shepperton in the morning, when I went to town, and he called upon me at the Foreign Office about one o’clock. We lunched together, and then, returning to Downing Street, parted. We met again at Shepperton later, and came here, to Staines, in response to an invitation to dinner at ‘The Nook.’ I – ”

A woman’s low, despairing cry broke the silence, and as I turned to the assembly I saw, straight before me, Ella, rigid, almost statuesque. Her terror-stricken gaze met mine; her eyes seemed riveted upon me.

“Kindly proceed with your evidence,” exclaimed the Coroner, impatiently.

“We dined at ‘The Nook,’” I went on, turning again to face him. “Then we went for a row, and on our return Mr Ogle left us to walk back to Shepperton.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not accompany him?”

“Because I had, during the evening, received a telegram summoning me away.”

“Who was the message from?”

“The Earl of Warnham,” I replied. Then obeying his request to continue, I explained how, on leaving “The Nook” about an hour later to catch my last train, I had stumbled upon the body of my friend.

Then, when I had concluded, the Coroner commenced his cross-examination. Many of his questions were purely formal in character, but presently, when he began to take me through the events which occurred at the Foreign Office, I experienced a very uncomfortable feeling, fearing lest I should divulge the suspicions that had during the last half-hour been aroused within me. It was, I recognised, absolutely necessary that I should keep my discovery a strict secret, for upon my ability to do so everything depended.

“Was there any reason why he should call for you at the Foreign Office and ask you to lunch with him? Was he in the habit of doing this?” inquired the Coroner.

“No; there seemed no reason, beyond the fact that he was compelled to come to town, and merely wanted to pass an idle hour away,” I said.

“Why did he go to London?”

“I have no idea what business took him there.”

“He never told you that he had any enemy, I suppose?” the official asked, with an air of mystery.

“Never. He was, on the contrary, most popular.”

“And no incident other than what you have related occurred at the Foreign Office? You are quite certain of this?”

For a moment I hesitated, half inclined to relate the whole story of the mysterious theft of the secret convention; but risking perjury rather than an exposure of facts that I saw must remain hidden, I answered as calmly as I could, —

“No other incident occurred.”

“Have you any reason to suspect that he was a victim of foul play?” the Coroner continued, looking at me rather suspiciously, I thought.

At that moment I glanced at Ella, and was astounded to see how intensely excited she appeared, with her white face upturned, her mouth half open, her eyes staring, eagerly drinking in every word that fell from my lips. Her whole attitude was of one who dreaded that some terrible truth might be brought to light.

“I have no reason to suspect he was murdered,” I answered in a low tone, and as I surreptitiously watched the face of the woman I loved I saw an instant transformation. Her breast heaved with a heavy sigh of relief as across her countenance there passed a look of satisfaction she was unable to disguise. She was in deadly fear of something, the nature of which I could not conjecture.

“You have no suspicion whatever that the deceased had an enemy?” asked the foreman of the jury, who had the appearance of a local butcher.

“None whatever,” I answered.

“I frequently saw Mr Ogle on the river of an afternoon with Miss Laing,” the man observed. “Was there, as far as you are aware, any affection between them?”

Glancing at Ella, I saw she had turned even paler than before, and was trembling. The question nonplussed me. In my heart I strongly suspected that some attachment existed between them; but resenting this impertinent question from a man who struck me as a local busybody, I made a negative reply.

“Then jealousy, it would appear, was not the cause of the crime,” the foreman observed to his fellow-jurymen.

The Coroner, however, quickly corrected him, pointing out that they had not yet ascertained whether death had, or had not, been due to natural causes.

Turning to me, he said, —

“I believe I am right in assuming that you are engaged to be married to Miss Laing, am I not?”

“I was engaged to her,” I replied hoarsely.

“Then you are not engaged at the present moment? Why was the match broken off?”

I hesitated for several moments, trying to devise some means to avoid answering this abrupt question. The bitter thought of Ella’s double dealing occurred to me, and with foolish disregard for consequences I resolved not to spare her.

“Because of a confession she made to me,” I said.