introduction into the room of some subtle poison that would asphyxiate and leave no trace? — Such a drug is unknown to medical science.
You have seen the rose found in Sir Philip’s hand? — Yes.
How do you account for that? — I cannot account for it.
Nor for the stain? — No.
By the Foreman: You have formed no definite opinion regarding the cause of death? — No; I merely submit one of the three suggestions I have offered.
Are you a believer in hypnotism? — Yes, to a certain extent.
In hypnotic suggestion? — Again, to a certain extent.
Is it possible that the suggestion of death coming at a certain hour so persistently threatened might have led to death? — I do not quite understand you.
Is it possible that the deceased is a victim to hypnotic suggestion? — I do not believe it possible.
By the Foreman: You speak of a blow leaving no contusion. In your experience have you ever seen such a case? — Yes; twice.
But a blow sufficient to cause death? — Yes.
Without leaving a bruise or any mark whatever? — Yes; I saw a case in Japan where a man by exerting a peculiar pressure on the throat produced instant death.
Is that ordinary? — No; it is very unordinary; sufficiently so to create a considerable stir in medical circles. The case was recorded in the British Medical Journal in 1896.
And there was no contusion or bruise? — Absolutely none whatever.
The famous surgeon then read a long extract from the British Medical Journal bearing out this statement.
Would you say that the deceased died in this way? — It is possible.
By the Foreman: Do you advance that as a serious possibility? — Yes.
With a few more questions of a technical character the examination closed.
As the great surgeon left the box there was a hum of conversation, and keen disappointment was felt on all sides. It had been hoped that the evidence of the medical expert would have thrown light into dark places, but it left the mystery of Sir Philip Ramon’s death as far from explanation as ever.
Superintendent Falmouth was the next witness called.
The detective, who gave his evidence in clear tones, was evidently speaking under stress of very great emotion. He seemed to appreciate very keenly the failure of the police to safeguard the life of the dead Minister. It is an open secret that immediately after the tragedy both the officer and the Assistant Commissioner tendered their resignations, which, at the express instruction of the Prime Minister, were not accepted.
Mr Falmouth repeated a great deal of the evidence already given by the Commissioner, and told the story of how he had stood on duty outside the Foreign Secretary’s door at the moment of the tragedy. As he detailed the events of that evening a deathly silence came upon the court.
You say you heard a noise proceeding from the study?
— Yes.
What sort of a noise? — Well, it is hard to describe what I heard; it was one of those indefinite noises that sounded like a chair being pulled across a soft surface.
Would it be a noise like the sliding of a door or panel?
— Yes. (Sensation.)
That is the noise as you described it in your report? — Yes.
Was any panel discovered? — No.
Or any sliding door? — No.
Would it have been possible for a person to have secreted himself in any of the bureaux or bookcases? — No; these were examined.
What happened next? — I heard a click and a cry from Sir Philip, and endeavoured to burst open the door.
By the Foreman: It was locked? — Yes. And Sir Philip was alone? — Yes; it was by his wish: a wish expressed earlier in the day.
After the tragedy did you make a systematic search both inside and outside the house? — Yes.
Did you make any discovery? — None, except that I made a discovery curious in itself, but having no possible bearing on the case now.
What was this? — Well, it was the presence on the windowsill of the room of two dead sparrows.
Were these examined? — Yes; but the surgeon who dissected them gave the opinion that they died from exposure and had fallen from the parapet above.
Was there any trace of poison in these birds? — None that could be discovered.
At this point Sir Francis Katling was recalled. He had seen the birds. He could find no trace of poison.
Granted the possibility of such a gas as we have already spoken of — a deadly gas with the property of rapid dissipation — might not the escape of a minute quantity of such a fume bring about the death of these birds? — Yes, if they were resting on the windowsill.
By the Foreman: Do you connect these birds with the tragedy? — I do not, replied the witness emphatically.
Superintendent Falmouth resumed his evidence.
Were there any other curious features that struck you? — None.
The Coroner proceeded to question the witness concerning the relations of Marks with the police.
Was the stain found on Sir Philip’s hand, and on the hand of the man Thery, found also on Marks? — No.
It was as the court was dispersing, and little groups of men stood discussing the most extraordinary verdict ever given by a coroner’s jury, ‘Death from some unknown cause, and wilful murder against some person or persons unknown’, that the Coroner himself met on the threshold of the court a familiar face.
“Hullo, Carson!” he said in surprise, “you here too; I should have thought that your bankrupts kept you busy — even on a day like this — extraordinary case.”
“Extraordinary,” agreed the other.
“Were you there all the time?”
“Yes,” replied the spectator.
“Did you notice what a bright foreman we had?”
“Yes; I think he would make a smarter lawyer than a company promoter.”
“You know him, then?”
“Yes,” yawned the Official Receiver; “poor devil, he thought he was going to set the Thames on fire, floated a company to reproduce photogravures and things — took Etherington’s off our hands, but it’s back again.”
“Has he failed?” asked the Coroner in surprise.
“Not exactly failed. He’s just given it up, says the climate doesn’t suit him — what is his name again?”
“Manfred,” said the Coroner.
Chapter XII
Conclusion
Falmouth sat on the opposite side of the Chief Commissioner’s desk, his hands clasped before him. On the blottingpad lay a thin sheet of grey notepaper. The Commissioner picked it up again and re-read it.
When you receive this
[it ran] we who for want of a better title call ourselves The Four Just Men will be scattered throughout Europe, and there is little likelihood of your ever tracing us. In no spirit of boastfulness we say: We have accomplished that which we set ourselves