The Blue Sequin by R. Austin Freeman. Thorndyke stood looking up and down
the platform with anxiety that increased as the time drew near for the departure of
the train. This is very unfortunate, he said, reluctantly, stepping into
an empty smoking compartment as the guard executed a flourish with his green flag.
I am afraid we have missed our friend. He closed the door, and
as the train began to move, thrust his head out of the window.
Now, I wonder if that will be he he continued. If so,
he has caught the train by the skin of his teeth and is now in
one of the rear compartments. The subject of Thorndyke's speculation was mister Edward Stopford
of the firm of Stopford and Myers of Portugal Street Solicitors, and his connection
with us at present arose out of a telegram that had reached our chambers on
the preceding evening. It was a reply paid and ran, thus, when
you come here tomorrow to direct defense important case, all costs undertaken by us
Stopford admirers. Thorndike's reply had been in the affirmative and early on this present
morning, a further telegram, evidently posted overnight, had been delivered. Shall
leave for Woolhurst by eight twenty five from charing Cross. We'll call for you
if possible, Edward Stopford. It had not called, however, and since
he was unknown personally to us both we could not judge whether or not he
had been among the passengers on the platform. It is most unfortunate, Thorndyke
repeated, for it deprives us of that preliminary consideration of the case which is
so invaluable. He filled his pipe thoughtfully, and, having made a fruitless
inspection of the platform at London Bridge, took up the paper that he had
bought at the bookstall, and began to turn over the leaves, running his
eye quickly down the columns, unmindful of the journalistic bates paragraph or article.
It is a great disadvantage, he observed, while still glancing through the paper,
to come plump into an inquiry without preparation, to be confronted with the
details before one has a chance of considering the case in general terms. For
instance, he paused, leaving the sentence unfinished, and as I looked up
inquiringly, I saw that he had turned over another page and was now reading
attentively. This looks like our case, Jervis, he said, presently handing
me the paper and indicating a paragraph at the top of the page. It
was quite brief and was headed terrible murder in Kent, the account being as
follows, A shocking crime was discovered yesterday morning at the little town of Wolhurst,
which lies on the Branch line from Howbury Junction. The discovery was made
by a porter who was inspecting the carriages of the train which had just come
in. On opening the door of a first class compartment, he was horrified
to find the body of a fashionably dressed woman stretched upon the floor. Medical
aid was immediately summoned, and on the arrival of the Divisional Surgeon, Doctor
Morton, it was ascertained that the woman had not been dead more than a
few minutes. The state of the corpse leaves no doubt that a murder of
a most brutal kind has been perpetuated, the cause of death being a penetrating
wound of the head inflicted with some pointed implement, which must have been used
with terrible violence, since it has perforated the skull and entered the brain.
That robbery was not the motive of the crime is made clear by the fact
that an expensively fitting dressing bag was found on the rack, and that the
dead woman's jewelry, including several valuable diamond rings, was untouched. It is
rumored that an arrest has been made by the local police. A gruesome affair,
I remarked as I handed back the paper. But the report does not
give us much information. It does not. Thorndyke agreed, and yet it
gives us something to consider. Here is a perforating wound of the skull inflicted
with some pointed implement. That is, assuming that it is not a bullet
wound. Now what kind of implement would be capable of inflicting such an injury?
How would such an implement be used in the confined space of a railway
carriage, and what sort of person would be in possession of such an implement.
These are preliminary questions that are worth considering, and I commend them to
you, Together with the further problems of the possible motive, excluding robbery and
any circumstances other than murder which might account for the injury, The choice of
suitable implements is not very great, I observed, it is very limited,
and most of them, such as a plasterer's pick or a geological hammer,
are associated with certain definite occupations. You have a note book, I had,
and, accepting the hint, I produced it and pursued my further the
reflections in silence, while my companion, with his note book also on his
knee, gazed steadily out of the window, And thus he remained wrapped in
thought, jotting down an entry now and again in his book until the train
slowed down at Halbury Junction, where we had to change on to a branch
line. As we stepped out, I noticed a well dressed man hurrying up
the platform from the rear and eagerly scanning the faces of the few passengers who
had alighted. Soon he espied us, and, approaching, quickly asked as
he looked from one of us to the other. Doctor Thorndyke Yes, replied
my colleague, adding, and you, I presume are mister Edward Stopford.
The solicitor bowed. This is a dreadful affair, he said in an agitated
manner. I see you have the paper. A most shocking affair, I
am immensely relieved to find you here. Nearly missed the train and feared I
should miss you. There appears to have been an arrest. Thorndyke began,
Yes, my brother, terrible business. Let us walk up the platform.
Our train won't start for a quarter of an hour. Yet we deposited our
joint Gladstone and Thorndyke's traveling case in an empty first class compartment, and then,
with a solicitor between us, strolled up to the unfrequented end of the
platform. My brother's position, said, mister Stopford fills me with dismay.
But let me give you the facts an order, and you shall judge for
yourself. This poor creature who has been murdered so brutally was a miss Edith
Grant. She was formerly an artist's model, and as such was a good
deal employed by my brother, who is a painter. Harold Stopford. You
know Ara now, I know his work very well, and charming work it
is, I think so too well. In those days he was quite a
youngster, about twenty, and he became very intimately Miss Grant in quite an
innocent way, though not very discreet. But she was a nice, respectable
girl, as most English models are, and no one thought any harm.
However, a good many letters passed between them, and some little presence,
amongst which was a beaded chain carrying a locket, and in this he was
fool enough to put his portrait and the inscription Edith from Harold. Later on,
Miss Grant, who had a rather good voice, went on the stage
in the comic opera line, and in consequence her habits and associates changed somewhat.
And as Harold had meanwhile become engaged, he was naturally anxious to get
his letters back, and especially to exchange the locket for some less compromising gift.
The letters she eventually sent him, but refused absolutely to part with the
locket. Now. For the last month Harold has been staying at Hawbury,
making sketching excursions into the surrounding country, and yesterday morning he took the train
to Shinglehurst, the third station from here and the one before Wolhurst. On
the platform here he met Miss Grant, who had come down from London and
was going on to Worthy. They entered the branch train together, having a
first class compartment to themselves. It seems she was wearing his locket at the
time, and he made another appeal to her to make an exchange, which
she refused. As before, the discussion appears to have become rather heated and
angry on both sides. For the guard and a porter at Munsden both noticed
that they seemed to be quarreling. But the upshot of the affair was that
the lady snapped the chain and tossed it together with the locket, to my
brother, and they parted quite amiably. At Shinglehurst where Harold got out.
He was then carrying his full sketching kit, including a large Holland umbrella,
the lower joint of which is an ash staff fitted with a powerful steel spike
for driving into the ground. It was at about half past ten when he
got out at Shinglehurst. By eleven he had reached his pit and got to
work, and he painted steadily for three hours. Then he packed up his
traps and was just starting on his way back to the station when he was
met by the police and arrested, and now observed the accumulation of circumstantial evidence
against him. He was the last person seen in company with the murdered woman,
for no one seems to have seen her after they left Munsden. He
appeared to be quarreling with her when she was last seen alive, and he
had a reason for possibly wishing for her death. He was provided with an
implement, a spiked staff capable of inflicting the injury which caused her death,
and when he was searched there was found in his possession the locket and broken
chain, apparently removed from her person with violence. Against all of this is
of course his known character. He is the gentlest and most amiable of men,
and his subsequent conduct imbecile to the last degree if he had been guilty.
But as a lawyer, I can't help seeing that the appearances are almost
hopelessly again against him. We won't say hopelessly, replied Thorndyke, as we
took our places in the carriage, though I expect the police are pretty cock
sure. When does the inquest open to day at four? I haven't obtained
an order from the corner for you to examine the body and be present at
the post mortem? Do you happen to know the exact position of the wound?
Yes, it is a little above and behind the left ear, a
horrible round hole with a ragged cut or tear running from it to the side
of the forehead. And how is the body lying right along the floor with
the feet close to the off side door. Was the wound on the head
the only one? No, There was a long cut or bruise on the
right cheek, a contused wound, the police surgeon called it, which he
believes to have been inflicted with a heavy and rather blunt weapon. I have
not heard of any other wounds or bruises. Did anyone enter the train yesterday
at Shinglehurst, Thorndyke asked. No one entered the train after it had left
Halbury. Thorndyke considered these statements in silence, and presently fell into a brown
study, from which he roused only as the train moved out of the Shinglehurst
station. It would be about here that the murder was committed, said mister
Stopford, at least between here and Wolhurst. Thorndyke nodded rather abstractedly, being
engaged at the moment in observing with great attention the objects that were visible from
the windows. I notice, he said, presently, a number of chips
scattered about between the rails, and some of the chair wedges looked new.
Have there been any plate layers at work lately? Yes, answered Stopford.
They are on the line now, I believe at least. I saw a
game working near Woldhurst yesterday, and they are said to have set a rick
on fire. I saw it smoking when I came down. Indeed, and
this middle line of rails is I suppose a sort of sighting. Yes.
They shunt the goods train and empty trucks onto it. There are the remains
of the wreck still smoldering, you see. Thorndyke gazed absently at the blackened
heap until an empty cattle truck in the middle track hid it from view.
This was succeeded by a line of goods wagons, and these by a passenger
coach, one compartment of which first class was closed up and sealed. The
train now began to slow down rather suddenly, and a couple of minutes later
we brought up in Woldhurst station. It was evident that rumors of Thorndyke's advent
had preceded us. For the entire staff. Two porters, an inspector and
the station master were waiting expectantly on the platform, and the latter came forward,
regardless of his dignity, to help us with the luggage. Do you
think I could see the carriage, Thorndyke asked the solicitor. Not the inside,
sir, said the station master, on being appealed to the police of
fielded up. You would have to ask the inspector. Well, I can
look at the outside, I suppose, said Thorndyke, And to this the
station master readily agreed and offered to accompany us. What are their first class
passengers? Were there? Thorndyke asked, none, sir, There was only
one first class coach and the deceased was the only person in it. It
has given us all a dreadful turn, this affair has, he continued,
as we set off up the line. I was on the platform when the
train came in. We were watching a rick that was burning up the line
and a rare blaze it made too and I was just saying that we should
have to move the cattle truck that was on the mid track, because you
see, sir, the smoke and sparks were blowing across and I thought it
would frighten the poor beasts. And mister Felton, he don't like his beasts
handled roughly. He says it spoils the meat. No doubt he is right,
said Thorndyke. But now tell me do you think it is possible for
any person to board or leave the train on the off side unobserved? Could
a man, for instance, enter a compartment on the off side at one
station and drop off as the train was slowing down at the next without being
seen? I doubt it, replied the station master. Still I wouldn't say
it is impossible, thank you. Oh, and there's another question. You
have a gang of men at work on the line, I see now.
Do those men belong to the district? No, sir, they are strangers
everyone, and pretty rough diamonds, some of them are. But I shouldn't
say there was any real harm in them. If you are suspecting any of
them being mixed up in this, I am not, interrupted Thorndyke rather shortly.
I suspect nobody, but I wish to get all the facts of the
case at the outset. Naturally, sir, replied the abashed official. And
we pursued our way in silence. Do you remember, by the way,
said Thorndyke, as we approached the empty coach whether the off side door of
the compartment was closed and locked when the body was discovered, It was closed,
sir, but not locked. Why, sir, did you think nothing?
Nothing? The sealed compartment is the one, of course. Without waiting
for a reply, he commenced his survey of the coach, while I gently
restrained our two companions from shadowing him, as they were disposed to do.
The off side footboard occupied his attention specially, and when he had scrutinized minutely
the part opposite the fatal compartment, he walked slowly from end to end,
with his eyes but a few inches from its surface, as though he was
searching for something Near what had been the rear end. He stopped and drew
from his pocket a piece of paper. Then, with a moistened fingertip,
he picked up from the footboard some evidently minute object, which he carefully transferred
to the paper, folding the ladder and placing it in his pocket book.
He next mounted the footboard, and, having peered in through the window of
the sealed compartment, produced from his pocket a small in suff later or powder
blower, with which he blew a stream of impalpable smoke like powder onto the
edges of the middle window, bestowing the closest attention on the irregular dusty patches
in which it settled, and even measuring one on the jam of the window
with a pocket rule. At length, he stepped down, and, having
carefully looked over the near side footboard, announced that he had finished for the
present. As we were returning down the line, we passed a working man
who seemed to be viewing the chairs and sleepers with more than casual interest.
That I suppose is one of the plate layers, Thorndike suggested to the station
master. Yes, the foreman of the gang. Was the reply, I'll
just step back and have a word with him, if you will walk on
slowly, and my companion turned back briskly and overtook the man, with whom
he remained in conversation for some minutes. I think I see the police inspector
on the platform, remarked Thorndyke as we approached the station. Yes, there
he is, said our guide. Come down to see what you are after,
sir, I expect, which was doubtless the case, although the officer
professed to be there by the merest chance, you would like to see the
weapon, sir, I suppose, he remarked, when he had introduced himself
the umbrella spike. Thorndyke corrected, yes, if I may. We are
going to the mortuary now, then you'll pass the station on the way,
so if you care to look in, I will walk up with you.
This proposition being agreed to, we all proceeded to the police station, including
the station master, who is on the very tiptoe of curiosity. There you
are, sir, said the inspector, unlocking his office and ushering us in.
Don't say we haven't given every facility to the defense. There are all
the effects of the accused, including the very weapon the deed was done with.
Come, come, protested Thorndyke. We mustn't be premature. He took
the stout ash staff from the officer, and, having examined the formidable spike
through a lens, drew from his pocket a steel caliper gage, with which
he carefully measured the diameter of the spike and the staff to which it was
fixed. And now, he said, when he had made a note of
the measurements in his book, we will look at the color box and the
sketch. Hah, a very orderly man, your brother, mister Stopford,
tubes in all their places. Pallet knives wiped clean, pallet cleaned off and
rubbed. Bright brushes wiped. They ought to be washed before they stiffened.
All this is very significant. He unstrapped the sketch from the blank canvas to
which it was pinned, and, standing on a chair in a good light,
stepped back to look at it. And you tell me that is only
three hours work, he exclaimed, looking at the lawyer. It is really
a marvelous achievement. My brother is a very rapid worker, replied Stopford dejectedly.
Yes, but this is not only amazingly rapid, it is in his
very happiest vein, full of spirit and feeling. But we mustn't stay to
look at it longer. He replaced the canvas on its pins, and,
having glanced at the locket and some other articles that lay in a drawer,
thanked the inspector for his courtesy, and withdrew. That sketch and the color
box appear very suggestive to me, he remarked. As we walked up the
street to me, also said Stopford gloomily, for they are under lock and
key like their owner, poor old fellow. He sighed heavily, and we
walked on in silence. The mortuary keeper had evidently heard of our arrival,
for he was waiting at the door with the key in his hand, and,
on being shown the coroner's order, unlocked the door and we entered together.
But after a momentary glance at the ghostly shrouded figure lying upon the slate
table, Stopford turned pale and retreated, saying that he would wait for us
outside with the mortuary keeper. As soon as the door was closed and locked.
On the inside, Thorndyke glanced curiously round the bare, whitewashed building.
A stream of sunlight poured in through the skylight and fell upon the silent form
that lay so still under its covering sheet, and one stray beam glanced into
a corner by the door, where on the row of pegs and a deal
table, the dead woman's clothing was displayed. There is something unspeakily sad in
these poor relics, Jervis, said Thorndyke, as we stood before them.
To me, they are more tragic, more full of pathetic suggestion than the
corpse itself. See the smart jaunty hat, and the costly skirts hanging there
so desolate and forlorn, the dainty lingerie on the table, neatly folded by
the mortuary man's wife. I hope the little French shoes and open worked silk
stockings, how pathetically eloquent they are, of harmless womanly vanity, and the
gay, careless life snapped short at the twinkling of an eye. But we
must not give way to sentiment. There is another life threatened, and it
is in our keeping. He lifted the hat from its peg and turned it
over in his hand. It was, I think, what is called a
picture hat, a huge, flat, shapeless mass of gauze and ribbon and
feather, spangled over freely with dark blue sequins. In one part of the
brim was a ragged hole, and from this the glittering sequence dropped off in
little showers. When the hat was moved. This will have been worn tilted
over on the left side, said Thorndyke, judging by the general shape and
the position of the hole. Yes, I agreed, like that of the
Duchess of Devonshire in Gainsborough's portrait exactly. He shook a few of the sequins
into the palm of his hand, and replacing the hat on its peg,
dropped the little disks into an envelope on which he wrote from the hat and
slipped it into his pocket. Then, stepping over to the table, he
drew back the sheet reverently and even tenderly from the dead woman's face, and
looked down at it with grave pity. It was a comely face, white
as marble, serene and peaceful in expression, with half closed eyes, and
framed with a mass of brassy yellow hair. But its beauty was marred by
a long, linear wound, half cut, half bruise, running down the
right cheek from the eye to the chin. A handsome girl, Thorndyke commented,
a dark haired blonde, What a sin to have disfigured herself so with
that horrible peroxide. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead, and added,
she seems to have applied the stuff last about ten days ago. There
is about a quarter of an inch of dark hair at the roots. What
do you make of that wound on the cheek. It looks as if she
had struck some sharp angle in falling, though as the seats are padded in
first class carriages. I don't see what she could have struck. No,
and now let us look at the other wound. Will you note down the
description? He handed me his notebook, and I wrote down as he dictated.
A clean punched circular hole and skull an inch behind and above margin of
left ear diameter an inch in seven sixteenth starred fracture of parietal bone, membranes
perforated and brain entered. Deeply ragged scalp wound extending forward to margin of left
orbit. Fragments of gauze and sequins and edges of wound. That will do
for the present. Doctor Morton will give us further details if we want them.
He pocketed his calipers and rule drew from the bruised scalp one or two
loose hairs, which he placed in the envelope with a sequence, and,
having looked over the body for other wounds or bruises, of which there were
none, replaced a sheet and prepared to depart. As we walked away from
the mortuary, Thorndyke was silent and deeply thoughtful, and I gathered that he
was piecing together the facts that he had acquired at length. Mister Stopford,
who had several times looked at him curiously, said, the post morte Wali
take place at three, and it is now only half past eleven. What
would you like to do next? Thorndike, who in spite of his mental
preoccupation, had been looking about him in his usual keen attentive way, halted.
Suddenly, your reference to the post mortem, said, he reminds me
that I forgot to put the ox gall into my case. Ox Gall,
I exclaimed, endeavoring vainly to connect this substance with the technique of the pathologist.
What were you going to do with but here? I broke off,
remembering my friend's dislike of any discussion of his methods before strangers. I suppose,
he continued. There would hardly be an artist's colorman in a place of
this size, I should think not, said Stopford. But couldn't you get
the stuff from a butcher? There's a shop just across the road, so
there is agreed Thorndyke, who had already observed the shop. The gall ought,
of course to be prepared, but we can filter it ourselves. That
is, if the butcher has any we will try him at any rate.
He crossed the road towards the shop, over which the name Felton appeared in
gilt lettering, and addressing himself to the proprietor who stood at the door,
introduced himself and explained his wants. Ox Gall said the butcher, No,
sir, I haven't any just now, but I am having a beast killed
this afternoon, and I can let you have some then. In fact,
he added, after a pause, as the matter is of importance, I
can have one killed at once if you wish it. That is very kind
of you, said Thorndyke, and it would greatly oblige me. Is the
beast perfectly healthy. They're in splendid condition, Sir. I picked them out
of the herd myself. But you shall see them hi, and choose the
one you'd like killed. You are really very good, said Thorndyke warmly.
I will just run into the chemists next door and get a suitable bottle,
and then I will avail myself of your exceedingly kind offer. He hurried in
the chemist shop, from which he presently emerged carrying a white paper parcel,
and we then followed the butcher down a narrow lane by the side of his
shop. It led to an enclosure containing a small pin, in which we
can find three handsome steers, whose glossy black coats contrasted in a very striking
manner with their long, grayish white, nearly straight horns. These are certainly
very fine beasts, mister Felton, said Thorndyke, as we drew up beside
the pin, and in excellent condition too. He leaned over the pin and
examined the beasts critically, especially as to their eyes and horns. Then,
approaching the nearest one, he raised his stick and bestowed a smart tap on
the underside of the right horn, followed by a similar tap on the left
one, a proceeding that the beasts viewed with stolid surprise. The state of
the horns, explained Thorndyke, as he moved on to the next steer,
enables one to judge to some extent of the bee health. Lord bless you,
sir, laughed mister Felton. They haven't got no feeling in their horns.
Else, what good of their horns be to'em? Apparently he was
right, for the second steer was as indifferent to a sounding rap on either
horn as the first. Nevertheless, when Thorndyke approached the third steer, I
unconsciously drew nearer to watch, and I noticed that as the stick struck the
horn, the beast drew back an evident alarm, and that when the blow
was repeated it became manifestly uneasy. He doesn't seem to like that, said
the butcher. Seems as if hello, that's queer. Thorndyke had just brought
his stick up against the left horn, and immediately the beast had winced and
started back, shaking his head and moaning. There was not, however,
room for him to back out of reach, and Thorndyke, by leaning into
the pin, was able to inspect the sensitive horn, which he did with
the closest attention, while the butcher looked on with obvious perturbation. You don't
think there is anything wrong with this beast, I hope, said he.
I can't say without a further examination, replied Thorndyke. It may be the
horn only that is affected. If you will have it sawn off close to
the head and sent up to me at the hotel, I will look at
it and tell you, and by way of preventing any mistakes, I will
mark it and cover it up to protect it from injury. In the slaughter
house, he opened his parcel and produced from it a wide mouthed bottle labeled
ox gull, a sheet of gut of perch, a tissue, a roller
bandage, and a stick of ceiling wax. Handing the bottle to mister Felton,
he encased a distal half of the horn in a covering by means of
the tissue in the bandage, which he fixed together with the ceialing wax.
I'll saw the horn off and bring it up to the hotel myself with the
ox gull, said mister Felton. You shall have them in half an hour.
He was as good as his word For an half an hour. Thorndyke
was seated at a small table by the window of our private sitting room in
the Black Bull Hotel. The table was covered with newspaper, and on it
lay the long gray horn and Thorndyke's traveling case, now open and displaying a
small microscope and its accessories. The butcher was solidly seated in an armchair,
waiting with a half suspicious eye on Thorndyke for the report. And I was
endeavoring by cheerful talk to keep mister Stopford from sinking into utter despondency. Though
I too kept a furtive watch on my colleague's rather mysterious proceedings. I saw
him unwind the bandage and apply the horn to his ear, bending it slightly
to and fro. I watched him as he scanned the surface closely through a
lens, and observed him as he scraped some substance from the pointed end onto
a glass slide, and, having applied a drop of summery agent, began
to tease out the scraping with a pair of mounted needles. Presently, he
placed a slide under the microscope, and, having observed it attentively for a
minute or two, turned round sharply, Come and look at this, Jervis
said he. I wanted no second bidding, being on tenter hooks of curiosity,
but came over and applied my eye to the instrument. Well, what
is it, he asked? A multipolar nerve corpuscle, very shriveled but unmistakable.
And this he moved the slide to a fresh spot. Two pyramidal nerve
corpuscles, and some portions of fibers. And what do you say the tissue
is cortical brain substance. I should say, without a doubt, I entirely
agree with you. And that being so, he added, turning to mister
Stopford, we may say that the case for the defense is practically complete.
What in Heaven's name do you mean? Exclaimed Stopford, starting up, I
mean that we can now prove when and where and how Miss Grant met her
death. Come and sit down here and I will explain. No, you
needn't go away, mister Felton, we shall have to subpoena you. Perhaps,
he continued, we had better grow over the facts and see what they
suggest. And first we note the position of the body, lying with the
feet close to the off side door, showing that when she fell, the
deceased was sitting or more probably standing, close to that door. Now there
is this, He drew from miss pocket, a folded paper which he opened,
displaying a tiny blue disc. It is one of the sequins with which
her hat was trimmed. And I have in this envelope several more which I
took from the hat itself. This single sequin I picked up on the rear
end of the off side footboard, and its presence there makes it nearly certain
that at some time Miss Grant had put her head out of the window on
that side. The next item of evidence I obtained by dusting the margins of
the off side window with a light powder, which we made visible a greasy
impression three and a quarter inches long on the sharp corner of the right hand
jam right hand from the inside. I mean, and now as to the
evidence furnished by the body. The wound in the skull is behind and above
the left ear is roughly circular and measures one inch and seven sixteenth at most,
and a ragged scalp wound runs from it toward the left eye. On
the right cheek is a linear, contused wound three and a quarter inches long.
There are no other injuries. Our next facts are furnished by this.
He took up the horn and tapped it with his finger, while the solicitor
and mister Felton stared at him in speechless wonder. You notice it is a
left horn, and you remember that it was highly sensitive. Now, if
you put your ear to it while I strain it, you will hear the
grating of a fracture in the bony core. Now look at the point at
end, and you will see several deep scratches running lengthwise. And where those
scratches end, the diameter of the horn is, as you see by the
caliber gage, one inch and seven sixteenth. Covering the scratches is a dry
blood stain, and at the extreme tip is a small mass of a dried
substance which doctor Jervis and I have examined with the microscope and are satisfied as
brain tissue. Good God, exclaimed Stopford. Eagerly you mean to say,
let us finish with the facts, mister Stopford, Thorndyke interrupted. Now if
you look closely at that blood stain, you will see a short piece of
hair stuck to the horn, and through this lens you can make out the
root bulb. It is a golden hair, you notice, but near the
root it is black, and our caliber gage shows us that the black portion
is fourteen sixty fourths of an inch long. Now in this envelope are some
hairs that are removed from the dead woman's head. They are also golden hairs,
black at the roots, and when I measure the black pors, I
find it to be fourteen sixty fourths of an inch long. Then finally there
is this. He turned the horn over and pointed to a small patch of
dry blood. Embedded in it was a blue sequin. Mister Stopford and the
butcher both gazed at the horn in silent amazement. Then the former drew a
deep breath and looked up at Thorndyke. No doubt, said he, You
can explain this mystery, But for my part, I am utterly bewildered.
Though you are filling me with hope, and yet the matter is quite simple,
returned Thorndyke, even with these few facts before us, which are only
a selection from the body of evidence in our possession. But I will state
my theory and you shall judge. He rapidly sketched a rough plan on a
sheet of paper and continued. These were the conditions when the train was approaching
Walhurst. Here is the passenger coach, here is the burning rick, and
here was a cattle truck. This steer was in that truck. Now,
my hypothesis is that at the time, as Grant was standing with her head
out of the off side window watching the burning rick, her wide hat worn
on the left side hid from her view the cattle truck which she was approaching,
and then this is what happened. He sketched another plan to a larger
scale. One of the steers, this one had thrust its long horn out
through the bars. The point of that horn struck the deceased head, driving
her face violently against the corner of the window, and then, in disengaging,
plowed its way through the scalp and suffered a fracture of its core from
the violence of the wrench. This hypothesis is inherently probable. It fits all
the facts, and those facts admit of no other explanation. The solicitor sat
for a moment, as though dazed. Then he rose impulsively and seized Thorndyke's
hands. I don't know what to say to you, he exclaimed, huskily,
except that you have saved my brother's life, and for that may God
reward you. The butcher rose from his chair with a slow grin. It
seems to me, said he as if that ox gall was what you might
call a blind eh sir, and Thorndyke smiled an inscrutable smile. When we
returned to town on the following day, we were a party of four which
included mister Harold Stopford. The verdict of death by misadventure, promptly returned by
the coroner's jury, had been shortly followed by his release from custody, and
he now sat with his brother and me, listening with rapt attention to Thorndyke's
analysis of the case. So you see, the latter concluded, I had
six possible theories of the cause of death worked out before I reached Hawbury,
and it only remained to select the one that fitted the facts. And when
I had seen the cattle truck, had picked up that sequin, had heard
the description of the steers, and had seen the hat and the wounds,
there was nothing left to do but filling in of details. And you never
doubted my innocence, asked Harold Stopford. Thorndyke smiled at his quondam client.
Not after I had seen your color box and your sketch, said he to
say nothing of the spike end of the blue Sequin