Dinner over, Mr Peabody settled his guest in a comfortable chair before the fire, and without further delay narrated the incidents following his hurried visit to the south of Ireland. vealing a profound knowledge Mrs Northbrook's I can't make of that specialised form of out. And even granted that sport. it was Mrs Northbrook's, it might still have been cut off after death. She might easily have fallen overboard and been drowned, and yet not have sunk so deep that another vessel following on the same track couldn't have cut her to pieces with its propeller. Fully clothed bodies sink very slowly. No ; the facts up to this are possible of explanation on the theory that she fell, or threw herself, overboard, as the ship's officers "Well, and how is the story getting on?" asked the inspector when he had finished. "That's just the trouble," said Mr Peabody. getting on at all." "It isn't "How is that?" asked his insist and as I myself believe, guest. "Well, I don't know why it is," said Mr Peabody, "but I don't seem able to invent any thing that interests. me as much as the real facts of the case, and when I attempt to use those I am at once up against a problem for which I can offer no solution." "Yes, I see your point," said the inspector after a moment's reflection. "There can be no solution of the problem as you have stated it. The facts cannot be fitted together, however you turn them. This young Costello you speak of must be a bright lad. It is possible that he may be right about the finger having been cut off after death. That is a conclusion which, I understand, can sometimes be drawn by a skilled pathologist, and he is right about things shrinking in methylated spirit. I've heard that point brought out before now in the Courts, but why he should think that the finger was but the question of the distance which the finger must have been carried, if their times are correct, is entirely out of keeping with the rest of the case." "Yes, that's just my difficulty," said Mr Peabody. "But," continued the inspector, "the question of distance, you will observe, rests entirely on the statement of John Northbrook that he saw his wife leave the cabin at about eight-thirty; no one else had seen her since the previous night." "By Jove!" ejaculated Mr Peabody. "Now, if I was writing the story," went on the inspector, "I would make that the key to the solution of my problem." "By Jove!" said Mr Peabody again. "Of course you are right. The story rests entirely on Northbrook's statement as regards time. Why, good God, he might have mur dered her before he went to bed at all for that matter." "He might, indeed," said the inspector, smiling, "but how do you suppose he could have got her up on the deck and thrown her overboard? What makes you think he murdered her at all? She might have thrown herself overboard at any time during the night if it comes to that." "But then, what about Northbrook's saying that he saw her in the morning?" asked Mr Peabody. "That's just what I say," returned the inspector, "that it is the important thing for you to concentrate on in your story. For my own part, I have frequently observed that men are apt to make mistakes in time, particularly on board ship where they have to change their watches every day. I myself once put my watch forward instead of back, and was two hours too early for breakfast in consequence. I have regretted it ever since. No, I think you can make quite a good point out of the time, but your difficulty will be the way the murderer got the body on deck and over the side. By the way, did you see the cabin which Northbrook and his wife occupied? If it was on the promenade deck, the thing might be done." have killed her in the cabin and taken her up two flights of stairs," said the inspector, "so you may make your mind easy on that point. You had better put the cabin on the promenade deck in your story. I suppose, by-the-bye, that the ports weren't large enough to push her through ?" "No," said Mr Peabody, "I know they weren't, for I stuck my head out of one and it only just fitted," and he proceeded to relate his experience in the bathroom. "Now that's interesting," said the inspector when he had finished. "Those strips of paper must have been put there for some purpose.' 66 The steward said that they had probably been left there by the painters," said Mr Peabody. "Perhaps so," said the inspector thoughtfully. "I suppose you didn't notice whether the inside of the bathroom was painted the same colour as the passage outside?" "I don't remember," replied the amateur; "but why do you ask?" "Because, my dear Watson,' replied the detective, "if you have ever painted a grating or lattice work, as you call it, you will have observed that the brush is apt to slip through the holes and leave its mark on the other side." 66 "No," said Mr Peabody; "I am ashamed to say that Holmes, you are wonderI did not see the cabin, but I ful," retorted Mr Peabody in saw where it was-the main the same vein, "but your deck." power of imagination is vitiated "Then he couldn't possibly by my lack of observation, for I cannot recall whether the for you to try to trace them bathroom was the same colour as the passage. If it was, the use of the strips of paper would have been unnecessary." out. I have a couple of youngsters in training for the Force, and I have a good mind to set them at the same problem. Now here's a sporting offer for you. You amateurs are always talking about the stupidity of us professionals. I will put my two young officers on this in their spare time, and you can do what you like, and at the end of a month we will see who has got the most information as to the past life of John Northbrook and his wife." The inspector rose to take his leave. "Two to one in fivers that the professionals win. Is it a bet?" "Done!" answered Mr Pea "Then I would advise you," returned Inspector Thesiger, "to find out first all you can about the lives of the two principals. You will probably find them very commonplace, but it will be good practice body. CHAPTER VIII.-THE AMATEUR. Until he actually set about his task of tracing the past history of the Northbrooks, Mr Peabody had taken it for granted that under the cardindexed conditions of modern life the thing would be perfectly simple. It was not long before he found out that he was mistaken. Obviously the first thing to do was to go to the steamship office and find out whether Northbrook had purchased his tickets there or had obtained them through an agent. Now, while Mr Peabody had been shooting and philandering in Wales, the Casabianca had made another voyage, and when he began his inquiries he found that the records of her previous trip seemed either to have been destroyed or tied up so securely with red tape that no unofficial curiosity could unloose them. The regrettable loss of Mrs Northbrook was, indeed, remembered, but the company regarded the incident as closed, and appeared to see no reason why it should be reopened. In despair Mr Peabody assured them that he had no wish to reopen it, that he merely wished to trace John Northbrook in order to restore to him a trinket which he had reason to believe had belonged to his wife, and that he would regard it as a great favour if At length his importunity won him a hearing. He was requested to wait, and, after what seemed to his impatience a long interval, a young clerk came forward from the rear office and intimated that he had sold the tickets to Mr Northbrook, and that he would do his best to help if the gentleman would tell him what it was he wanted to know. He the officials could stretch a high up, as he was afraid that point and look up their books his wife would feel the motion and see whether the passages of the vessel much more there had been booked direct or than if she were nearer the through Messrs Cook or some water. Finally, as the ship other agent. was not crowded, he had been able to give him a cabin on the main deck with a bathroom just across the passage. had booked it tentatively, but was unwilling to take it until he had actually seen it, and he went down to Liverpool and saw the vessel in dock before he would accept the offer. His wife was an invalid, he said, and very particular about her accommodation. But all this was merely by the way; the main point was that he had not given his address in London, as he said that he was changing his hotel and was not certain where he would be. He asked that the tickets should be kept for him, and a few days later he had called, paid in cash, and taken them away with him. The clerk was very sorry, but that was all he knew about the matter. Mr Peabody was profuse in his thanks, and made haste to explain his position. He had come, he said, by a very strange coincidence, into possession of a ring which he had been enabled to trace as belonging to the late Mrs John Northbrook. He was very anxious to locate Mr Northbrook, but did not know how to set about it. He thought it possible that he had given his address when he booked his passage, or if not that, at least the name of his bank could be ascertained from the cheque with which he had paid. The clerk was politeness itself, he was so very sorry that he could not help in the matter. He remembered the circumstances perfectly. Mr Northbrook had been very particular in his choice of a cabin. He had wished to get one with a private bath, but the only suites on the Casabianca were on the promenade deck, and he had not wanted to be so such list as he had hoped to the lavish provision of bath find. Baffled once more, Mr Peabody thought that he would try his hand at tracing the lady, and here at once he had a clear trail to follow. His notes of his previous inquiries showed him that when the ring was altered shortly after its purchase, the notification of its being ready had been sent to Mrs E. T. Jobling at Filbert's Hotel, S.W. He knew from the report of the Northbrook case in the Times,' to which he had been referred by Inspector Thesiger, that Mrs Northbrook had been the widow of Elisha T. Jobling of San Diego, California. Here, then, he had every prospect of picking up the scent, for surely if he could follow the movements of Mrs Jobling they would lead him inevitably to the whereabouts of the man she had married. Filbert's Hotel proved to be one of those thoroughly English hostelries which capture the American trade by providing its clients with but few of the comforts of home, thus creating an atmosphere which the victims regard as the real thing. Mr Filbert was a psychologist who had grasped the fact that a sugar-coated pill is a pill robbed of one of its potentialities, and, by setting his face firmly against the advance of the comforts of civilisation, he had managed to save money without loss of patronage. He had made only one concession to his clientèle, and that was in rooms and hot water, and these luxuries he had tempered by installing baths of antiquated pattern and taps of old-fashioned design. Mr Peabody found the domestics of this cleverly organised establishment quite in keeping with the rest of the picture, and from a faded chamber-maid, who rejoiced in the name of Mrs Gummidge, he obtained his first clear mental picture of Mrs Northbrook. A nice, kind, generous little lady she was, not handsome so to speak, but neat and always very well dressed. Very particular about her hair, wanted to know first day where she could get a good shampoo. When told that she, Mrs Gummidge, had been lady's-maid to Lady Matilda Beausavage, had asked whether she could dress her hair for her. Mrs Gummidge had done it most every day for her after that, and had got very familiar with her. Rich lady she was seemingly, had fine jewels, but very seldom wore them except in the evenings. Seemed to have travelled a lot, as her trunks were covered with labels from all over the world. Had no friends at first, and was a bit lonesome and shy, she thought, but after a time had one gentleman who came to see her a lot, and sent her flowers every morning. Gentleman of the name of Northbrook, a rich man seemingly. Handsome man too, tall and dark, and perhaps a bit younger than the lady. Mrs Jobling |