FAMOUS MYSTERIES.

NZ Truth, Issue 137, 1 February 1908, Page 7

FAMOUS MYSTERIES.

Tragedy of Constance Kent.

'(By Ladbroke Black.) If twelve people are locked up m a house at night, and one of them is found brutally murdered m the morning, and it is proVed, moreover, that nobody has either entered or left the house, what is the conclusion? This sounds a simple, almost foolish question. Obviously, the answer is that' the , irfurder was committed by one of the 11 persons who were found alive m the morning. If this problem was put to the average man, he would declare quite naturally that the detection of the murderer would be quite easy, i With the scope of inquiry limited to 11 persons, the discovery of the crimlinal .would appear inevitable. ; In hundreds of little ways lie or she must betray* a consciousness of guilt. Careful inqjuiry would then very easily FASTEN THAT GUILT upon the suspected person. That a murderer could escape justice under these circumstances seems ludicrous. Hardly any mystery appears to envelope such an affair. One of, the llmust.be guilty, and by' a process of. elimination the guJLlty. one so lit would seem could easily be picked out. And yet this is the apparently simple problem which underlay the murder of Francis Saville Kent, ' a. little toy of three years and ten months, on the night of June 29, 1860. For five years the author of this crime remained undiscovered, and the case would undoubtedly have taken its place 'among the number of un^ solved mysteries had not the perpetrator come forward and made a voluntary confession of her guilt. • ; The tragedy of Constance Kent ranks as ONE OF THE WORLD'S SADDEST ; STORIES. 1 know of no other narrative among ithe gloomy annals of crime which ecfuals it m the tragic elements of mjystery, of passion,, and of:pathos. I will tell the sijory-here as it slow r ly unravelled itself before, the eyes of the public some forty odd years ago. v The smiall village of Road is situated some three miles from Trowbridge. Here, m a three-storeyed, house, surrounded by a pleasant gar-, den, there dwelt m the year 1860 a' certain Mr S. S r Kent, district subinspector of factories. Mr Kent had been married twice; and was then living with his second wife. Both his unions had been blessed with children. IHis first wife had borne him four— Maiy, Eliza'bcth, .Constance, and William Saville. Mary was 29 years of age, Elizabeth 27, Constance 16, and William Saville 15. To his second wife there had beeni three children— Mary Amelia, aged five ; Francis Saville,- aged three years and 10 months ; and a baby daughter. • ; .Of these two families Constance was „ THE MOST REMARKABLE „; ;. -■ • MfEMBER. She was at that time at the. "di,(BVcult age"— the moment of transition frran childhood to womanhood. All' who -knew her have agreed that she was a strange child, possessed of a marked individuality. Her temperament was curious. She was, by

turns, affectionate and sullen, silent and- passionate. At times she professed ?a great affection • for. her stepmother, but if that; lady found it necessary to correct any * member of her husband's first family, Constance was at once up m arms. '■;•.•■ Sometimes she showed her feelings ■by uncontrolled • outbursts of rage. At other times she listened m sullen silence, and went away to brood over the imagined sdifeht'on^ her dead mother, and to think how\she might Weft obtain vengeance. HER PECULIARITY OF DISPOSITION „ and determination of , character was indicated m many; way%. She did odd, unexpected things-. At: the age of 13, she had. cut off. ■her hair, : .dressed herself m her brother's clothes, and run away from ..home; 'with the avowed intention of going; abroad. All her characteristics forboded, for good or evil, that her future life would be remarkable.' • • On the night of June; 29' tfie various rooms m Mr X ent's 'house were occupied m the following, -manner r-^-Of the tyo bedrdoms >; on the first floor one: WSJ.S occupied by Mr and Mrs 'KipnV afad ; the little girl Mary Amelia ; the; other by Francis Saville, the baby, and the nursemaid, Elizabeth Gou-gh. Of the four bedrooms ,on -the second floor, HJary , and Elizabeth slept m one, the cook and the housemaid m another, and Constance . and William Saville m the remaining two. All the household retired early to he'd; with the exception of M* Kient. At 11-30 p.m., he, too, determined to, seek his .bed, and, following his invariable custom, went the round of the house to see that all the windows and shutters were fastened. Having, sa-tisfied •himself that .EXERYTHIkG WAS SECURE, he locked all the doors from the outside, and went upstairs. '■■■ fey that time Elizabeth Gough, after having seen that her charges, Francis Saville and the baby, were all safe for the night, and lighting the nightlight, was herself m bed. By midnight the whole house was plunged m slumber. When the nursemaid woke up next, morning .at 6 o'clock she made a startling discovery. Francis Saville was not m his cot, . At first she was- alarmed, but finally decided that heir mistress must have come m while? she was asleep and 'taken the little boy into her ,room. She, therefore, first dressed the baby, and then knocked at her mistress's door. ■ L •"Is Master Saville ready to get up, ma'am?'' she, asked. ;; Mrs Kent opened the door. "What do you mean?" she asked, "Master Saville isn't with me." "Well, /he isn't m the nursery, ma'am," retorted* the girl. Where was , Francis Saville ? THEY SEARCHED EVERYWHERE for him throughout the house, but nowhere could he be found. The others were awakened by the uproar, and hurried - out of their rooms, clamoring to know what was the matter. When they heard that the .little boy was missing from, his bed and , could hot be found .anywhere, their distress and concern were very great. Constance seemed to )feel the situation, more keenly than anybody else. She evinced the

greatest excitement and interest, busying herself m searching every room for the child. As the boy could be found nowhere, Mr Kent hurried off to give the alarm to the police at Trowhridge. The news got about the neighborhood. Search, parties were instituted and the garden and the house itself Were carefully' examined. It was found that one of the French windows, opening from the drawingroom on to the lawn was open, though Mr Kent had closed it the night before ; further, the drawingroom door, whioh had been locked by the master of the house from the -outside on the previous night, was ajar. One of the searchers, a man called Bengar, suddenly HAD A CtfllM INSPIRATION. Acting on an almost overpowering presentiment, he went to a lavatory at the back- of the house. On entering he saw a pool of blood on the ground. Striking a light, he peered down the seat. He thrust his arm down, thinking m the dim light he disoerned something. First lie drew up a blanket soaked with Mood, then, more gruesome still, the btody of the missing child, with its throat cut from ear ro ear, and a terrible wound m its side. . •* * • ■ The one outstanding feature of the case; which was clear to the police and public alike, was that the crime must have been committed by somebody' m the bouse. • The drawing-room window and the drawing-room^ door were both open. There were no signs that the window had been forced. The latch had been simply pushed back. Moreover, the lock of the drawing-room door had been turned back by the key, which was on the outside of the door. It was clear, therefore, that somebody m the house had taken Francis Saville from his bed, had carried him downstairs, unlocked the drawc ing-roojtn door, opened the drawing-, room window, and then proceeded to the scene of the crime. Suspicion first fell upon Elizabeth G,ough. It was suggested that she admitted some lover of hers into the I house. But \ HER G-UILTLESS DEMEANOR and perfect frankness disarmed suspicion. After being arrested and brought before the Magistrate she was discharged. Suspicion then fell upon William Saville, and after him upon Constance. The 16-year-old girl was arrested and charged with having murdered her little brother m a fit of envy. iThe fact that one of her nightdresses -was missing seemed to justify the suspicions of the police. But under examination she preserved such coolness, and spoke so feelingly of the little victim, that the charge seemed absurd. "Saville was such a merry, goodtempered little boy. I had been romping with him all? that day. He was fond of me, and I was fond .of him/ she told the magistrate. The perplexed Bench did not know how to act, and they discharged the girl on her father's recognisances. Then > ELIZABETH 1 GOUGH WAS AGAIN ARRESTED, and again discharged. Meanwhile the fury and excitement of the public had been fanned to a fietce pitch. They poured contempt upon the police, and almost . openly stated that the perpetrator of the deed was Mr Kent himself. • Time went on. Mr Kent's unpopularity, and the general suspicion that" he was ;the perpetrator of the deed, showed no signs pf abatement. A year after the crime had been committed it was reported that a confession had been made. The police would have taken it up, but the-pub-lic were so loud m their protests that the case should not be. re-bpen-ed unless the real perpetrator was brought to justice, that the authorities decided to leave well alone. ■■.*■ ' • ' .•■ (Shortly ' after this incident Constance Kent was sent to a convent m France to be educated. She remained-, there nearly two years, and then removed to St. Mary's Home for Religious Ladies, conducted by the Rev. Arthur Douglas Wagner, of St. Paul's Church, Brighton. CONSTANCE WAS THEN •, NINETEEN, but, to his surprise, Mr Wagner found that she had never been confirmed. After she had been m the Home about 16 months he began to prepare her for confirmation. The girl subtmitted, herself to his teaching and influence with great earnestness. At the end of four months she came to him voluntarily and begged him to allow her to make a confession. The thought of the Holy Sacrament, she said, compelled her to tell the story of her sin. Then, humbly, and with tears, she narrated to the horrified priest how she had murdered her little half-toother on that terrible summer night .five years before. Her stepmother ' had said something disparaging, so she thought, about the children of her father's first marriage. Constance had' brooded over it and determined on a terrible revenge. She miade her preparations carefully. In the lavatory outside she secreted a candle and some matches. Then she obtained possession of one of her father's razors. Soon after midnight, having satisfied herself that everyone was asleep, she crept silently downstairs into the nursery. The little ttoy was asleep. Wdthout waking him, SHE TOOK HIM FROM HIS BED, wrapped him up m one of the blankets, and carried him through the drawing-room, window' into the lavatory. So as not to bungle her work, she lit the oandle. While the poor little mite stnl slept on her arm she cut his throat with the razor. The blood, she thought, would never come, so she inflicted the other wound m the side. Suddenly a breath of wind blew the candle out. Terrified, she thrust the body out of sight and crept back to her bedroom. On examining her night-dress, she found only two spots of blood. These she washed out, and putting on a clean night-dress, got into bed. Next day . SHE CLEANED THE RAZOR, and replaced it m her father's ward- ; iobe 4

Finding; the stains of blood were still visible on the night-dress, she secreted it, moving it from place to place. Six days after the murder, she burnt it m her bedroom. Had Elizabeth Gough been found guilty of the murder, she ha-d intended to declare her guilt. As it was, she confessed to her parents a year after the event. Accompanied by Mr Wagner, she went up* to London and gave herself (up for the murder. • " The last scene of the tragedy was enacted before Mr Justice Wills at the Salisbury Assizes. In passing the dread sentence of death the judge became deeply affected, and hurst into tears. The. prisoner, who had maintained up to then a certain composure, suddenly gave way. The sobs of the man who had to condemn her to death, and of the girl on whom the grim sentence had to be passed, were the only sounds heard m the breathless stillness of the court. < The sentence was immediately commuted to one of penal servitude for life, and through all her prison life Constance Kent showed by her exemplary conduct the deep contrition she felt for her terrible crime.