INVESTIGATIONS OF THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3672, 29 July 1924, Page 69

INVESTIGATIONS OF THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY.

MAGNIFICENT ACHIEVEMENTS BY POLICE AND SCIENTIST. PEN PICTURE OE SIR BERNARD SPILSBURY.

By

Vincent Wray.

(For the Witness.) Those who are officially responsible for investigation into what is now known as the Bungalow mystery, have accomplished work that is not only admirable, but positively astounding. When it is possible to write the inside story the narrative will exceed in interest and excitement anything that has been penned by a sensational novelist. I know a good deal that cannot yet be told, but such facts as I am able to reveal indicate the extent to which the investigators have opened up what at one time appeared to be a battling and extraordinary problem. The police officials achieved a good deal. Those principally concerned were men of wide experience and extraordinary shrewdness. The principals were Chief Inspector Savage, Detective Inspector Hall, of Scotland Yard, and Superintendent Sinclair, of Hailsham, the chief police centre of the Crumbles district. These three officers are totally distinct in character and appearance. Savage is a stubbily built man, fair as to complexion, and wears a carefully drilled moustache. He gives one the impression that he is not a man to be played with, and that he would be relentless in carrying out what he conceived to be his duty. Hall is dark, extremely courteous, and, to judge from his appearance, is artistic. Sinclair, across whose left breast are many ribbons indicating long and useful service in the army, is stolid, impassive, and, I should think, a stickler for discipline. It is these three men who are mainly responsible for the discovery of the tragedy. I heard them as they detailed the steps which led to the arrest of Herbert Patrick Mahon. Behind their narrative their lies another story, which, however, I cannot yet disclose. All the world knows by now how the officers waited and watched the cloakroom at Waterloo railway station, where the bag had been deposited, and how finally Mahon come to claim it, and found a detective on either side of him, how then he was taken first to Kennington Road Police Station and afterwards to Scotland Yard, where between dramatic pauses which lasted from, a quarter to half an hour, he made the statements which have already been published. Some time I may be able to tell the story of the weird ride in the darkness of the night to Eastbourne, and the subsequent visit to the bungalow. In sentences not intentionally dramatic, but which, nevertheless, thrilled the auditors, the detectives related what they found. Their task was gruesome and dismal. The result exceeded all the horrors of a Grand Guignol play. But I think the outstanding figures in this great detective story of real life are those of the two scientists who were called in, and whose evidence goes a great way towards clearing away the mists that surround the strange and tragic happenings in the lonely bungalow on the Crumbles. The two scientists are as diverse in manner as they are in appearance. One of them—Mr John Webster—is small and slim of stature, with a quiet, reticent, nervpus manner, but withal the calm resolve and definite decision of the trained scientist. He is the senior analyst to the Home Office. It is his business tosearch for poison, to look for human bloodstains, and to carry on investigations of a very delicate nature. He it was who examined the articles of clothing found in the gladstone bag at Waterloo Station, the silk material that was found in the bungalow, pieces of wood cut from the flooring and the part of a door. In many cases he found stains of blood, but he frankly admitted that many were so minute that he could not determine whether or not they gave reaction for human blood. I have seen him at many murder trials, and he was always the same—calm, assured, unemotional. When away from his professional duties he is one of the most sociable of men; but in the execution of the tasks entrusted to him he is the unimpassioned, unbiassed detector. But the greatest figure amongst these investigators is unquestionably that of Sir Bernard Spilsbury. I have known him many years—though not intimately,— and he has always been the same—cold, imperturbable, immovable, with a brain that seemed packed in ice. The same phrase has been used about Lord Kitchener, but I question if it applied to this great soldier with so much truth, or so vivid a realism, as to this modern scientist. Let me try and picture him. He is more than 6ft in height. His face resembles some of the pictures of Conan Doyle’s master-detective, Sherlock Holmes. His eyes are clear, bright, and piercing. His brow is broad and pensive. His whole bearing is that of a man who has achieved much, and is conscious of his own attainments. Do not misunderstand me—Sir Bernard is no braggart, H'e is the most modest of men. I noticed that when he stepped into the box at Hailsham Police Court to give his evidence, and was requested to mention his degrees, he did so in a low voice that almost sunk to a whisper. He has shown himself a diligent student and a great scholar.

He dresses like a man about town. Generally one sees him wearing a dark morning coat, and striped, well-creased trousers. He invariably affects a high, starched, wing collar, and a tie fastened in the regulation fashion. There is about him a majesty of mien and carriage that indicates capacity. So soon as he steps into the witness box everyone’s attention is rivetted. Sir Bernard was the man who—for the first time in medical jurisprudence—discovered hyoscine in a human body. The case is one which will not be soon forgotten. Poor Belle Elmore, an eminent music hall actress, was the victim, and her mutilated body was found in the sinister house—l 3 Hilldrop crescent, Camden road. In spite of the fact that the woman had been long dead Dr Spilsbury was able to prove that her death was due to hyoscine, and so secured the conviction and execution of her murderer, the infamous Dr Crippen. But surely never has Sir Bernard accomplished more than he has in the case of this latest mystery of the Crumbles. Although only associated with the Home Office as a consultant, Scotland Yard at once called in his assistance, and he was taken to the officers’ house on the Crumbles. There he was shown many objects of gruesome interest, and at last turned his attention to the contents of a trunk and hatbox. The contents were carried out into the garden, and there they were examined in detail by the eminent pathologist. Later, the grim discover:es —they call them “ exhibits ” in the courts —were taken to his laboratory, and for days and nights Sir Bernard was at work viewing the pitiful fragments under his powerful microscope, measuring to a hair’s breadth, piecing together fragments. Consider what this miracle worker achieved. From those fragments of body he found that the victim was a woman, that she had received a wound at the back of one of her shoulders which was inflicted immediately before death, that she had been healthy in every respect, that many years before she had suffered from pleurisy, that in the process of time she would become a mother. In what he found he could find nothing that accounted for the death of Miss Emily Beilhy Kaye. Then Sir Bernard was asked if he could account for the death. Without raising his voice, and without noticing the dramatic effect involved in his statement, he replied that the cause of death could probably be determined by an examination of the parts of the body which were missing. Instantly all those who were in court recalled the long and painful search which had been made for the missing skull of the victim. I knew Dr Pepper, Sir Bernard’s immediate predecessor, and Dr Stevenson, who was before him. Both were clever men, but this comparatively young pathologist has achieved greater wonders than they. Sir Bernard’s name will always rank as one of the wonder scientists of his time. Yet, as I have said, he is one of the quietest, most unostentatious, men living. [Mahon was found guilty of murder a few days ago. In passing sentence of death Mr Justice Avery said : “ The jury has arrived at the only proper conclusion from the evidence, not knowing that you had already served a sentence of penal servitude for a crime of violence. There is no question but that you deliberately designed the death of this woman.”]