The Room of Secrets

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 21, 2 March 1914, Page 11

The Room of Secrets

CHAPTER XXVHI. LrITTLE JESSIE AGAIN. "Yes," said old Hopkinson, standing Unsteadily, his hand upon the head of the sofa, "I was just opposite Whitehall Court when that same big,,grey car came tearing aloiig from tho direction ' of Westminster Bridge, and pulled up -close to where I was hidden back in the shadow. The big, stout man who drove it—the same fellow whom I had seen ; in September —got down and opened the,door. Another man was inside, while a woman in a dark dress was lying all huddled up on the seat beside him. \ ' ".Just as the man inside 'was about •to get. out he,, ixUforturtately, 'spotted 'me, and drew back, so I didn't see his fjfcce. r He whispered a word to the chauffeur, who nipped up into his seat again in a moment and drove away as hard as ever he could. It all happened in a couple of minutes. I suppose they; iMUst have put the poor woman dovrn ' somewhere else!" he added. '.'Didn't you tell the police?" • "No. I didn't—and you know the • reason why, sir." ].] "The man who drove the car—what "was he like?" " Very tall, and rather .fat. In the darkness I didn't see mnch of.hisface, but I believe—and, I'm.sure—he was a black man." * . ■ the number Of the car?'' * : lt was covered with mud —done so purposely," old Hoppy replied. "I expect the woman has been found somewhere, and the coroner's jury has been .puzzled about it. Have you seen anything in the papers?'' "No. And I don't think the body Ifas yet been found, for the lady is j question has been reported missing, and if her remains had been found the police would know," I said. '•"Ah/, Mr Colefax, they're a devilish cunning lot, depend upon it," remarked ;the old man. £' Why they come down fo the Embalmment .'I " can't think, ; when there are so many much lonelier spots, in London .at. night.'f . , ?' Because a car going along the Embankment at an early hour of the morn- : ing is not remarked, while the police ■ on 'duty in a lonlier spot would prob--1 aMy be attracted by it. Koop's motive is well 'though out, without a iioubt. You believe that the'chauffeur was. a coloured man—eh?" I asked. "I feel certain of it. I ( tpld you how, back in September,! was able to captch a glimpse of him, and saw, that he had thick lips and dark, bloodshot ■i any means." "What made you believe that the woman inside the car was dead?" I askeav eagerly, ;/* ; J "f hardly know, except from the \curious position which,she occupied on the seat. She seemed to have fallen forward at an impossible angle. The lights at the corner of Northumberland Avenue were behind the car, and

v (By WILLIAM LE QT7ETJX.)

tGOPYBIGHT.]

■shone through the window. The driver, when his companion pointed me out, seemed scared to death, and drove away for his very, life." ,'•... This man was, no doubt, relating whait had occurred after the'mysterious assassination of the' unfortunate girL from Wimbledon, whose father, in ignorance of her true, fate, was still expecting her return; Ah! That stain had told its own grim tale, as did the forgotten muff and the loosened hairpins. But why had the poor girl been so swiftly and secretly struck down? Koop had certainly not depicted her 'dying agony upon canvas, as he had done with such weird and terrible vividness in other eases. Perhaps she had resisted, become defiant, and- thus fell beneath a sudden- and revengeful blow. - I inquired, of Hopkinson whether he could describe the girl, but he had, he said, been unable to distinguish her features. He had only seen her inert fopm silhouetted against the light. Henshaw stood by astounded. '/Certainly the whole affair is most grim and remarkable, Cblefax," he said. "What are, the police doing to allow this to go on?" , "They are doing can," was my reply; "but'up to the present they have been utterly powerless to prevent a recurrence of the crimes, which even eelipse in horror „ those of ' Jack the Ripper' years ago. N v «' You certainly seem' to have left no stone unturned in seeking a solution of the curious, enigma," he said. "True—-and though discovered a gooct'deal,"yet it seems all so mysterious and unreal that I sometimes wonder whether I am living in a land of reality, or of shadows." "I can quite understand," replied the clever, hard-headed doctor. "I should feel just 'the same if I Were in your place —and more especially if I could not make up my mind as to the actual identity of the ' house in Devereaux SquarfS. Of course, in medical experience, the • casei of this man Koop is not unique. "We" have a number of eases on record where a man has led two quite distinct and individual lives. "While in the criminal or homicidal state this man evidently knows nothing of his life as a respectable person, and vice ..versa. The strange aberration bf his brain leads him to a wild lust for the sight of suffering and blood. Such a man is usually, a genius. In this case we have a painter, and as such he loves to depict his favourite subjects -with, life-like fidelity. No doubt in his normal state he, cannot use a, brush at all. The case of the famous ' Jack the Ripper '. was, after all, very similar." "But-the cleverness with which he has evaded detection is 1 utterly amazing." "The same as the assassin of Whitechapel. He was never arrested. Such meii possessed of an astounding

cunning—a kind of premonition of danger, which is not felt.by persons in their proper mind. They scent peril from afar." I told Bjgnshaw how, with Denman, I had established the identity of the vie•tim whom Hopkinson had no doubt [seen, whereupon he said; —■ "Well, it is only further proof of my argument that we have in London more of these .-men: —these, highly dangerous persons mixing with us in the world of; London —-far more than ever we imagine. Such men are a menace to the community. Yet if one meets them in ordinary circumstances' they present no abnormal feature. Many of the most notable criminals in modern times have lived private lives of the highest respectability. Yes, Mr Colefax, the science of criminology is most entrancing, if- gruesome, subject. I 've had more than one homicidal lunatie here, in this hospital." Presently the old loafer, Hopkinson, declared himself much better, so I gave him half a sovereign, and we left the hospital together. It was then 11 o'clock, a dark, windy February night, though dry underfoot. ! In a taxi he accompanied me as far as the corner of Albion Street, where it joined Hyde Park Place,' and buttoning j his ragged coat across his chest he | walked beside me until we gained Langney Street,' that short, narrow turning which ran into Devereaux Square. I wanted him to see if he recognised • the man Barnes as the man he had seen on the''Car. Therefore,' with that ob- j ject, I called at the house of mystery.. After some time Klein opened the, door and welcomed me, though he looked askance at the ragged old fellow at my side. "is Barnes in?" I asked. "I want to see : him." " J 'll fetch him, sare,'' replied the young; German, and a few moments later the chauffeur appeared . from below. I made some excuse by asking him a question, but I saw at once that Hoppy had never before set eyes oh him. That point was established at once. '' Well, Klein,'' I said, turning to the young butler; "have you heard again from Mr Thorold? Inspector Denman is very anxious to have news of him. So please tell the truth." "I'haida letter this morning, sare. Here it is," and he produced a crumpled letter from his pdcket. With trembling hands I opened it, and found a note written on the paper of the: Hotel des Bains, at Spa, in - Belgium. ■ It read: — • Dear Kleiri, —I have much business abroad, and inay not be home till, late in the spring, I enclose you notes for 400 francs to.pay.what bills may come in. Please keep receipts, with an account. There may be a caller named Mr Colefax. ■lf he comes, say I am still at .Cannes, but on no account allow him to enter the house. To any questions of his you know nothing. I rely on you, for's6me] lucrative business for me : depends ,upbn your " discretion — business, in which you yourself shall profit. ',"Vyrite'tp : nje: Poste Restante, Liege, Bejgiuni* Also post enclosed letter—Yours' truly, C. Thorold. 'fWhat letter was ' enclosed!" I asked, quickly.; , "I've got it. downstairs.. I forgot to post it when I went out this morning.'' And, descending to the kitchen, he obtained it and brought it to me. (To be continued to-morrow.)