CHAPTER VI.

Observer, Volume 1, Issue 12, 4 December 1880, Page 103

CHAPTER VI.

From the earliest rumour of the tragedy in St. John's Wood every newspaper alluded to it constantly, and, under pretence of superior information, gave news to-day which some rival sheet was sure to contradict, to-morrow. In this way Eleanor Hardcastle committed suicide one morning, and was brought to life again the same evening. On the following day the murderer Avas discovered, lia'd confessed on the spot, and would be brought up for trial at the next assizes ; they even went so far as to publish his portrait. Within a week a dozen people were

arrested by these journalists, to suit their respective versions of the matter. Several of tliese protested, and were graciously released : others were .killed, for the simple reason that they had never been alive, and their inventors continued to lay an infinity of offences at their doors, m order to- provide sustenance for London curiosity. ' The journals, however, did not fail very soon to discover, from information received that Justice was decidedly embarrassed. For a longtime no case had been surrounded with so much* mystery. That a crime had taken place was indisputable; and all idea of suicide had been perforce cast aside; But the assassin, beyond the terrible wound inflicted by him, had dissap. peared, and left no trace. The weapon, he had made use of belonged to his victim ; and, after the most careful research, no discovery had been made in the room in St. John's Wood such as, in ordinary cases, suffices to enlighten a magistrate, and very often to convince a jury. In a recent case in England a hat, forgotten by the murderer, brought about the sentence of death. Even the accidental dropping of a shirt stud has caused the fall of more than one head. : Here nothing of the kind had occurred, nor was there a single indication to justify an arrest, or even a summons. It was necessary to fall back upon moral probability, and to enter the vast region of hypothesis and supposition. Who would have had any interest in killing Maurice Hardcastle? That was the point of departure, and to that every one returned. Whoever it might be, he had still to be found. Was it.is wife ? No one who thought seriously of the question could entertain the notion for a moment. Eleanor was worthy of all sympathy. The blow which had killed her husband had well-nigh caused her death too. So far from suspecting her, the first thought should be to avenge her. Was it a common robber — a thief by profession ? His presence would have been noticed in a house in St. John's Wood ; he could not have resisted the gold found in the table drawer; he would have abstracted some of the costly articles which were scattered about the room ; and, last of all, Hardcastle would not, in his dying moments, have thought of writing a name which he could not have known. Was it one of those persons whom HardcdStle Wrtg in the habit of receiving? They appeared as witnesses, and, from their clear and precise depositions, as well as from universal testimony in their favour as regarded their characters, it was clear that not a shadow of proof could be brought to bear against them. Last of all, was it the individual mentioned by the porter, as having called on Hardcastle on the ISth October, and of whom the commissioner of police had given so detailed an account in his report ? Did he gain admission into the house in St. John's Wood without observation ? Leopold Brownpath, for such was the_ name of this personage, was not entirely unknown to the police. Without ever having suffered a conviction, he had been on several occasions brought in contact with the law ; his antecedents were by no means all that could be desired, and there was more than one obscure corner in his life. He was, moreover, a debtor to Hardcastle for a large amount, and the bills he. had • given were nowhere to be found. Here was sufficent to attract the attention of the law, and a summons for his appearance, closely followed by a warrant for his arrest, was issued against him. These energetic measures were also due to the great publicity given to this affair. It was in everybody's mouth, and it was certainly well calculated to excite the public mind in no ordinary degree, .a s is often the case in London, where the most serious matters are somewhat flippantly treated, bets were niade as ; to whether or no the culprit — would be discovered. Several of the opposition journals also profited by the occasion to reflect on the police, and professed their astonishment that assassination in a much frequented street should be so easy, an-d. the discovery of the assassin so difficult. Ofte of the most advanced of these publications gave its readers to understand that a person in high quarters was mixed up in the whole of the business,, and that the police had therefore received an order to hold their hands. The arrest of Leopold Brownpath was the first reply to : these attacks. With this.rn.au we will now enter the office of the magistrate, to whom, the preliminary investigation was entrusted. " The office in question was much as others devoted to judicialpurposes. A door opened on to. a long corridor lined with benches, which served as a waiting room for the office attendants, bailiffs, witnesses, and persons cited to appear. A, smaller door, less open to observation, led to the Lock-up, and through this the accused was brought. The magistrate's writing-table was so placed that the person seated at it had his back to the light, the person under examination being exposed to its full glare. This facility for observing the slightest change of countenance on. the part of aprisoner was, indeed, of greatuse. A man may betray himself as easily by a gesture; a movement, a look, or a sudden blush, as by his words ; and very often an unexpected question p\it pointy blank to a criminal, up to then impenetrable in his reserve, has sufficed to open a magistrate's eyes. A small table close to the other was devoted to the \ise of the clerk, on whom fell the duty of taking down the " vivavoce" examination. A leathern ami-chair, with two or three ordinary ones for the witnesses and the accused, according to their social position or the degree of interest which they excited, completed the furniture of the room. Sir. Henry Ingram ceased to exercise the functions of magistrate in 18 — and he died some

years ago, so that a word may be said in his praise without the danger of wounding any susceptibilities. As a magistrate he has left behind him an unimpeachable reputation. If those who knew him are to be believed, he possessed, in an eminent decree, those peciiliar qualifications so indispensable to his profession. He had the art of uniting to firmness, and an often very necessary severity, a great amount of benevolence, and, in certain cases, delicacy, thorough common sense, and a manner of reassuring the timid, encouraging the weak, and comforting the guilty, which won for him their entire sympathy. In a word, he had solved the problem of doing good even to those whom his conscience told him must be dealt with severely. [To he continued."]