Untitled

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9322, 24 August 1908, Page 4

and empty Heath for the police station in Harapstead. Miss Churchill walked first alone, the maid following a little behind ; Power, Harbord and the policeman on horseback brought up the rear, the other constable remaining in the house. No one spoke ; and when, half an hour later, the friends had repeated their statements before the inspector <>n duty, they were allowed to go, leaving the two girls in the hands of the police. , The tragic drama developed rapidly. The papers of Monday morning contained a full account of the crime, with a mention of the mysterious man on whom suspicion centred ; the evening papers announced that this person had given himself up to the police. He was a Mr Wilfrid Murray — a trusted clerk in one of the oldest London banks. The inquest was opened, and adjourned thret; times, so complicated was the inquiry. The researches of the police elicited little of importance, and so contradictor}' were the statements of the chiet actors in the tragedy that public opinion was deeply moved, and the popular feeling was violently divided. " Certain facts brought out in evidence and in the statements of counsel might be taken to be true ; but beyond them lay a morass of conjecture 'and speculation. The murdered woman, Mrs Graham, was the widow of a city merchant who had died <=-tnne five years previously atBelize, in British Honduras. Mr Graham was a general merchant who had a good business, which he carried on with the aid of one partner. His affairs i often took him abroad, and on one .of these journeys he died. He did not ! appear to have lived happily with his wife, nor did he leave her any fortune. She was rich, but the money had come to her from her father. Wilfrid Murray was Mrs Graham's nephe\y — the son of hor only sister, and the widow had been to the young man more than a mother. She had educated him, placed him in the bank where he had done so well, and destined him to marry her niece, Mabel Annesley, a Scotch girl from Edinburgh, who paid frequent visits to the house on Hampstead Heath. As companion, Mrs Graham had employed Miss Agnes Churchill, the only daughter of a dead officer. Miss Churchill was secretary, reader, accountant and companion to the elder woman, and between the two there had always appeared to be a feeling of affection. Miss Churchill had been a member of Mrs Graham's household for three years. It was admitted that Mrs Graham was a woman of domineering disposition who wished to regulate the lives of those around her, and who was impatient o{ any opposition, to her wishes. So much was clear ; the mystery began when the events of the fatal night ■ came to bo investigated. Wilfrid Murray, in hie first statement to the police, gave a clear account of what had taken place t from which he never varied , but when' he made his statement, ho had not heard those made bj' the servant, Elizabeth Joyce, or by Miss Churchill; and what he said differed vitally from the statements of the two girls. Murray declared that on the night of the murder he had taken his aunt, Mrs ' Graham, and her companion, Miss j Churchill, to the Haymarket Theatre, | and that after the performance he had driven out to the house at Hampstead with them in a brougham hired from a livery stable in Hampstead. This story was mrrobfvated both at the theatre and the stable. It was clear, therefore, that Miss Churchill had told a deliberate false-

hood when she declared- to the police that no man had been in the house that night ; and as to the motive for this lie there was much conjecture; some reasoning that she was innocent herself (in. spite of the servant's positive statement to the contrary, wr'-h was assumed to be animated by mailer-)-but that she believed Murray to be guilty and had wished to shield him. lhat there was a strong reason for such a. line of action on Miss Churchill's part became evident from the rest of Murray's statement. He declared that he and Miss Churchill were actually man and wife; that they had been married at the St Pancras registry office, and they had feared to break the news to Mrs Graham, dreading her displea sure, and that she would cut Murray out of hor will. The fact of the marriage was clearly established from the registrar's books. In continuation, Murray affirmed that on their return from the theatre Mrs Graham, Mrs Murray (as she waf now known) and himself had a cole' supper together, this having been lefl ready for them by the servants, who had all gone to bed. Towards the end of supper, Mrs Graham had complained suddenly of feeling unwell, and had abruptly left the table, asking Miss Churchill (as she supposed her companion to be) to see Mr Murray out when he had finished supper, and to lock the door after him. Mrs Graham then wished them good-night and went up to bed. Murray lingered with his wife. He disliked tho condition of secrecy in which they lived, and wished to t~ll the whole truth to his aunt. His wife was begging him to wait a little longer, when Mrs' Graham suddenly burst into tho room in a state of anger and indignation. She had come downstairs in bedroom slippers ; they had not heard hor approach ; eh© had surprised the secret of their love. She was violent in her reproaches, declared that she would alter her will as soon as possible, and said that on the morrow Mrs Murray should leave the house — that -is they had chosen to marry against her wish, her nephew should support his wife without aid from her. his aunt. To end the painful scene, Murray had taken his hat and coat and gone out, intending to return for his wife in the morning. Outside, he had seen Power and Harbord. He walked to bus lodgings in Maitland Park, went the next mornina: to his aunt's hcuse to take away his bride, and was astounded to find his aunt dead, and tho house in the hands of the police. He declared in the strongest terms his absolute belief in his wife's innocence, despite the diroct statement of Elizabeth Joyce that she had seen Mrs Murray etrike the fatal blow. Murray's story might clearly be either that of an innocent man telling the whole truth, or that of a guilty one concealing his own crime. It was argued by some that it was he who had killed his aunt — that he had snatched tho knife from the wall of the diningroom (where it formed part of a trophy of foreign arms), had chnced Mrs Graham into the hall, had plunged the knifo into her neck ;vs she ran, and had then left the houso. But if this were true, what became of the story of the maid that shp had seen Mrs Murray commit the murder? What motive could tho servant have for swoarins what was false, and for throwing ail the blame upon Mrs Graham's young companion? Tho public discussed the case in all its details, and no one wa» any nearer to finding out what had happened on tho fatal night It wr.s in the coroner's court on the occasion of the third adjournment of the inquest that Power asked the police to grant him an interview with Wilfrid Murray. He had studied this young I man with the closest attention, had listened to every i?lnod of evidence, had weighed niotivt'ts in tho balance, and gradually, in the recesses of his mind, a theory had !>• r,un to shape itself which he wished ardently to put to the" test. Tho police ma do no objection to granting the interview, and Power and Muriay" talked in a passage- of the court, under tho eye of a watchful constable. " Is there anything about tin's affair that you would like to tell me?" Power began. " You know how I came to be mixed up in it. I should like to help you if I could." Murray looked at Ins questioner doubtfully, suspicious of his motives : but the frankness of Power's manner conquered the young man. ''What is there I can say that you do not know already?'' he said bitterly. "You have been in Court every day; you have heard all. The police have made up their minds that either my wife or I is the culprit; their only trouble is on which of us they can finally fix the guilt. My solicitor says that he can do uo more. It is horrible!'' "You have no suspicion?" " None, absolutely none! I think of nothing else. I rack my brain day and night, and nothing comes to me. I know, us surely as there is v heaven above us. that my wife did not murder Mrs Graham ; beyond that, all is conjecture." "You will not mind answering some questions?" Power asked. "As I put them, they may suggest to you something of what is in my mind. It is the merest gossamer of suspicion, and you must not build on it. Only — I think I am not so prejudiced as the police, and I am willing to throw myself into your cause and that of Mrs Murray." There followed half an hour of oarnest conversation. Power took down in a note-book answers to the questions that he put to Wilfrid Murray — -questions answered languidly at first, then with increasing eagerness and excitement. "' Great heavens, if it should be that !"' he ejaculated, as Power rose to leave. " Do not buoy yourself with any false hopes," was the grave answer. "I may be wrong; even if I am right, I may be able to prove nothing. Jiut you may 1 depend on me to do all in my power. I I shall see you again when there is anything definite to report." Harbord had been waiting for him, and together they jumped into a cab and drove to the Homo Office, where Power went in to see his friend, Sir Morley Grant, the Homo Secretary. With some persuasion, he got what he wanted — permission to visit the house at Hampstead ; and thither he and Har-

bord drove with all speed. A little crowd lingered round the porch and congregated on the opposite side of the road, with that morbid lore of the horrible which always draws the uneducated to the scene of a crime. The door was opened at Power's knock by a policeman, who admitted thefh without question when he saw with what authority they were armed. Neither Power nor Harbord had been in the house since the night of the murder, a fortnight before, but they recalled the scene so well that they were able without difficulty to identify the spot on which the body of Mi\s Graham had rested. It was dose outside the door of the large drawing-room into which, after her death, they had prosuaded Mrs Murray to go. The policeman assured them that nothing whatever had been touched or moved, and the two friends began a minute examination. The body had lain with the feet towards the door, the head away from it. In such a position would it have fallen if the murderous blow had been dealt by someone standing just within the door of the drawing-room, and this fact alone seemed to negative the statement of the servant that she had seen Mrs Murray strike the blow ; for she had sworn that Mrs Murray had stood between her victim and the front dobr of the house. If that had been so, and the blow had been struck from behind (as its position on the neck clearly showed), Mrs Graham must have fallen up the passage, which was not the case. Going on his hands and knees, Power next examined with the closest scrutiny the floor of the passage about the entrance to the drawing-room. Tho planking was of old oak, waxed and polished until it shono, though now, after days of neglect, it wae^covered with a fine dust. Sweeping this carefully away with the side of his hand, Power revealed to view three long scratches in the polished surface of the ;ioor. On a neighbouring table was a largo magnifying-glass, such as ie used ;o examine photographs, and with this it was not difficult to see- that the scratches that had been scored into the floor were dotted here and there with fine sand. Scanning tho floor in all other -places where it was not covered with ruge or carpets, neither Power noi riarbord could find any other similar scratches. They argued, therefore, that these scratches by the door were recent, or they would have been obliterated the next time the floor had been polished. Next, placing his own foot carefully over the marks without touching them, Power found that they were at exact intervals apart, and that the intervals corresponded with the centre and the two sides of his own boot-sole. In short, these scratches, he argued, had been made by someone wearing a nailed boot, who had slipped on Cue floor at this particular spot; and the pereon wearing the boots had but recently been in the open air. otherwise the sand brought in from the outside would have been brushed off against the carpets of the liougo. With growing excitement. Power now placed Harhnrd about thp snot, us near as they could juda;e, where Mrs Graham would have been standing when she received the murderous stroke: and, taking a paper-knife in his hand, of about the same length a<s the knife that had been uoed in the murcW, he aimed a j blow at his friend. With right fcot ! over the scratches on the floor and ! with right arm outstretched, the point of the blade just readied to the very j spot in Harbord's neck corresponding '■ t,-> that where Mrs Graham had been struck: and a downward stroke of the knife, Mich as misrht be caused by the man who held it slipping on the polished floor, would have caused exactly such a wound as that which had actually been inflicted on Mrs Graham. Clear deduction.?, therefore, had led them so far — that the blow had been struck by a tall man of long reach (Like lower), who had slipped on the floor as he had delivered "it, and who had boon wearing nailed boots in which he had but lately come in from tho open Honth. I The next point in tho inquiry was to elucidate, if possible, the strange words uttered -by Mrs Graham almost with j-er dying gasp: "Medicine, mask." At tho first glance round the room Power «:aw sotnethin.fr which brought an ex<;lamation_ to his lips, and made him despise himself for his dulness in not having sooner found an explanation of tho murdered woman's words. Close to the door that led cut into the passage there stood a strange and horrible ornament, or trophy. It was an mormons mask with a distorted, grinning mouth, goggling eye, 3 that turned up at the corners, and a rapacious, hawklike nose. Wisps of black hair, like . dried grass, adorned the skull ; the face j was painted black ; the eyes and lips a ' dull scarlet. Power knew at once that this was a trophy of some voyage to the South Seas ; it was one of those horrible disguises with which the sorcerers, or " medicine men," frighten their victims; in fact, it was a "medicinemask." 1 Examining closely this hideous ob.iect several things were to be noted. Under tho chin, and prolonging the mask downwards, was a thing like a breastplate made of woven canvas and esparto graes — evidently a trophy from tho same part of the world. Both the mask and breast-plate were attached to, and supported by, a heavy upright iron rod, terminating in spreading iron i feet. Together thoy exceeded the height of a man, and behind them a man might hide. Looking behind, it was clear at a glance that the whole affair had recently been moved ; for on the Turkish rug, which here covered the floor, were three flattened marks, which had evidently been caused by the feet of the trophy resting in the same place for a considerable time. The ; purpose, too. for which it had been moved, seemed clear. In its original position it was too close to the wall for anyone to get behind it; in its new position it would just offer shelter to someone squeezing in. There was another thing, however, which Power's sharp eyes observed behind the medicine mask. An oval hole ; was there, doubtless intended for the sorcerer to speak through, his voice then seeming to issue from the mouth of the mask. A fresh scratch on the edge of this hole caught Power's attention, he fetched the magnifying- ' glass, which had already done such good service. Then, by reflecting tho light into the orifice, he discovered some strange tkings — that the hole was not merely pierced outwards through the thickness of tne mask, but that it descended downwards, like a pocket. | More; from a series of fresh scratches ; on the edges of the hole at the opening he judged that quite recently some- ' one had been scooping something out of this hole. Acting under Power's in- ' structions, Harbord found a piece of wood, and spliced a pin to the end of it. With this instrument Power delved in the recesses of the pocket in the mask. Something rustled crisply, and, in a moment more, he drew out a banknote, skewered on the pin. It was a , note for £100, and what surprised ; Power still more was that while the note was perfectly clean on its upper surface the lower one was soiled with dust. The friends looked into each other's faces. Power's eyes were bright as he said : " We've done enough here for today. Our work now lies elsewhere." Taking the cab which they had kept waiting, they drove right down into the City, where they called at an office in St Helen's Place. From there they wont to the Bank of England, where they showed the note to' one of the high cashiers, and received some information ' seemed to please Power very

much. It was not until they had visited the offices of the " Daily Telegraph " and three other leading; daily papers, that they dismissed their cab and tool; their way westward on foot to Power's club, well satisfied with all they had done. "But I don't yet understand half that has happened," cried Agnes Murray; "I still seem to' be moving in a dream. Tell us all about it, Loi'd Power, will you? Something I understood from what was said in court; but I was bewildered with all those p«ople staring at me, and with the excitement when they cheered, and then I found myself in my husband's arms again." l Mr and Mrs Murray, with Power and Harbord, were dining together in a private room in a famous restaurant, and it was a very excited party of four young persons, so strangely thrown together Tby an eddy in liju't; great river. They felt like firm friends who had known, each other all their lives; for they had lived strenuously these last weeks, sharing each other's anxieties and sorrow^. " Better finish your dinner, Mrs Murray, before wer talk of all that.'' Power answered: but though they chatted of other things, the thoughts of all were on the strange happenings of tho recent days. When the waitens had left them, and Mrs Murray had given the men permission to smoke, her curiosity could be restrained no longer, and Power was compelled to tell his story. "Well. I am paying you no compliment," he said, " when I say that from the first T aid. not think that either of you were in any way concerned in the murder of Mrs Graham. One had only to look at you to see that. But for a long time I could find no light ; it seemed a stone wall to me. One day — the first on which I spoke to your husband — an idea began to shape in my mind. I went to the house after asking Murray a number of questions, hir; .answers to which see-med to confirm tho suspicions that were floating in my brain. Yon know pretty well what Harbord and I discovered at the house*, for that came out in evidence. But up to that point it was all deduction, nothing more, and, of course, we might have been mistaken, though the chain or reasoning was very strong. When we left the house at Hampstead we drove to the office of Mr Denham, who had been partner, you know, a good time ago, with Mrs' Graham's husband. From him I learnt other things which confirmed me in the belief that I was on the rieht track. " I found that Graham had been what is commonly called ' a bad lot / that he had swindled his partner, and had nearly ruined the business with bad speculations and betting. His last act was to draw out of the business a 6itm of CIO.OOO. without telling his partner anything about it, and convert tho monoy to his own private use. It was with "a ernee of relief, therefore, that Denham had heard of Graham's death at Belize: for he was on the point of j dissolving the partnership as the only means of keeping his own head above water. " All this did not chow tho late MiGraham .as a pleasant character. At the Bank oS. Eneland I learnt a thina

. ! that threw still more light on the tangl--1 eel business I was investigating. J , showed tho £100 note I had fished out : of the mask in the house at Hampstead, ; and T was bewildered to learn that it I had formed one of a number of notefi which had been paid over the counter six years ago against a cheque for , £10,000 drawn by the lato James Gra- [ ham. More: up "till a very short time ago, in fact only since the murder had I been committed.- none of these £100 notes had come back to the Bank, and I that is a remarkable thing, for notes of } high value usually soon find their way ; back. For six years before the murder ; not one of these notes had been presented : within the two weeks 6ince the murder no less than five of them have como in ! " You will begin to appreciate now the line -of reasoning on which I had ; been proceeding — haltingly at first, but finding my deductions strengthened at each step. From your husband, Mrs Murray, I had learnt that some years ago. when she was a girl of sixteen, there had been a somewhat discreditable love affiir between Elizabeth Joyce and her master-, Mr Graham, which had been carried on under the nose of Mrs Graham, but without waiting her suspicions. I risked a bold stroke. I hazarded the supposition that six years ago. when he found his finances tottei*jiig, Mr Graham had fraudulently drawn from the business account a sum of £10.000. which he had put for safety into the mask's mouth, to hide it from his creditors. He had been obliged to leave the country without securing it. Denham told mo that there had been a warrant out against him for obtaining money under false pretences. But someone was in Graham's secret, and that someone was determined to get the money that had been hidden, "so long. " T went further, and adopted the supposition that the servant Elizabeth Joyce was to some extent an accomplice of tho person who wanted to recover the money. '■' Acting on these hypotheses, I put advertisements in several of the moming papers in the following words: ' rlampstead Heath. Suspicions aroused. Must see you two o'clock tomorrow, private bar, Goat and Coinpas-;, Tottenham Court Road, E.J. " Then I went and told the police all that I had done. " They were very anjjry at first, talked about my interfering with the course of justice, and so on; but they calmed down a bit when they knew that the Home Secretary is a great friend of mine. As Elizabeth Joyce had only just been released from prison (where she had been detained on suspicion), it was not likely that she had communicated with the man in the secret. Anyhow, it was worth risking, and the xjolice consented to send two detectives to the public-house armed with a photograph (with which I had provided them) of the suspected man. He must have been surprised not to see Elizabeth ; ©till more surprised to see the police. He bolted for liberty, and then ti;ndo a stubborn fight for it. They handcuffed him; a wig he wore had I fallen off, and he stood revealed as James Graham, who was supposed to Have died five years ago in Belize." "Horrible l" ejaculated Mrs Murray.