THE BROKEN KEYRING.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1905, 18 June 1892, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE BROKEN KEYRING.

lOLD BY AN EX DETJJCTIVJS.

' T ▼*▼ ' " ' ™

It had boen oommitted in broad daylight. The poor old lady was killed in her own kitchen whilo preparing lunoh for her lodgers in the drawing rooms. The vegetables were simmering on the stove, and the birds— a pair of grouse— were browning in the oven. A jug of beer, with tha froth still on it, stood untouched on the dreseer. There was no sign of a struggle. Nothing had been disturbed apparently, but the landlady, Miss Kerber, was huddled up dead in her easy-chair, stunned and strangled with the key of the beer cap in her hand. That was the report of tho oonstable who was first called in— a very intelligent fellow —and that was all the information I could get at the time. It came out later in the day that a robbery had been effected. Some money— nearly twenty pounda_had been taken from a bia', old-fashioned work-box whioh stood on a small table in what I should call the back kitchen, but it wns Mißs Kerber's bedroom and private apartment generally. She used to make np her accounts there, keep her tea-oheat there, and read when she had half an hoar to spare, The mooey stolen included the quarter's rent, nearly due, and what she had saved towards the taxeß; and at first sight it seemed to me that whoever took it must have been well-acquainted with all her habite. Now this was what I had to get ftt, and it was not co easy as it looked. She kept one servant— a clumsy, good-natured girl, with a simple face, who had been out on an errand to fetch something that was forgotten till tho laot moment, and had not, co she said, been gone live minutes when she came back and found her mistress dead. Then there was a man known as Mathew or Mathews, who did odd jobs about the house, waited on the lodgers, and depended for his pocket money on the few shillings he picked up in that way. When not wanted at home he spent a good deal of his time at a tavern round the corner, and though his record was not so clean as it might have been, he waa a harmless follow enough, taken altogether. Tha lodgers were two sisters, who lived rather extravagantly, ocoupying the diningroom respectively. One was the wife of a sharebroker, and the other was married to a gentleman who had been an officer in the army. This I ascertained from the girl, who, though frightened and upset, answered my ouestions in as straightforward a manner as you can reasonably expect any woman to do. "And where was Mathews," I eaid, " when you went out ?" •' Gone to order a bottlo of claret, sir, and get Borne books or newsp&pera for the drawing-room. lie went out before I did." " And when did he come back ?" " About ten minutes after 1 did. Some one fetched him from the public when I screamed out." " What had you been for ?" " A bottle of Worcester sauce. We wanted a little to make the gravy with, find when I first came in, I thought Mies Kerbar was dozing in her chair, as Bhe often used to, beiDg tired, going to bed late and getting up early. But when I spoko and Bhe didn't answer, I thought there was something Etrange about her, so I lifted her head, and I thought Bhe was in a fit. "What did you do then?" " 1 ran in uexi; door, and Mrs. Isaacs oame in." 11 What is Mrs. Isaacs? 1 '• Kcep3 a lodging houso like tnid, sir. She cornea in every morning for a chat, and Miss Keibar always has a drop of something with her." " Was the kitchen blind up or down ?" " About half way down sir— as low as tb.B bottom of the bird-oage." " Are people in ihe habit of coming in and out without knocking or ringing. '• Only the tradespeople, sir. and Mis. Isaacs, and one or two gentlemen who call lor Mathews." "Do theßa gentlemen who c*ll for Mathews come down tho area steps 1" " Sometimes, sir ; and Bometimes they leave notes for him in the letter box." I ended my catechism hero for tha present, and weat ouS to make further investigations. Mrs. lfaaos. I found, was a most respectable woman. Her husband earned a good incorrie as a commercial traveller for a firm of jewellers, and she heißelf had often lent Miss Kerber money when she wanted it. I had the kitchen blind raised as far as the bottom of the cage in which a favorite old oanary was singing litJle disconsolate snatches of song, as if it had begun to rnias its poor old mistress, arid I found that I could not see into the kitchen without stooping, &nd then I could not see far. The easy chair stood in a corner, quite out of sight from the outside, but any one passing from tho area steps to the door that led to the kitchen passage could ccc what wee taking place inside. So far, then, I had got to this— the murder must have taken place between half-past one and a quarter or ten minutes to two. The tradeepeople — baker, butcher, greengrooer, and fishmonger (who also supplied the house with game and poultry)— had all delivered their goods before one. It would have been a waste of time to suspect Mrs. Isaacs or the servant girl. I had several interviews with Mathews, and though I inwardly exonerated him, I spoke to him and looked at him in a doubtful w&y thct made him think it might ba a serious business for hini. But there was not an ounce of the rogue in big composition. He was simply & fool, who had run through a lot of money, and by degreea become a useful dependent in" the bouse where he had bo^un as a swell lodger. He was well worth the little he ate and drank and the back room ho Blepfc in on the top floor. He was all right though I did not tc-llhim so ; but ho had two faults— he drank too much and talked too much; and when a man talks too muoh ia a pubho bar, he never knows what dangerouo loafer may bs listening to him. I had begun to form a theory, and it was this : he had been led on to talk about the lodgers and the landlady by some one who saw what an easy thing it would be to get at that workbox in the back kitchen if he could only enter the house on eonoo pretext when the old lady was alone, and there was the ' pretext ready. He had only to ask for Mr. Mathewa, knowing that Mr. Mathewa was safe, perhaps, in the public house for the next halfhour; and there might be one, or two, or three, in tbe job. II You often have- people call for you ?" I said to him— "gentlemen who go down tha area steps, or leavo notes for you in the letter-box." "Not often," he said. "No one goes down the area unless they Bee me about in the kitchen. Ido a bit of betting now and again, and I get a tip left in the letter-boi ; but the people who call on me are as straight as you mak e'em." " I would rather judge for myself," I said; " and you had better point them out to me, and say nothing about it, or you will find yourself in trouble. You are not out of tho wood yet, mind." He knew what I meant, and he waa not a morsel afraid of being suspected, but I saw the tears etart to his eyes. " Poor old girl I" he said, " Bhe was the best friend I ever had, and I would not have raised a finger to her for all the money in ! the world." j I believed him and was sorry for him, but | I could noi help thinking that the poor old i lady might have still been living if he had j sot made c-o free with his tongue at the bar. I 1 kept a close watch on his acquaintances — ! j tho gentlemen who went down the area for | i him and left tips in tha letter-box — and they I were straight enough in their way, such as it was. They lived on their wifcs. They followed the races — look the money if thay won, and j j paid, if they oould, when they lost — sponged j ' on their friends, picked up a greenhorn now

and then, but always kept on the safe side of the law; and I was clean off the scent. The inquest had taken place, with a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. That was the verdict, and yet, as surely as I lived, I knew that the murderer had got his information out of that tavern bar. I had not spotted him op to now. Still, I felt certain that I should. The men Mathews had pointed out to me were a shady lot \ but I knew exactly what they were doing on the day the poor old lady was killed, and that was the day before the first autumn meeting took place at Newmarket. When I waß building np my theory, as I did very often, this faot impressed itself on me. These loafers and loungers who do a little betting are generally short of money just when they want it moat, and they are always anxious to get a bit on any of the big events. It was clear to me that some one had gone down the area to see Mathews, or had watohed him and the servant go cut, and knew that the old lady was alone, bo I asked him again : " Are you sure you have pointed all your friends out to me?" "There's only one," he said, "a quiet little fellow named Neister, who used to lend me a book now and then, but I have not seen him lately till last night. But he's a nervous little chap— quite a gentleman." " What does ho do for a living ?" " His relations are well-to-do, and they allow him an income. His wife is something on the etage, and makes plenty of money." I pricked up my ears. Here was a man who lived on his relations and his wife, and a man who can do that is capable of an j thing. He was a little chap, but some of our most desperate criminals have been undersized than ofcuerwiee. Take Muller, for instance, who killed Mr. Brigga on the railway; and Lafroy for another. Lefroy would have got the worst of it in a stand-up fight with an ordinary lad of fourteen, but ha managed to throw a man twice his own size and weight out of a train in motion. " When did you see Neieter," I asked, " before you met him yesterday evening ?" " Two or three days— it may be nearly a week— before Miss Kebar was killed." ••When are you likely to see him again V II He said he was coming in hero tonight." * I told him I would be there as well, and I sauntered down the Bsreet. 1 The house was shut up, and as I paßßed I saw the servant talking to Mrs Isaacs at tho area gate. I passed with a nod and a smile and she oame trotting after me before I had gone many yards. "Have you heard anything more, sir?" she asked me. " Nothing, my girl," said I. •• But Icm keeping my eyes open. You have not heard anything, I suppose?" "Nothing sir— at least, I don't know whether this may be anything. I found this bunch of keys in the fender in Miss Kebear'a room when I was clearing up the house. I don't know how long they had been there, but they don't belong to the house, and I never saw her with them. I don't know whether they might beany good. You told me not to say a word if I found anything, and I haven't." " You are a sensible girl." said I, " and you shall have a pair of gloves to wear the next time you go out with your youDg man— aud, mind, not a word to any one." I took a walk by tha riv^r-Eide, and examined the keys at my leisure. There were a latchkey, a cupboard door key, and tho key of a trunk, a ca3h-box key, and one of those watch-keys, liko tho spokes of a wheel, that will wind any ticker ever made, and they were on the half of a split ring— tho hslf, mind that— not tha half as you might break a rixpenco, but the half of the whole circumference. And I said to myaelf, " If I oan find the other half I have got the man." Now curiously enough, I had tha two halves of a similar ring at home, and I knew exactly how it might have been done. Mine waa done by my wife throwing the street-door key down to me one night out of a second-floor window, and this had very likely been done in tbe same way. Anyhow, it was a clue, the first link in a chain that only wanted another link to complete it. Sitting there by tho river side and smoking a pipe, with the Albert Bridge on the right of me and Vauxhall un the left, I pulled my theory to pieces, and put it together again. Tiioae keys belonged to the man I wanted. How had he come to drop them in the fender and leave them there. Well, I put it in ihia way. He had gone down the area steps while Ihe poor old lady was drawing tho beer, and from the position of tho caßtes in tiiß cellar her back would ba towards him. She was rather deaf, and even if she heard his footstep, she would think it was Mathews, and the man had gone straight through to her room, She had put the beer on the dresser, andaurpriaed him at her work-box, perhaps stuffing the money into hia trousers pocket, where he carried tho keys. A struggle had taken place, and she had tried to drag his hand out, and succeeded bo far that the keys fell into the fender. Then he had stunned her with a blow, and then strangled her to keep her from orying out. It had been noticed that the marks on the throat had bsen make by a long-fingered hand. Then ho had taken her into tha kitchen, and put her in the easy chair whero aho was found, and he had escaped, leaving those keys behind him. That was my theory. I told it to our inspector, and he smiled. He did noi think my broken key-ring was much of a clue. Not much of a clue 1 Did ho know that a man had been traced by a missing button, another by a shred of clotb, a third by a few threads of worsted from a comforter, a fourth by a scrap of newspaper used bb wadding for a gun ? The inspootor was my superior officer and I couldn't say what I thought of him, but I knew that my broken key-ring would put a ropo round somebody's neck. I went into the public house tba-i night and ea,v Mathews there. He was talking to the man who lived on hia relations and hia wife ; I did not know it at the time, but I felt Hiiro of it. lie was a siight pale fellow, with a reddish fringe of thin beard and whisker, and unstoady blue eyes. He had a small hand too. and a shaky one, just such a hand as might have done for the poor old lady, and his unsteady eyos had an inward haunted look in them. I took no notice of Mathews, but retired to a corner with my three pen'orth cold and the evening paper. Presently a question rose as to how much the publican's dock was fast, and there v?aa a general pulling out of watohee. My man looked at his and found it had stopped. He borrowed a key of the barman. It would not fit, it was muoh too large. " My wife's key fits mine," he said, with rather an uneasy laugh. " I must wait till she comes home." Now, the only key that had been in use out of the half dozen on the wheel thing I had in my pocket was a very small one. I did not offer to lend it to him. It was now nearly eleven. He fctood there drinhing till twelve. The talk turned upon the Newmarket Autumn meeting, and some paitly-drunken friend who came in late congratulated him upon I bia lack, and, from what 1 cor.ld overhear, ■ Mr. Neister, as they called him, mußt have I laid out a good bit of money to win what he I did, and he had not got much the day bsforo he went down. Ha was tossing for cigars, when someone tapped at the glass door for him — a very j pretty woman, beautifully dreseed. He j muttered an oath and went to speak to her.

[ " Haven't I told you not to oome for me * '' I heard him mutter. " It's so Jate.Fred," she said, "and I want to go to bed. But if you are not coming home, I can leave you the key." 11 How are you going to get in 1" " They are up in the dining-room. Don't ba long." She dropped the keys into his hand, a latchkey and one that fitted a room door. It seems almost beyond belief that any man should have allowed snob, a bit of evidence to exist, but those keys were on the other half of the broken ring. I emptied my glass, put down the paper, and sauntered out just in time to Bee the woman turn the coiner of the street on the opposite side of the way. She took another turning to the right and then one to tbe left, before Bhe knooked quietly at a big house with a portico over the door. I waited for about five minutes after Bhe was let in, and then I tried tbe latohkey on my half of the ring. It opened the door easily, but I did not go in. Someone came to the door, however— a big, soldier-like fellow, and asked me what I wanted. " I beg your pardon," I said ; " I made & mistake— the bouses are so much alike; but 1 did not think the keys fitted other people's looks." " It often happens in this neighborhood/ be said, with a good-natured laugh, "Good night to you." I said " Good night " to him, and took my position under the portico a few doors away. I opoke to the constable on duty, and bad a oouple of men sent from the station, mi at about twenty minutes to one Mr. Nei to* catno along. As he put the key in the lock, I put my I hand on his shoulder. " What do you mean ?" he said. I twisted the keys out of his hand and showed him those that had been found in the fender. " For the murder of Miss Keber," I said. II That's what I mean." Just as I thought. He was a wiry little chap, and had tripped me up in a moment. He raD, and my two men went after him ; but he sent one of them down by a blow under the jaw, and dodged past the other. He ran for the river, and was over the parapet and in the water before we oould stop him. And that was the end of him. He may have had some idea of swimming to the other side, but he never reached it. The tide was heavy at the time, and the Thames police did not find his body till tho morning. I was rather disappointed — not so muoh that I wanted him to be hanged, but beoauee be died without making any confession, and I never knew whether my theory was right or not.