The Stone Stable Mystery.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXII, Issue XVIII, 30 April 1904, Page 6

The Stone Stable Mystery.

H was with considerable mortification licit 1 confessed to myself my absolute iailure in this, the first matter entrusted I > me- 1 fully expected to be hauled over tin* coals by tiie Inspector, but, to my surprise, nothing of the sort hap pencil. On the contrary, he expressed grat itie at ion at the way I had handle i the delicate business of Asher’s arrest, and proceeded to give me further in struct ions. “The matter of Barrows disappearance,’’ he said, "has now as sinned a seiioiis aspect. 1 have tinmoruing received a complaint from a Mrs. ( owan, in whose house he appear* to have lodged, setting out her anxiety a> io his whereabouts. The most curimi* point she mentions is the fact that he left no instinct ions about his letters, and they continue to arrive. Bills i'.n small amounts have also been rendered, and persons have called for payment. Now, we rave very good evidence that i’arrow was in a position to pay. 1 have found out that he has a large balance at I ! i • National Bank, which has n >l In cn draw n against for a month; there are a I >o securities there for several thousands of pounds. No sane man. wh-* desire 1 for any reason to quit the <_ mil try. would leave his affairs in such a condition a* that. Of course, it is quite feasible to suppose that his absence iioin hmm* has a simple interpretation, and that hi may return or be heard from al any moment ; blit from what this lady says of his consideration for 1 he feelings ot others which in this case he mt st have known would he deeply injured by the sort of silence he has maintained I am inclined to think otherwise. As for Asher, it i* evident lie .'.news something of the matlei 1 shall have him watched continu oiisly ; t it her he is in communication with Harrow, who. for some inexplicable reason, is in hiding, or ’’ the in spector L:okt: oil - with a grave closing ot Hps. 1 will nut weary the leader with i re capitulation ct every detail. A week went by ii.tiiely destitute of result*. Nothing ?(i:|icious was discovered in 1 lie conduct cl Robert Asher, and. so far as wo knew, he paid no further visit, to the stable. 1 was nearly at the end of my resources when the memory of the story of Mrs. Pattison’s servant re • urred to me. and I determined to pay him a visit. The young man. so far as I could judge, w as sober and truth dellin c ■ hi told a simple* narrative, and lie'<n diverged from it. ’l'he* light in the stable window was a reality often repeated: so was the mulHed fig ll'* that g’o.med v.d wrung its hands. 1 felt that here wa< a cl-e ot an import ant 'haracier. but it was in the nature of the riddle of the Sphinx: once solved, th* mystery might immediately unravel itself. But iiow to solve it? Though I have had frequent occasions

to allude to the stable, and it must already have assumed considerable proportions in the reader’s view, it was not until this stage of my inquiries that the place began to take shape in my mind, as tin* heart and centre of tin* whole mystery, round which every fact I had so far discovered appeared to revolve. When I had once grasped this significance of the place, my course became clear: I would take no further steps until the whole building had been thoroughly and minutely examined. It was with no pronounced anticipations of success that I called in my assistant, and set to wank—certainly the ghastly discovery which the next hour was to bring forth never for a moment suggested itself to our minds. The examination of the loft was soon made. Xot so much as a shirt button rewarded our efforts; beyond the straw .md the sack which had been used to drape the window, there was nothing moveable in the place. When we descended to the stable itself, my first act was to order the lowering of the wooden shutter, which closed a large, unglazed window to the left of the door. This gave us a sufficiency of light for our purpose, and we began our search with the floor. I'he only result was a screw, three inches in length. It lay close to the bench, and had been t rodden in between the stones; one side of it was slightly stained with rust, hut from its appearance* I judged that it could not have lain in its present position any great length of time*. W'e now turned our attention to the bench, which, as I have already stated, ran across the length of the stable, being firmly built against the end wall. The front was constructed of upright matchboard. finished off with a narrow skirting at the bottom. I’he who e of this was sound and immovable. I'he top was composed of wide boards, an inch and a half thick, but in scrutinising these 1 now observed one circumstance which had previously escaped my attention. The hoards running from either end were ent off in two places, thus leaving what had apparently once been a bin. about four feet in length, somewhere* near the centre of the bench. This part, however, was as securely fastened as any of the rest. To say that this fact aroused my suspicion would probably Ih* to exaggerate my feelings, hut my curiosity was at any rate quickened. I'or some time we wen* unable to discover tin* manner in which this lid was secured, but a careful search revealed three spots more or less round in out ine. and of a colour closely resembling the wood, which showed at equal distances apart along the front of the bin. My assistant began scraping at the centre spot with his penknife. "This place has a terrible bad smell.” he said, suddenly. I had myself been for some time* con-

scions of an unpleasant odour. "The rats have probably got under the hmich and died there,” I said. He left off scraping, and began to close his pocket knife. “'l'he putty's as hard as iron,” he said; “this place must have been sealed down a good many years.” I turned over the stull’ he had broken out. and found that its hardness was accounted for by the fact that it was not putty, hut brown sealing-wax. I think the idea that there was something wrong now came simultaneously to both of us. Without a word we begin digging at the sealing-wax until it was removed from all three holes, and the tops of the screws that field the lid down became* visible. "Run somewhere and borrow a strong screwdriver.” I said, "one that will draw a three inch screw.” During my assistant's absence 1 compared tin* head of the screw I had found on the ground with those fixed in the lid of the bin. and found, as I had expected, that they tallied exactly. One by one we drew the bright screws from their bed. and laid them carefully down on tin* bench: then we lifted tin* lid on its hinges, and threw it back against the wall. A fetid, sickening odour issued from the open bin. I drew my assistant back and out into the open air. “Go and fetch Dr. Gresham.” I said. In about five minutes he returned, the doctor with him. and again we all went inside. It was now possible to approach the bin and look down on tin* horrible

object inside. To my dying day I shall be unable to rid my memory of that ghastly spectacle. The doctor gave one glance, and drew back, white to the lips. “Good God!” In exclaimed, “is it possible?” “Do you identify him?” I asked. “Yes,” lie replied; “it is poor Barrow. lint why in heaven’s name should he have done this?” “What?” 1 asked; then his meaning occurred to me, and 1 pointed silently to the screws and the Holes in the lid of the binAt first he looked puzzled, then my meaning seemed to dawn on him, and a stern look came into his eyes. “A great real may depend on how we pro c<*ed now,” he said. “I should like further medical assistance, and it may prove advantageous to the police to be more strongly represented. My dread is lest, by acting precipitously, we may destroy or overlook something which might afterwards have proved of advantage had we observed it at the time.” r r<> this 1 agreed, and it was thus not i ill an hour later that tin* body of the murdered man was removed from its resting place and examined. I will not sicken the reader with tin* details that were afterwards sworn to at the coro urn’s inquest. It will sullice to say that on the left cheekbone was a kind of contused wound, which might have been the result of a blow before death; there was no other external mark of violence. The iest is told in the verdict of the

coroner’s jury, which was as follows: "We find that the deceased met his death from poisoning by morphia; that after his death, or while in a state of uncoiiscioiisness, his body was placed in tlie bin. and the lid screwed down; ami we return a verdiet of murder against some person or persons unknown.” In the investigation of capital crimes, the first crucial point is usually the question of motive, and it was here that the police encountered their greatest difficulty. Though, according to the will of the murdered man, it was shown that three persons would be benefited bv his death, yet, except in the instance of Itooert Asher it was impossible to show that they had any previous knowledge of the fact. The one exception was indeed notable, on account of the suspicion which had previously attached to Asher, but in his examination befoie the coronet this suspicion was, or appeared to be, explained away. He pro duced the whole of his correspondence with his half-brother, including one final and startling letter which 1 shall allud ■ to in a moment. From this correspond cnee, it appeared that they had been on uninterruptedly friendly terms. Many of the letters were dated two years back. from Thursday Island, where barrow had been on business connected with the estate of his deceased father: some were merely notes on trivial matters, written since his return to the colony; a few were in connection with the will None of them were regarded as of any importance by the police. The final letter was of a character utterly dif terent from the rest. It was brief >u 1 pregnant; the writing was blotted and tremulous, and sometimes barely ue i iphcrable—it spoke clearly of the mor tai agony of the writer. There was neither date nor address, and the envelope was not produced. This, however, Asher averred, was the letter 1 had found in the stable, and presented io him at b's ofliee. It began abruptly, and was :>s follows: ' r

“Ah unspeakable calamity has overtaken me—so unutterably horrible that I dare not write it, lest madness should seize me at sight of the words. Oh. my God, Robert, those people in Thurs day Island! I am a maniac* now as I stare at the terrific pictures in my brain. Come to me at the old stone stable to-night; knock three times at the door and 1 shall know it is yon. God has deserted me, but do not you.” A profound sensation was produced in court by the reading of this letter. Asked whether he could offer any explanation of it, Asher professed entire disability, neither did he understand the allusion to “those people in Thursday Island.” Further questioning showed him also unable to throw any light upon how the letter came to be in the position in which the police found it. but he ottered the* opinion that the murder was committed shortly after the letter was written, and suggested that it had fallen into the Skirting-board either from the pocket of the deceased or the hands of the murderer. Much time was spent in the cross-examination of this witness, but nothing fresh could be elicited from him. Dr. Gresham’s evidence was divisible into twv parts. He agreed with the other im.dical men that death was due to the injection of morphia in large quantities into one of the limbs. It might have been self-injected, but the deceased could not have screwed himself down in the bin. The body was perfect ly healthy—that of a man in the full enjoyment of life. He thought it possible that the deceased might have been istunned. and inoculated while in a state of unconsciousness. Tie had known Arthur Barrow for many years; he had known him intimately for the last twelve months, during which time he generally saw him daily. Deceased was to have been married to witness' sister, and the date of the marriage was lixed for May. He knew Robert Asher only slightly. He could suggest no ex-

planation of Barrow’s letter. He had noticed nothing peculiar in deceased's manner on the occasion he saw him last in fact. Barrow had seemed in unusual ly boisterous spirits. That was <m the 26th of February. The girl. Agnes Gresham, proved. awas only to be expected, the most unsatisfactory witness. Her face wadeathly pale; in her eyes was the pit i able look of some hunted and stricken creature; she stunned stunned into a state of half-unconsciousness with her surroundings. She knew the deceased. Arthur Barrow. and had known him for some years. She was engaged to him at the time of his death. They were to have been married in July. (Witness afterwards corrected herself, and said the date fixed was the fourth of September. but, on hearing her brother's evidence read by the coroner. sheagain corrected herself, and agreed that the arrangement was for May.) She had never had a quarrel with deceased, and they were on the best of terms until their last parting. She remembered the 26th of February that was the date on which she saw deceased for the last time. He came to lunch, and stayed until three o’clock. There was nothing unusual in his manner; he was in good spirits. He was to have come again in the (‘veiling, but he did nof come. He did not come again. She never saw him again. She had heard the letter read in court, but could oiler no explanation of it. 'These notes <>f the evidence of the principal witnesses are taken almost verbatim from the reports of the coroner's inquest. r, \vo or three other persons gave evidence, i ncluding Mrs Cowan and Mrs Pattison’s manservant, but. as they added nothing to what has already been related. I will not weary the reader by reproducing them. I am now at the end of my story. Over two years have elapsed, and no further light has been thrown on the mystery. A reward of C 260 w as offered by the Government for evidence which should lead to the conviction of the murderer, but the amount remains unclaimed. All the actors in the tragedy are still to be found in t he same places.

with the exception of Robert Asher, who is now practising his profession in ano t her city. A suspicion, which he found it impossible to live down, continued to overhang him as long as he remained in Auckland. Dr. Gresham employed an agent for some time in Thursday Island, in the hope of finding an interpretation to the mysterious allusion in Barrow \ last letter, but this also failed, and 1 think he has long since given up hope ot dragging the truth from the mas* of mystery in which it lies buried. For my part. 1 have not entirely abandoned hope. I believe that what the ingenuity of one man can conceal, tin* ingenuity of another may discover, and I live in the lielief that ‘Murder will