LITMIR.BIZ

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to my place once or twice. The last time I set eyes on her must have been in October.”

      “How did she appear?”

      “She was very miserable, but she wouldn’t let you see it.” (Laughter.)

      “How has the prisoner behaved since the murder?”

      “He always seemed very glum and sorry for it.”

      Cross-examined: “Did not the prisoner once occupy the bedroom of Mr. Constant, and give it up to him, so that Mr. Constant might have the two rooms on the same floor?”

      “Yes, but he didn’t pay as much.”

      “And, while occupying this front bedroom, did not the prisoner once lose his key and have another made?”

      “He did; he was very careless.”

      “Do you know what the prisoner and Mr. Constant spoke about on the night of December 3d?”

      “No; I couldn’t hear.”

      “Then how did you know they were quarreling?”

      “They were talkin’ so loud.”

      Sir Charles Brown-Harland, Q. C. (sharply): “But I’m talking loudly to you now. Should you say I was quarreling?”

      “It takes two to make a quarrel.” (Laughter.)

      “Was the prisoner the sort of man who, in your opinion, would commit a murder?”

      “No, I never should ha’ guessed it was him.”

      “He always struck you as a thorough gentleman?”

      “No, my lud. I knew he was only a comp.”

      “You say the prisoner has seemed depressed since the murder. Might not that have been due to the disappearance of his sweetheart?”

      “No, he’d more likely be glad to get rid of her.”

      “Then he wouldn’t be jealous if Mr. Constant took her off his hands?” (Sensation.)

      “Men are dog-in-the-mangers.”

      “Never mind about men, Mrs. Drabdump. Had the prisoner ceased to care for Miss Dymond?”

      “He didn’t seem to think of her, my lud. When he got a letter in her handwriting among his heap he used to throw it aside till he’d torn open the others.”

      Brown-Harland, Q. C. (with a triumphant ring in his voice): “Thank you, Mrs. Drabdump. You may sit down.”

      Spigot, Q. C.: “One moment, Mrs. Drabdump. You say the prisoner had ceased to care for Miss Dymond. Might not this have been in consequence of his suspecting for some time that she had relations with Mr. Constant?”

      The Judge: “That is not a fair question.”

      Spigot, Q. C.: “That will do, thank you, Mrs. Drabdump.”

      Brown-Harland, Q. C.: “No; one question more, Mrs. Drabdump. Did you ever see anything—say when Miss Dymond came to your house—to make you suspect anything between Mr. Constant and the prisoner’s sweetheart?”

      “She did meet him once when Mr. Mortlake was out.” (Sensation.)

      “Where did she meet him?”

      “In the passage. He was going out when she knocked and he opened the door.” (Amusement.)

      “You didn’t hear what they said?”

      “I ain’t a eavesdropper. They spoke friendly and went away together.”

      Mr. George Grodman was called and repeated his evidence at the inquest. Cross-examined, he testified to the warm friendship between Mr. Constant and the prisoner. He knew very little about Miss Dymond, having scarcely seen her. Prisoner had never spoken to him much about her. He should not think she was much in prisoner’s thoughts. Naturally the prisoner had been depressed by the death of his friend. Besides, he was overworked. Witness thought highly of Mortlake’s character. It was incredible that Constant had had improper relations of any kind with his friend’s promised wife. Grodman’s evidence made a very favorable impression on the jury; the prisoner looked his gratitude; and the prosecution felt sorry it had been necessary to call this witness.

      Inspector Howlett and Sergeant Runnymede had also to repeat their evidence. Dr. Robinson, police-surgeon, likewise retendered his evidence as to the nature of the wound, and the approximate hour of death. But this time he was much more severely examined. He would not bind himself down to state the time within an hour or two. He thought life had been extinct two or three hours when he arrived, so that the deed had been committed between seven and eight. Under gentle pressure from the prosecuting counsel, he admitted that it might possibly have been between six and seven. Cross-examined, he reiterated his impression in favor of the later hour.

      Supplementary evidence from medical experts proved as dubious and uncertain as if the court had confined itself to the original witness. It seemed to be generally agreed that the data for determining the time of death of anybody were too complex and variable to admit of very precise inference; rigor mortis and other symptoms setting in within very wide limits and differing largely in different persons. All agreed that death from such a cut must have been practically instantaneous, and the theory of suicide was rejected by all. As a whole the medical evidence tended to fix the time of death, with a high degree of probability, between the hours of six and half-past eight. The efforts of the Prosecution were bent upon throwing back the time of death to as early as possible after about half-past five. The Defense spent all its strength upon pinning the experts to the conclusion that death could not have been earlier than seven. Evidently the Prosecution was going to fight hard for the hypothesis that Mortlake had committed the crime in the interval between the first and second trains for Liverpool; while the Defense was concentrating itself on an alibi, showing that the prisoner had traveled by the second train which left Euston Station at a quarter-past seven, so that there could have been no possible time for the passage between Bow and Euston. It was an exciting struggle. As yet the contending forces seemed equally matched. The evidence had gone as much for as against the prisoner. But everybody knew that worse lay behind.

      “Call Edward Wimp.”

      The story Edward Wimp had to tell began tamely enough with thrice-threshed-out facts. But at last the new facts came.

      “In consequence of suspicions that had formed in your mind you took up your quarters, disguised, in the late Mr. Constant’s rooms?”

      “I did; at the commencement of the year. My suspicions had gradually gathered against the occupants of No. 11, Glover Street, and I resolved to quash or confirm these suspicions once for all.”

      “Will you tell the jury what followed?”

      “Whenever the prisoner was away for the night I searched his room. I found the key of Mr. Constant’s bedroom buried deeply in the side of prisoner’s leather sofa. I found what I imagine to be the letter he received on December 3d, in the pages of a ‘Bradshaw’ lying under the same sofa. There were two razors about.”

      Mr. Spigot, Q. C., said: “The key has already been identified by Mrs. Drabdump. The letter I now propose to read.”

      It was undated, and ran as follows:

      “Dear Tom—This is to bid you farewell. It is the best for us all. I am going a long way, dearest. Do not seek to find me, for it will be useless. Think of me as one swallowed up by the waters, and be assured that it is only to spare you shame and humiliation in the future that I tear myself from you and all the sweetness of life. Darling, there is no other way. I feel you could never marry me now. I have felt it for months. Dear Tom, you will understand what I mean. We must look facts in the face. I hope you will always be friends with Mr. Constant. Good by, dear. God bless you! May you always be happy, and find a worthier wife than I. Perhaps when you are great, and rich, and famous, as you deserve, you will sometimes think not unkindly of one who, however faulty and unworthy of you, will at least love you till the end. Yours, till

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