The Penny Dreadfuls MEGAPACK™ (204 page)

“But what’s to be done?” said Mr. Leek. “I suppose it’s our duty to do something, under such circumstances.”

“Unquestionably,” said the baron; “and the first thing to be done, is to inform the police of what has happened, so that the body may be got up; and as I have now seen enough of the estate to satisfy me as regards its capabilities, I decide at once upon taking it, it I can agree upon the conditions of the tenancy, and I will purchase it, if the price be such as I think suitable.”

“Well,” said Mr. Leek, “if anything could reconcile me to the extraordinary circumstance that has just occurred, it certainly is, baron, the having so desirable a tenant for Anderbury-on-the-Mount as yourself. But we need not traverse all this passage again, for it is much nearer now to get out upon the sea-coast at once, as we are so close to the other opening upon the beach. It seems to me that we ought to proceed at once to the town, and give information to the authorities of the discovery which we have made.”

“It is absolutely necessary,” said the baron, “so to do; so come along at once. I shall proceed to my inn, and as, of course, I have seen nothing more than yourselves, and consequently could only repeat your evidence, I do not see that my presence is called for. Nevertheless, of course, if the justices think it absolutely necessary that I should appear, I can have no possible objection to so do.”

This was as straightforward as anything that could be desired, and, moreover, it was rather artfully put together, for it seemed to imply that he, Mr. Leek, would be slighted, if his evidence was not considered sufficient.

“Of course,” said Mr. Leek; “I don’t see at all why, as you, sir, have only the same thing to say as myself, I should not be sufficient.”

“Don’t call upon me on any account,” said Sir John Westlake.

“Oh! no, no,” cried Mr. Leek; “there is no occasion. I won’t, you may depend, if it can be helped.”

Sir John, in rather a nervous and excited manner, bade them good day, before they got quite into the town, and hurried off; while the baron, with a dignified bow, when he reached the door of his hotel, said to Mr. Leek—

“Of course I do not like the trouble of judicial investigations more than anybody else, and therefore, unless it is imperatively necessary that I should appear, I shall take it as a favour to be released from such a trouble.”

“My lord baron,” said Mr. Leek, “you may depend that I shall mention that to the magistrates and the coroner, and all those sort of people;” and then Mr. Leek walked away, but he muttered to himself, as he did so, “They will have him, as sure as fate, just because he is a baron; and his name will look well in the
County Chronicle
.”

Mr. Leek then repaired immediately to the house of one of the principal magistrates, and related what had occurred, to the great surprise of that gentleman, who suggested immediately the propriety of making the fact known to the coroner of the district, as it was more his business, than a magistrate’s, in the first instance, since nobody was accused of the offence.

This suggestion was immediately followed, and that functionary directed that the body should be removed from where it was to the nearest public-house, and immediately issued his precept for an inquiry into the case.

By this time the matter had begun to get bruited about in the town, and of course it went from mouth to mouth with many exaggerations; and although it by no means did follow that a murder had been committed because a dead body had been found, yet, such was the universal impression; and the matter began to be talked about as the murder in the subterranean passage leading to Anderbury House, with all the gusto which the full particulars of some deed of blood was calculated to inspire. And how it spread about was thus:—

The fact was, that Mr. Leek was so anxious to let Anderbury-on-the-Mount to the rich Baron Stolmuyer, of Saltzburgh, that he got a friend of his to come and personate Sir John Westlake, while he, the baron, was looking at the premises, in order to drive him at once to a conclusion upon the matter; so that what made Sir John so very anxious that he should not be called forward in the matter, consisted in the simple fact that he was nothing else than plain Mr. Brown, who kept a hatter’s shop in the town; but he could not keep his own counsel, and, instead of holding his tongue, as he ought to have done, about the matter, he told it to every one he met, so that in a short time it was generally known that something serious and startling had occurred in the subterranean passage to Anderbury House, and a great mob of persons thronged the beach in anxious expectation of getting more information on the matter.

The men, likewise, who had been ordered by the coroner to remove the body, soon reached the spot, and they gave an increased impetus to the proceedings, by opening the door of the subterranean passage, and then looking earnestly along the beach as if in expectation of something or somebody of importance.

When eagerly questioned by the mob, for the throng of persons now assembled quite amounted to a mob, to know what they waited for, one of them said—

“A coffin was to have been brought down to take the body in.”

This announcement at once removed anything doubtful that might be in the minds of any of them upon the subject, and at once proclaimed the fact not only that there was a dead body, but that if they looked out they would see it forthwith.

The throng thickened, and by the time two men were observed approaching with a coffin on their shoulders, there was scarcely anybody left in the town, except a few rare persons, indeed, who were not so curious as their neighbours.

It was not an agreeable job, even to those men who were not the most particular in the world, to be removing so loathsome a spectacle as that which they were pretty sure to encounter in the ice-well; but they did not shrink from it, and, by setting about it as a duty, they got through it tolerably well.

They took with them several large torches, and then, one having descended into the pit, fastened a rope under the arms of the dead man, and so he was hauled out, and placed in the shell that was ready to receive him.

They were all surprised at the fresh and almost healthful appearance of the countenance, and it was quite evident to everybody that if any one had known him in life, they could not have the least possible difficulty in recognising him now that he was no more.

And the only appearance of injury which he exhibited was in that dreadful wound which had certainly proved his death, and which was observable in his throat the moment they looked upon him.

The crush to obtain a sight of the body was tremendous at the moment it was brought out, and a vast concourse of persons followed it in procession to the town, where the greatest excitement prevailed. It was easily discovered that no known person was missing, and some who had caught a sight of the body, went so far as to assert that it must have been in the ice-well for years, and that the extreme cold had preserved it in all its original freshness.

The news, of course, came round, although not through the baron, for he did not condescend to say one word about it at the inn, and it was the landlord who first started the suggestion of—“What suppose it is the gentleman who left his horse here?”

This idea had no sooner got possession of his brain, than it each moment seemed to him to assume a more reasonable and tangible form, and without saying any more to any one else about it, he at once started off to where the body lay awaiting an inquest, to see if his suspicions were correct.

When he arrived at the public-house and asked to see the body, he was at once permitted to do so; for the landlord knew him, and was as curious as he could be upon the subject by any possibility. One glance, of course, was sufficient, and the landlord at once said—

“Yes, I have seen him before, though I don’t know his name. He came to my house last night, and left his horse there; and, although I only saw him for a moment as he passed through the hall, I am certain I am not mistaken. I dare say all my waiters will recognise him, as well as the Baron Stolmuyer of Saltzburgh, who is staying with me, and who no doubt knows very well who he is, for he went out with him late and came home alone, and I ordered one of my men to wait up all night in order to let in this very person who is now lying dead before us.”

“The deuce you did! But you don’t suppose the baron murdered him, do you?”

“It’s a mystery to me altogether—quite a profound mystery. It’s very unlikely, certainly; and what’s the most extraordinary part of the whole affair is, how the deuce could he come into one of the ice-wells belonging to Anderbury House. That’s what puzzles me altogether.”

“Well, it will all come out, I hope, at the inquest, which is to be held at four o’clock to day. There must have been foul play somewhere, but the mystery is where, and that Heaven only knows, perhaps.”

“I shall attend,” said the landlord, “of course, to identify him; and I suppose, unless anybody claims the horse, I may as well keep possession of it.”

“Don’t you flatter yourself that you will get the horse out of the transaction. Don’t you know quite well that the government takes possession of everything as don’t belong to nobody?”

“Yes; but I have got him, and possession, you know, is nine points of the law.”

“It may be so; but their tenth point will get the better of you for all that. You take my word for it, the horse will be claimed of you; but I don’t mind, as an old acquaintance, putting you up to a dodge.”

“In what way?”

“Why, I’ll tell you what happened with a friend of mine; but don’t think it was me for if it was I would tell you at once, so don’t think it. He kept a country public-house; and, one day, an elderly gentleman came in, and appeared to be unwell. He just uttered a word or two, and then dropped down dead. He happened to have in his fob a gold repeater, that was worth, at least a hundred guineas, and my friend, before anybody came, took it out, and popped in, in its stead, an old watch that he had, which was not worth a couple of pounds.”

“It was running a risk.”

“It was; but it turned out very well, because the old gentleman happened to be a very eccentric person, and was living alone, so that his friends really did not know what he had, or what he had not, but took it for granted that any watch produced belonged to him. So, if I were you in this case, when the gentleman’s horse is claimed. I’d get the damndest old screw I could, and let them have that.”

“You would?”

“Indeed would I, and glory in it, too, as the very best thing that could be done. Now, a horse is of use to you?”

“I believe ye, it is.”

“Exactly; but what’s the use of it to government? and, what’s more, if it went to the government, there might be some excuse; but the government will know no more about it, and make not so much as I shall. Some Jack-in-office will lay hold of it as a thing of course and a perquisite, when you might just as well, and a great deal better, too, keep it yourself, for it would do you some good, as you say, and none to them.”

“I’ll do it; it is a good and a happy thought. There is no reason on earth why I shouldn’t do it, and I will. I have made up my mind to it now.”

“Well, I am glad you have. What do you think now the dead man’s horse is worth?”

“Oh! fifty or sixty guineas value.”

“Then very good. Then, when the affair is all settled, I will trouble you for twenty pounds.

“You?”

“Yes, to be sure. Who else do you suppose is going to interfere with you? One is enough, ain’t it, at a time; and I think, after giving you such advice as I have, that I am entitled, at all events, to something.”

“I tell you what,” said the landlord of the hotel, “taking all things into consideration, I have altered my mind rather, and won’t do it.”

“Very good. You need not; only mind, if you do, I am down upon you like a shot.”

The excitement contingent upon the inquest was very great; indeed, the large room in the public-house, where it was held, was crowded to suffocation with persons who were anxious to be present at the proceedings. When the landlord reached home, of course he told his guest, the baron, of the discovery he had made, that the murdered man was the strange visitor of the previous night; for now, from the frightful wound he had received in his throat, the belief that he was murdered became too rational a one to admit of any doubts, and was that which was universally adopted in preference to any other suggestion upon the occasion; although, no doubt, people would be found who would not scruple to aver that he had cut his own throat, after making his way into the well belonging to Anderbury House.

The landlord had his own misgivings concerning his guest, the baron, now that something had occurred of such an awful and mysterious a nature to one who was evidently known to him. It did not seem to be a pleasant thing to have such an intimate friend of a man who had been murdered in one’s house, especially when it came to be considered that he was the last person seen in his company, and that, consequently, he was peculiarly called upon to give an explanation of how, and under what circumstances, he had parted with him.

The baron was sitting smoking in the most unconcerned manner in the world, when the landlord came to bring him this intelligence, and, when he had heard him to an end, the remark he made was—

“Really, you very much surprise me; but, perhaps, as you are better acquainted with the town than I am, you can tell me who he was?”

“Why, sir, that is what we hoped you would be able to tell us.”

“How should I tell you? He introduced himself to me as a Mr. Mitchell, a surveyor, and he said that, hearing I talked of purchasing or renting Anderbury-on-the-Mount, he came to tell me that the principal side wall, that you could see from the beach, was off the perpendicular.”

“Indeed, sir!”

“Yes; and as this was a very interesting circumstance to me, considering that I really did contemplate such a purchase or renting, and do so still, as it was a moonlight night, and he said he could show me in a minute what he meant if I would accompany him, I did so; but when we got there, and on the road, I heard quite enough of him to convince me that he was a little out of his senses, and, consequently, I paid no more attention to what he said, but walked home and left him on the beach.”