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containing a thousand additional names, among them the jurymen I had not found in the telephone book. I instructed the agency to type these names and addresses on the envelopes. It was a safe assumption that a year later, when I began operations, the agency would not remember having typed the names of the dead men among so many thousands of others. The counters I numbered myself, as required.
“Last November, I felt myself in a position to seek my first victim. I decided that it should be Mr. Tovey, a personal friend of Mr. Copperdock, from whom I had learnt all I required to know about his habits. I had, among my other weapons, a paper cutter’s knife, with half a dozen blades. These blades I had sharpened along both edges until they resembled daggers, and I had discovered a means of fixing them lightly into the handle, so that they would remain in the wound, leaving me free to carry off the handle.
“That evening, Mr. Ludgrove took his usual walk, returning by way of Paddington station. From here he telephoned to Mr. Tovey, giving him the message that he was wanted at St. Martha’s. Mr. Ludgrove then walked back here, and took on the character of the Black Sailor. Behind this shop is a piece of ground which was once a garden, and that in turn is separated by a low wall from a yard, deserted after business hours, with gates and also a small door leading into a back street. I had made myself a key to the small door, and it provided me with an alternative means of access to this house.
“The Black Sailor went out this way, waited in the shadows at the corner of the back street until he saw Mr. Tovey pass, then followed him and caught him up among the crowd outside the Express Train. The knife required no violence in its use, merely a firm push in one of the spots which Dr. Morlandson had shown me. The actual stabbing was a very simple matter, and the Black Sailor disappeared in the crowd, to return here by the way he went out and transform himself into Mr. Ludgrove.
“But I realized that this method, although it had served its purpose once, was inartistic and dangerous. There was always the risk that the Black Sailor might be recognized and traced back here.
As a matter of fact, Wal Snyder had noticed him, but his evidence was discredited. The police, however, were compelled to offer a reward for him, and I determined that the Black Sailor must be reserved for special purposes.
“In the case of Mr. Colburn I adopted quite a different method. I had become a customer of his, and had encouraged his son to confide in me. From him I gradually learnt his father’s habits and peculiarities, particularly that of smoking a pipe in the shop after lunch, and, when he had finished it, of refilling it and putting it away on a shelf. I examined the pipe in young Colburn’s absence, and noticed that it was cracked. That evening, I visited a tobacconist at some distance from here and bought a pipe of similar make and shape.
“Within a few days, as I had expected, I saw Mr. Colburn enter Copperdock’s shop. It was a fair assumption that he had gone in to buy a new pipe to replace the old one, since I had learnt that his tobacco was always delivered to him. I took a very small splinter of glass, covered it with a preparation which Dr. Morlandson had given me, and drove one end of it into a notch I had made in the mouthpiece of the pipe I had bought. I then went to Colburn’s shop, on an errand which necessitated young Colburn’s going to the bakehouse and leaving me alone. I saw, as I had expected, a new pipe lying filled on the shelf. I substituted mine for it, put Mr. Colburn’s pipe in my pocket, waited until young Colburn came back with my purchase, and left the shop. I was in the country when Mr. Colburn died, but I heard the details later, as no doubt you have heard them, Dr. Priestley.”
“Yes, the deaths of Colburn and Martin strengthened my theory that Dr. Morlandson was at the bottom of the affair,” replied the Professor calmly. “I guessed that there was extensive medical knowledge behind both of them.” His one idea was to prolong this recital as much as possible.
“You will agree, however, that it would have been impossible to trace Mr. Colburn’s death to me. By this time I had come to the conclusion that it would be as well to stage the scene of my executions as far as possible in Praed Street. I wished to concentrate
attention upon this particular district, since I knew that the obvious effect on the police would be to suggest to them an inhabitant of it. As soon as they did this, I was ready to supply a number of hints and inferences. I was thus able to become on confidential terms with Whyland, and, by making a friend of him, to put myself above suspicion. And all the time I was influencing his mind in the direction of Mr. Copperdock. It was a most interesting psychological study, I can assure you.
“Pargent, whom I determined to tackle next, presented an entirely different problem. He lived some distance from Praed Street, and though I might have devised some means of killing him in his own home, I was most anxious to adhere to the rule I had laid down. It was not until I had carefully considered his habits that I saw my way clear. During the years which I had spent observing my victims, I had discovered the regularity of his visits to his sister at West Laverhurst. And in this regularity I saw my opportunity.
“One Saturday morning, when he was due to go to West Laverhurst, I went down from Waterloo to Penderworth, for which the station is Wokingham, ostensibly to collect plants. I went to Waterloo by way of Paddington and the tube, the most obvious way of getting there. But at Paddington I called at the booking-office, and took a ticket to Reading. Having arrived at Penderworth, I made myself as conspicuous as possible at the inn, in the character of Mr. Ludgrove, and then went out with a suit-case, with the declared intention of collecting plants. In the suit-case were my dyes and paints, also a change of clothing.
“Now, Penderworth is four miles from Reading, where the train stopped by which Pargent habitually returned home. I found a convenient coppice, in which I got myself up as a man with iron grey beard and hair, and a conspicuous mark upon my face. I left my suitcase in the coppice, carefully hidden, and in it Mr. Ludgrove’s clothes and spectacles. Then I walked to Reading and caught the train in which Pargent was travelling. On our arrival at Paddington I followed him through the station, and was by his side when he made his dash across Praed Street to catch the bus. My opportunity came on the
refuge, and I employed the same method as I had done in the case of Tovey.
“I had ascertained that a train left for Reading ten minutes after the arrival of the train by which I had travelled up. I had just time to catch this—I already had the ticket which I had purchased in the morning. As the train neared Reading, I went to the lavatory and removed the dye and paint. From here I stepped out on to the platform and passed the barrier unremarked. Even had I been noticed in London, and my description circulated, I thus ran very little risk. The most noticeable thing had been the ‘port-wine mark,’ and this of course had vanished. I walked to the coppice, buried the clothes I was wearing, resumed the apparel of Mr. Ludgrove, and returned to the inn with my suit-case full of the first plants I could lay my hands on. I had apparently an excellent alibi.
“With the death of Pargent, the curious coincidence that all three victims had received counters came to light, as I had anticipated it would. I thought it wise to suspend my operations for a while, while I prepared my plans for dealing with the remainder of the surviving jurymen. Goodwin presented the greatest puzzle. He was confined to his house, almost to one room, and I despaired of being able to reach him. I had nearly decided to leave him alone, knowing that his death could not be delayed very long in any case. But I had a sudden inspiration. The numbered counters had attracted a good deal of attention, and the sequel to their receipt was well known. It was quite possible that Goodwin, to whom any shock was likely to be fatal, would die as the mere result of finding one in his post. I made the experiment, and it was successful. But I claim no great credit for this exploit. I might well have failed, had fortune not favoured me, and I was compelled to abandon Praed Street as the scene of his death. I have always considered that the execution of Goodwin was not up to my usual standard.
“But I have omitted the case of Martin, upon which I rather pride myself. Put yourself in my position, Dr. Priestley. Here was a man, living in the suburbs, and having an office in the City. How was I to lure him to Praed Street, and ensure his death when he arrived there, at a time when Praed Street had already gained notoriety as
the scene of three mysterious deaths? I knew quite a lot about Martin, more than most people, in fact. I knew that he had once been in business in Praed Street, and that he had prospered there rather more rapidly than his apparent business warranted. My connection among the shadier classes in the neighbourhood helped me there. I discovered, hint by hint, that he was a well-known fence, a receiver of stolen goods, that is, Dr. Priestley, and that discovery, coupled with the fact that the premises he had once occupied were again changing hands, gave me an idea.
“My first move was to make the acquaintance of the builder who was carrying out the alterations to Number 407, and from him I learnt in the course of conversation the name of the new tenant. He asked me to come and look at the place, an invitation which I accepted without too great a show of eagerness. In the next few days I visited the place again, more than once. I wanted the builder’s men to get accustomed to the sight of me. For this purpose I was Mr. Ludgrove the local resident, of course. As a matter of fact, most of the builder’s friends went to have a look at the place. There is always an interest in vacant premises in a street like this.
“Dr. Morlandson had provided me with a number of celluloid capsules, containing pure prussic acid. I took an ordinary electric lamp, broke it, and connected the ends of the leading-in wires by a piece of fine foil, which would become red hot on the passage of a current. Round this I wrapped a few strands of nitrated cellulose, and to this I fixed the celluloid capsule. The action of this device was very simple. If a current were passed through it, the cellulose would inflame and set fire to the capsule, thus releasing the prussic acid. Some of the vapour of this might catch fire, but enough would be left to be fatal to anybody breathing it in a confined space. And I knew of a confined space most suitably adapted to the purpose.
“I wrote a letter to Martin, which I knew could not fail to bring him to Number 407, and to bring him alone. It suggested that somebody had discovered his true occupation, and was prepared to keep the matter secret, for a consideration. Then, on the Saturday morning, just before the men were due to leave, I walked openly into Number 407. I had kept an eye on their habits, and knew that
before they left they packed away their tools in the back room on the ground floor. I could hear them there as I went in, and I made my way down to the cellar without anybody noticing me. All I did there was to put my poison device in the lamp holder in the small cellar—I had heard the electrician tell the builder that the current would be connected that day—hang the numbered counter on the switch, and remove the string by which the swing door could be pulled open from within. The trap was set, it remained only to ensure that Martin should have easy access to it.
“I knew about the arrangement whereby the keys were kept at the sweet shop. I had announced that I was going into the country that day, travelling into Essex by the London, Tilbury and Southend from Fenchurch Street. I took the Underground, apparently to Aldgate, but got out at Aldersgate Street. From here I walked down the Barbican, saw Martin leave his office, go to lunch, and finally book at Aldersgate Street to Praed Street. I immediately telephoned from one of the boxes there to Mr. Briggs, who had the keys, saying that I was the tenant of Number 407, and asking him to look out for a Mr. Martin, and give him the keys. I then went on to Fenchurch Street, spent a happy and profitable day in the country, and returned home to hear of the death of Mr. Martin. I was, I confess, slightly annoyed to find that it had been attributed to suicide. But then, I had never anticipated that Martin would bring an automatic with him. But perhaps I weary you with these details, Dr. Priestley?”
“Not in the least!” replied the Professor fervently. He glanced furtively at the clock. It was already past ten o’clock.
Chapter XXII. The Death Chamber
“What I have to tell you now may interest you more nearly, Dr. Priestley,” continued the Black Sailor. “Having disposed of five of my intended victims, I had to remove Copperdock. But I wished first of all to concentrate as much suspicion as possible on him before his death. You will perceive the idea, no doubt. If the murders were to cease with Copperdock’s death, there being already a vague suspicion that he had caused them, further enquiries would not be pursued very briskly.
“For this reason, I appeared to Copperdock that evening as he was coming out of the Cambridge Arms. The disguise was very imperfect, since I had merely smeared the dye on my beard in the street, and the scar was made of sticking-plaster. It would not have borne a moment’s close inspection, but it was good enough for Copperdock, as I felt sure it would be. I escaped from him without difficulty, and, having taken a wet sponge with me, removed the scar and dye at the first opportunity and came quietly home. I beat Mr. Copperdock by about five minutes.
“As I had expected, he told Whyland the story of his adventure, and I was in a position to swear that he and I had been alone in the street. The result was to discredit his veracity still further. I then thought it time to act. You will remember that Copperdock said he found a numbered counter on his bed? That was the exact truth, although it seemed impossible, and nobody believed him. But it was capable of the simplest explanation in the world. Look here.”
The Black Sailor rose from his chair, and walked across to the bench, from which he picked up an apparatus made of wood and india rubber, not unlike a miniature cross-bow. “I amused myself in
my spare time by making this,” he said. “As you see, it has a holder which just takes a counter. You would be surprised to see how far and how accurately it will project it. I have frequently practised with it in the country, and I have attained sufficient skill in its use to be able to place a counter where I like at any range up to a hundred feet or so.
“Now, above my shop is a room, which I use for storage purposes. From the window of this room you can see into the window of Mr. Copperdock’s bedroom. I had merely to wait for a windless evening, fine enough for Mr. Copperdock to leave his window open, and seize my opportunity when I knew his house was empty. The opportunity came, and I took it.
“It might have been thought that by delivering the counter in advance I had increased my difficulties. But, on the contrary, I had diminished them. The obvious improbability of Mr. Copperdock’s story, that he had found a counter on his bed at a time when it was demonstrable that nobody had entered the house, was merely another link in the chain of suspicion which I was forging round him. I allowed a few days to pass, and then, the following Saturday, I took the final step.
“Now, even you, Dr. Priestley, failed to read the riddle of the broken hypodermic needle and the incrustation of potassium carbonate round the puncture. Yet it was ridiculously simple. I secured a piece of metallic potassium, and moulded it into the shape of a bullet to fit an air-gun which I possessed. Into the head of this bullet I inserted the broken end of a hypodermic needle, which I had already charged with the same drug as had been so effectual in the case of Mr. Colburn. Keeping this prepared bullet in paraffin, to avoid oxidation, I placed the air-gun ready upstairs, and waited for Mr. Copperdock’s return from the Cambridge Arms. He brought two friends home with him, and I was afraid at first that I should be compelled to postpone my attempt. It was essential to my scheme that he should be alone in the house when I fired the gun.
“However, the two friends left after a while, and Mr. Copperdock entered his bedroom and proceeded to undress. I could just see the washing-stand through a gap in his curtains, and I waited until he
was bending over this. Then I loaded the gun with my potassium bullet, and pulled the trigger. I saw Mr. Copperdock spin round, and then he passed out of my line of vision. But I knew I had succeeded, and I came quietly down here.
“The bullet had possessed sufficient velocity to drive the needle well into Mr. Copperdock’s body, and I knew I could trust it to destroy its own evidence. I need scarcely explain the properties of metallic potassium to you, Dr. Priestley. On exposure to the air it oxidizes, as you know, first to the hydroxide, which is caustic potash, and then to the carbonate. The doctor who was called in quite correctly stated that the presence of the carbonate showed that caustic potash had been applied. But he never guessed that the caustic potash had itself been derived from potassium.
“I had expected that Ted Copperdock’s first act upon discovering his father’s body would be to call me. I thought that this would furnish me with an opportunity for adding yet another mystification for the police to solve. I placed a numbered counter on my own mantelpiece, and waited. Sure enough, young Copperdock came across to me. I met him in the shop, and we went over together, I taking care not to close the door behind us. I have no doubt that the scene in Mr. Copperdock’s room had been described to you in detail. But there is one incident which seems to have escaped everybody’s recollection. I was left alone in the room while Ted went for the doctor and Waters telephoned to Inspector Whyland.
“I had meant all along to contrive to be alone in the room sooner or later, and was prepared for the opportunity. I had in my pocket the handle of the paper-maker’s knife and one of the blades. I placed the handle in Mr. Copperdock’s right hand, and pressed the fingers round it. Then I put the blade and handle in the pocket of one of his overcoats, satisfied that sooner or later it would be found there, with his finger-prints upon it. A few minutes later, a chance remark of Inspector Whyland’s gave me a further idea. If the suicide theory were correct, the hypodermic syringe ought to be found. I had, I confess, overlooked this point, but it was readily rectified. Directly he left me, I looked out an old syringe, fitted the other half
of the needle to it, and dropped it by the side of the road under Mr. Copperdock’s window. Waters found it within half an hour.
“Meanwhile, Inspector Whyland had returned here at my suggestion. He was the very witness I required to my finding of the counter. The door left open afforded an obvious suggestion of the means by which it had reached my mantelpiece. I did not care what theory he evolved as to the identity of the person who had entered the house. My only object was to confuse the issue as much as possible.
“Then, Dr. Priestley, Inspector Hanslet came upon the scene, and I knew that the real battle of wits had begun. As I have told you, I had spent years studying the characters of the members of the jury, and among them I had devoted a large part of my time to observing you. I soon discovered that Inspector Hanslet consulted you upon his principal cases, and I knew as soon as Hanslet appeared, that I was at last pitted against the most acute brain in England. I may say, without exaggeration, that the knowledge gave me the keenest pleasure which I had known for years.”
The Black Sailor paused, and smiled at his auditor benignly. “You see, Dr. Priestley,” he continued, “I was in rather a delicate position, where you were concerned. I had purposely left you until the last, because, as foreman of the jury, Dr. Morlandson wished you to have special treatment. You were to be warned, but your fate was to be left hanging over your head as long as possible. I was afraid that you would not attach much importance to the mere receipt of a counter. You are not the sort of person to be so easily frightened. Yet how to deliver a personal warning without giving you a clue which would be fatal to the execution of my design, I could not see.
“I knew Inspector Hanslet had discussed the Praed Street murders with you. Or rather, in deference to your well-known insistence upon exactitude, I will say that I believed it to be in the highest degree probable. During one of my evening walks, accompanied, I may say, by one of Inspector Whyland’s charming young men, I passed your house, and saw Inspector Hanslet enter it. It was rather more than a mere guess to infer that he, who had just taken charge of the case, was about to consult you upon it.