CHAPTER I On that particular November evening, Vine of means and leisure, who lived in a comfortable old house in Markendale Square, Bayswater, in company with his maiden aunt, Miss Bethia Pankridge, had spent his after-dinner hours in a fashion which had become a habit. Miss Pankridge, a model housekeeper and an essentially worthy woman, whose whole day was given to supervising somebody or something, had an insatiable appetite for fiction, and loved nothing so much as that her nephew should read a novel to her after the two glasses of port which she allowed herself every night had been thoughtfully consumed and he and she had adjourned from the dining-room to the hearth-rug in the library. Her tastes, however, in Vine's opinion were somewhat, if not decidedly limited. Built up in her youth on Miss Braddon, Wilkie Collins, and Mrs. Henry Wood, Miss Pankridge had become a confirmed slave to the sensational. She had no taste for the psychological and nothing but scorn for the erotic. What she loved was a story which began with crime and ended with a detection, a story which kept you wondering who did it, how it was done, and when the doing was going to be laid bare to the light of day. Nothing pleased her better than to go to bed with a brain titivated with the mysteries of the last three chapters. Nothing gave her such infinite delight as defined, when the final pages were turned, that all her own theories were wrong, and that the real criminal was somebody quite other than the person she had fancied. For a novelist who was so little master of his trade as to let you see when and how things were going, Miss Pankridge had little but good-natured pity. For one who led you by all sorts of devious tracks to a startling and surprising sensation she cherished a whole, sold love. But for the creator of a plot who could keep his secret alive and burning to his last few sentences she felt the deepest thing that she could give to any human being, respect.  At precisely ten o'clock that evening, Weiner read the last page of a novel which had proved to be exactly suited to his aunt's tastes. A dead silence fell on the room broken only by the crackling of the logs in the grate. Miss Pankridge dropped her knitting on her silk-gound knees and stared at the leaping flames. Her nephew, with an odd glance at her, rose from his easy chair, picked up a pipe and began to fill it from a tobacco jar on the mantelpiece. The clock had ticked several times before Miss Pankridge spoke. Well, she said, with the accompanying sigh which denotes complete content. So he did it. Now I should never have thought it. The last person of the whole lot. Clever, very clever. Richard, you'll get all the books that that man has written. Weiner lighted his pipe, thrust his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and leaned back against the mantelpiece. My dear aunt, he said, half teasingly, half seriously.   Stuff? demanded Miss Pankridge, who had resumed her knitting. Poof! It's not stuff, it's life! Real life in the form of fiction! Weiner shook his head pittingly. He never read fiction for his own amusement, his tastes in readingly elsewhere, in solid directions. Moreover, in those directions he was a good deal of a student, and he knew more of his own library than of the world outside it. So he shook his head again. Life, he said. You don't mean to say that you think those things? He pointed a half scornful finger to a pile of novels which had come in from Moody's that day. Really represent life? What else? demanded Miss Pankridge. Oh, I don't know, replied Weiner vaguely. Fancy, I suppose, an imagination and all that sort of thing, invention, you know, and so on. But life, do you really think such things happen in real life as those we've been reading about? I don't think anything about it. Retorted Miss Pankridge sturdily. I'm sure of it. I never had a novel yet, nor heard one read to me that was half as strong as it might have been. That sort of thing, one never hears or sees of these things then, exclaimed Weiner. I never have, and I've been on this planet thirty years. That sort of thing hasn't come your way, Richard, remarked Miss Pankridge sententiously, and you don't read the popular Sunday newspapers, I do.  And as to mysteries, I've known of two or three in my time that were much more extraordinary than any I've ever read of in novels, I should think so. Weiner dropped into his easy chair and stretched his legs. Such as what, he asked. Well, answered Miss Pankridge, regarding her knitting with appraising eyes. There was a case that excited great interest when your poor mother and I were mere girls. It was in our town, young quaint in the banker. He was about your age, married to a very pretty girl, and they had a fine baby. He was immensely rich, strong healthy young fellow, fund of life, popular without a care in the world so far as anyone knew. One morning after breakfasting with his wife, he walked away from his house on the outskirts of the town, only a very small town, mind you, to go to the bank as usual. He never reached the bank, in fact. He was never seen again, never heard of again.  Odd, agreed Weiner. Very odd indeed. Well, any more? Blenty, said Miss Pankridge, with a click of her needles. It's a case of poor young lady Marshflower, as sweet as a young thing as man could wish to see. Your mother and I saw her marriage, who was a raven stone, and only nineteen. She married Sir Thomas Marshflower, a man of forty. They'd only just come home from the honeymoon when it happened. One morning Sir Thomas rode into the marketplace to preside at the petty sessions. He hadn't been long gone when a fine, distinguished looking man called and asked to see Lady Marshflower. He was shown into the morning room. She went to him. Five minutes later a shot was heard. The servants rushed in to find the young mistress shot through the heart, dead. But the murderer disappeared as completely as last year's snow that was never solved, never. Do you mean to tell me the man was never caught? exclaimed Weiner. I tell you that not only was a man never caught, but that although Sir Thomas spent a fortune and nearly lost his senses in trying to find out who he was, what he wanted and what he had to do with Lady Marshflower, he never discovered one single fact, affirmed Miss Pinkridge. There. That's queerer than the other, observed Weiner. A veritable mystery. Said Miss Pinkridge with a sniff. The world's full of them. How many murderers go undetected? How many burglaries are never traced? How many forgeries are done and never found out? Piles of them as the police can tell you? And talking about forgeries? What about old Barrett, who was the great man at Pumphney when your mother and I were girls there? That was a fine case of crime going on for years and years and years undetected. I am not even suspected. What was it? Asked Weiner who had begun by being amused and was now becoming interested. Who was Barrett? If you'd known Pumphney when we lived there, replied Miss Pinkridge, you wouldn't have had to ask twice who Mr. Samuel Barrett was. He was everybody. He was everything except honest. But nobody knew that until it was too late. He was a solicitor by profession, but that was a mere nothing in comparison. He was chief spirit in the place. I don't know how many times he wasn't mayor of Pumphney. He had all sorts of offices. He was a big man at the parish church, vicar's warden and all that, and he was trustee for half the muddied people in the town. Everybody wanted Samuel Barrett for trustee or executor. He was such a solid, respectable, square-toed, man, the personification of integrity, and he died suddenly. And then it was found that he'd led a double life and had an establishment here in London and was a gambler and a speculator and head-nosed wot, and all the money that had been trusted to him was nowhere. And he'd systematically forged and cooked accounts and embezzled corporation money. And he had no doubt have gone on doing it for many a year longer if he hadn't had a stroke of a poplixy. And that wasn't in a novel. Concluded Miss Pankridge triumphantly. Novels in probability? Poo! Judged by what some people can tell of life, the novel that's improbable hasn't yet been written. Well, remarked a viner after pause. I daresay you're right, Aunt Bethia. Only you see I haven't come across the thing in life that you read about in novels. You may yet, replied Miss Pankridge, but when anybody says to me of a novel that it's impossible and far-fetched and so on, I'm always inclined to remind him of the old adage, for you can take it from me, Richard, the truth is stranger than fiction and that life's full of queer things. Only, as you say, we don't all come across the strange things. The silvery chime of the clock on the mantelpiece caused Miss Pankridge, at this point, to bring her work and her words to a summary conclusion. Hurrying to her knitting into the handbag which she carried at her belt, she rose, kissed her nephew and departed Bedward while viner, after refilling his pipe, proceeded to carry out another nightly proceeding which had become a habit. Every night, throughout the year, he always went for a walk before going to bed. And now, getting into an overcoat and pulling a soft cap over his head, he let himself out of the house and, crossing the square, turned down a side street and marched slowly in the direction of the base water road. November, though it was the night, was fine and clear and there was a half moon in the heavens. Also, there was rather more than a suspicion of frost in the air and the stars accordingly wore a more brilliant appearance. To one who loved night-strolling as Viner did, this was indeed an ideal night for the time of year. And on this occasion, therefore, he went further than usual going along Baywater Road as far as Notting Hillgate and thence returning through the various streets and terraces which lay between Pembridge Gardens and Markendale Square. And while he strolled along, smoking his pipe, watching the twinkling lights and passing vehicles and enjoying the touch of frost, he was thinking in a half-cynical, half-amused way of his Aunt Bethia's taste for the sensational fiction and of her evidently sincere conviction that there were much stranger things in real life than could be found between the covers of any novel. Those were certainly two very odd instances which she gave me, he mused, those of the prosperous banker and the pretty girl. In the first how on earth did the man contrived to get away unobserved from a town in which presumably every soul knew him. Why did he go? Did he go? Is his body lying at the bottom of some hole by some roadside? Was he murdered in broad daylight on a public road? Did he lose his reason or his memory and wander away and away? I think as my aunt sagely remarked that nobody's ever going to find anything about that affair. In my Lady Marsh Flower there's a fine mystery. Who was the man? What did she know about him? Where had they met? Had they ever met? Why did he shoot her? How on earth did he contrive to disappear without leaving some trace? How? At this point, Viners musings and questionings were suddenly and rudely interrupted. Unconsciously he had walked back close to his own square but on the opposite side to that by which he had approached approaching it by one of the numerous long terraces which run out of the main road in the west born grove district when his musings were rudely interrupted. Between this terrace and Markendale Square was a narrow passage little frequented saved by residents or by such folk familiar enough with a neighborhood to know that it afforded a shortcut. Viners was about to turn into this passage a dark affair set between high walls when a young man darted hurriedly out of it half collided with him uttered a hasty word of apology ran across the road and disappeared round the nearest corner. But just there stood a street lamp and in its glare, Viners caught sight of the hurrying young man's face and when the retreating footsteps had grown faint, Viners still stood staring in the direction in which they had gone. That strange, he muttered, I've seen somewhere, I know him. Now, who is he? And what made him in such a deuce of a hurry? It was very quiet at that point. There seemed to be nobody about. Behind him far down the long wide terrace he heard slow measured steps. That, of course, was a policeman on his beat. But beyond the subdued murmur of the traffic in the Bayswater Road in one direction and in Bishop's Road Viners heard nothing but those measured steps. And after listening to them for a minute he turned into the passage out of which the young man had just rushed so unceremoniously. There was just one lamp in that passage an old-fashioned affair fixed against the wall, halfway down. It threw but little light on its surroundings. Those surroundings were ordinary enough. The passage itself was about thirty yards in length. It was enclosed on each side by old brick walls so old that the brick had grown black with age and smoke. These walls were some fifteen feet in height. Here and there they were pierced by doors, the doors of the yards at the rear of the big houses on either side. The doors were set flush with the walls. Viners, who often walked through that passage at night and who had something of a women's sickle fancy, had thought more than once that after nightfall the doors looked as if they had never been opened, never shut. There was an air of queer, cloister or prison-like security in their very look.  It was queer, he reflected, that he scarcely ever remembered meeting anybody in that passage. And then he suddenly paused, pulling himself up with a strange consciousness that at last he was to meet something. Beneath the feeble light of the one lamp Viners saw a man, not a man walking or standing still or leaning against the wall but lying full-length across the flagged pavement, motionless, so motionless that at the end of the first moment of surprise Vinor fell sure that he was in the presence of death. And then he stole nearer, listening, and looked down, and drawing his matchbox from his pocket added the flash of a match to the poor rays from above.  End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of The Middle of Things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher Chapter 2 No. 7 in the Square Before the sputter of the match had died out, Vinor had recognized the man who lay dead at his feet. He was a man about whom he had recently felt some curiosity. A man who, a few weeks before had come to live in a house close to his own in company with an elderly lady and a pretty girl. Vinor and Miss Pankridge had often seen all three in and about Markendale Square and had wondered who they were. The man looked as if he had seen things in life. A big, burly, bearded man of apparently 60 years of age, hard, bronzed, something about him suggested sun and wind as they are met within the far-off places. Usually he was seen in loose, comfortable, semi-nautical suits of blue search. There was a roll in his walk that suggested the sea. But here as he lay before Vinor he was in his evening dress with a light overcoat thrown over it. The overcoat was unbuttoned and the shirt front exposed and on it that sickening crimson stain widened and widened as Vinor watched. Here without doubt was murder and Vinor's thoughts immediately turned to two things. One the hurrying young man whose face he thought he had remembered in some vague fashion. The other the fact that a policeman was slowly pacing up the terrace close by. He turned and ran swiftly up the still deserted passage and there was the policeman 20 yards away coming along with a leisureliness of one who knows that he has a certain area to patrol. He pulled himself to an attitude of watchful attention as Vinor ran up to him then suddenly recognizing Vinor as a well-known inhabitant touched the rim of his helmet. I say said Vinor in the hushed voice of one who imparts strange and confidential tidings. There is a man lying dead in the passage around here and without doubt murdered. There is blood all over his shirt front. The policeman stood stock still for the fraction of a second then he pulled out his whistle and blew loudly and insistently. Before the shrill had died away he was striding towards the passage with Vinor at his side. Did you find him, Mr. Vinor? He asked. I found him? Asserted Vinor, just now halfway down the passage. Sure he's dead, sir. Dead, yes, and murdered too and he was about to mention the hurrying young men but they had just then arrived at the mouth of the passage and the policeman once more drew out his whistle and blew more insistently than before. There's my sergeant and inspector not far off, he remarked. Some of them will be on the spot in a minute or two. Now then, sir. He marched down the passage to the dead man glanced at the lamp and turning on his own lantern directed its light on the body. God bless me. He muttered, Mr. Ashton. You know him? Yes, replied Vinor. Gent that came to live at number seven in your square a while back, Mr. Vinor. Answered the policeman. Australian or New Zealander, I fancy. He's gone right enough, sir, and knifed. You didn't see anybody about, sir? Yes, replied Vinor. That's just it. As I turned into the passage I met a young fellow running out of it in a great hurry. He ran into me and then shot off and came along and found this. The policeman bent lower and suddenly put a knowing finger on a certain of the dead man's pockets. Robbed, he said. No watch there, anyway, and nothing where you'd expect to find his purse. Robbery and murder. Murder for the sake of robbery. That's what it is, Mr. Vinor. West-born grove, you way you say this fellow went and five minutes start. Is it any good getting a doctor? Asked Vinor. A thousand doctors will do him no good, replied the policeman grimly. But there's Dr. Courtilion somewhere about here, number seven in the terrace. One of these back doors is his. We might call him. He turned the light of his lantern on the line of doors in the right-hand wall and finding the number he wanted pulled the bell. As its tinkle sounded somewhere up the yard behind, he thrust his vessel into Vinor's hand. Mr. Vinor, he said, go up to the end of the passage and blow on that as loud as you can, three times. I'll stand by here till you come back. If you don't hear or see any of our people coming from either direction, blow again. Vinor heard steps coming down the yard behind the doors he walked away and he heard more steps hurrying steps as he reached the end of the passage. He turned it to find an inspector searching from one part of the terrace, a constable from another. You're wanted down here, said Vinor as they all converged on him. There's been murder. One of your men's there. He gave me this whistle to summon further help. This way. The police followed him in silence down the passage. Another figure had come on the scene. Bending over the body and closely scrutinizing it in the light of the policeman's lantern was a man whom Vinor knew well enough by sight.  Yet, though he had often seen him Vinor did not know his name the police inspector, however evidently knew it well enough. What is it, Dr. Cortillon? He asked as he pushed himself to the front, is the man dead? Dr. Cortillon drew himself from his stooping position to his full height, a striking figure in his dressed jacket and immaculate linen. He glanced around at the expectant faces. The man's been murdered. He said in calm professional accents. He's been stabbed clean through the heart. Dead, yes, for several minutes. Who found him here? Demanded the inspector. I found him. Answered Vinor. He gave a hurried account of the whole circumstances as he knew them, the police watching him keenly. I should know the man again if I saw him. He concluded, I saw his face clearly enough as he passed me. The inspector bent down and hastily felt the dead man's pockets. Nothing at all here. He said as he straightened himself. No watch or chain or purse or anything looks like robbery as well as murder. Does anybody know him? I know who this gentleman is, sir. Answered the policeman to whom Vinor had first gone. He is a Mr. Ashton who came to live not so long since at number 7 in Markendale Square, close by Mr. Vinor there. I've heard that he came from the colonies. Do you know him? Asked the inspector, turning to Vinor. Only by sight. Answered Vinor. I've seen him know his name. I believe he has a wife and daughter. No, sir. Interrupted the policeman. He was a single gentleman. The young lady at number 7 is his ward and the older lady looked after her, sort of a companion. The inspector looked round. Other policemen attracted by the whistle were coming into the passage at each end and he turned to his sergeant. Put a man at the top and another man out. Sent for the divisional surgeon. Dr. Cortelion, will you see him when he comes along? I want him to see the body before its removal. Now, then, about these ladies they'll have to be told. He turned to Vinor. I understand you live close by them? He asked. Perhaps he'll go there with me. Vinor nodded and the inspector after giving a few more words of instruction to the sergeant together they went down the passage into Markendale Square. Been resident here long, Mr. Vinor? Asked the inspector as they emerged. I noticed that some of my men know you. I've only recently come into this part myself. Fifteen years, answered Vinor. Do you know anything of this dead man? Nothing, not so much as your constable knows. Policemen pick things up. These ladies say most unpleasant thing to have to go and break news like this. You know nothing about them, sir. Not even as much as your man knew. I've seen them often with him, the dead man. There's an elderly lady in a younger one, a mere girl. I took them for his wife and daughter, but you heard what your man said. Well, whatever they are, they've got to be told. I'd be obliged if you come with me, and then that fellow you saw running away. You'll have to give as near a description of him as you can. What number did my man say it was, seven? Vinor suddenly laid a hand on his companion's sleeve. A smart car that sort let out to hire from the more pretentious automobile establishments had just come round the corner and was being pulled up at the door of a house in whose porticoat front hung a brilliant lamp. There's number seven, said Vinor, and those are the two ladies. The inspector stopped and watched. The door of the house opened, letting a further flood of light on the broad step beneath the porticoat and on the pavement beyond. The door of the car opened, too, and a girl stepped out, and for a second or two stood in the full glare of the lamps. She was a slender, liesome young creature, gowned in white and muffled to the throat in an opera cloak out of which a fresh girlish face, bright in colour, sparkling of eye, crowned by a massive hair of the tint of dead gold, showed clearly air she rapidly crossed to the open door. After her came an elderly well-preserved woman in an elaborate evening toilet, the personification of the precise and conventional chaperone. The door closed, the car drove away, the inspector turned to Vinor with a shake of his head. Just home from the theatre, he said, and to hear this. Well, it's got to be done, Mr. Well. Vinor, who had often observed the girl whom they had just seen with an interest for which he had never troubled to account, found himself wishing that Miss Pankrich was there in his place. He did not know what part he was to play, what he was to do, or say. Worse than that, he did not know if the girl in his presence he would certainly find himself within a minute or two, was very fond of the man whom he had just found done to death. In that case but here his musings were cut short by the fact that the inspector had touched the bell in the portico of number seven and that the door had opened to reveal a smart and wandering parlor maid who glanced with surprise at the inspector's uniform. Hush! This is Mr. Ashton's, said the inspector. Yes, well. Now, what is the name of the lady, the elderly lady I saw come in just now? Keep quiet, there's a good girl. The fact is Mr. Ashton's had an accident and I want to see that lady. Mrs. Killenhall answered the parlor maid and the young lady, her name asked the inspector Miss Wickham the inspector walked inside the house. Just ask Mrs. Killenhall and Miss Wickham if they'll be good enough to see the inspector drill for it for a few minutes, he said. Then as the girl closed the door and turned away up the inner hall he whispered to the inspector. Better see both and be done with it. It's no use keeping bad news too long. They may as well know both. The parlor maid reappeared at the door of a room along the hall and the two men advancing in answer to her summons entered what was evidently the dining room of the house. The two ladies had thrown off their wraps. The younger one sat near a big cheery fire holding a slender fingers to the blaze. The elders stood facing the door in evident expectancy. The room itself was luxuriously furnished in a somewhat old fashioned, heavy style, something about it betokened wealth and comfort. And that its owner was expected home every minute was made evident to the two men by the fact that a spirit case was set on the center table with glasses and mineral waters and cigars. Finally remembered as his eyes encountered these things that a half burnt cigar lay close to the dead man's hand in that dark passage so close by. Mrs. Killingham Miss Wickham began drill for looking sharply from one to the other. Sorry to break in on you like this ladies but the fact is there has been an accident to Mr. Ashton and I'm obliged to come and tell you about it. Viner who had remained a little in the background was watching the faces of the two to whom this initial breaking of news was made and he saw at once that there was going to be no scene. The girl by the fire looked for an instant at the inspector with an expression of surprise but it was not the surprise of great personal concern. As for the elder woman after one quick glance from Drilford Diviner whom she evidently recognized she showed absolute self-possession. A bad accident she asked. Drilford again looked from the elder to the younger lady. She asked what relation you ladies are to Mr. Ashton. He said with a significant glance at Mrs. Killinghal. None replied Mrs. Killinghal. Miss Wickham is Mr. Ashton's ward. I am Miss Wickham's chaperone and companion. Well, ma'am said Drilford, then I may tell you that my news is just about as serious as it possibly could be you understand. In the silence that followed the girl turned toward the visitors and Viner saw her color change a little and it was she who first spoke. Don't be afraid to tell us. She said is Mr. Ashton dead. Drilford inclined his head and spoke as he was bitten. I am sorry to say he is he replied and still more to be obliged to tell you that he came to his death by violence. The truth is he paused looking from one to the other as if to gauge the effect of his words and again it was the girl who spoke. What is the truth? She asked. Murder. It's a Drilford just that. Mrs. Killinghal who had remained standing until then suddenly sat down with a murmur of horror but the girl was watching the inspector steadily. When was this and how and where? She inquired.  There's no doubt from what we can see that he was murdered for the sake of robbery and I want some information about him about his habits and Mrs. Wickham got up from her chair and looked meaningly at Mrs. Killinghal. The fact is she said turning to Drilford strange as it may seem neither Mrs. Killinghal nor myself know very much about Mr. Ashton. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of The Middle of Things This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher Chapter 3 Who was Mr. Ashton? For the first time since they had entered the room Drilford turned and glanced at Viner. His look indicated the idea which Miss Wickham's last words had set up in his mind. Here was a mystery. The police instinct was aroused by it. You don't know very much about Mr. Ashton, he said, turning back to the ladies. Yet you're under his roof. This is his house, isn't it? Just so, assented Miss Wickham. I say we don't know much. I mean what I say. Mrs. Killenhall has only known Mr. Ashton a few weeks and until two months ago I had not seen Mr. Ashton for twelve years. Therefore neither of us can know much about him. Would you mind telling me what you do know? asked Drilford. We've got to know something who he is and so on. All that I know is this, replied Miss Wickham. My father died in Australia when I was about six years old. My mother was already dead and my father left Mr. Ashton in charge of me. He sent me very soon after my father's death to school in England and there I remained for twelve years. About two months ago Mr. Ashton came to England, took this house, fetched me from school and got Mrs. Killenhall to look after me. Here we've all been ever since and I know scarcely anything. Drilford looked at the elder lady. I know, practically no more than Miss Wickham has told you, said Mrs. Killenhall. Mr. Ashton and I got in touch with each other through his advertisement in the morning post. We exchanged references and I came here. Ah! said Drilford and what might his reference be now? To his bankers the London and Orient in Thread Needle Street answered Mrs. Killenhall promptly and to his solicitors Crawl, Paul and Rattenbury of Bedford Bowell. Very satisfactory they were, no doubt ma'am, suggested Drilford. Mrs. Killenhall let her eye run round the appointments of the room. Eminently so, she said dryly, Mr. Ashton was a very wealthy man. Drilford pulled out a pocketbook and entered the names which Mrs. Killenhall had just mentioned. The solicitors will be able to tell something. He murmured as he put the book back. We'll communicate with them first thing in the morning, but just two questions before I go. Can you tell me anything about Mr. Ashton's usual habits? Had he any business? What did he do with his time? He was out a great deal, said Mrs. Killenhall. He used to go down to the city. He was often out of an evening. Once, since I came here, he was away for a week in the country. He didn't say where. He was an active man, always in and out. But he never said much as to where he went. The other question said Drilford is this. Did he carry much on him in the way of valuables or money? I mean, as a rule. He wore a very gold watch and chain. Answered Mrs. Killenhall. And as for money, well, he always seemed to have a lot in his purse. And he wore two diamond rings, very fine stones. Just so, murmured Drilford, set upon for the sake of those things, no doubt. Well, ladies, I shall telephone to Carl's first thing in the morning, and they'll send somebody along at once, of course. I'm sorry to have brought you such bad news, but he turned toward the door. Miss Wickham stopped him. Well, Mr. Ashton's body be brought here tonight? She asked. No, replied Drilford. It will be taken to the mortuary. If you leave everything to me, I'll see that you are spared as much as possible. Of course, there'll have to be an inquest, but you'll hear all about that tomorrow. Leave things to us and to Mr. Ashton's solicitors. He moved towards the door until then a silent spectator looked at Miss Wickham, something impelling him to address her instead of Mrs. Killenhall. I live close by you, he said, if there is anything that I can do, or that my aunt, Miss Pankridge, who lives with me, can do, perhaps you will let me call in the morning. The girl looked at him steadily and frankly. Thank you, Mr. Weiner. She said, it would be very kind if you would. We've got a lot of folks. Yes, please do. After breakfast, then, answered Weiner, and went away to join the inspector who had walked into the hall. What do you think of this matter? he asked, when they had got outside the house. Oh, a very clear and ordinary case enough, Mr. Weiner replied Drilford. No mystery about it at all. Here's this Mr. Ashton been living here some week, has noticed that he was a very rich man and more expensive jewelry, has watched him, probably knew that he used the passage as a shortcut, and has laid in wait for him, and murdered him for what he'd got on him. It wouldn't take two minutes to do the whole thing. Rings now, this book of diamond rings in there. Well, I didn't see any diamond rings on his hands when I looked at his body, and I particularly noticed his hands to see if there were signs of any struggle. No sir, it's just a plain case of what used to be called highway, robbery and murder. But come round with me to the police station, Mr. Weiner. They'll have taken him to the mortuary by now, and I should like to hear what our divisional surgeon has to say and what our people actually found on the body. As Weiner and the inspector walked into the police station, Dr. Cortillon came out. Drilford stopped him. Found out anything, doctor, he asked. Nothing beyond what I said at first, replied Cortillon. The man has been stabbed to the heart from behind in one particularly well-delivered blow. I should say the murderer had waited for him in that passage, probably knowing his habits. That passage now, you know it really will have to be seen too. That wretched old lamp in the middle gives no light at all. The wonder is that something of this sort hasn't occurred before. Drilford muttered something about local authorities and property owners and went forward into an office motioning Weiner to follow. The divisional surgeon was there in conversation with a sergeant whom Drilford had left in charge of the body. That is something on which I had stake my professional reputation, he said, I'm sure of it. What's that, doctor? Asked Drilford something to do with this affair. I was saying that whoever stabbed this unfortunate man had some knowledge of anatomy. Remarked the doctor, he was killed by one swift blow from a particularly keen-edged thin-bladed weapon which was driven through his back at the exact spot. You ought to make a minute search behind the walls on either side of that passage. The probability is that the murderer threw his weapon away. We'll do all that, doctor, said Drilford. As to your suggestion, don't you forget that there are a good many criminals here in London who are regular experts in the use of the knife. I have seen plenty of instances of that myself. Now, he went on, turning to the sergeant, about that search what did you find on him? The sergeant lifted the lid of a desk and pointed to a sheet of full-scap paper where on lay certain small articles at which Weiner gazed with a sense of strange fascination. A pen-knife, a small gold-match box, a gold-mounted pencil case, some silver coins, a handkerchief, and conspicuous among the rest, a farthing. That's the lot, said the sergeant, except another handkerchief and a pair of gloves in the overcoat where I've left them, nothing else, no watch, chain, purse, or pocketbook, and no rings, but it's very plain from his fingers that he wore two rings, each hand, third finger in each case. There you are, said Drilford with a glance at Weiner, murdered and robbed, clear case. Now, Mr. Weiner, give us as accurate a description as possible of the fellow who ran out of that passage. Weiner did his best. His recollections were of a young man of about his own age, about his own heightened build, somewhat above the medium. It was his impression, he said, that when he was dressed, if not shabbily at least poorly, he had an impression too, that the clean shaven face which he had seen for a brief moment was thin and worn. Got any recollection of his exact look? Inquired the inspector. That's a lot to go by. I'm trying to think, said Weiner. Yes, I should say he looked to be pretty hard up. There was a sort of desperate gleaming his eye, and take your time, remarked Drilford anything you can suggest, you know. Well, replied Weiner, I had an idea at the moment, and I've had it since, that I'd seen this man before. Something in his face was familiar. The only thing I can think of is this. I potter around old bookshops and curiosity shops a good deal. I may have seen this young fellow on some occasion of that sort. Anyway, suggested Drilford, glancing over the particulars which he had written down. You'd know him again if you saw him. Oh, certainly! asserted Weiner. I should know him anywhere. Then that's all we need trouble you with now, sir, said Drilford. The next business will be tomorrow. Weiner walked slowly out of the police station and still more slowly homeward. When he reached the first lamp he drew out his watch. Half past twelve. Just two hours ago he had been in his own comfortable library, smiling at Miss Pankridge's ideas about the very matters into one of which he was now plunged. He would not have been surprised if he had suddenly awoke to find that all this was a bad dream induced by the evening's conversation. But just then he came to the passage in which the murder had been committed. A policeman was on guard at the terrace and and Weiner, rather than here any more of the matter, hastened past him and made a circuitous way to Sandale Square. He let himself into his house as quietly as possible and contrary to taste and custom went into the dining room, switched on the electric light, and helped himself to a stiff glass of brandy and soda at the sideboard. When the mixture was duly prepared he forgot to drink it. He stood by the sideboard, the glass in his hand, his eyes staring at vacancy. Nor did he move when a very light foot stole down the stairs and missed pancreage in wraps and curl papers looked round the side of the door. Heaven's above, Richard. She exclaimed, What is the matter? I wondered if you were burglars. Half past twelve. Weiner suddenly became aware of the glass which he was unconsciously holding. He lifted it to his lips, wondering whatever it was that made his mouth feel so dry.  You were right. He said suddenly, There are queerer, stranger affairs in life than one fancies, and I I've been pitchforked, thrown clean into the middle of things. I! Miss pancreage came closer to him staring. She looked from him to the glass, from the glass to him. No, I haven't been drinking. Said Weiner with a harsh laugh. I'm drinking now, and I'm going to have another too. Listen. He pushed her gently into a chair and sitting himself on the edge of the table told her the adventure. And Miss pancreage, who was an admirable listener to fictitious tales of horror, proved herself no less admirable in listening to one of plain fact and made no comment until her nephew had finished. That poor man! He said at last such a fine, strong-looking man too. I used to wonder about him when I saw him in the square. I used to think of him as somebody who had seen things. Weiner made a sudden grimace. Don't! He said, I've seen things tonight that I never wish to see and I wish what? Demanded Miss pancreage after a pause during which Weiner had sat staring at the floor. I wish to God I'd never seen that poor devil who was running away. I exclaimed Weiner with sudden passion. They'll catch him and I shall have to give evidence against him and my evidence will hang him. And there's a lot to do and a lot'll happen before that comes off, Richard. Interrupted Miss pancreage. The man may be innocent. He'd have a nice job to prove it. Said Weiner with a force left. No, if the police get him besides he was running straight from the place.  He went on laughing again.  I wonder what it feels like when you've just murdered another fellow to slink off like. You have no business to be wondering any such thing. Said Miss pancreage sharply. Here, get yourself another brandy and sewed and let us talk business. These two women did they feel it much? They puzzled me, replied Weiner. He took his aunt's advice about the extra glass and obeyed her, too, when she silently pointed to a box of cigars which lay on the sideboard. All right, he said, after a minute or two I'm not going to have nerves. What was I saying? They puzzled me. Yes, puzzled. Especially the girl. She seemed so collected about everything and yet, according to her own story she's only just out of the school room. You'll go round there with me. If we can't give any service to them, certainly. Ascented Miss pancreage. The girl said they'd know menfolk. Remarked Weiner. In that case I shall certainly go. Said Miss pancreage. Now, Richard, smoke your cigar and think no more about all this till tomorrow. Weiner flung himself into an easy chair. All right, he said, don't bother. It's been a bit of a facer, but he was astonished when he woke the next morning much later than was his want to find that he had not dreamed about the events of the midnight. And he was his usual practical and cool-headed self when, at eleven o'clock, he stood waiting in the hall from Miss pancreage to go round with him to number seven. But the visit was not to be paid just then as they were about to leave the house. A police officer came hurrying up in a costed Weiner. Inspector Drilford's compliments, and would Mr. Weiner come round? Then the messenger gave a knowing grin. We've got the man, sir. He whispered. That's why you're wanted. End of chapter three. Who was Mr. Ashton? Chapter four of the middle of things. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The middle of things by J. S. Fletcher. Chapter four. The Ring and the Knife Weiner was hoping that the police had got hold of the wrong man as he reluctantly walked into Drilford's office. But one glance at the inspector's confident face alert and smiling showed him that Drilford himself had no doubts on that point. Well, Mr. Weiner, he said, with a triumphant laugh, we haven't been so long about it, you see. Quicker work than I'd anticipated, too. Are you sure you've got the right man? asked Weiner. I mean, have you got the man I saw running away from the passage? You shall settle that yourself, answered Drilford. Come this way. He led Weiner down a corridor through one or two locked doors and motioning him to tread softly drew back a sliding panel in the door of a cell and silently pointed. Weiner, with a worse sickness than before, stole up and looked through the barred opening. One glance at the man sitting inside the cell, white-faced, staring at the drab bare wall was enough. He turned to Drilford and nodded. Drilford nodded, too, and led him back to the office. That's the man I saw, said Weiner. Of course! Ascented Drilford, I had no doubt of it. Well, it's been a far simpler thing than I dare to hope. I'll tell you how we got him. This morning, about ten o'clock, this chap who won't give his name went into the pawnbroker's shop in Edgware Road and asked for a loan on a diamond ring which he produced. Now, Pelver, who happened to attend to him himself, is a good deal of an expert in diamonds. He's a jeweler as well as a pawnbroker and he sought once that the diamond in this ring was well worth all of a thousand pounds, a gem of the first water. He was therefore considerably astonished when his customer asked for a loan of ten pounds on it, still more so when the fellow suggested that Pelver should buy it outright for twenty-five. Pelver asked him some questions as to his property in the ring. He made some excuses about it having been in his family for some time and that he would be glad to realize on it. Under pretense of examining it, Pelver took the ring to another part of his shop and quietly sent for a policeman. And the end was this officer brought the man here with Pelver with him and the ring. Here it is. He opened his safe and produced a diamond ring at which Viner stared with feelings for which he could scarcely account. How do you know that's one of Mr. Ashton's rings? he asked. Oh, I soon solved that, laughed Drilford. I hurried round to Markendale Square with it at once. Both the ladies recognized it. Mr. Ashton had often shown it to them and told them its value and there's Mark of his inside it and so we arrested him and there he is. Clear case. What did he say? Asked Viner. He's a curious customer, replied Drilford. I should say that whatever he is now he has been a gentleman. He was extremely nervous and so on while we were questioning him about the ring but when it came to the crucial point and I charged him and warned him he turned strangely cool. I'll tell you what he said in his exact words. I'm absolutely innocent of that. He said. But I can see that I've pleased myself in a very strange position and after that he would say no more. He hasn't even asked to see a solicitor. What will be done next? Asked Viner. He'll be brought before the magistrate in an hour or two, said Drilford. Formal proceedings for a remand, you know. I shall want you there, Mr. Viner. It won't take long. The fellow would tell us who he is. And I wish I could remember where and when I've seen him before. exclaimed Viner. Ah, that's still your impression? remarked Drilford. You're still convinced of it. More than ever since seeing him just now. affirmed Viner. I know his face but that's all I can say. I suppose he continued looking differently at the inspector as if he half expected to be laughed at for the suggestion he was about to make. Suppose you don't believe that this unfortunate fellow may have some explanation of his possession of Mr. Ashton's ring. Drilford, who had been replacing the ring in a safe, locked the door upon with a snap and turned on his questioner with a look which became more and more business-like and official with each succeeding word. Now, Mr. Viner, he said, you look at it from our point of view. An elderly gentleman is murdered and robbed. A certain man is seen by you as it happens running away as fast as he can from the scene of the murder. Next morning that very man is found trying to get rid of a ring which, without doubt, was taken from the murdered man's finger. What do you think? Or, another question, what could we, police officials, do? Nothing but what you're doing, I suppose, said Viner. Still, there may be a good deal that's what shall I say behind all this? It's for him to speak, observed Drilford nodding in the direction of the cells. He's got a bell within which of his fingers. He's only got to ring it and to ask for me or any solicitor he likes to name. But we shall see. Nothing had been seen or heard in the way hinted at by Drilford when an hour later, Viner, waiting in the neighboring police court, was aware that the humdrum sordid routine was about to be interrupted by something unusual. The news of an arrest in connection about the Lonsdale passage murder had somehow leaked out and the court was packed to the doors. Viner himself had gradually been forced into a corner under the witness box in which he was to make an unwilling appearance, and from that corner he looked with renewed interest at the man who was presently placed in the dock, and for the hundredth time asked himself what it was in his face that woke some court of memory in him. There was nothing of the criminal in the accused man's appearance, apparently about thirty years of age, spare of figure, clean shaven, of a decidedly intellectual type of countenance. He looked like an actor. His much-worn suit of tweed was well cut and had evidently been carefully capped in spite of its undoubtedly threadbare condition. It and the worn and haggard look of the man's face denoted poverty, if not recent actual privation, and the thought was present in more than one mind there in possession of certain facts. If this man had really owned the ring which he had offered to the pawnbroker, why had he delayed so long in placing himself in funds through its means? For if his face expressed anything it was hunger. Viner, who was now witnessing police court proceedings for the first time in his life, felt an almost morbid curiosity in hearing the tale unfolded against the prisoner. For some reason best known to themselves the police brought forward more evidence than was usual on first proceedings before a magistrate. Viner himself proved the finding of the body, the divisional surgeon spoke as to the cause of death, the dead man's solicitor testified to his identity and swore positively as to the ring. The pawnbroker gave evidence as to the prisoner's attempt to pawn or sell that morning. Finally the police proved that on searching the prisoner after his arrest a knife was found in his hip pocket which in the opinion of the divisional surgeon would have caused the wound found on the dead man's body. From a superficial aspect no case could have seemed clearer. But in Viner's reckoning of things there was a mystery. Two episodes occurred during the comparatively brief proceedings that all was not being brought out. The first was when he himself went into the witness box to prove his discovery of the body and to swear that the prisoner was the man who he had seen running away from the passage. The accused glanced at him with evident curiosity as he came forward on hearing Viner's name. He looked at him in a strange manner, changed color and turned his head away. But when a certain question was put to Viner he looked around again evidently anxious to hear the answer. I believe you thought on first seeing him that the prisoner's face was familiar to you Mr. Viner? Yes, I certainly think that I have seen him before somewhere. You can't recollect more. You don't know when or where you saw him. I don't, but that I have seen him perhaps met him somewhere I am certain. This induced the magistrate to urge the accused man who had previously refused to give name or address to reveal his identity, but the prisoner only shook his head. I would rather not give my name at present, he answered. I am absolutely innocent of this charge of murder, but I quite realize that the police are fully justified in bringing it against me. I had nothing whatever to do with Mr. Ashton's death, nothing. Perhaps the police will find out the truth and meanwhile I had rather not give my name. You will be well advised to reconsider that, said the magistrate. If you are innocent, as you say, it will be far better for you to say who you are and to see a solicitor. As things are, you are in a very dangerous position. But the prisoner shook his head. Not yet at any rate, he answered. I want to hear more. When the proceedings were over and the accused, formally remanded for a week, had been removed to the cells previous to being taken away, Viner went around to Drilford's office. Look here, he said abruptly, finding the inspector alone. I daresay you think I am very foolish, but I don't believe that chap murdered Ashton. I don't believe it for one second. Drilford, who was filling up some papers, smiled. No, he said, now why, Mr. Viner? You can call the intuition if you like, answered Viner, but I don't, and I shall be surprised if I am not right. Certain things that I should think would strike you. What, for instance, asked Drilford, do you think it likely that a man who must have known that a regular human cry would be raised about that murder would be such a fool as to go and offer one of the murdered man's rings within a mile of the spot where the murder took place? Asked Viner. Drilford turned and looked steadily at his questioner. Well, but that's precisely what he did, Mr. Viner, he exclaimed. There's no doubt whatever that the ring in question was Ashton's. There's also no doubt that this man did offer it to Pelver this morning.  Why then, demanded Viner, because he was just starving. Answered Drilford, when he brought in here straight from Pelver's he had in a half penny on him, and in the very thick of my questionings I just think how important they were, he stopped me. May I say a word that's just now much more important to me than all this? He said, I'm starving. I haven't touched food or drink for nearly three days. Give me something if it's only a crust of bread. That's a fact, Mr. Viner. What did you do? inquired Viner. Got the poor chap some breakfast at once, answered Drilford, and let him alone till he'd finished. Have you ever seen a starved dog eat? No, well, I have and he ate like that, he was ravenous. And when a man's at that stage do you think he's going to stop at anything? Not he. This fellow, you may be sure, after killing and robbing Ashton had but one thought, how soon he could convert some of the property into cash so that he could eat. If Pelver had made him that advance or bought the ring he'd have made a beeline for the nearest coffee shop. I tell you he was mad for food. Another thing, said Viner, where is the rest of Mr. Ashton's property? His watch, chain, the other ring, his purse, and, wasn't there a pocketbook? How is it this man wasn't found in possession of them? Easy enough for him to hide all those things, Mr. Viner. Said Drilford with an indulgent smile. What, easier? You don't know as much of these things as I do. He could quite easily plant all those articles safely during the night. He just stuck to the article which he could most easily convert into money. Well, I don't believe he's guilty, repeated Viner, and I want to do something for him. You may think me quiotic, but I'd like to help him. Is there anything to prevent you from going to him, telling him that I'm convinced of his innocence and that I should like to get him help, legal help? There's nothing to prevent it, to be sure, answered Drilford. But, Mr. Viner, you can't get over the fact that this fella had Ashton's diamond ringing his possession. How do I—how do you know how he came into possession of it, demanded Viner? And then he had knife, exclaimed Drilford. Look here, I've got it. What sort of thing is that for an innocent, harmless man to carry about him? It's an American bowy knife. He opened a drawer and exhibited a weapon which, lying on a pile of paper, looked singularly suggestive and fearsome. I don't care, said Viner with a certain amount of stubbornness. I'm convinced that the man didn't kill Ashton, and I want to help him. I'm a man of considerable means, and in this case, well, that's how I feel about it. Drilford made no answer, but presently he left the room after pointing Viner to a chair. Viner waited five—ten minutes. Then the door opened again and Drilford came back. Behind him walked the accused man, with a couple of policemen in attendance upon him. There, Mr. Viner, said Drilford, you can speak to him yourself. Viner rose from his chair. The prisoner stepped forward, regarding him earnestly. Viner. He said in a low concentrated tone. Don't you know me? I'm Langton Hyde. You and I were at Rugby together, and we meet again. Here. End of Chapter 4. The Ring and the Knife Chapter 5 of the Middle of Things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Middle of Things by J.S. Fletcher Chapter 5 Look for that man. At these words Viner drew back with an exclamation of astonishment. But in the next instant he stepped forward again, holding out his hand. Hide! he said. Then that's what I remembered! Of course I know you, but good heavens, man! What does all this mean? To this? To be here in this place? The prisoner looked round at his captors and back at Viner and smiled as a man smiles, who is beginning to realize hopelessness to the full. I don't know if I'm allowed to speak, he said. Drilford, who had been watching this episode with keen attention, motioned to the two policemen. Wait outside, he said abruptly. Now then, he continued when he, Viner and Hyde were alone. This man can say anything he likes to you, Mr. Viner, so long as you've asked to see him. This is all irregular, but I've no wish to stop him from telling you whatever he pleases, but remember, he went on glancing at the prisoner, you're saying it before me, and in my opinion you'd a deal better have said something when you were in court just now. I didn't know what to say, replied Hyde doubtfully. I'm pretty much on the rocks, as you can guess, but I have relatives, and if it's possible I don't want them to know about this. Drilford looked at Viner and shook his head as if to signify his contempt of Hyde's attitude. Considering the position you're in, he said, turning again to Hyde, you must see that it's impossible that your relative should be kept from knowing. You'll have to give particulars about yourself sooner or later, and charges of murder like this can't be kept out of the newspapers. Tell me Hyde, exclaimed Viner, look here now, to begin with you didn't kill this man. Hyde shook his head in a puzzled fashion, something was evidently causing him surprise. I didn't know the man was killed or dead until they brought me here from that pawnbroker's this morning, he said. Then he laughed almost contemptuously and with some slight show of spirit. Do you think it was to try to pawn or sell a ring that belonged to a man who'd just been murdered? He demanded.  Viner looked around at Drilford. There. He said quietly, what did I tell you? Isn't that what I said? You're on the wrong track, Inspector. But Drilford, sternly official in manners, shook his head. How did he come by the ring then? He asked, pointing at his prisoner, let him say. Hyde, said Viner, tell. I've been certain for an hour that you didn't kill this man, and I want to help you. But tell us the truth. What do you know about it? How did you get that ring? I shall make use of anything he tells. Remarked Drilford, warningly. He's going to tell everything. Said Viner, come now. Hyde, the truth. Hyde suddenly dropped into a chair by which he was standing and pressed his hand over his face with a gesture which seemed to indicate a certain amount of bewilderment. Let me sit down. He said, I'm weak. Tired too. Until this morning I hadn't had a mouth full of food for a long time, and I'd well, I'd been walking about night as well as day. I was walking about all yesterday and a lot of last night. I'm pretty nearly done if you want to know. Take your time. Said Here, wait a bit. He went on after a sudden glance at his prisoner. Keep quiet a minute. He turned a cupboard in the corner of the room and presently came back with something in a glass. Drink that, he said, not unkindly. Drop of weak brand in water, he muttered to Viner. Do him no harm. I see how it is with him. He's been starving. Hyde caught the last word and laughed feebly as he handed the glass back. Starving. He said, yes, that's it. I hope neither of you will know what it means. Three days without, now Hyde. Interrupted Viner, never mind that. You won't starve again. Come. Tell us all about this. Tell everything. Hyde bent forward in his chair, but after a look at the two men his eyes sought the floor and moved from one plank to another as if he found it difficult to find a fixed point. I don't know where to begin, Viner. Last you see, you've never met me since we left school. I went in for medicine. I was at Bart's for a time, but, well, I was no good somehow, and then I went in for the stage. I've had some fairly decent engagements, both here and in the States now and then, but you know what a precarious business that is. And some time ago I struck a real bad patch and I've been out of a job for months and lately it's gone from bad to worse, you know, or rather I suppose you didn't know. You don't know because you've never been in that fix pawning everything and so on until well, I haven't had a pen in my pockets for days now. Your relations? Question, Viner. Didn't want them to know? Answered Hyde. The fact is I haven't been on good terms with them for a long time and I've got some pride left or I had until yesterday. But here's the truth. I had to clear out of my lodgings which was nothing but an attic, three days since and I've been wondering about literally hunger homeless since that. If it hadn't been for that I should never have been in this whole and that's due to circumstances that beat me for I tell you again I don't know anything about this man's murder, at least not about it actually. What do you know? asked Viner tell us plainly. I'm going to. Responded Hyde. I was hanging about the park and around Kensington Gardens most of yesterday. Then at night I got wondering about this park didn't seem to matter much where I went. You don't know either of you what it means to wander around starving. You get into a sort of comatose state you just go on and on. Well last night I was walking in that way in and out about these base water squares. I got into Markendale Square. As I was going along the top side of it I noticed a passage and turned into it as I've said when a man's in the state I was in no matter where he slouches anywhere. I turned into that passage I tell you just aimlessly as a man came walking out. Viner, look for that man. Find him. He's the fellow this police want if there's been a murder. Keep calm Hyde said Viner. Go on quietly. This man passed me and went on into the square continued Hyde. I went up the passage. It was very dark except in the middle where there's an old fashioned lamp and I saw another man who was lying across the flags. I don't know that I had any impression about him. I was too sick and weary. I believe I thought he was drunk or ill or something but you see at the same instant that I saw him I saw something else which drove him clean out of my mind. In fact as soon as I'd seen it I never thought about him anymore nor looked at him again. What was it? demanded Viner certain of what the answer would be. A diamond ring? replied Hyde. It was lying on the flags closed by the man. The light from the lamp fell full on it. I snatched it up, thrust it into my pocket and ran off the passage. I ran into somebody at the far end. It turns out to have been you. Well you saw me hurry off. I got as far away as I could lest you or somebody else should follow. I wandered round Westburn Grove and then up into the Harrow Road and in a sort of back street there I sneaked into a shanty in a yard and stopped in it the rest of the night and this morning I tried to pawn the ring. Having no idea of its value suggested Viner with a glance at Drilford who was listening to everything with an immovable countenance. I thought it might be worth 30 or 40 pounds. Of course I had no idea that it was worth what it's been said. You see I'm fairly presentable and I thought I could tell a satisfactory story if I was asked anything at the pawn shop. I didn't anticipate any difficulty about pawning the ring. I didn't think there'd have been any if it hadn't been for its value. A thousand pounds. Of course I had no idea of that. And that's the whole truth asked Viner. It's the whole truth as far as I'm concerned answered Hyde. I certainly picked up that ring in that passage close by this man who was lying there. But I didn't know he was dead. I didn't know he had been murdered. All I know is that I was absolutely famishing, desperate in no condition to think clearly about anything. I guess I should do the same thing again under the circumstances. I only wish. He paused and began muttering to himself and the two listeners glanced at each other. You only wish what Hyde? asked Viner. I wish it had been a half crown instead of that ring. Said Hyde with a queer flashing glance I could have got a bed for four pens and I've lived for three days on the rest. And now... Viner made no remark and Drilford who was leaning against his desk watching his prisoner closely tapped Hyde on the shoulder Can you describe the man who came out of the passage as you entered it? he asked Be accurate now.  Yes he answered you know or you don't know how your mental faculties get opened by hunger. I was dull enough in one way but alert enough in another. I can describe the man as much as I saw of him. A tall man neither broad nor slender half and half dressed in black from top to toe. A silk hat patent leather boots and muffled to the eyes in a white silk handkerchief. Couldn't you see his face? asked Drilford. He was clean shaved or bearded or what. I tell you he was muffled to the very eyes.  Then you'd have difficulty knowing him again. Observed Drilford. There are a few thousand men in the west end of London who'd answer the description you've given. All right, muttered Hyde doggedly but I know what I saw and if you want to help me find that man because he must have come straight away from the body. Drilford turned to the diviner glancing at the same time at the clock. Do you want to ask him any more questions? he inquired. No. Well, there's just one I want to ask. What were you doing with that knife in your possession? He went on turning to Hyde. Be careful now you heard what the doctor said about it in court. I've nothing to conceal.  I bought that knife when I was out west and I've carried it in my pocket ever since. Drilford looked again at Weiner. He'll have to go now. He said if you're going to employ legal help for him the solicitor will know where and when he can see him. He paused on his way to the door and looked a little doubtfully at his prisoner. I'll give you a bit of advice. He said not as an official but as an individual. If you want to clear yourself you better give all the information you can. I'll send my own solicitor to you Hyde at once said Vanir. said Weiner. Be absolutely frank with him about everything. When Weiner was once more alone with Drilford the two men looked at each other. My own impression said Weiner after a significant silence is that we have just heard the plain truth. I'm going to work on it anyway. In that case Mr. Weiner there's no need for me to say anything. remarked Drilford it may be the plain truth but as I am what I am all I know is a first hand evidence against this young fellow so he really was a schoolmate of yours. Certainly said Weiner his people live or did live in the north I shall have to get into communication with them but now what about the information he gave you this man he saw Drilford shook his head Mr. Weiner he said he answered you don't understand police methods we've got very strong evidence against Hyde we know nothing about a tall man in a white muffler if you want to clear Hyde you'd better do what he suggested find that man I wish you may if he ever existed you don't believe Hyde asked Weiner it's not required to believe anything sir unless I've good proof of it said Drilford with a significant smile if there is any mystery in this murder well let's hope something will clear it up Weiner went away troubled and thoughtful and remembered Hyde well enough now though so many years had elapsed since their last meeting and he was genuinely convinced of his innocence there had been a ring of truth in all that he had said who then was the guilty man and had robbery been the real motive of the murder might it not have been that Ashton had been murdered for some quite different motive and that the murderer had hastily removed the watch chain purse and rings from the body with the idea of diverting suspicion the priest had dropped one of the rings if only one knew more about Ashton and his affairs used Weiner even his own people don't seem to know much this reminded him of his promise to call on Miss Wickham he glanced at his watch it was not yet one o'clock the proceedings before the magistrate and the subsequent talk with Hyde had occupied comparatively little time so Weiner walked rapidly to number seven in the square intent on doing something toward clearing Hyde the charge brought against him the parlor maid whom he had seen the night before admitted him at once it seemed to Weiner that he was expected she led him straight to a room in which Mrs. Killenhall and Miss Wickham were in conversation with an elderly man who looked at Weiner with considerable curiosity when his name was mentioned and who was presently introduced to him as Mr. Ashton's solicitor Mr. Paul of Crawl, Paul and Rattenberry Chapter 5 Look for that man Chapter 6 of The Middle of Things This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher Chapter 6 Speculations Mr. Paul an alert-looking sharp-eyed little man whom Weiner once recognized as having been present in the magistrates court when Hyde was brought up smiled as he shook hands with a new visitor you don't know me Mr. Weiner he said but I knew your father very well he and I did a lot of business together in our time you haven't followed his profession I gather I'm afraid I haven't any profession Mr. Paul answered Weiner I'm a student and a bit a very little bit of a writer I, well your father was a bit in that way too remarked Mr. Paul I remember that he was a great collector of books you have his library no doubt yes and I'm always adding to it said Weiner I shall be glad to show you my editions any time Mr. Paul turned to the two ladies waving his hand at Weiner knew his father most intimately he said as if he were guaranteeing the younger man's status fine fellow was Stefan Weiner well he continued dropping into a chair Mr. Weiner to another this is a sad business that we've got concerned in young man now what do you think of the proceedings we've just heard your opinion Mr. Weiner is probably better worth having than anybody's for you saw this fellow running away from the scene and you found my unfortunate client lying dead what frankly is your opinion I'd better tell you something that's just happened replied Weiner my opinion he concluded is that Hyde is speaking the plain truth that all he really did was as he affirms to pick up that ring and run away I don't believe he murdered Mr. Ashton and I'm going to do my best to clear him he looked around from one listener to another seeking opinion from each Mr. Paul maintained a professional imperturbability Mrs. Killenhall looked mildly excited on hearing this new theory but from this Mr. Weiner got a flash of intelligent comprehension the real thing is this she said none of us know anything about Mr. Ashton really he may have had enemies Paul rubbed his chin the action suggested perplexity Miss Wickham is quite right he said Mr. Ashton is more or less a man of mystery he'd been here in England two months his ward knows next to nothing about him except that she was left in his ship many a year ago that he sent her to England to school and that he recently joined her here Mrs. Killenhall knows no more than that he engaged her as chaperone to his ward and that they exchanged references his references were to his bankers and to me but neither his bankers nor I know anything of him except that he was a very well to do man I can tell precisely what his bankers know it is merely this he transferred his banking account from Australian bank to them on coming to London I saw them this morning on first getting the news they have about two hundred thousand pounds lying to his credit that's absolutely all they know about him all the Australian bankers would know more suggested Weiner precisely agreed Mr. Paul we can get news from them in time but now what do I know no more than this Mr. Ashton called on me about six or seven weeks ago he was an Australian who had come to settle in London that he was pretty well off and that he wanted to make a will we drafted a will on his instructions and he duly executed it here it is Miss Wickham has just seen it Mr. Ashton has left every penny he had to Miss Wickham he told me she was the only child of an old friend of his who had given her into his care on his death out in Australia some years ago and that as he, Ashton, had no near relations he had always intended to leave her all he had and so he has without condition or reservation or anything all is yours Miss Wickham and I'm your executor but now, continued Mr. Paul how far does this take us towards solving the mystery of my client's death so far as I can see next to nowhere and I am certain of this Mr. Weiner if we are going to solve it and if this old school friend of yours is being unjustly accused we must find out more about Ashton's doings since he came to London the secret lies there I quite agree answered Weiner but who knows anything Mr. Paul looked at the two ladies that's a stiff question he said the bankers tell me that Ashton only called on them two or three times he called on me not often neither they nor I ever had much conversation with him these two ladies should know more about him than anybody seemed to know little Weiner who was sitting opposite to her looked at Miss Wickham you must know something about his daily life he said what did he do with himself we told you and the police inspector pretty nearly all we know last night replied Miss Wickham as a rule he used to go out of a morning I think from his conversation he used to go down to the city I don't think it was on business I think he liked to look about him sometimes he came home to lunch sometimes he didn't very often he in the afternoon he took us for motor rides into the country sometimes he took us to the theatres he used to go out a good deal alone at night we don't know where did he ever mention any club asked Mr. Paul no never replied Miss Wickham he was reticent about himself always very kind and thoughtful and considerate for Mrs. Killenhall and myself he deserved men did he ever have any one to see him inquire the solicitor any man to dine or anything of that sort no not once no one has ever even called on him said Miss Wickham we have had two or three dinner parties but the people who came were friends of mine two or three girls who I knew at school who are now married and live in London a lonely sort of man commented Mr. Paul yet he must have known people where did he go when he went into the city where did he go at night there must be somebody somewhere who can tell more about him I think it will be well if I ask for information through the newspapers there is one matter we haven't mentioned said Mrs. Killenhall just after we got settled down here Mr. Ashton went away for some days three or four days that of course may be quite insignificant do you know where he went asked Mr. Paul no we don't know answered Mrs. Killenhall he went away one Monday morning saying that now everything was in order we could spare him for a few days he returned on the following Thursday or Friday I forgot which but he didn't tell us where he'd been you don't think any of the servants would know asked Mr. Paul oh dear me no replied Mrs. Killenhall he was the sort of man who rarely speaks to his servants Mr. Paul looked at his watch and rose well he said we shall have to find out more about my late client's habits in whom he knew in London there may have been a motive for this murder of which we know nothing are you coming Mr. Weiner I should like a word with you Weiner too had risen he looked at Mrs. Wickham I hope my aunt called on you this morning he asked I was coming with her but I had to go round to the police station indeed thank you said Mrs. Wickham I hope she'll come again we shall both be glad to do anything said Weiner please don't hesitate about sending round for me if there's anything at all I can do he followed Mr. Paul into the square and turned him towards his own house come and lunch with me he said we can talk over this at our leisure thank you I will answered Mr. Paul very pleased between you and me Mr. Weiner this is a very queer business I believe the story that young fella hide tells I wish he told it straight out in court but you must see that he's in a very dangerous position very dangerous indeed the police of course won't credit a word of his tale not they've got a strong prima facie case against him and they'll follow it up for all their worth the real thing to do if you're to save him is to find the real murderer and to do that you will need all your wits if one only had some theory Weiner introduced Mr. Paul to Miss Pankridge with the remark that she was something of an authority in mysteries and as soon as they had sat down to lunch told her of Langton hide and his statement just so said Miss Pankridge dryly that's much more likely to be the real truth than that this lad killed Ashton there's a great deal more in this murder than he's on the surface and I dare say Mr. Paul agrees with me I dare say I do assented Mr. Paul the difficulty is how to penetrate into the thick cloak of mystery when I was around there at number 7 this morning observed Miss Pankridge those two talked very freely to me about Mr. Ashton now there's one thing struck me at once there must be men in London who knew him he couldn't go out and about as he evidently did without meeting men even if it wasn't in business he'd meet men somewhere and if I were you I should invite men to come forward and tell what they know it shall be done very good advice man said Mr. Paul and there's another thing said Miss Pankridge I should find out what can be told about Mr. Ashton where he came from I believe you can get telegraphic information from Australia within a few hours why not go to the expense when there's so much at stake depend upon it the real secret of this murder lies back in the past perhaps the far past that too shall be done agreed Mr. Paul I shouldn't be surprised if you're right in my opinion remarked Miss Pankridge dryly the robbing of this dead man was all blind robbery wasn't the motive murder was a thing in view and why it may have been revenge maybe that Ashton had to be got out of the way and I shouldn't wonder if that isn't at the bottom of it which is at the top and bottom of pretty nearly everything and that ma'am asked Mr. Paul who evidently admired Miss Pankridge's shrewd observation that is what now money say Miss Pankridge money the old solicitor went away promising to get to work on the line suggested by Miss Pankridge and next day he telephoned to Weiner asking him to go down to his offices Weiner hurried off and on arriving found Mr. Paul with a and on arriving found Mr. Paul with a cablegram before him I send a pretty long message to Melbourne to Ashton's old bankers as soon as I left yesterday he said I gave them the news of his murder and asked for certain information here's their answer I rang you up as soon as I got it Weiner read the cablegram carefully deeply regret news Ashton well known here 30 years dealer in real estate respected wealthy quiet man bachelor have made inquiries in quarters likely to know cannot trace anything about friend named Wickham Ashton was away from Melbourne upcountry four years some years ago may have known Wickham then Ashton left here in July by Marrakebo from London was accompanied by two friends Stephens please inform if can do more What do you think of that asked Mr. Paul not much and it is there There's the mention of two men who might know something of Ashton's habits said Weiner if Fosdick and Stephens are still in England and were Ashton's friends one would naturally conclude that he had seen them sometimes yet we haven't heard of their ever going to his house We can be quite certain that they never did from what the two ladies say remarked Mr. Paul perhaps they don't live in London but I'll advertise for both but now here's another matter I asked these people if they could tell me anything about Wickham the father of this girl to whom Ashton's left this very considerable fortune well you see they can't now it's a very curious thing but Ms. Wickham has no papers has in fact nothing whatever to prove her identity nor have I Ashton left nothing of that sort no more and she knows no more than what he told both of us that her father died when she was a mere child her mother already being dead that the father left her in Ashton's guardianship and that Ashton after sending her here to school eventually came and took her to live with him there isn't a single document really to show who she is who her father was or anything about her family is that very important asked Weiner it's decidedly odd this affair seems to be getting more mysterious than ever what's to be done next inquired Weiner well the newspapers are always very good about that answer the solicitor I'm getting them to insert paragraphs asking the two men Faustic and Stephens to come forward and tell us if they've seen anything of Ashton since he came to England I'm also asking if anybody can tell us where Ashton was when he went away from home on that visit that Mrs. Kirlenhal spoke of just then a clerk came into Mr. Paul's room and bending down to him whispered a few words which evidently occasioned him great surprise at once he said bring them straight in Parkinson God bless me he exclaimed turning to Weiner here are the two men in question Faustic and Stephens saw our name in the paper as Ashton solicitors and want to see me urgently end of chapter 6 speculations Chapter 7 of the middle of things this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the middle of things by J.S. Fletcher Chapter 7 what was a secret the two men who were presently ushered in were typical Colonials hefty fellows as yet in early middle age alert evidently prosperous if their attire and appointments were anything to go by and each was obviously deeply interested in the occasion of his visit to Mr. Paul two pairs of quick eyes took in the old solicitor and his companion and the elder of the men came forward in a business like manner Mr. Paul I understand he said I'm Mr. Faustic of Melbourne, Victoria and his friend Mr. Stephens same place take a seat Mr. Faustic have this chair Mr. Stephens responded Mr. Paul you wish to see me on business that's so answered Faustic as the two men seated themselves by the solicitor's desk we saw your name in the newspapers this morning in connection with the murder of John Ashton now we knew John Ashton he was a Melbourne man too and we can tell something about him because Mr. Paul what we can tell is maybe more a matter for a lawyer than for a policeman it's mysterious gentlemen said Mr. Paul I'll be frank with you I recognized your names as soon as my clerk announced them here's a cablegram which I have just received from Melbourne you'll see your names mentioned in it the two callers bent over the cablegram and Faustic looked up and nodded yes that's right he said I remember with John Ashton in the Marikibo we knew him pretty well before that most folk in Melbourne did but of course we were thrown into his company on board ship rather more than we'd ever been before and we very much regret to hear of what's happened to him you say there is something you can tell observed Mr. Paul if it's anything that will help to solve the mystery of this murder for there is a mystery I shall be very glad to hear it and Stephens glanced at each other and then at Weiner who sat a little in Mr. Paul's rear partner of yours asked Faustic not at all this gentleman replied Mr. Paul he is Mr. Weiner it was he who found Ashton's dead body they were neighbors well you found the body of a very worthy man sir remarked Faustic gravely and we'd like to do something toward finding the man who killed him for we don't think it was this young fellow who's charged with it nor that robbery was the motive we think John Ashton was removed put out of the way why now? asked Mr. Paul I'll tell you replied Faustic my friend Stephens here is a man of few words he credits me with more talkativeness than he'll lay claim to so I'm to tell the tale there may not be much in it and there may be a lot we think there's a big lot it comes to Ashton was a close man a reserved man however one night when the three of us were having a quiet cigar in a corner of the smoking saloon in the marikibo he opened out to us a bit we'd been talking about getting over to England with all three emigrated you'll understand when we were very young and the talk ran on what we'd do Faustic and Stephens DC were only on a visit which is just coming to an end Mr. Paul we sail home in a day or two but Ashton was returning home for good and he said to us in a sort of burst of confidence that he'd have plenty to do when he landed he said that he wasn't possession soul possession of a most extraordinary secret the revelation of which would affect one of the first families in England and he was going to bring it out as soon as he'd got settled down in London well you may be surprised but that's all all you can tell me exclaimed Mr. Paulie all but we can see plenty in it said Faustic our notion is that Ashton was murdered by somebody who didn't want that secret to come out now you see if events don't prove we're right gentlemen said Mr. Paulie allow me to ask you a few questions many as you please sir assented Faustic will answer anything he didn't tell you what the secret was asked Mr. Paulie no he said we'd know more about it in time replied Faustic it would possibly lead to legal proceedings he said in that case it would be one of the most celebrated cases ever known andromantic added Stefan speaking for the first time romantic that was a term he used andromantic quite so assented Faustic celebrated and romantic those were the words in any case he said whether it got to law matters or not it couldn't fail to be in the papers and we should read all about it in due time and you know no more than that inquired Mr. Paulie nothing said Faustic with decision Mr. Paulie looked at Weiner as if to seek some inspiration and Weiner took up the work of examination do you know anything of Mr. Ashton's movement since he came to London next to nothing replied Faustic Ashton left the Marikibo at Naples and came overland he wanted to put in a day or two in Rome and a day or two in Paris we came round by sea to Tilbury then Stefan's and I separated he went to see his people in Scotland and I went to mine in Lancashire we met Stefan's and I in London here last week and we saw Ashton for just a few minutes down in the city ah exclaimed Mr. Paulie you have seen him then did anything happen you mean relating to what he told us said Faustic well no more than I asked him sort of jokingly how the secret was and he said it was just about to come out and we must watch the papers there was a remark he made observed Stefan's he said it would be of just as much interest perhaps a far more to our colonial papers as to the English yes he said that Mr. Faustic he knew you see that we were just about setting off home he didn't ask you to his house inquired Mr. Paul that was mentioned but we couldn't fix dates replied Faustic however we told him we were both coming over again on business next year and we'd come and see him then Mr. Paulie spread out his hands with a gesture of helplessness where as wise as ever he exclaimed no said Faustic emphatically wiser then had a secret affecting powerful interests many a man's been put away for having a secret Mr. Paulie put his fingertips together and looked thoughtful at his elder visitor well there's a good deal in that he said at last now while you're here perhaps you can tell me something else about Ashton how long have you known him ever since we were lads answered Faustic readily he was a grown man then though Stephens and I are about forty Ashton was sixty you've always known of him as a townsman of Melbourne that's so we were taking out there when we were about ten or twelve Ashton lived near where we settled down he was a speculator in property made his money in buying and selling lads was he well known everybody knew Ashton did you ever know if he's having a friend named Wickham inquired Mr. Paulie now but Faustic shook his head and Stephens shook his never heard the name said Faustic did you ever hear Ashton mention the name asked Mr. Paul never never heard him mention it on board ship when he was coming home no never well said Mr. Paulie I happen to know that Ashton some years ago had a very particular friend named Wickham out in Australia one light came into Faustic's keen grey blue eyes ah he said I can tell how that may be a good many years ago when we were just familiar enough with Melbourne to know certain people in it I remember that Ashton was a way up country for some time as that Cablegram says most likely he knew this Wickham then is that the Wickham mention there it is and I want to know who he was glad to set the story is going for you when we get back said Faustic we sail in two days gentlemen answered Mr. Paulie gravely it takes I believe five or six weeks to reach Australia by the time you get there there is unfortunate fellow Hyde who's charged with the murder of Ashton on evidence that is quite sufficient to satisfy an average British jury will probably have been tried, convicted and hanged no I'm afraid we must act at once if we are to help him we are very anxious to do and there's something you can do the coroner's inquest is to be held tomorrow go there and volunteer the evidence you've just told us it may do a scrap of good but it will introduce an element of doubt into the case against Hyde and that will benefit him tomorrow said Faustic we'll do it give us the time and place we'll be there Mr. Paul I see your point sir to introduce the idea that there's more to this than the police think when the two callers had gone Mr. Paul it turned to Viner now my friend he said you've already sent your own solicitor to Hyde haven't you who is he by the way Falfum of chance relaying replied Viner excellent man now said Mr. Paul you go to Falfum and tell him what these two Australians have just told us and say that in my opinion it will be well worthwhile in his client's interest to develop their evidence for all it's worth that theory of Faustics may have a great deal in it and another thing Falfum must insist on Hyde being present at the inquest tomorrow and giving evidence that I say must be done Hyde must make his story public as soon as possible he must be brought to the inquest he'll be warned by the coroner of course that he's not bound to give any evidence at all but he must go into the box and tell on oath all that he told you and Drilford now be off to Falfum and insist on all this being done Viner went away to Chance relaying more puzzle than ever what was the secret affecting one of the first families in England of which Ashton had told his two Melbourne friends how was it if legal proceedings were likely to arise out of it that Ashton had not told Paul about it was it possible that he had gone to some other solicitor if so why didn't he come forward and what too was this mystery about Miss Wickham and her father why as Paul he had remarked on the documents concerning her to be found anywhere had she anything to do with the secret it seemed to him that the confusion was becoming more confounded but the first thing to do was to save Hyde and he was relieved to see that Falfum jumped at Paul's suggestion good said Falfum of course I'll have Hyde brought up at the inquest and he shall tell his story and we'll save this Australian chaff until Hyde's been in the box I do wish Hyde himself could tell us more about the passage of course that man is the actual murderer you think that don't doubt it for one moment and a cool calculating hand too declared Falfum a man who knew what he was doing how long do you suppose it would take to strike the life out of a man and to snatch a few valuables from his clothing to a hand such as this evidently was a minute then he walks calmly away and who is he that too was Viner's impression when he walked out of the coroner's court next day after having endured its close and sordid atmosphere for four long hours he felt more from intuition than from anything tangible that things had gone well for Hyde one fact was plain nothing more could be brought out against Hyde either there when the inquest was resumed a week later or before the magistrate or before a judge and jury every scrap of evidence against him was produced before the coroner it was obvious that the police could rake up no more unless indeed they could prove him to have hidden Ashton's remaining valuables somewhere which was ostensibly an impossibility and the evidence of Hyde himself had impressed the court today's rest and refreshment even in a prison and on prison fair had pulled him together and he had given his evidence clearly and confidently Viner had seen that the people were impressed by it they had been impressed by the evidence volunteered by the two Australians and when the coroner announced that he should adjourn the inquiry for a week the folk who had crowded the court went away asking each other not if Hyde was guilty but what was this secret of which Ashton had boasted the possession Drilford caught Viner up as he walked down the street and smiled grimly at him while you're doing your best for him and no mistake Mr. Viner he said he's a lucky chap to have found such a friend he's as innocent as I am answered Viner look here if you police want to do justice why don't you try to track the man whom Hyde has told of what clue have we exclaimed Drilford almost contemptuously a tall man in black clothes muffled to his eyes but I'll tell you what Mr. Viner he added with a grin as you're so confident why don't you find him perhaps I shall said Viner quietly he meant what he said and he was thinking deeply what might be done towards accomplishing his desires when later in the afternoon Mr. Paul rang him up on the telephone run down said Mr. Paul cheerily there's a new development end of chapter 7 what was the secret