The Betrayal of John Fordham

by B. L. Farjeon

"A horrible discovery was made last night in an empty house in Rye Street, Liverpool. A couple of years ago the house was taken on lease by a corn merchant, who used the lower floors for storage, and let the upper floors for residence. Five or six months afterwards the tenants left, the reason being that they considered the building unsafe. Then the merchant furnished the first floor, and occasionally slept there. At the end of the year he had no further occasion for it, and he gave the keys to a house agent, with instructions to let the whole or part of the house to the best advantage, in order that he might be relieved of some portion of the rent, for which he was responsible. For eleven months it remained uninhabited, and then a gentleman giving the name of Mollison offered to take it for a month to see if it would suit him to become a permanent tenant. The agent closed with the offer; a month's rent was paid in advance, and the keys delivered over. It may be mentioned that Mr. Mollison was a stranger to the agent, who saw him only once, the arrangement being made at the first interview between them. A London reference was given, and the agent received a reply in due course which he considered satisfactory. Meanwhile, although the month's rent had been paid, the house seemed to remain uninhabited, no persons being seen to enter or issue from it, but there is some kind of circumstantial evidence that on one or more occasions the new tenant was there, either alone or with companions, there being a back entrance in a blind alley which after sunset was practically deserted. Candles and lamps have certainly been burnt in the room on the first floor facing the front entrance, but these were not seen from the street, for the reason that well-fitting shutters masked the windows, and that over the shutters hung heavy tapestry curtains.

"For some time past the Liverpool police have been seeking a clue towards the discovery of a gang of coiners who were supposed to be carrying on their unlawful occupation in that city, and two or three days ago their attention was directed to this house, which, from its situation and circumstances, offered facilities for these breakers of the law. A close watch was set upon the front and back entrances, but no one was observed to enter the premises. There being a likelihood that coiners' implements, if not the coiners themselves, might be found in the house, it was decided to break into it last night. This was done at midnight, but no implements of any kind were found. The efforts of the police, however, were not unrewarded, and a horrible discovery was made. In the passage from the street door to the first flight of stairs traces were seen of some frightful struggle having taken place there. Proceeding upstairs were further traces of the struggle, and upon the floor of the first floor front room—the shutters of which were closed and the curtains drawn across—was discovered the body of a man who had been ruthlessly murdered. It was not a quite recent murder; at least a fortnight must have passed between its perpetration and discovery. The room was in great disorder. The furniture was thrown in all directions, and proved the desperate nature of the struggle. Upon the face of the victim a heavy table had fallen or been dashed, with the evident intention of rendering the features unrecognizable.

"That this object was accomplished will not, perhaps, increase the mystery which surrounds the affair, for the clothes of the murdered man should provide means of identification. No cards or documents of any kind were found upon the body. In one of the pockets was an empty purse. A watch chain was found on the floor, but no watch. The chain appeared to have been torn away, and the absence of watch, money, and jewelry points to robbery. Death was caused by a stab in the heart, but a careful search through the house failed in the discovery of the weapon. The house agent states that the deceased is not the man to whom the place was let, of whom he has furnished a description to the police, but he seems not to be confident as to its correctness. From the stale remains of food and the lees of liquor at the bottom of glasses and bottles in the apartment it is presumed that the murder was committed thirteen or fourteen days ago, probably on the night of the snowstorm which did so much damage in the city. The police are busy investigating the horrible affair, which is at present enveloped in mystery. A subsequent additional statement has been made by the house agent, who says, though still speaking with uncertainty, that there are points of resemblance in the body to the man to whom the house was let."

Maxwell finished the reading of this, to me, fatal news, before I had, and when I looked up from the paper he was smoking one of my cigars, to which he had helped himself from my cigar case. What now remained was to hear from him how he had learned of my connection with the murder. He was sitting with folded arms, a glass of liquor before him, puffing at the cigar, and with his eyes fixed on my face.

"Rather startling, John," were his first words.

I returned his gaze without answering, and so we sat for several minutes, staring at each other. At length he spoke again.

"I am waiting, John."

"For what?" I asked.

My voice was strange to me; it was as if another man had spoken.

"Well, I thought you would like to make some comment on this newspaper report of the discovery of the crime. I do not wish you to incriminate yourself. No need for that. Any fool looking at you now, would jump at the right conclusion. We know who the murdered man is; the police don't, and may never discover. It depends upon me."