The Betrayal of John Fordham

by B. L. Farjeon

Punctually at eight o'clock the following morning Wheeler presented himself, and under the seal of secrecy I gave him a fair insight into the Mystery. He was greatly excited, and said if I succeeded in bringing the truth to light I was a made man. I was beginning to think so myself, but I did not underrate the difficulties with which I had to contend. I seemed to be pulled in so many ways at once, and to have so many things to look after, that I saw the danger of wasting my time upon matters of no importance and allowing the leading strings to slip away from me. I was glad, therefore, to obtain the services of a man upon whom I could rely, and as I deemed it imperatively necessary that I should remain in London, I explained to Wheeler my desire that Louis' body should be exhumed and identified, and asked him if he thought he could manage it. He was confident he could; he had friends among the Liverpool police who would do all in their power for him; he laughed at the suggestion of the difficulties that might present themselves, and declared he would carry out his mission even if he had to dig up the body himself in the dead of night. Knowing Wheeler to be a bit of a bulldog, and daring as well as tenacious, I was more than satisfied with his assurances.

"You will have a surgeon with you," I said, "whose evidence will be conclusive as to the scar on the forehead. I understand the bone was penetrated. Everything must be done quickly, and above all the affair must be kept out of the newspapers."

I laid special emphasis upon this, because I did not intend that the game should be taken out of my hands. We settled upon an address in Liverpool to which I could write or wire any further instructions that might be necessary, and he went off in high spirits to catch the ten o'clock train.

Before proceeding to my office I paid a visit to my dram-drinking friend who had been cast off by Madame Lourbet. His name, which she had renounced, was Whybrow. I passed her shop on the way, having no fear that I would be recognized, and taking particular care not to rub my chin with the middle finger of my right hand. I saw Madame Lourbet behind the counter, and caught a glimpse of that confounded green curtain. It is curious how one thing suggests another. The moment my eyes fell upon the curtain an idea suggested itself which set me laughing, and which proved to be perhaps the most important step in the elucidation of the Mystery. I will not mention it in this place, but I determined to act upon it later on if I considered it advisable. Clever as Madame Lourbet was I hoped to show that I was one too many for her.

Mr. Whybrow was in bed, pining for liquor. I sent out for a quartern of gin—that being the cheapest tipple—and under its influence, and fortified by my saying that I thought I should be able to bring Madame Lourbet to book in his interests, he became communicative. I learned that she had two friends who visited her from time to time, and with whom he was not allowed to strike up an acquaintance. One of these was a man, the other a woman. I paid close attention to his description of the man, whom he suspected had supplanted him in her affections. This man was tall and dark; but he had no beard or whiskers. I thought of Wheeler's words, "they might have been false," and I left Mr. Whybrow with the conviction that it was the man who had followed me from Soho. If that were so I had alarmed him by my reference to Louis' mother, and he had signaled to Madame Lourbet to give her a warning that I might be a spy; his beard and whiskers being false was another point in my favor. I had sufficient confidence to introduce myself in my own proper person to that lady and make a trifling purchase. She served me politely, but there was trouble in her face, which rather pleased me than otherwise. I was pleased, too, that she betrayed no recognition of me, and did not connect me with the man who had paid her a visit the night before.

Leaving her, I went on to John Fordham, who was still under remand, and likely to remain so for some time yet, for the police had not progressed in their inquiries, and Fordham had made no recantation of the accusation he had brought against himself. Cheering him with the news that I was gathering valuable information (of which I did not give him the particulars) I obtained from him a description of Maxwell's personal appearance. Tall and dark, wearing neither beard nor whiskers. That settled it. Maxwell was the man who was stationed behind the green curtain, who had shadowed me to my lodgings, and who was so frightened by Fordham's public confession of the murder that, for his own safety's sake, he went about now in a disguise. Good.

Then on to my office, where Mrs. Barlow was waiting to supply me with a description of the birth marks of her missing son by which he could be identified. These have already been recorded and need no further mention here. Needless to say, I did not inform Mrs. Barlow that I had already obtained a clue to the career of her son since she last saw or heard from him.

I made short work of the business in my office which required attention. So absorbed was I in this mysterious Murder Mystery that I could not think seriously of any other subject. My advertisement for Philip Barlow had thus early unearthed three men of that name, whom I found in my office upon my arrival there. I confronted them with Mrs. Barlow, and they were immediately dismissed, much to their dissatisfaction. My second advertisement inquiring for Morgan, was dispatched to the newspaper offices, and I left with my clerk a memorandum of the age and birthday of Mrs. Barlow's son, which were to be the first questions put to all applicants of either name who presented themselves. Their answers not tallying with my memorandum, they were to be sent to the right-about. By these means a great deal of unnecessary trouble was avoided.

At a quarter to twelve I sallied forth to keep my appointment with Jack, having first effected the requisite alteration in my appearance. My own clerk was startled when I emerged from my private room in the character of a costermonger, and was driven to say it was "the best thing I had ever done in the way of disguise." He was not far from the truth; I am always most successful when I depict the manners of the lower class. Jack himself was taken in when I slouched up to him and engaged him in conversation, and it was not till I spoke in my proper voice that he recognized me.

"Well, I'm darned!" was his admiring exclamation. "Guv'nor, you ought to go on the stage."