Audrey's evidence was confined to the fact that her mother had taken the two thousand pounds' worth of diamonds to get certain of them reset. She had intended to take them straight to the jeweller, but having arranged to consult with Madame Coralie, and subsequently to remain for the night, she had taken the bag out of the motorcar and into the house. The label produced was in her mother's handwriting, and Audrey stated Lady Branwin's fancy for labelling anything she took out of doors.
On the whole, as the Coroner remarked, the evidence was satisfactory. If it did not prove who had committed the murder, it certainly exonerated all who were in the house. It had been proved that Madame Coralie and her four assistants slept in two rooms which opened into one another, and also that Madame herself had been with other people at the very time when the crime--according to the medical evidence--had been committed. Undoubtedly, robbery was the motive for the committal of the crime, and probably the strangling had been unpremeditated. Lady Branwin--this was the Coroner's reading of what had happened--had gone to sleep with the diamonds under her pillow, as Madame Coralie had stated. It was only reasonable to believe that she had awakened to find the robber removing the jewels. Her natural outcry was prevented immediately by the strangulation, since the assassin--as the man had become--could silence her in no other way. Then the criminal had escaped by the window through which he had entered, and through the door of the court wall. The dropping of the label, which possibly had been loosely tied to the bag, was a positive clue to the way in which the man had got away, and the presence of the skeleton key in the door was further evidence. These things being taken into consideration, it was apparent that no blame could be attached to Madame Coralie or to her assistants, and there was not the slightest breath of suspicion against them in any way. "The jury," added the Coroner, "would be well advised to return an open verdict."
The result of this speech, and a recollection of the meagre evidence placed before them, was the verdict which Ralph Shawe had predicted. "Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown," was the statement of the foreman, and the inquest ended with the belief in many minds that the murder of Lady Branwin would have to be added to the already long list of undiscovered crimes. Chattering and arguing, and greatly disappointed that nothing more tangible had resulted from the proceedings, everyone went his or her way, and the reporters hastened to their several papers with details, more or less veracious, of all that had taken place. But one fact was certain--that the murder, so far, was a mystery.
Lady Branwin was duly buried at Kensal Green, amidst a large concourse of people, and many were the letters and telegrams of condolence which Sir Joseph received. For a week or so paragraphs appeared in the papers suggesting possible clues, and the offer of one thousand pounds reward prompted many people to keep the matter of the crime in their minds. Also some busybody wrote to the journals insisting that the Turkish Shop should be closed; but it was pointed out that Madame Coralie had always conducted her business respectably, and that neither she nor her assistants were to blame in any way for what had taken place. It was, therefore, scarcely fair that the woman should lose her means of livelihood for not preventing what was beyond her power to prevent. Finally, after a nine days' wonder, the matter of the crime was permitted to drop into oblivion, so far as the general public were concerned. Lady Branwin, as someone observed, was dead and buried, and the secret of her murder was buried with her. Within a month the wretched woman and her sensational death were forgotten, and the Turkish Shop continued to open its doors.
"But there is a falling-off," sighed Madame Coralie. "Some women won't come--just as if I could help that miserable Lady Branwin dying in the way she did. I wish she had died anywhere but in my house. But it's all over, and I am ruined."
However, Madame Coralie was not ruined, for business speedily picked up again; also it was not "all over," for in the dark at least one person was trying to trace the assassin. This was Ralph Shawe, and he attended to the matter because of Audrey's wish and for the sake of his own happiness.
"I shall never marry you," Audrey stated, when returning from the funeral, "until the truth about my mother's death is made public."
"It seems impossible to discover the truth," said Ralph, gloomily.
"Then we shall never become husband and wife," was Audrey's reply; and to this decision she firmly adhered.