ENGLAND'S GREAT SENSATION
In the course of a week or so London, and shortly afterwards the whole of England, realized that a new and absorbing sensation was dawning.
Perhaps there is nothing which more excites the popular mind than the sudden disappearance of anybody from whatever class of society.
It began to be realized, whispered and hinted at in the newspapers that a young and rising barrister of good family, named Mr. Guy Rathbone, of the Inner Temple, had suddenly vanished. It was but a year or two before that the whole of the country had been thrilled by the sad case of Miss Hickman. The event and the excitement it had raised at the time were still fresh in the public mind; and when it began to be rumoured that something even more sensational than that had taken place, the Press began to be on the alert. In ten days' time such as were known of the facts of Mr. Guy Rathbone's apparent departure from ordinary life had become the topic of the hour. The newspapers were filled with columns of surmises. Hour by hour, as the evening papers of London and the provinces appeared, new theories, clues, explanations filled the leader pages and the contents' bills. The "Rathbone Mystery," as it was called, absorbed the whole interest of the country. An announcement of war would have been momentarily disregarded by the man in the street, while he yet remained unsatisfied as to the truth about the young gentleman who seemed to have been utterly wiped out from the world of men and women, to have vanished into thin air without a trace of his movements or a single clue as to his whereabouts.
All that was accurately known was summed up again and again in the Press and in general conversation, and it amounted to just this and no more.
Mr. Guy Rathbone was in fairly prosperous circumstances; he had an income of his own, was slowly but steadily climbing the laborious ladder of the Bar, was popular in society, and, as far as could be ascertained, had no troubles of any sort whatever.
It was shown that Rathbone was not in debt, and practically owed nothing whatever, except the ordinary current accounts, which he was accustomed to settle every quarter. He had a fair balance at the bank, and his securities, which provided him with his income, were intact. His life had been a singularly open one. His movements had never suggested anything secret or disreputable. His friends were all people in good circumstances, and no one had ever alleged any shady acquaintances against him. He was in perfect health, was constantly in the habit of taking exercise at the German Gymnasium, still played football occasionally, and held a commission in the Inns of Court Volunteers. He had never been observed to be downcast or despondent in any way. In short, there was no earthly reason, at any rate upon the surface, for a voluntary withdrawal on his part from the usual routine of his life.
The idea of suicide was frankly scouted by both friends, acquaintances and business connections. People do not destroy themselves without a real or imaginary reason, and this young man had always been regarded as so eminently healthy-minded and sane, that no one was prepared to believe even that he had made away with himself in a sudden fit of morbidity or madness. It was shown that there had been no taint of insanity in his family for several generations. The theory of suicide was clearly untenable. This was the conclusion to which journalists, police, and the new class of scientific mystery experts which has sprung up during the last few years unanimously came. Moreover, in the London of to-day, or even in the country, it is a most difficult thing for a man to commit suicide without the more or less immediate discovery of his remains.
There was not wanting the class of people who hinted at foul play. But that theory was immensely narrowed by the fact that no one could have had any motive for murdering this young man, save only a member of the criminal classes, who did so for personal gain. It was quite true that he might have been robbed and his body cunningly disposed of. Such things have happened, such things do, though very rarely, happen in the London of to-day. But the class of criminal who makes a practice and livelihood of robbery with violence, of attempted or actual murder, is a small class. Every member of it is intimately known to the police, and Scotland Yard was able to discover no single suspicious movement of this or that criminal who might reasonably be concerned in such an affair. Moreover, it was pointed out that such criminals were either invariably brought to justice or that, at any rate, the fact that some one or other unknown has committed a murder is invariably discovered within a week or so of the occurrence.
For fourteen days the hundreds of people engaged in trying to solve this mystery had found no single indication of foul play.