Whyland bent over it with a look of triumph. “I knew it, all along!” he exclaimed. “Look at this blade! It is exactly similar to the ones found in the bodies of Tovey and Pargent. You see the dodge, don’t you? This blade just fits the hole in the handle. It’s meant to be pushed through and gripped by the set-screw. But, if you tighten the screw as far as it will go first, then put the blade in, it is held lightly, just by its very end. Now, if you stab a man with the blade fixed like that, what happens? The blade goes in all right, and there it stays, while you walk away with the handle. It’s beautifully simple, and you leave no finger-marks behind you.”
But Hanslet stared at the knife in silence, his brain a whirl of conflicting theories. If the Professor was correct in his assumption, Copperdock was a victim of the unknown assassin. How did this knife, which, as Whyland said, was exactly similar to those with which Tovey and Pargent had been killed, come into his possession? On the other hand, if Copperdock had been the murderer, what became of the Professor’s theory? Why should one of the jurymen wish to murder his colleagues? The problem became more complicated with every fresh discovery.
“This blessed case would drive an archangel to drink,” he observed disgustedly, as he wrapped up the knife again and put it in his pocket. “Well, we’d better go across and see what young Copperdock has to say about this, eh, Whyland?”
Chapter XX.
Mr. Ludgrove’s Invitation
April gave place to May, and May to June, with no further development in the mystery which surrounded the Praed Street murders. The discovery of the knife in the pocket of Mr. Copperdock’s overcoat, combined with the fact that although Dr. Priestley and Mr. Ludgrove had each received a numbered counter, they had not so far been menaced by any particular danger, had convinced the police that the secret had died with Mr. Copperdock. A very careful examination of the handle showed that it bore his finger-marks, and his son, although he could not account for its presence where he had found it, was emphatic that it could not have been placed there since the night of his death.
The Professor made no reference whatever to the case, either to Harold or to Hanslet. The latter during his infrequent visits to the house in Westbourne Terrace, made no reference to the case. He was becoming more and more convinced that the Professor’s interview with the Black Sailor had been a pure hallucination; that the Professor, having imagined the sequel to his theory of the jurymen, had somehow been under the illusion that the events of his imagination had actually taken place. In his own mind, however, he was by no means satisfied with the official view of the matter, of which Whyland was the principal exponent. It left so much to be explained, chiefly Copperdock’s motive, to say nothing of his methods. To begin with, how had he contrived to murder Mr. Tovey, when at the moment of the latter’s death he was sitting comfortably before his own fire? And, if the answer to this was that he had accomplices, who and where were they?
However, his superiors appeared to be satisfied, and, towards the beginning of June Hanslet went off upon his long postponed leave. The Professor’s time was fully occupied in correcting the proofs of Some Aspects of Modern Thought, which were now coming in from the printer, whose reader, appalled by some of the Professor’s strictures upon his contemporaries, had scattered here and there across the margin the ominous words “Query, libellous?” To each of these the Professor added the note: “Nonsense!” in letters half an inch long at least. It was perhaps fortunate for the conscientious reader that he was beyond the reach of the Professor’s tongue.
The rigid police protection which had at first been imposed upon both the Professor and Mr. Ludgrove had been gradually relaxed until now it had dwindled to nothing more serious than a casual glance at their houses by the constable on beat when he happened to pass them. The professor himself appeared to have forgotten the warning given to him by the Black Sailor, and to have acquiesced in the official view that, since the perpetrator had committed suicide, nothing further would be heard of the murders.
It was while matters were in this state that Dr. Priestley received one Saturday morning a letter which obviously caused him some satisfaction. It was signed “Elmer Ludgrove” and was written in a curiously neat and clerkly hand. The contents of it were as follows:
“Dear Sir. I should not venture to write to you, but for the fact that I know that you are as interested in the recent affair of the numbered counters as I am myself. I have recently come across, wholly by accident, certain curious facts which may serve to throw an entirely fresh light upon the deaths of six men, which, to my mind, have not yet been satisfactorily explained. I am not anxious to approach the police, at least until I have consulted you. The police, as is perhaps natural, could scarcely be expected to welcome disclosures which would completely upset their official theory. They believe, as I confess I did at one time myself, that the late Mr. Copperdock was guilty, and that his mania finally culminated in his own suicide.
“If I am correct in my deductions from the new evidence which has come into my hands, I can prove beyond question that Mr. Copperdock was innocent, indeed, that he himself fell a victim to the agency which committed the other murders. I must ask you to respect my confidence until you have allowed me to put my evidence before you. When this has been done, I shall ask your advice as to the best means of laying it before the authorities. You, I have reason to believe, are on friendly terms with Inspector Hanslet, and perhaps you will agree, when you have examined the evidence I shall put before you, that it will be best to call him into consultation.
“I suggest, as the various exhibits to which I shall be compelled to refer are at present at my house, and as it may be necessary for me to point out to you certain peculiarities of the locations in which the murders took place, that your examination be carried out there. As I believe that as little time as possible should be wasted, I suggest, if it meets with your approval, that you should do me the honour of calling upon me this evening. As, in the light of recent events, you may not care to come to Praed Street alone, I propose to call upon you after your dinner this evening, and to learn your wishes in the matter. If you agree to my suggestion, we can then walk to my house together. I am, sir, yours faithfully,
“Elmer Ludgrove”