“And got an answer from him,” added Phillip, with a derisive smile.
“Exactly,” said Thorndyke. “It was an experiment and it was justified by the result. But let us get back to the matter that we have been investigating. I came to the conclusion, as I have said, that Purcell met his death during that voyage from Sennen to Penzance and that Varney, for some reason, had thought it necessary to conceal the occurrence, but I decided that the evidence in my possession would not be convincing in a Court of Law.”
“I have no doubt that you were perfectly right in that,” Rodney remarked drily.
“I further considered it very unlikely that any fresh evidence would ever be forthcoming and that, since the death could not be proved, it was, for many reasons, undesirable that the question should ever be raised. Accordingly I never communicated my belief to anybody.”
“Then,” said Rodney, “are we to understand that some new evidence has come to light, after all?”
“Yes. It came to light the other day at the College of Surgeons. I dare say Phillip told you about it.”
“He told me that, by an extraordinary coincidence, that quaint button of Purcell’s had turned up and that some sort of sea-worm had built a tube on it. But if that is what you mean, I don’t see the bearing of it as evidence.”
“Neither do I,” said Phillip.
“You remember that Varney distinctly stated that when Purcell went up the ladder at Penzance he was wearing his oilskin coat and that the button was then on it?”
“Yes. But I don’t see anything in that. Purcell went ashore, it is true, and he went away from Cornwall. But he seems to have gone by sea; and as I suggested the other day, he probably got a fresh button when he went on board the steamer and chucked this cork one overboard.”