"Mr. Chairman, I have here two letters. The first is the one which I wrote asking the lady to meet me at East Grinstead--that I took from her pocket after she was dead. The second is the one in which she promised that she would. I have pleasure in submitting them to the attention of the club."
I passed the letter to Pendarvon. From one of my tail pockets I produced a small parcel.
"You will have observed, gentlemen, that it is stated that nothing was found in the woman's pockets. That was owing to the fact that I had previously taken the precaution to empty it. I hold the contents of her pocket in my hand: a letter--that the chairman has--a purse, some keys, a pocket-handkerchief. This scrap of silk ribbon suspended this locket to her neck; in the locket you will find my portrait. That also I took from her after she was dead. I offer it, with the other items, for the inspection of the club."
Pendarvon read the letters carefully through; then, without remark, he passed them to the man who sat beside him. After examining my relics, he passed them too. The batch went round. One or two of the men carefully examined each separate item; most just glanced at them in passing; some seemed to shrink from touching them, as if afraid of coming into close contact.
When they had gone round, Pendarvon rose.
"I think, gentlemen, that our friend's statement has given general satisfaction."
Rudini tapped with his finger on the table.
"It was a woman; it is not a man's work to kill a woman."
Pendarvon laughed.
"There, Rudini, you must excuse me if I differ. I think that it is essentially a man's work. The women are always killing us. It is just as well that we should take our turn at killing them. Indeed, were it not too late I should almost be disposed to suggest that it should always be a woman who was killed."