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Christopher Quarles College Professor and Master Detective

<h2 class="newchapter">CHAPTER XI THE DISAPPEARANCE OF DR. SMITH</h2> Zena had been away visiting friends and on the very day of her return I was obliged to leave London, much to my annoyance. The case came into my hands only because the detective who would have done the work in the ordinary way was ill. Had he been well, little might have been heard of the affair; but through me it came under the notice of Christopher Quarles, and it was he who suggested that there was a mystery. Anyone who cares to turn up the files of the newspapers of that date will find that the police methods, and some commercial methods, too, came in for rather drastic criticism. Dr. Richmond Smith had a house on the outskirts of Riversmouth, where he looked after three or four weak-minded patients. One afternoon in late September he went out, saying he would not be long. His wife was able to fix the time at half-past four. By dinner time he had not returned and she became alarmed. He was a man of methodical, even eccentric, habits; he seldom went outside his own grounds—the fact had caused people in the neighborhood to consider him peculiar—and his wife had no reason to suppose he had gone outside the grounds on this occasion. Dr. Smith's assistant, Patrick Evans, who was a male attendant, not a medical man, said he searched the house and grounds, expecting to find that the doctor had been taken suddenly ill; but the doctor was nowhere to be found. Later in the evening Mrs. Smith communicated with the police. This man Evans was an intelligent fellow, and when I took up the case I found him extremely useful. He wasn't too full of his own ideas, and answered my questions definitely. So far as he knew, Dr. Smith had nothing on his mind. He was not the kind of man to commit suicide. "Having to deal constantly with weak-minded people might have an effect upon him," I suggested. "It might, of course," Evans answered; "but it hasn't had any effect upon me, and, in a way, I should say the doctor was a more phlegmatic person than I am. Nothing moved him very much." "Had he enemies?" "I have no reason to think so." "No money worries?" "He never said anything to suggest such a thing. Had there been any lack of money, I should have expected to see a certain pinching process in the house." There was no sign of this. The arrangements for the patients were on the side of luxury, and there was ample evidence of the kindest and most considerate treatment. I judged that Mrs. Smith was a capable manager. When I first saw her she had got over her excitement, and was able to talk of her husband quite calmly. She admitted that he was eccentric, and she believed an eccentric action had cost him his life. She had some reason for this belief. Dr. Smith had a small boat of five or six tons, old and shabby, but perfectly seaworthy. This he kept moored in one of the small coves to the east of Riversmouth. This boat had gone. I examined these coves carefully. They were protected by a spur of rock which ran out to sea. Many of them were only caves eaten out of the cliffs, the depth of water in them varying considerably. At low tide some of them were almost dry, while others, even at the greatest ebb, still had deep water in them. They were great holes, in fact, which the sea constantly replenished. That a boat had been moored in one of them was evident, and there was some doubt at first whether it had not been beached for the winter, as had been done in previous years; but no one knew anything about it, and the boat was not to be found. Until quite the end of September the weather had been perfect; there was no reason why the boat should not have been used with safety and pleasure, and on the night of Dr. Smith's disappearance the sea was perfectly calm. As a matter of fact, however, the doctor was never known to use the boat. The Riversmouth people declared that they only knew Smith by the occasional glimpse they had of him in his garden when they passed; that they never met him either in the town or on the way to the coves; and, indeed, the only person who had any knowledge of him at all was Mr. Ferguson, a solicitor. On two occasions he had seen him at his house on small matters of business, and once he had met him in London to introduce him to an insurance company. Whether a policy had been taken out or not he did not know, as Dr. Smith had arranged to take the commission himself if he completed the policy. Evans was not prepared to say that the doctor never used the boat. It was true that he seldom went beyond the garden, but this was not to say that he never did. People might have met him and not recognized who he was. Once or twice during the summer Evans had been out in the boat himself, at the doctor's suggestion. It was a good little boat, and quite easy for one person to manage. Mrs. Smith did not believe that her husband ever used the boat, and had never understood why he kept it. He had bought it for practically nothing, and she could only suppose that the fact of making a bargain had appealed to him. "Was he careless about money matters?" I asked. "There was always plenty of money," she answered, "but I know very little about his financial affairs. I think he was a little fearful about the future, and some four years ago he talked about insuring his life. Whether he did so or not, I cannot say." A description of the missing man was circulated in the press; but we could give no portrait; such a thing did not exist. The Riversmouth people considered this publication futile. They were convinced that the missing boat was proof enough that the doctor had disappeared, and, while I searched for additional facts, I was inclined to agree with them. I was not long without a solid fact to deal with. I have said that it was a calm night when the doctor disappeared, but since then the weather had changed. A southwesterly gale sent the great breakers foaming all along the shore, until even the waters of the sheltered coves were troubled. Between the east and the west cliffs was a stretch of shingle, and here, early in the morning of the fourth day, some wreckage was cast up by the swirling waters. There was no doubt that it was part of the doctor's boat. A fisherman and Patrick Evans were able to identify it even before a fragment bearing the name Betty came ashore. No body, however, was washed up, nor anything to suggest that the doctor had been on his boat. Certain inquiries necessitated my going to town next day, and I took the opportunity of going to Chelsea, not really to see Quarles, but to see Zena. I had no need of his help in the Riversmouth case, and, had he not been so anxious to know what I had been doing during the last few days, I should not have mentioned it. As it was, I told him the story. "It's a strange thing, Wigan, but I have had a presentiment for the last forty-eight hours that a particularly difficult mystery was coming to me. Have you any other case in hand or pending?" "No." "Then this may be the one." "I don't think there is much mystery about it," I answered. "I expect the body to come ashore presently." "How about the insurance?" asked Quarles. "The policy is in force with the Meteor Insurance Company for fifteen thousand pounds. He has paid the premiums regularly, less commission." "The premiums have been paid by check, I suppose?" "Yes. The doctor had an account at the Capital and Provincial here in London. It has never been a large account, but has been open for a long while. The doctor did all his business by letter, and does not appear to have been inside the bank for years." "If he were in the boat, it is strange his body hasn't been washed up, isn't it?" asked Zena. "I think a body might take longer to come ashore than wreckage," I answered. "Or it may have been caught in another current, and will be thrown up farther along the coast." Quarles nodded. "Of course, there is the possibility that Dr. Smith is not dead," I went on, "that he has disappeared intentionally, hoping to defraud the insurance company. Were you thinking of that, Zena?" "No; I was only wondering why the body had not been found." "And you, professor?" "Oh, I haven't developed a theory yet! If no body is found, I presume the company will withhold the payment of the money for a time." "Naturally, I didn't discuss that question with them," I returned. "I imagine no very thorough search of the doctor's papers has yet been made, for Mrs. Smith knew nothing definite about the insurance, and, indeed, very little about her husband's affairs." "Well, we must wait for the body," said the professor. "You have the same opinion as I have, and expect it to come ashore." "I have formed no opinion," he answered, "but, judging from your account, I should think the body will be found presently. When it is I should like to see it, Wigan. The case doesn't really interest me yet, but my presentiment does. When I feel my particular corner of the web of existence trembling I—but it is too late to get on my hobby to-night. I'm tired, and I dare say you and Zena want to have a talk. You're a lucky dog, Wigan, a very lucky dog." He chuckled as he left the room, and Zena and I looked at each other in astonishment. It was the first intimation he had given that he knew our secret. He declared later that he had known it exactly as long as we had, which was probably an exaggeration; but at any rate it made things easier for us. I returned to Riversmouth next day, and two days later the doctor's body was found. As I had suggested to Zena, it had evidently been caught by another current, and was discovered among the rocks in a little bay about half a mile east of the coves. A lad saw it from the top of the cliffs and gave information. I telegraphed to Quarles at once, and he arrived in Riversmouth that afternoon. Mrs. Smith, Patrick Evans, and the solicitor, Ferguson, had already identified the body when Quarles and I went to see it at the mortuary. The professor spent a long time examining the dead man and his clothing. He was particularly interested in the collar of his coat, and in certain rents in the coat and trousers. I must confess he seemed to be looking for a mystery where none existed. A silver watch found in the dead man's pocket had the initials "R. S." on it, and a signet ring on his finger also bore these initials. There could be no doubt of the man's identity. "What are you looking for?" I asked. "Nothing——" "That presentiment is misleading you." "Maybe," said Quarles. "There is no doubt that he was drowned, and there is not the slightest indication that he was the victim of foul play before he was in the water." "I am inclined to agree with you." "The only question is whether his death was the result of an accident or whether he committed suicide." "I shouldn't like to express an opinion," Quarles returned shortly. "By the way, Wigan, who found the body?" "A boy belonging to the town." "I suppose we can get hold of him?" "He is ready to talk to anyone about it." "We'll go and find him," said Quarles. "I'm staying in Riversmouth to-night; no, not with you. I don't want to be identified with the case in any way. When is the inquest?" "The day after to-morrow." "Then to-morrow afternoon you might show me these coves." "Certainly." "Now for this boy." The wind was blowing half a gale as we went through the town. "It has been blowing like this ever since the night the doctor disappeared, hasn't it?" asked Quarles. "Worse than this part of the time. What's the theory, professor?" "I'm wondering whether there is not some way of clearing up the accident or suicide question." We found the lad at his home, and Quarles listened attentively to his graphic description of seeing the water playing with the corpse as it lay caught on the rocks. "Had you gone that way on purpose to see if it had come ashore?" asked Quarles. "I had and I hadn't. You don't know old Clay, I suppose. He's a fisherman who thinks he knows everything, and he said it was impossible for a body to be washed up on that side of the east cliff." "And you knew better?" "It wasn't that. There were several people standing round at the time, and they laughed at old Clay for being so positive. He was wrong, you see." "Evidently. Do you remember who was there at the time?" "I didn't notice. I was listening to what Clay was saying. I don't suppose he'll talk so much after this." Quarles made no comment on what the lad had said as we walked to the end of the street together, and we parted after arranging our visit to the coves on the following afternoon. Next day about noon I walked up to see Mrs. Smith. The assistant, Evans, came to me, bringing me her apologies. Unless it were anything of the gravest importance, would I mind coming again? "The fact is, she has been upset this morning," Evans went on. "A gentleman unexpectedly turned up to see the doctor about a new patient coming here. He had not heard of the doctor's tragic death, and Mrs. Smith had to explain." "Very trying for her," I said. "And, to make it worse, the man was rather stupid," said Evans. "He didn't seem to understand the position, nor why the doctor's death should prevent arrangements being made. He appeared to have got it into his head that we were unwilling to let him see how the house was conducted. I was called in to the rescue, and I took him over the house. If the weak-minded patient is a relative, I should think the disease is hereditary." "Why?" "He could not understand any explanation," said Evans. "He even selected a bedroom which happened to be mine, and would go into details why it was exactly the room he desired. Of course, the house is to be given up. I believe the relations of the three patients we have already have been written to." "I wanted to ask Mrs. Smith if the doctor's papers throw any light upon his death." "They do not. Mr. Ferguson was here nearly the whole of yesterday, and he told me there was nothing to suggest that the doctor was in difficulties, or that he contemplated taking his own life. His will was found. He leaves everything to his wife, but Mr. Ferguson said there was not much to leave beyond his life policy." "That represents a large sum," I said. "Does it? I'm glad for Mrs. Smith's sake. Mr. Ferguson didn't mention the amount. I wish it had been large enough for the doctor to think of leaving me a bit. At my age a man doesn't easily get another job." In the afternoon I met Quarles, and we went to look at the coves. Even at high water it was possible to walk round them by means of a fairly wide ledge of rock. I showed him where the boat had been kept, pointed out an oar and a boathook lying on the ledge, but he took only a perfunctory interest, and spent much more time examining the adjoining coves and the projecting spur of rock which ran out to sea. He scrambled out to the end of this spur and seemed interested in the waves breaking upon it; then he turned and surveyed the land, taking a pair of glasses from his pocket to examine the general contour of the coast more clearly. "It would be under that point yonder where the body was found," he said. "Yes." "It is possible to walk round the rocks to that point, I suppose?" "Yes, but——" "Oh, I am not going to do it," he answered. "I was only wondering why old Clay was so certain that a body could not be washed ashore there. Has anything further happened since we parted yesterday?" I told him about Mrs. Smith's visitor. "You didn't catch sight of him, Wigan?" "He had gone before I arrived." "I wonder if he knew anything about the doctor." "Are you not yet satisfied that this is not the difficult case about which you had a presentiment?" I asked. "No," was the sharp answer as he replaced the glasses in his pocket. "I'm going back to Chelsea to think about it. Found drowned; that will be the verdict of the inquest to-morrow, but that won't prove anything. Mrs. Smith is going to leave Riversmouth, you say?" "So Evans told me." "The moment she moves have her watched," said Quarles. "Put the best man you have on to the job. It is likely to be a long business, and in the meanwhile a hint might be given to the insurance company not to be in too great a hurry to pay over the money." "Would you have Patrick Evans watched, too?" I asked, a little sarcasm in my tone, perhaps, for any suspicion of Mrs. Smith seemed to me ridiculous. "No. You can let him go where he likes; he is all right," and he looked at me steadily for a moment. I knew what was passing through his mind. Quite recently he had become interested in a case which was in my hands. He had opposed my solution of the difficulty with another which contradicted me at every point, and we had almost quarreled about it, when a new fact came to light, proving that he was altogether wrong. Even Christopher Quarles was not infallible. Evidently he had noticed the sarcasm in my voice, and would have me remember how often he had been right. In the Riversmouth case, I argued, the professor was hampered by circumstances. He had got it into his brain that he was called upon to deal with a difficult problem, and very naturally he saw difficulties where there were none. I knew from my own experience that for a detective a preconceived idea is deadly. He can only see things from one point of view. I was convinced this was Quarles's position, and the straightforward evidence given at the inquest next day only confirmed this conviction. If doubt remained in anyone's mind as to the identity of the body, it was settled beyond all question. A large sum of money being involved, the insurance company sent down an official who had seen Dr. Smith when he called about taking out a policy. He recognized the dead man at once. Quarles was not even right as regards the verdict. The doctor's evidence suggested that there were certain signs of a struggle which one would not expect to find in a deliberate suicide, but which were natural if a man tried to save himself from drowning. This, and there being no reason why Dr. Smith should have taken his own life, and the conviction of his wife and his assistant that he was not the kind of man to do such a thing, so impressed the jury that they returned a verdict of accidental death by drowning. Here would have been an end of the case had not the insurance company raised difficulties and made all sorts of excuses to delay the payment of the money. Criticism was aroused; letters appeared in the papers. The company stated that they were acting on the advice of their solicitors, and then someone suggested that solicitors of such standing as the firm mentioned would hardly persevere in such advice unless the police authorities were behind them. So police methods were criticized by all kinds of people anxious to rush into print, and since I was the immediate cause of the trouble, acting on Christopher Quarles's advice, I grew a little anxious. Mrs. Smith had come to London and was staying at a boarding house in Bloomsbury, a most injured woman by common consent. From the moment she had left Riversmouth I had had her watched, and nothing had happened. Why had I set a spy upon her movements? Because I had listened to Quarles in that empty room at Chelsea. Two days after the inquest I went to see the professor. He had read the account in the papers. "You see it was not 'Found drowned,'" I said. "I thought it would be," he returned. "A momentary ray of light illumined those twelve good men, and they agreed that it could not be suicide." "Of course it might have been an accident," I said, "but I don't think the evidence justified the verdict." "A strange case, Wigan, and very difficult because it seems so easy. There are one or two curious points to begin with. Practically no one in Riversmouth knew Dr. Smith. He seldom went outside his own grounds. It is reasonable to assume, therefore, that he was a peculiar man. He bought a boat because it happened to be a bargain, his wife thinks, suggesting that spending his money in this way to no purpose was a hobby with him; yet we hear nothing of any other bargains to support the idea. Until we have evidence to the contrary, then, we may assume that some idea was in his mind when he bought the boat. He didn't forget all about its existence, remember, because twice during the summer he sent his assistant out in it, and the assistant pronounces it a very good boat and easy to manage. Now, what possessed Dr. Smith to go for a sail on that particular day and at that time of the day? He was certainly not an ardent yachtsman." "Since he was peculiar, it is naturally difficult to account for his actions," I said. "A possible explanation," Quarles returned. "He may always have had the idea of suicide at the back of his brain," said Zena. "It may have been in his mind when he bought the boat. If one lives near the sea and contemplates suicide, it would be natural to choose drowning." "There is much in that argument," said the professor. "It was in my mind when I said it was curious no body was washed up with the wreckage," said Zena. "That remark of yours set me thinking," Quarles went on. "I wondered, Wigan, whether the doctor was on board the boat when she capsized, or whatever it was that happened to her. Now my wonder is increased. The waves had battered the boat to pieces, but when the body is found, caught on the rocks, it is comparatively uninjured." "Doubtless it had been carried farther out to sea," I said. "But it had to come ashore, and the weather was stormy the whole time. It could hardly have escaped altogether. There was something else to raise doubt. There were rents in the coat, rents which were all much alike, and a curious bulge in the collar of the coat. These things gave me a definite theory. The doctor was not in the boat, nor had he committed suicide." "Are you suggesting murder?" "I am." "At the inquest the doctor distinctly said that there were no marks on the body to suggest he had been the victim of foul play. He was drowned; he was not killed first and put in the water afterward." "I quite agree with the doctor's evidence," said Quarles, "but he is not a detective. Let me reconstruct what happened. Dr. Smith came to the cove either with a companion or to meet someone. Possibly the doctor had a drink, let us say from a bottle in the boat's locker. I do not press this point, but it would make the work easier. The companion pushed the doctor into the water, and with a boathook—there was one lying on the rocky ledge—he held him under until he drowned. Once the hook was fixed into the collar of the coat it would be comparatively easy. Afterward a piece of rock tied to the body would keep it under water. I suggest this could be done with least danger in the cove next to the one where the boat was kept. It is deeper, darker, and would not be likely to receive so much attention when it became known that the doctor was missing. So the body would be securely hidden. "Then the boat, as soon as it was dark enough, was towed out to the end of the spur and scuttled. The water is shallow there, and as soon as the wind got up it was battered to pieces and presently the wreckage came ashore. Why shouldn't the body have been left to come ashore too? you may ask. Old Clay is learned in the currents of this part of the coast, and he will tell you there is no certainty what will happen to wreckage. During a southwesterly gale it may be thrown up on the shingle; at any other time it may be carried out to sea. "At the time of the murder it was quite calm, and it was necessary that the body should be found. The murderer was in no hurry, and at first too many people went round to look at the coves for it to be safe for him to take any steps. But he got his opportunity probably on the night you spent in London when you first mentioned the case to me, you remember. He got up the body from its hiding-place, and with the boathook pulled it partly through the water and partly over the rocks, and fixed it in the place where it was found, the one place where Clay is certain wreckage never comes ashore." "I think the theory is fanciful, professor." "I grant that only the brain of a master criminal could conceive such a crime. There was my difficulty. Where was this master criminal to be found?" "And what was his motive?" I said. "There is the insurance money, but that comes to the wife. She could not have carried out such a fantastic crime, nor do I believe for a moment that she instigated it." "On both points I am with you," said Quarles. "Now let us consider another question—the identity of the dead man." "Surely there is no question about that? The official from the insurance office——" "Exactly, Wigan; you hit the weak spot in my theory. You will not deny that under certain conditions—criminal conditions—the wife, the assistant, and even the solicitor, Ferguson, might agree to a wrong identification; the insurance official is outside any such suspicion. He declares the dead man to be Dr. Smith. Now, Wigan, look at that notice," and he handed me a cutting from a six months old newspaper. "You see it is the obituary notice of a Dr. London, who was one of the doctors of the Meteor Insurance Company, and I have ascertained that it was he who medically examined Dr. Smith in connection with the life policy. He passed him as a first-class life. I do not fancy any doctor would have passed as a first-class life such a man as was washed up by the sea. Dr. London's death, therefore, removed a valuable witness." "I cannot see that there is any question about the identity," I said. "For a moment let us consider facts," said Quarles. "Mrs. Smith declares that she knows nothing about her husband's affairs, but she does mention a life policy, adding that she does not know whether it is in force or not. Nothing very significant in that; but, curiously enough, the solicitor, Ferguson, volunteers the statement that he introduced Smith to an office, but does not know whether the policy was taken out, because Dr. Smith insisted he should have the benefit of the commission himself. Ferguson is in a small way of business; it is evident that he did not do much work for Dr. Smith, and one wonders why he met him in town and took all this trouble when he was to get nothing out of it. The assistant, Evans, knows nothing about a life policy; in fact, intelligent as he is, he gives little information whatever. Yet there is no doubt that he was a person of some consequence in the household. When the man came to see Dr. Smith, and Mrs. Smith had to explain that her husband was dead, Evans was sent for, and he told you that he had had a trying time with the old gentleman." "He did." "I was the old fool," said Quarles. "You?" "I wanted to see the house and its inhabitants. Mrs. Smith was upset; she was, in fact, a little afraid of me, Wigan. I was an unexpected element in the affair. Patrick Evans is intelligent—very much so; but he did not give you quite a correct version of what happened. He was not sent for; he came into the room with Mrs. Smith and he did most of the talking." "Did you make any discovery in the house?" "Only that Patrick Evans was an important member in it. Now the fact that only these three people had identified the body fitted my theory exactly; but when the insurance official did so, I was puzzled. Still, my belief is this, that the person taken to the insurance company by Ferguson was not the same person who afterward went to Dr. London to be examined." "The difficulties your theory gets over, professor, are enormous." "Look at it this way," said Quarles. "Dr. Smith, who was a man of no importance, and had done little in his profession, took a weak-minded patient into his house. Where he lived at the time we do not know. This patient may have had friends who died; possibly he was left on the doctor's hands without adequate payment. We will suppose, further, that this patient had peculiarities—a love of being important, of being somebody, of being flattered, and above all of loving a secret to an abnormal degree. Except to those who knew him well, he appeared a normal individual under ordinary circumstances. We get to facts when we say that Smith had schemes in his head. He contemplated insuring his life for a large sum, and we will assume that he meant to reap the benefit himself. How did he go to work? He took a house at Riversmouth, where he was unknown, and in due course arrived there with his wife, who was privy to his scheme, and his one patient." "It was not until he had settled in Riversmouth that he had patients," I said. "That fact is established." "Let me get to my point, Wigan. It was necessary that the doctor should have an assistant, so we get Evans at Riversmouth. The doctor, by flattery, by pandering to his love of secrecy, suggested to his patient that he should call himself Dr. Smith. So the scheme was floated. It must necessarily be a work of time, during which the doctor must live. He took three other patients, who were well cared for and looked after, chiefly by Evans. Through Ferguson, who I suggest became a partner in the scheme, the insurance was effected. When the time was ripe, Dr. London being dead, this patient, who had come to be known as Dr. Smith by the few people who had caught sight of him, was murdered, drowned, in the way I have suggested, by the doctor. The wife remained to claim the money. So we watch her, and through her we shall presently catch her husband." "And the assistant?" I asked. "I grant, Wigan, that the facts supporting my theory are not so strong as I could wish; that is why we cannot act, why we must wait. We have a master criminal to deal with in Mr. Smith, who remains in hiding for a time. What he calls himself now I cannot say, but we know him as Patrick Evans." We had to wait a long time. Mrs. Smith even had the temerity to commence legal proceedings against the insurance company, and then, probably for the purpose of getting coached upon some difficult point, she had a secret meeting with Evans in a restaurant in Soho. Husband and wife and the solicitor Ferguson were arrested. Mrs. Smith and Ferguson were brought to trial and sentenced as accessories before the fact, but the doctor succeeded in committing suicide in his cell. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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