Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

"Where was your hiding place?"

"You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room, and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in, without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the ground. I knew why they did that-so that the light couldn't be seen through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them."

"Did you know them?"

"One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though."

"We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see the other man?"

Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a question.

Gracie: "Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?"

Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, "It is Dr. Pye," whereupon an officer cried, "Order in the court!" But, irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.

Gracie: "That is the other man."

Mr. Pallaret: "Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain."

Gracie: "I am. The other man in Dr. Pye."

Mr. Pallaret: "Still you may be mistaken?"

Gracie: "I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't another man in the world like him."

Mr. Pallaret: "Well, you saw them. What happened next?"

Gracie: "They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to talk louder. Dr. Vinsen-I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't his proper name, but it comes easier-he said it was madness to come into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute. He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office-father used to tell of it-and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again, 'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr. Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr. Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil! Soon afterwards I heard father's name-I don't know which one spoke it-and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them leaving the room."

Mr. Pallaret: "Stop a moment or two, and get your breath."

Gracie: "Let me go on, please-I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he feeling any better?"

Mr. Pallaret: "Yes. With your permission, your worship."

A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and kissed him, sobbing,

"Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!"

No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,

"Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!"

In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained; she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her again and again.

"You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?" asked Gracie, in a low tone. "If I hadn't, father might never have been found."

"My darling, my darling!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "It was I who was wrong-you were right all through."

"Never mind that now, mother," Gracie said. "Let me go on, or the gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!"

Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, "I should like to do something for that little heroine," the ushers forgot to cry, "Silence in the court!"

Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's tender clasp): "May I go on, now, sir?"

Mr. Pallaret: "Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving the room.'"

Gracie: "I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and through the door of the little room into the passage. They were downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch 'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool-you've spilt 'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole. Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went, without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read, that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir, though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father. 'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he answered. 'It's little Gracie!'"

Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr. Pallaret addressed the court:

"Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with pity and horror-except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds. Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court."

The Magistrate: "Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be taken into my room, and every attention paid to them."

When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.

Mr. Pallaret: "We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings this morning in connection with this case."

Detective Lambert: "From information received shortly after the case was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death, who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr. Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time, and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility; that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure; that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received, that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from the point at which Gracie Death left it.

"She remained with her father all night, being afraid to leave him because Dr. Pye, when he passed through the cellar shortly before she entered it, had threatened to come back and force him to take something which would send him into a sleep from which he would never wake. In daytime very little light can penetrate the cellar, and by this dim light Gracie Death saw the door which led to the upper parts of the house. She tried it, and found it was locked from the outside. She knew that Dr. Pye had to attend the police court to-day to give evidence in this case, and she thought it best to wait till he was gone, and then to get back to the house in Catchpole Square through the tunnel, and go for assistance to release her father. He was so securely tied, and the ropes that bound him were so thick, that she could not undo them, and there was nothing in the cellar with which she could cut them. No food was brought to Mr. Death this morning, which perhaps was fortunate, as it would have led to the discovery of Gracie. The little girl had to judge the time at which Dr. Pye was due in this court, and it happens that she did so very accurately, for the detective who was watching Dr. Pye's house informed me that it was a little after eleven o'clock when he saw her running up and down Shore Street in search of a policeman. He went up to her and told her who he was, and having heard her strange story, first sent me a note which was delivered to me in court shortly after I had given my evidence, and then endeavoured to obtain admission into Dr. Pye's house. To all appearance it was empty, for no one answered his knocks at the door, and matters were at a standstill until my arrival. As we could not break open the front door I obtained a ladder and set it against the back window that looks out on Catchpole Square, the window through which Dr. Pye said he threw the flashlight. There was a shutter to the window which I forced open; Gracie had followed me up the ladder, and I assisted her into the room, in which I observed two new travelling trunks. I did not stop to examine them, but ran down to the street door, and admitted two constables I had sent for. I may state here that there were no servants in the house. Then we hastened to the cellar, the door of which we forced, and found Mr. Abel Death, as his daughter has described. When we got him into one of the better rooms, and took the ropes off him, he was so weak that it was impossible to bring him to the court, and I despatched a line to the counsel for the defence giving him certain information, and saying I hoped to be in attendance with the two new witnesses in the course of an hour or two. While restoratives were being given to Mr. Death I searched the house, and found a mass of account books and documents which had belonged to Mr. Samuel Boyd. I found also some articles of clothing which I believe will be found to have been worn by him. There was one complete suit of gray, and an overcoat with a fur collar. Lady Wharton will perhaps be able to say whether the man who visited her in Bournemouth wore a suit of that colour and a coat of that description."

Lady Wharton (from the body of the court): "He did." Detective Lambert: "One of the trunks was packed and locked, and it appeared to me that preparations had been made for flight. The other trunk was only partly packed, and was not locked. This I opened and searched. At the top, in receptacles which must have been made expressly for them, were a number of works of art in bronze, ivory, and porcelain, which I should judge were very valuable. At the bottom of the trunk was a packet which I unfastened. It contained deeds and acceptances of various kinds, some signed by Lord Wharton and Lord Fairfax, also some jewels answering to the description of those which were obtained from Lady Wharton by fraud at Bournemouth. By the time I had made this cursory examination Mr. Death was sufficiently recovered to be brought to the court with his daughter Gracie. I left two constables in charge of the house, and hastened here at once." Mr. Pallaret (to the magistrates): "Upon the evidence presented to you I now apply for the discharge of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington."

The Magistrate: "Has the counsel for the Crown anything to say?"

Mr. Marlow: "I offer no opposition. There were circumstances of grave suspicion against the accused which warranted their arrest, but the light thrown upon the case appears to leave no doubt of their innocence."

Mr. Pallaret: "I thank my learned friend."

The Magistrate: "The accused are discharged."

Florence and Aunt Rob rose from their seats in joyful agitation, the tears streaming from their eyes, and their arms stretched forth to embrace the young men, whose progress was impeded by the throng of sympathising spectators eager to shake hands with them. In the midst of the confusion the piercing voice of the French detective, Joseph Pitou, was heard, calling for a doctor. A sudden hush fell upon the Court, and all eyes were turned upon the detective, who had resumed his place behind Dr. Pye. Upon leaving the witness box Detective Lambert had stepped to the side of Dr. Vinsen, and had laid his hand upon the miscreant's arm. Detected, and in the power of the law, the wretch now stood in an attitude of abject fear.

One of the spectators recalled that while Detective Lambert was giving his evidence he noticed that Dr. Pye gave a sudden start, and that a moment or two afterwards he shuddered and drooped his head. He ascribed this to the agitation caused by the revelations that were being made.

"A doctor-a doctor!" screamed Joseph Pitou.

The physician who had been attending Abel Death and Gracie pushed his way with difficulty to the French detective, and raised Dr. Pye's head. There was a faint smile on his lips, expressive both of triumph and contempt.

"Well? Well?" cried Joseph Pitou to the doctor.

The physician unclasped the silent man's fingers, and took from his hand a small bronze instrument in the shape of a ball. A pressure on one end of this ball released three needles, still slightly damp with the liquid which had flowed to the points. With a grave look the physician smelt the liquid, and, with his hand upraised for silence, placed his ear to the heart of the man. An examination of his wrist showed several minute punctures, caused by the needles. In this way the deadly poison had been injected into his veins.

"Well, well?" cried Joseph Pitou again.

"He is dead," the physician replied.

* * * * *

Despite this tragic incident there was a scene of unparallelled enthusiasm when the principal actors in the day's proceedings were leaving the Court. The news had spread with the rapidity of lightning, and crowds of people flocked to the spot; it was with difficulty the police kept the approaches from being congested. As regards Gracie the enthusiasm assumed the proportions of an ovation. Cheers were raised for her, men and women stood on tiptoe to obtain a glimpse of her. Lady Wharton stooped and kissed her, and pressed a bank note into her hand. Gracie lifted her eyes gratefully, and gave the note to her mother. Aunt Rob and Florence, the happy tears still in their eyes, with Uncle Rob and Reginald and Dick, fluttered about her.

"Will you come home with us, Gracie?" asked Aunt Rob, with a tender caress. "And you, Mr. and Mrs. Death?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Death. "We must go to our little ones."

"They haven't seen father for ever so long, ma'am," added Gracie. "Did they ask for me, mother?"

"Yes, my darling, every day, over and over again. How glad they'll be! How happy and grateful I am!"

"I will take you home in my carriage," said Lady Wharton, and then energetically to her brother, "Fairfax, what do you think of her?"

"Little brick," said Lord Fairfax.

Lady Wharton turned to the men and women who were pressing round them. "Do keep off, good people, and let the child have air. You'll be the death of her with your kindness."

"Dick!" said Gracie, putting her hand in his.

"God bless you, Gracie!" he said, kissing her.

"You'll come and see us, Dick."

"I am coming to-night, Gracie."

With her arms round his neck he carried her to the carriage.

A beautiful light shone in her eyes.

CHAPTER LXV

FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."

"The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day, where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments of this monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A full report of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge the masters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable and extraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time nor the space for a careful consideration of all the features of this Mystery-murder-no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of the child-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with the son of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilest conspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully into all the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementing the report of the police court proceedings and incidents by such further particulars as have come to our knowledge.

"Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before the magistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to make confession, with the view of showing that he was not the actual perpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon this rumour, confident that justice will be done.

"Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were found the brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notorious criminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult to speak; from the little that is known of it a strange study is presented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments, it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the science of alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be, is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, to which mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic, and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy once acknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in the world dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears to have been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regarded even the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionary ends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to be deplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate his crimes on the scaffold.

"What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeter and more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this we but echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when she issued from the police court that the people would have carried her through the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, and she and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton's carriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay our tribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities she displayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family from poverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating our wishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in our to-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, their contributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign. We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of five pounds."