A Silent Witness | Page 2

The posts stood out less vaguely against the
back-ground of wet road, and the odd-looking stump by the corner was
almost distinct. And again it struck me as looking curiously like a
foot-a booted foot with the toe pointing upwards.
The chime of a church clock sounded across the Heath, a human voice,
this, penetrating the desolate silence. Then, after an interval, the solemn
boom of Big Ben came up faintly from the sleeping city.
Midnight! and time for me to go home. It was of no use to wait for the
rain to cease. This was no passing shower, but a steady drizzle that
might last till morning. I re-lit my pipe, turned up my collar, and
prepared to plunge into the rain. And as I stepped out, the
queer-looking stump caught my eye once more. It was singularly like a
foot; and it was odd, too, that I had never noticed it before in my many
rambles through the lane.
A sudden, childish curiosity impelled me to see what it really was
before I went, and the next moment I was striding sharply up the
sodden path. Of course, I expected the illusion to vanish as I
approached. But it did not. The resemblance increased as I drew nearer,
and I hurried forward with something more than curiosity.
It was a foot! I realized it with a shock while I was some paces away;
and, as I reached the corner, I came upon the body of a man lying in the
sharp turn of the path; and the limp, sprawling posture, with one leg

doubled under, told its tale at a glance.
I laid my finger on his wrist. It was clammy and cold, and not a vestige
of a pulse could I detect. I struck a wax match and held it to his face.
The eyes were wide-open and filmy, staring straight up into the reeking
sky. The dilated pupils were insensitive to the glare of the match, the
eyeballs insensitive to the touch of my finger.
Beyond all doubt the man was dead.
But how had he died? Had he simply fallen dead from some natural
cause, or had he been murdered? There was no obvious injury, and no
sign of blood. All that the momentary glimmer of the match showed
was that his clothes were shiny with the wet; a condition that might
easily, in the weak light, mask a considerable amount of bleeding.
When the match went out, I stood for some moments looking down on
the prostrate figure as it lay with the rain beating down on the upturned
face, professional interest contending with natural awe of the tragic
presence. The former prompted me to ascertain without delay the cause
of death; and, indeed, I was about to make a more thorough search for
some injury or wound when something whispered to me that it is not
well to be alone at midnight in a solitary place with a dead
man,-perchance a murdered man. Had there been any sign of life, my
duty would have been clear. As it was, I must act for the best with a
due regard to my own safety. And, reaching this conclusion, I turned
away, with a last glance at the motionless figure and set forth
homeward at a rapid pace.
As I turned out of Millfield Lane into Highgate Rise I perceived a
policeman on the opposite side of the road standing under a tree, where
the light from a lamp fell on his shining tarpaulin cape. I crossed the
road, and, as he civilly touched his helmet, I said: "I am afraid there is
something wrong up the lane, Constable; I have just seen the body of a
man lying on the pathway."
The constable woke up very completely. "Do you mean a dead man,
sir?" he asked.

"Yes, he is undoubtedly dead," I replied.
"Whereabouts did you see the body?" enquired the constable.
"In the narrow part of the lane, just by the stables of Mansfield House."
"That's some distance from here," said the constable. "You had better
come with me and report at the station. You're sure the man was dead,
sir?"
"Yes, I have no doubt about it. I am a medical man," I added, with
some pride (I had been a medical man about three months, and the
sensation was still a novel one).
"Oh, are you, sir?" said the officer, with a glance at my half-fledged
countenance; "then, I suppose you examined the body?"
"Sufficiently to make sure that the man was dead, but I did not stay to
ascertain the cause of death."
"No, sir; quite so. We can find that out later."
As we talked, the constable swung along down the hill, without hurry,
but at a pace that gave