Lady Molly of Scotland Yard | Page 4

until then.
"I was not going to miss the first act of a romantic drama," she said to
me just as our train steamed into Canterbury station. "Pick up your bag,
Mary. We're going to tramp it to Ninescore--two lady artists on a
sketching tour, remember--and we'll find lodgings in the village, I dare
say."
We had some lunch in Canterbury, and then we started to walk the six
and a half miles to Ninescore, carrying our bags. We put up at one of
the cottages, where the legend "Apartments for single respectable lady
or gentleman" had hospitably invited us to enter, and at eight o'clock
the next morning we found our way to the local police-station, where
the inquest was to take place. Such a funny little place, you know--just
a cottage converted for official use--and the small room packed to its
utmost holding capacity. The entire able-bodied population of the
neighbourhood had, I verily believe, congregated in these ten cubic

yards of stuffy atmosphere.
Inspector Meisures, apprised by the chief of our arrival, had reserved
two good places for us well in sight of witnesses, coroner and jury. The
room was insupportably close, but I assure you that neither Lady Molly
nor I thought much about our comfort then. We were terribly interested.
From the outset the case seemed, as it were, to wrap itself more and
more in its mantle of impenetrable mystery. There was precious little in
the way of clues, only that awful intuition, that dark unspoken
suspicion with regard to one particular man's guilt, which one could
feel hovering in the minds of all those present.
Neither the police nor Timothy Coleman had anything to add to what
was already known. The ring and purse were produced, also the dress
worn by the murdered woman. All were sworn to by several witnesses
as having been the property of Mary Nicholls.
Timothy, on being closely questioned, said that, in his opinion, the
girl's body had been pushed into the mud, as the head was absolutely
embedded in it, and he didn't see how she could have fallen like that.
Medical evidence was repeated; it was as uncertain--as vague--as
before. Owing to the state of the head and neck it was impossible to
ascertain by what means the death blow had been dealt. The doctor
repeated his statement that the unfortunate girl must have been dead
quite a fortnight. The body was discovered on February 5th--a fortnight
before that would have been on or about January 23rd.
The caretaker who lived at the lodge at Ash Court could also throw but
little light on the mysterious event. Neither he nor any member of his
family had seen or heard anything to arouse their suspicions. Against
that he explained that "The Wilderness," where the murder was
committed, is situated some 200 yards from the lodge, with the
mansion and flower garden lying between. Replying to a question put
to him by a juryman, he said that that portion of the grounds is only
divided off from Ninescore Lane by a low, brick wall, which has a door
in it, opening into the lane almost opposite Elm Cottages. He added that

the mansion had been empty for over a year, and that he succeeded the
last man, who died, about twelve months ago. Mr. Lydgate had not
been down for golf since witness had been in charge.
It would be useless to recapitulate all that the various witnesses had
already told the police, and were now prepared to swear to. The private
life of the two sisters Nicholls was gone into at full length, as much, at
least, as was publicly known. But you know what village folk are;
except when there is a bit of scandal and gossip, they know precious
little of one another's inner lives.
The two girls appeared to be very comfortably off. Mary was always
smartly dressed; and the baby girl, whom she had placed in Mrs.
Williams's charge, had plenty of good and expensive clothes, whilst her
keep, 5s. a week, was paid with unfailing regularity. What seemed
certain, however, was that they did not get on well together, that Susan
violently objected to Mary's association with Mr. Lydgate, and that
recently she had spoken to the vicar asking him to try to persuade her
sister to go away from Ninescore altogether, so as to break entirely with
the past. The Reverend Octavius Ludlow, Vicar of Ninescore, seems
thereupon to have had a little talk with Mary on the subject, suggesting
that she should accept a good situation in London.
"But," continued the reverend gentleman, "I didn't make much
impression on her. All she replied to me was that she certainly need
never go into service, as she had a good income of her