The Hampstead Mystery | Page 6

night how
came it that there were no lights in the empty house when the police
discovered the body? Had the murderer, after shooting his victim,
turned out the lights so that on the following day no suspicion would be
created as would be the case if anyone saw lights burning in the house
in the day-time? If he had done so, he was a cool hand. But if the
burglar was such a cool hand as to stop to turn out the lights after the
murder why did he not also stop to collect some valuables? Was he
afraid that in attempting to get rid of them to a "fence" or "drop" he
would practically reveal himself as the murderer and so place himself
in danger in case the police offered a reward for the apprehension of the
author of the crime?
If Sir Horace had gone to bed before the murderer entered the house it
would have been natural to expect no lights turned on. But he had
returned unexpectedly; there were no servants in the house, and there
was no bed ready for him. In any case, if he intended stopping in the
empty house instead of going to a hotel he would have been wearing a
sleeping suit when his body was discovered; or, at most, he would be
only partially dressed if he had got up on hearing somebody moving

about the house. But the body was fully dressed, even to collar and tie.
It was absurd to suppose that the victim had been sitting in the darkness
when the murderer appeared.
Another difficult problem Scotland Yard had to face was the discovery
of the person who had sent them the news of the murder. How had
Scotland Yard's anonymous correspondent learned about the murder,
and what were his motives in informing the police in the way he had
done? Was he connected with the crime? Had the murderer a
companion with him when he broke into Riversbrook for the purpose
of burglary? That seemed to be the most probable explanation. The
second man had been horrified at the murder, and desired to
disassociate himself from it so that he might escape the gallows. The
only alternative was to suppose that the murderer had confessed his
crime to some one, and that his confidant had lost no time in informing
the police of the tragedy.
The newspaper accounts of the case threw some light on the private and
domestic affairs of the victim. He was a widower with a grown-up
daughter; his wife, a daughter of the late Sir James Goldsworthy, who
changed his ancient family patronymic from Granville to Goldsworthy
on inheriting the great fortune of an American kinsman, had died eight
years before. Sir Horace's Hampstead household consisted of a
housekeeper, butler, chauffeur, cook, housemaid, kitchenmaid and
gardener. With the exception of the butler the servants had been sent
the previous week to Sir Horace's country house in Dellmere, Sussex. It
appeared that Miss Fewbanks spent most of her time at the country
house and came up to London but rarely. She was at Dellmere when the
murder was committed, and had been under the impression that her
father was in Scotland. According to a report received from the police
at Dellmere the first intimation that Miss Fewbanks had received of the
tragic death of her father came from them. Naturally, she was
prostrated with grief at the tragedy.
The butler who had been left behind in charge of Riversbrook was a
man named Hill, but he was not in the house on the night of the tragedy.
He was a married man, and his wife and child lived in Camden Town,

where Mrs. Hill kept a confectionery shop. Hill's master had given him
permission to live at home for three weeks while he was in Scotland.
The house in Tanton Gardens had been locked up and most of the
valuables had been sent to the bank for safe-keeping, but there were
enough portable articles of value in the house to make a good haul for
any burglar. Hill had instructions to visit the house three times a week
for the purpose of seeing that everything was safe and in order. He had
inspected the place on Wednesday morning, and everything was as it
had been left when his master went to Scotland. Sir Horace Fewbanks
had returned to London on Wednesday evening, reaching St. Pancras
by the 6.30 train. Hill was unaware that his master was returning, and
the first he learned of the murder was the brief announcement in the
evening papers on Thursday.
CHAPTER III
Inspector Chippenfield, who had come into prominence in the
newspapers as the man who had caught the gang who had stolen Lady
Gladville's jewels--which included the most