The Old Man in the Corner | Page 8

myself in worse and more deserted
neighbourhoods. I became hopelessly lost and fogged. I don't wonder
that two and a half hours elapsed while I thus wandered on in the dark
and deserted streets; my sole astonishment is that I ever found the
station at all that night, or rather close to it a policeman, who showed
me the way.'
"'But how do you account for Kershaw knowing all your movements?'
still persisted his Honour, 'and his knowing the exact date of your
arrival in England? How do you account for these two letters, in fact?'
"'I cannot account for it or them, your Honour,' replied the prisoner
quietly. 'I have proved to you, have I not, that I never wrote those
letters, and that the man--er--Kershaw is his name?--was not murdered
by me?'
"'Can you tell me of anyone here or abroad who might have heard of
your movements, and of the date of your arrival?'
"'My late employés at Vladivostok, of course, knew of my departure,
but none of them could have written these letters, since none of them
know a word of English.'
"'Then you can throw no light upon these mysterious letters? You
cannot help the police in any way towards the clearing up of this
strange affair?'
"'The affair is as mysterious to me as to your Honour, and to the police

of this country.'
"Francis Smethurst was discharged, of course; there was no semblance
of evidence against him sufficient to commit him for trial. The two
overwhelming points of his defence which had completely routed the
prosecution were, firstly, the proof that he had never written the letters
making the assignation, and secondly, the fact that the man supposed to
have been murdered on the 10th was seen to be alive and well on the
16th. But then, who in the world was the mysterious individual who
had apprised Kershaw of the movements of Smethurst, the
millionaire?"
CHAPTER III
HIS DEDUCTION
The man in the corner cocked his funny thin head on one side and
looked at Polly; then he took up his beloved bit of string and
deliberately untied every knot he had made in it. When it was quite
smooth he laid it out upon the table.
"I will take you, if you like, point by point along the line of reasoning
which I followed myself, and which will inevitably lead you, as it led
me, to the only possible solution of the mystery.
"First take this point," he said with nervous restlessness, once more
taking up his bit of string, and forming with each point raised a series
of knots which would have shamed a navigating instructor, "obviously
it was impossible for Kershaw not to have been acquainted with
Smethurst, since he was fully apprised of the latter's arrival in England
by two letters. Now it was clear to me from the first that no one could
have written those two letters except Smethurst. You will argue that
those letters were proved not to have been written by the man in the
dock. Exactly. Remember, Kershaw was a careless man--he had lost
both envelopes. To him they were insignificant. Now it was never
disproved that those letters were written by Smethurst."
"But--" suggested Polly.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted, while knot number two appeared upon
the scene, "it was proved that six days after the murder, William
Kershaw was alive, and visited the Torriani Hotel, where already he
was known, and where he conveniently left a pocket-book behind, so
that there should be no mistake as to his identity; but it was never
questioned where Mr. Francis Smethurst, the millionaire, happened to
spend that very same afternoon."
"Surely, you don't mean?" gasped the girl.
"One moment, please," he added triumphantly. "How did it come about
that the landlord of the Torriani Hotel was brought into court at all?
How did Sir Arthur Inglewood, or rather his client, know that William
Kershaw had on those two memorable occasions visited the hotel, and
that its landlord could bring such convincing evidence forward that
would for ever exonerate the millionaire from the imputation of
murder?"
"Surely," I argued, "the usual means, the police--"
"The police had kept the whole affair very dark until the arrest at the
Hotel Cecil. They did not put into the papers the usual: 'If anyone
happens to know of the whereabouts, etc. etc'. Had the landlord of that
hotel heard of the disappearance of Kershaw through the usual channels,
he would have put himself in communication with the police. Sir
Arthur Inglewood produced him. How did Sir Arthur Inglewood come
on his track?"
"Surely, you don't mean?"
"Point number four," he resumed imperturbably, "Mrs. Kershaw was
never requested to produce a specimen of her husband's handwriting.
Why? Because the police, clever