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Page 69
"And now we have to fit in the man in the smoking carriage.
Presuming that we have, up to this point, reconstructed the tragedy
correctly, we shall find nothing in this other man to cause us to
reconsider our conclusions. According to my theory, this man saw
the young fellow cross from one train to the other, saw him open
the door, heard the pistol-shot, saw the two fugitives spring out
on to the line, realized that murder had been done, and sprang out
himself in pursuit. Why he has never been heard of since--whether
he met his own death in the pursuit, or whether, as is more likely,
he was made to realize that it was not a case for his
interference--is a detail which we have at present no means of
explaining. I acknowledge that there are some difficulties in the
way. At first sight, it might seem improbable that at such a
moment a murderer would burden himself in his flight with a brown
leather bag. My answer is that he was well aware that if the bag
were found his identity would be established. It was absolutely
necessary for him to take it with him. My theory stands or falls
upon one point, and I call upon the railway company to make strict
inquiry as to whether a ticket was found unclaimed in the local
train through Harrow and King's Langley upon the 18th of March. If
such a ticket were found my case is proved. If not, my theory may
still be the correct one, for it is conceivable either that he
travelled without a ticket or that his ticket was lost."
To this elaborate and plausible hypothesis the answer of the
police and of the company was, first, that no such ticket was
found; secondly, that the slow train would never run parallel to
the express; and, thirdly, that the local train had been stationary
in King's Langley Station when the express, going at fifty miles an
hour, had flashed past it. So perished the only satisfying
explanation, and five years have elapsed without supplying a new
one. Now, at last, there comes a statement which covers all the
facts, and which must be regarded as authentic. It took the shape
of a letter dated from New York, and addressed to the same criminal
investigator whose theory I have quoted. It is given here in
extenso, with the exception of the two opening paragraphs, which
are personal in their nature:
"You'll excuse me if I'm not very free with names. There's
less reason now than there was five years ago when mother was still
living. But for all that, I had rather cover up our tracks all I
can. But I owe you an explanation, for if your idea of it was
wrong, it was a mighty ingenious one all the same. I'll have to go
back a little so as you may understand all about it.
"My people came from Bucks, England, and emigrated to the
States in the early fifties. They settled in Rochester, in the
State of New York, where my father ran a large dry goods store.
There were only two sons: myself, James, and my brother, Edward.
I was ten years older than my brother, and after my father died I
sort of took the place of a father to him, as an elder brother
would. He was a bright, spirited boy, and just one of the most
beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there was always a soft
spot in him, and it was like mould in cheese, for it spread and
spread, and nothing that you could do would stop it. Mother saw it
just as clearly as I did, but she went on spoiling him all the
same, for he had such a way with him that you could refuse him
nothing. I did all I could to hold him in, and he hated me for my
pains.
"At last he fairly got his head, and nothing that we could do
would stop him. He got off into New York, and went rapidly
from bad to worse. At first he was only fast, and then he was
criminal; and then, at the end of a year or two, he was one of the
most notorious young crooks in the city. He had formed a
friendship with Sparrow MacCoy, who was at the head of his
profession as a bunco-steerer, green goodsman and general rascal.
They took to card-sharping, and frequented some of the best hotels
in New York. My brother was an excellent actor (he might have made
an honest name for himself if he had chosen), and he would take the
parts of a young Englishman of title, of a simple lad from the
West, or of a college undergraduate, whichever suited Sparrow
MacCoy's purpose. And then one day he dressed himself as a girl,
and he carried it off so well, and made himself such a valuable
decoy, that it was their favourite game afterwards. They had made
it right with Tammany and with the police, so it seemed as if
nothing could ever stop them, for those were in the days before the
Lexow Commission, and if you only had a pull, you could do pretty
nearly everything you wanted.
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