He had scarcely uttered these words ere we ascended a couple of steps
and entered what seemed to be a spacious place, the charge-room of the
police-station.
There was the sound of heavy tramping over bare boards, and suddenly a
rather gruff voice inquired--
"Well, four-six-eight? What is it?"
"Gentleman, sir--wants to report a tragedy. He's blind, sir."
"Bring him a chair," said the inspector's voice authoritatively.
My guide drew forward a chair, and I seated myself, saying--
"I believe you are the inspector on duty here?"
"Yes, I am. Will you kindly tell me your name and address?"
I did so, and the scratching of a quill told me that he was about to
take down my statement.
"Well?" he inquired at length. "Please go on, for my time is limited.
What's the nature of the affair?"
"I've been present to-night in a house where a double murder has been
committed," I said.
"Where?"
"Ah! That's unfortunately just the mystery which I cannot solve. Being
blind, I could obtain no idea of the exterior of the place, and in my
excitement I left it without properly marking the house."
"Tell me the whole of the facts," observed the officer. "Who are the
victims?"
"A woman and a man."
"Young or old?"
"Both young, as far as I can judge. At any rate, I examined the body of
the man and found him to be about twenty-eight."
"The gentleman has no idea of the street where the tragedy has
occurred," chimed in the constable. "He met me outside the Museum, and
the blood on his clothes was still wet."
"He's got an injury to the head," remarked the inspector.
"I was knocked down and rendered insensible by a cab," I explained.
"When I again became conscious I found myself in a strange house."
"They didn't rob you?"
I felt in my pockets, but I could not discover that I had lost anything.
I remembered that I had only a couple of half-sovereigns and some loose
silver upon me, and this remained still in my pocket. My fingers
touched the stud and pencil-case, and I hesitated whether to give these
up to the police. But next second the thought flashed through my mind
that if I did, suspicion might be aroused against me, and further that
while I kept them in my possession I should possess a secret clue to the
victims of the terrible tragedy.
After I had fully explained the whole circumstances, and the inspector
had written down with infinite care each word of my remarkable
statement, he said--
"It seems as though both the man and woman fell victims to some plot or
other. You say that there were no high words, and that all you heard
was a woman's shriek, and a man's voice say, `Why, you've killed her!'
Now, have you any idea of the identity of that man?"
"None whatsoever," I answered. "My mind is a perfect blank on
everything, save the personal appearance of the man who was afterwards
struck to the heart."
"Exactly. But don't you think that the man who expressed horror at the
first crime fell the victim of the second?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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