CHAPTER XV.

HOW THE MURDER WAS DISCOVERED.

All murders past do stand excused in this— And this so sole and so unmatchable Shall prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle. SHAKESPEARE.

Fearless he sees who is with virtue crowned The tempest rage and hears the thunder sound— Ever the same, though fortune smile or frown. GRANVILLE.

It was inevitable that the murder of the girl in the railway carriage must have been speedily discovered.

It was broad daylight when the train reached Yockley.

A group of ladies and children stood on the platform waiting to get seats.

The guard, seeing them, and knowing that the “reserved” compartment, “reserved” no longer, was the only vacant one on the train, went and opened the door, put out the lamp, and turned to the new passengers.

“Ladies’ carriage, guard,” said the matron who appeared to be the mother of the group.

“All right, mum, here you are! Only one lady in the carriage, and no gentlemen. Plenty of room, mum!” answered the official, lifting the children in one by one, and then assisting two young ladies and finally the matron into the compartment.

The last mentioned was stout and clumsy, and pitched about for a moment, and then stumbled and fell; but in falling she threw out her hand to save herself, and struck upon the form of poor Kit.

Something “swashed” as she afterwards described it, like wet clothes in a wash-tub when pressed upon.

She recovered her equilibrium and dropped into her seat; but that of the poor murdered girl had been disturbed, and the body swayed helplessly and sank heavily against the matron, who gave it a vigorous “hunch,” as she exclaimed:

“Sit up, my dear! Or _wake_ up, if you are asleep—you _scrouge_ me!”

But at the same instant the woman looked at her glove, and the young lady on the opposite seat looked on the supposed sleeper, and both awoke the welkin with piercing shrieks, shriek upon shriek, as they burst open the door and sprang tumultuously out of the carriage, followed by the terrified and screaming children.

The whole station was aroused and came crowding to the door of the compartment around the distracted group of women and children.

“What’s up? what’s up?” demanded the guard, who was the first on the spot.

“Oh, in there! in there!” was all the pale and trembling women could utter.

“It is—it is—” began one of the young girls; but she could get no farther.

“In the compartment—in there! It’s dead! It’s a corpse!” cried a child of twelve years old, who seemed to have better possession of her senses than all the rest.

The startled guard entered the carriage—but sprang back as if he had been shot!

He closed and locked the door, and rushed across the track to the office of the station-master.

The train was to be delayed for five minutes, and this delay must be telegraphed up and down the road to insure the safety of all on that route.

Then back to the bloody scene, followed by station-master, ticket agent, policemen, porters and passengers.

And the compartment was opened and its horrors revealed.

The babel of voices was hushed now!

Some one had taken a door off its hinges and brought it to the spot.

The guard and a constable entered the compartment and raised the body of the unfortunate girl, and bore it out and laid it on the door. Two porters were called to lift it, and while the constable made way through the crowd, it was borne across the track and into the largest room of the railway station.

The carriage containing the fatal compartment was detached from the train, switched off the road and run into a safe place to await the action of the coroner, and the carriages next before and after were run together and locked, and so the sequence was complete again.

The guard of that train was detained as a witness and another guard was put on duty, and then the train went on its way.

All this was done with railway celerity and within the stipulated five minutes’ grace.

The sun was now above the horizon, and all Yockley—that is to say, the industrious and laboring portion of Yockley—was up and about its business. But little business was done after the news of the murder in the railway carriage was bruited abroad.

The coroner had been promptly summoned, but the crowd gathered before the coroner came.

By order of that officer, the body was removed to the Tawny Lion Tavern, where it was laid out in the large public hall, used often for such purposes in case of railway accidents, and a jury was summoned and impannelled to hold an inquest.

A _post-mortem_ examination was ordered by Coroner Locke, and made by Dr. Lowe, the village practitioner, and his assistants, who proved that death had been caused by a wound through the heart, inflicted by some fine, sharp, three-edged instrument.

The witnesses were Mrs. Bottom, Miss Bottom, and Miss Ann Jane Bottom, who had first discovered the dead body in the carriage, and who, with all the children of their party, had had their journey temporarily interrupted, and were now stopping at the Tawny Lion, in attendance on the inquest.

On a long table, some few feet in front of this one, lay the body of the murdered girl, covered over with a sheet.

One witness, the guard who had been on duty that fatal night, was already called to the stand and undergoing examination.

To the questions of the coroner he answered:

“Name, Thomas Potter; occupation, guard on the London and Northwestern Railway. Was on duty last night.”

“Will you tell the jury what you know of this case?” inquired the coroner.

“Yes, sir. Was on duty, as I had the honor of saying, last night. Train left Paddington Station at 3:50. Just before she left observed a gentleman in an ulster, with his black cap pulled down low on his brows; had a lady in a long, waterproof cloak, on his arm; was looking for seats and the train about to start. I showed them to an empty compartment, and asked the gentleman if he would like to reserve it, for I thought the two were bride and groom.”

“Never mind about your thoughts, guard; let us have the facts,” said the coroner.

“Yes, sir. Gentleman _did_ reserve the compartment to himself and his companion. I didn’t notice the gentleman’s face to recognize it then, sir, for the train had not left the station and the light was bad.”

“Did you recognize him afterwards?” inquired one of the jurymen.

“Later on, sir, I did; but it was much later on; for, though the gentleman got out at one or two stations, he kept the collar of his coat up and the visor of his cap down, so that I did not recognize him; but really I did not take much notice. It was not until we got to the Grand Junction that I saw him to know him. He got out and went into the refreshment-room, and stayed a few minutes, and then came out again; and as I opened the door for him he turned down the collar of his ulster and took off his cap, as if he was too warm, and then I saw he was Mr. Valdimir Desparde.”

The announcement of this name caused a murmur of surprise throughout the crowd, for the Baron Beaudevere and the heir of Cloudland were known all along this line.

“Are you sure of what you say, witness?” inquired the coroner.

“Perfectly sure, sir! I wish to Heaven I wasn’t! I have known Mr. Valdimir Desparde by sight ever since he was a boy. He used to travel by this route many times a year.”

“Remember you are under oath.”

“I do remember it, sir; and I can swear to the fact that the gentleman who reserved the compartment on my train last night for himself and the young woman who was afterwards found murdered on it, was Mr. Valdimir Desparde, and no other,” replied the guard.

“And from the time that Mr. Desparde reserved this compartment at Paddington, until the time when the murder was discovered at Yockley Station, did any other person except Mr. Desparde and the young woman who was his companion enter that compartment?” inquired the foreman of the jury.

“Not a single soul, sir.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because, the compartment being reserved, I watched it at every station, locked the door when the gentleman came out, and unlocked it again when he wished to come in.”

“How was it, then, that you admitted so large a party into this reserved compartment as this one that discovered the murder?” inquired the coroner.

“Because I had missed the gentleman ever since the train left the Miston Junction, and after it had passed several stations I discovered that he was nowhere on board of her. When we reached this station and found a large party of women and children, and not a vacant seat on the train except in that reserved compartment, where there were seven empty, and one occupied only by a sleeping woman, I opened the door and put them into it, and had scarcely gone ten steps away before they all burst shrieking out of the carriage. The murder was discovered.”

Many more questions were put to the guard, without changing the aspect of the old facts as related by him, or eliciting any new ones.

His testimony was very damaging to Valdimir Desparde.

Miss Ann Jane Bottom, being called upon to testify, went into hysterics and had to be taken out.

Miss Maria Bottom had not noticed anything at all until she was hustled out of the compartment by her screaming mother and sister.

But the inquest was not over yet. The jury wished to examine the inside of the carriage, that up to this moment had remained locked and guarded by a constable.

Way was cleared for them to leave the hall, and they went in a body to the station where the carriage was left.

The compartment was then as thoroughly searched as its shocking condition would permit; but nothing was found in it except a small gold pencil-case marked with the initials V. D., and a traveling-bag apparently the property of the dead woman.

These things were taken possession of by the coroner and carried back to the hall in the Tawny Lion, where the inquest was resumed.

Then it was thought advisable that the body of the murdered girl should be viewed, that it might if possible be identified by some one.

Accordingly arrangements were made so that the crowd should file in an orderly manner by the right-hand door, pass around the table on which the body was laid, and down and out by the left-hand door.

This procession occupied a full hour.

But among the hundreds of curious people that viewed the body only one recognized it. This was a young man named Edward Hetley, who had once been a railway porter at the Miston Station, since transferred to Yockley.

He identified the body as that of Christelle Ken, the daughter of James Ken, fisherman on the Miston coast.

When the inspection was over and all the testimony taken, the coroner summed up the evidence.

He was a plain, straightforward man, this village coroner, and his speech was brief and to the point.

The case was a very simple one, he said, and would give the jury but little trouble.

The “intelligent jury” consulted about ten minutes, and returned a verdict in accordance with the evident facts of the case, to the effect that—

“The deceased, Christelle Ken, came to her death through a wound in the heart, inflicted by a sharp-pointed instrument held in the hands of Valdimir Desparde.”

As soon as the verdict was made known, the magistrate present, Mr. George Gatton, issued a warrant for the apprehension of Valdimir Desparde, and dispatched a constable, accompanied by the railway guard, to Miston for the purpose of executing it.

At the same time a notification of his daughter’s death was sent to James Ken.

When the hall was cleared of men, the women of the house were admitted to it. They brought with them hot water and clean white clothing to prepare the remains of poor Kit for the coffin in which it was to be sent home to her friends.

The women, when they had done their work, silently covered it over and withdrew from the hall, leaving it in perfect order.

[Illustration: [Fleuron]]