CHAPTER II.

A RECOGNITION.

Topping this discovery came the return of Mrs. Boazoph with a candle and an apology. Her procedure was so exactly the same as that suggested by Fanks that Crate could not forbear from paying the tribute of an admiring chuckle to the perspicuity of his chief. Only in her action with the tablecloth did Mrs. Boazoph vary from the prescribed ritual.

"My regrets and apologies, sir," she said, addressing Fanks, with a side glance at the table; "but one of the servants--an idle slut, whom I have now discharged--turned off the gas at the meter by accident. I hope that you were not alarmed by the sudden darkness. Permit me to relight the burners."

And with this neat speech she mounted a chair with the activity of a girl. Having remedied the accident she stumbled--or seemed to stumble--in descending, and caught at the table to save herself, thereby dragging the cloth on to the floor. Then it was that Crate chuckled; whereupon Mrs. Boazoph was on her feet at once, with a look of startled suspicion. However, as she had accomplished her object, she recovered her equanimity speedily and made another apology, with a lie tacked on to it.

"My regrets for the second accident," she remarked glibly, "but it is due to overstrung nerves. Put it down to that gentleman, if you please, and you will put it down to the right cause."

"Pray do not mention it, Mrs. Boazoph," said Fanks, significantly; "I have already examined the cloth. And now, if you please, we will go upstairs."

The woman drew back and bit her lip. She guessed that Fanks had seen through her stratagem, and for the moment she was minded to excuse herself. Fortunately her habitual caution saved her from a second blunder; and she strove to conciliate Fanks by a piece of news.

"I trust that you will not think me presuming, sir," she said, "but in the hope that there might be some chance of life remaining in It, I sent for a doctor. He is now upstairs with It."

"Your kindness does you great credit," said Fanks, seeing his way clear to a thrust, "you could not have behaved better if you had known this man."

Holding the candle before her face, Mrs. Boazoph drew back a step, with one hand clutching the bosom of her dress. Her composure gave way.

"In one word, you suspect me," she cried with a glitter in her eyes.

"In one word, I suspect nobody," retorted Fanks. "I have not yet heard all your story, remember."

"You know all that I know," said Mrs. Boazoph. "The man who came here at six this evening--the man who lies dead upstairs, is a complete stranger to me. I caught only a glimpse of him as he entered; I did not speak to him. He asked for a private room in which to wait for a friend. He was shown into this room, and waited. The negro arrived ten minutes later. I saw him--I showed him into this room; but indeed, Mr. Fanks, I never set eyes on him before. The pair--white and black--were together till close on seven. They had something to drink, for which the dead man paid. I did not enter the room; it was the barmaid who served them with drink. I did not know when the negro went; but, wanting the room for some other gentlemen, I knocked at the door at seven o'clock to ask if they had finished their conversation. I received no reply; I opened the door; I entered; I found the white man dead, the negro absent. After removing the body upstairs and covering it with a sheet, as any decent woman would, I sent for the police. That is all; I swear that it is the truth. Say what you please; do what you please; you cannot fasten this crime on to me."

Fanks listened to this speech with great imperturbability, and made but one comment thereon.

"I took you for a clever woman, Mrs. Boazoph," he said, "evidently I have been wrong. Will you be so kind as to light us upstairs."

Mrs. Boazoph thrust the candle into his hands.

"I have seen _It_ once; I refuse to look upon it again."

She passed out of the room shaking as with the ague. Fanks nodded in a satisfied way, and beckoning to Crate, he went upstairs. A frightened housemaid on the landing indicated the room of which they were in search; and they entered it to come face to face with the doctor summoned by the zealous landlady. He introduced himself as Dr. Renshaw, and made this announcement with a bland smile and a condescending bow. Fanks eyed his tall and burly figure; his Napoleonic countenance; his smooth, brown beard and his perfect dress. There was a look about the man which he did not like; and he mistrusted the uneasy glance of the hard, grey eyes. The detective relied largely on his instinct. In this case it warned him against the false geniality of Dr. Renshaw.

"The representatives of the law, I believe," said the medical man in a deep and rolling voice. "I was about to take my departure; but if I can be of service in the interests of justice, pray command me."

"I suppose there is no doubt that our friend there is dead," said Fanks.

"Dead as Caesar, sir," said the magnificent doctor, waving his arm.

"Caesar died by steel," remarked Fanks significantly. "It appears that this man died in an easier manner."

"There is another parallel," said the doctor, condescending to add to the historical knowledge of the detective. "If we may believe Brutus, the great Julius was slain as a traitor to the republic. This unknown man," added Renshaw, pointing to the body, "also died the death of a traitor."

"If, as you say, the dead man is unknown," said Fanks quickly, "how can you tell that he was a traitor?"

"By inference and deduction," was the reply. "You can judge for yourself. Far be it from me that I should set my opinion against that of the law; but I have a theory. Would you care to hear it? If I may venture on a jest," said Renshaw with ponderous playfulness, "the medical mouse may help the legal lion."

"Let us hear your theory by all means," said Fanks easily, "but first permit me to speak with my assistant."

The doctor bowed and passed over to the other side of the bed; while Fanks went with Crate to the door. Here he hesitated, glanced at the doctor, and finally led his subordinate into the passage.

"Crate!" he said in a rapid whisper, "I mistrust that man. He will shortly leave this place. Follow him and find out where he lives. Then set someone to watch the place, and return to me."

"Do you think that he has anything to do with it?" asked Crate.

"I can't say at present. I may be wrong about him and about Mrs. Boazoph; all the same I mistrust the pair of them. Now off with you."

When Crate departed to watch for the outcoming of the doctor, Fanks re-entered the chamber of death. Renshaw still stood beside the bed, and seemingly had not moved from that position. Nevertheless, a mat placed midway between bed and door, was rucked up. By the merest accident Fanks had previously noticed that it was lying flat. Thence he deduced that Renshaw had crossed to the door. In plain words, Renshaw had been listening. Fanks was confirmed in this opinion by the complacent smile which played round the lips of the doctor.

"Now for your theory, Doctor," said Fanks, noting all, but saying nothing.

"Certainly, sir. As a detective you know, of course, of the existence of secret societies."

"I do; and I know also that those who reveal the doings of such societies are punished. Go on, Doctor."

"First you must inspect the body," replied Renshaw.

He drew down the sheet which concealed the face of the dead. In the cruel glare of the gaslight, Fanks beheld a countenance discoloured and distorted. The head was that of a young man with brown and curly hair, well-marked eyebrows, and a moustache of the same hue as the hair. The body was clothed in moleskin trousers, and a flannel shirt. From the bedpost hung a rough, grey coat, and a cloth cap. A glance assured Fanks that these clothes of a working man were perfectly new; another glance confirmed his first belief that the dead man was a gentleman. On looking intently into the face he started back in surprise; but recovering himself, said nothing. If the doctor had observed his action, he made no pointed remark thereon; but set it down merely to a natural feeling of repulsion.

"I do not wonder that the state of the body revolts you, sir," he said. "The corpse is swollen and discoloured in a terrible manner. Of course, I can say nothing authoritatively until the post mortem has been made; but from all appearances I am inclined to ascribe the death to poison."

"Ah; then it is a case of murder?"

"So you say, sir; the secret society to which this man belongs, would call it a punishment."

"How do you know that this man belongs to a secret society. Do you recognise the body?"

"No, sir. The man is nameless so far as I am concerned. There are no marks on his linen or clothes; and there are no papers in his pockets likely to identify him. Oh, believe me, sir, the society has done its work well."

"You seem to be very confident about your secret society?"

The doctor bent over the body, and rolled up the shirt sleeve of the left arm. Between elbow and shoulder there appeared a swollen mark in the shape of a rude cross, surrounded by a wheel; violet in colour, and slashed across with a knife. To this he pointed in silence.

"I see what you mean," said Fanks, twisting his signet ring; always a sign of perplexity with him. "The secret mark of the society has been obliterated."

"Precisely. Now you can understand, sir, why I infer that this man was a traitor. Evidently the negro--of whose presence Mrs. Boazoph informed me--was the emissary of the society, and killed this traitor by poison. Afterwards, as was natural, he obliterated the secret mark by drawing his knife across it."

"He did not do his work thoroughly then, Doctor. The secret mark is a cross."

"The secret mark is more than a cross, sir," replied the doctor, "else you may be sure that the negro would have obliterated it more perfectly."

The detective replaced the sheet over the face of the dead: and prepared, as did the doctor, to leave the room. They turned down the gas and departed; but while descending the stairs, Renshaw asked Fanks a question.

"Are you satisfied that my explanation is a correct one?" he demanded.

"I am perfectly satisfied," said Fanks, looking directly at the man.

Strange to say, this unhesitating acceptance appeared to render Renshaw uneasy; and the flow of his magnificent speech broke up in confusion.

"I may be wrong," he muttered. "We are all liable to error; but such as it is, that is my opinion."

"You would be willing to repeat that opinion at the inquest, Doctor?"

Renshaw drew back with a shudder.

"Is it necessary that I should go to the inquest?" he asked faintly.

"I think so," replied Fanks significantly. "You were the first to see the corpse. You will have to describe the state in which you found it. Your address if you please?"

"Twenty-four, Great Auk Street," said Renshaw, after some hesitation. "I am staying there at present."

"Staying there?"

"Yes! I--I--not practise in London. I do not practise at all, in fact. I travel--I travel a great deal. In two weeks I go to India."

"You must go first to the inquest," responded Fanks dryly. "But if you do not practise in London, how comes it that Mrs. Boazoph sent for you?"

"She did not send for me," explained the doctor, "but for my friend, Dr. Turnor; he is absent on a holiday, and I am acting as his locum tenens for a short period."

"Thank you, Doctor; that is a thoroughly satisfactory explanation; quite as satisfactory as your theory of the death. Good evening. I should recommend a glass of brandy; you look as though you needed it."

"Weak heart!" muttered Renshaw in explanation, and took his departure with evident relief. But before he left the hotel, he acted on the detective's suggestion. Mrs. Boazoph gave him the brandy with her own hands. The action afforded her an opportunity of exchanging a few words with him. Fanks thwarted her intent by also entering the bar, and asking for refreshment; whereupon, the doctor finished his liquor and departed.

Left alone with Fanks, the landlady drew a breath of relief, and addressed herself to the detective.

"Do you wish to know anything else, sir," she said coldly. "If not, with your permission, I shall retire to bed."

"I have learned all I wish to know at present, thank you, Mrs. Boazoph. Go to bed by all means. I am sure that you need rest after your anxiety."

The landlady, looking worn out and haggard, retired, and Fanks went to the door to wait for Crate's return. In the meantime he made notes and formed theories; these will be revealed hereafter, but in the meantime the case was in too crude a state for him to come to the smallest conclusion. However, he had already decided on the next step. In the chamber of death he had made an important discovery which enabled him to move in the matter.

In half an hour Crate returned with the information that Dr. Renshaw had entered No. 24, Great Auk Street; and that he had set a detective to watch the house. Fanks smiled on receiving this report.

"He is cleverer than I thought," he murmured; and left Tooley's Alley with Crate.

"Well, Mr. Fanks, whom do you suspect?"

"No one at present, Crate."

"Oh! and what do you do next?"

"Make certain of the dead man's identity."

Crate stopped in surprise.

"Do you know who he is, Mr. Fanks?"

"Yes! He is a friend of my own. Sir Gregory Fellenger, Baronet."