found. Dark and deserted it is in all conscience, is it not? Just the place
where a bully and a coward would decoy an unsuspecting stranger, murder him
first, then rob him of his valuables, his papers, his very identity, and leave
him there to rot. The body was found in a disused barge which had been moored
some time against the wall, at the foot of these steps. It was in the last
stages of decomposition, and, of course, could not be identified; but the police
would have it that it was the body of William Kershaw.
"It never entered their heads that it was the body of Francis Smethurst, and
that William Kershaw was his murderer.
all! His disguise! Kershaw had a shaggy beard, hair, and moustache. He shaved up
to his very eyebrows ! No wonder that even his wife did not recognize him across
the court; and remember she never saw much of his face while he stood in the
dock. Kershaw was shabby, slouchy, he stooped. Smethurst, the millionaire, might
have served in the Prussian army.
"Then that lovely trait about going to revisit the Torriani Hotel. Just a few
days' grace, in order to purchase moustache and beard and wig, exactly similar
to what he had himself shaved off. Making up to look like himself! Splendid!
Then leaving the pocket-book behind! He! he! he! Kershaw was not murdered! Of
course not. He called at the Torriani Hotel six days after the murder, whilst
Mr. Smethurst, the millionaire, hobnobbed in the park with duchesses! Hang such
a man! Fie!"
He fumbled for his hat. With nervous, trembling fingers he held it deferentially
in his hand whilst he rose from the table. Polly watched him as he strode up to
the desk, and paid twopence for his glass of milk and his bun. Soon he
disappeared through the shop, whilst she still found herself hopelessly
a long piece of string, smothered from end to end in a series of knots, as
bewildering, as irritating, as puzzling as the man who had lately sat in the
corner.