The Mystery of M. Felix. A novel

Front matter

Whl THE MYSTERY OF M. FELIX. THE MYSTERY OF M. FELIX H BV B. L. FARJEON, AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "DEVLIN THE BARBER," "A STRANGE ENCHANTMENT," "THE DUCHESS OF ROSEMARY LANE," "TOILERS OF BABYLON," " A YOUNG GIRL'S LIFE," &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : F. V. WHITE AND CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1890. PRINTED EY KELLY AND CO., MIDDLE MILL, KINGS'. ON-ON-TIIAMHS ; AND GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, W.C. CONTENTS. *Sook % Jfirst. A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE. CHAP. PAGE I. — A Ckv for Help floats through the Night . 1 II. — The Spectre Cat . . . . .11 III. — A Thrilling Incident . . . .22 IV. — A Discussion about Red Cats and White Snow 30 V. — De.

Lamb tells the Constables and Mrs. Middlemore what is the .matter witii Mr. Felix . 43 VI. — The "Evening Moon" indulges in a bombastic Retrospect, in which some very tall and pine writing will be detected by the observant Reader . . . . . .58 VII.—- An Examination op certain Discrepancies in the Statements of the Three Principal Witnesses 64 VIII. — A Startling Phase in the Mystery . . 75 IX. — Introduces Sophy . . .83 X. — Our Reporter gives Mrs. Middlemore some sensible Advice ..... 102 XL — The "Evening Moon" is inundated with Correspondence concerning the Disappearance of the Body of M. P'elix .... 110 XII. — The Reporter of the "Evening Moon" makes a Discovery ..... 124 XIII. — The Reporter op the "Evening Moon" gives Sophy a Treat . . . . .139 XIV. — Sophy imparts strange News to the Reporter of the " Evening Moon" .... 151 XV. — A singular Adventure on the Thames Embankment 165 XVI. — At the Bow Street Police Station . . 182 XV1L— The Sleeping Beauty . . . .193 XVIII.— How the Charge was disposed of . . 209 XIX. — What was found in the River . . 219 XX. — How Mrs. Middlemore is victimized . . 225 XXI. — Circumstantial Evidence .... glook % <firsi, A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.

Chapter I

A CRY FOR HELP FLOATS THROUGH THE NIGHT. "Help!" Throughout the whole of the night chop ping, shifting Avmds had been tearing through the streets of London, now from the north, now from the south, noAV from the east, now from the west, now from all points of the compass at once ; which last caprice — taking place for at least the twentieth time in the course of the hour which the bells of Big Ben were striking — was enough in itself to make the policeman on the beat doubtful of his senses. " What a chap hears in weather hke this," he muttered, " and what he fancies he hears, is enough to drive him mad." vol. I. l He had sufficient justification for the re mark, for there Avere not only the wild pranks of Boreas to torment and distract him, but there was the snow which— blown in fine particles from roofs and gables, and torn from nooks where it lay huddled up in little heaps against stone walls (for the reason that being blown there by previous winds it could get no further) — seemed to take a spiteful pleasure in whirling into his face, which AA'as tingling and smarting with cold, and as a matter of course into his eyes, which it caused to run OA-er with tears.

AVith a A-ague idea that some appeal had been made officially to him as a repre sentative of law and order, he steadied himself and stood still for a feAv moments, with a spiritual cold freezing his heart even as the temporal cold was freezing his marrow. "Help!" The bells of Big Ben were still proclaiming the hour of midnight. If a man at such a time might have reasonably been forgiven the fancy that old Westminster's tower had been invaded by an army of malicious witches, how much more readily might he have been for given for not being able to fix the direction from which this cry for help proceeded ? Nay, he could scarcely have been blamed for doubting that the cry was human. For the third time : " Help ! " Then, so far as that appeal was concerned, silence. The cry was heard no more. The policeman still laboured under a vague impression that his duty lay somewhere in an undefined direction, and his attitude was one of strained yet bewildered attention.

Sud denly he receiA-ed a shock. Something touched his foot. He started back, all his nerves thrilling with an unreasonable spasm of fright. InstinctiA-ely looking down he discovered that he had been ridiculously alarmed by a miser able half-starved and nearly whole-frozen cat, Avhich, with the scanty hairs on its back stick ing up in sharp points, was creeping timorously along in quest of an open door. Recovering from his alarm the policeman stamped his feet and clapped his hands vigorously to keep the circulation in them. His beat was in the heart of Soho, and he was at that moment in Gerrard Street, in which locality human life is represented in perhaps stranger variety than can be found in any other part of this gigantic city of darkness and hght. As a protection against the fierce wind he had taken refuge within the portal of the closed door of an old house which lay a little back from the regular line of buildings in 1—2 the street.

He had no idea that the cry for help had proceeded from that A'ery house, the upper portion of which was inhabited by a gentleman known as M. Felix by some, as Mr. Felix by others. Well-named apparently, for although he was not young, M. Felix was distinguished by a certain happy, light-hearted air which marked him as one who held enjoy ment of the pleasures of life as a kind of religion to be devoutly observed. The lower portion of the house was occuj.ied by the land lady, Mrs. Middlemore, who acted as house keeper to M. Felix. It was the nightly habit of this estimable woman to go for her supper beer at half-past eleven, and return, beaming, at a few minutes after twelve. Despite the inclemency of the weather Mrs. Middlemore had not deviated on this night from her usual custom. She was a widow, without responsibilities, and no person had a right to meddle with her affairs.

Besides, as she frequently remarked, she was quite able to take care of herself. A welcome diversion occurred to the con stable who was stamping his feet within the portal of Mrs. Middlemore's street door. A brother constable sauntered up, and accosted him. " Is that you, Wigg ? " " As much as there's left of me," replied Constable Wigg. " You may well say that," observed the new-comer, who rejoiced in the name of Nightingale. " It's all a job to keep oneself together. What a night ! " " Bitter. I've been regularly blown off my feet." " My case. I'm froze to a stone. The North Pole ain't in it with this, and whether IVe got a nose on my face is more than I'd swear to. Anything up ? " " Nothing, except " " Except what ? " asked Constable Night ingale, as his comrade paused. He put his hand to his nose as he asked the question, his reference to it having inspired doubts as to his being still in possession of the feature.

" A minute or two ago," said Constable Wigg, " I had half a fancy that I heard some body cry out, ' Help ! ' "Ah! Did you go?" " How could I ? I wasn't sure, you know." " Who could be sure of anything," remarked Constable Nightingale charitably, " on such a night ? " " Nobody. It must have been the wind." " Not a doubt of it. If anybody told me he saw Polar bears about I shouldn't dispute with him." Then Constable Nightingale took a step forward, and glanced up at the windows of the front rooms occupied by M. Felix, in which shone a perfect blaze of light. " He must be jolly warm up there." " Who ? " inquired Constable Wigg, his eyes following his comrade's glance. " Mr. Felix." " And who's Mr. Felix when he's at home ? " " Why, you don't mean to say you don't know him ? " " Ne\'er heard of him.

I've only been on the beat two nights." " I forgot. He's a trump, a regular A-one-er. I was on night duty here this time last year, and he behaA-ed handsome. Tipped me at Christinas, and tipped me at New Year's. Half-a-sov. each time. And at other times, too. Altogether he was as good as between four and fiA'e pounds to me while I was here." " That's something like," said Constable Wigg, with hope in his A'oice. " But " — with sudden suspicion — " why should he be so free ? Anything wrong about him ? " " Not a bit of it," replied Constable Night ingale, blowing on his ice-cold fingers. " He's a diamond of the first water — a tip-top swell, rolling in money. That's what's the matter with Mr. Felix. Don't you wish you had the same complaint ? ' Constable,' said he to me, when I came on this beat last year, ' you're on night duty here, eh ? ' ' Yes, sir,' I answers. ' Yery good,' he says ; ' I live in this house ' — we were standing at this A'ery door — ' and I always make it a point to look after them as looks after me.' " " And a A-ery good point it is," remarked Constable Wigg with growing interest, "for a gentleman to make."

" I thought so mvself and I found it so. Fact is, Wigg, he comes home late sometimes, with a glass of wine too much in him, and he knows the usefuhiess of us. Carries a lump of money about him, and likes to feel himself safe. NeA'er what you call drunk, you know. Just a bit sprung, as a real gentleman should be, and always with a pleasant word ready. So, wheneA-er I met him coming home late, I'd walk behind him to his door here, and give him good-night — which he appreciated." " Much obliged to you for the information, Nightingale." " Ought to do these httle turns for one another, Wigg. The man who was on the beat before me gave me the office, and it's only friendly for me to give it to you." Con stable Nightingale looked pensively over the shoulder of his brother constable, and added, " I behaA'ed liberal to him."

" I'll do likewise to you," said Constable Wigg, " if anything happens." " Was sure you would, Wigg," responded Constable Nightingale briskly. " What would the force be worth if we didn't stick together ? When I see Mr. Felix I'll put in a good word for you. He took a regular fancy to me, and told me if I got the beat again to come to him immediate. Once you see him, you can't miss knowing him. Tall and slim, with hair get ting grey. No whiskers ; only a moustache, curled. Speaks foreign languages. Might be a parleyvoo for all I know. His clothes fit like a glove. Patent leather boots always, except when he wears shoes ; white tie generally. Mrs. Middlemore thinks all the world of him." " Who's she ? " " His landlady. A most respectable woman — made of the right stuff. Ah, a real good sort she is !

Goes out every night for her supper beer between eleA'en and twelve." " I must haA'e seen her half-an-hour ago." " Of course you did. If it was to rain cats and dogs or snowed for a month, she wouldn't miss going. Has she come back ? " " No." " She stops out as a rule till about this time ; fond of a gossip, you know. Most of us are. She'll be here soon, if she can keep her feet. The snow's getting thicker — and listen to the wind ! Let's get close to the door. Mr. Felix is warm and comfortable, I bet." " Just now," remarked Constable Wigg, " you said might be a parleyvoo." " I don't deny it." " And you keep on saying Mr. Felix." " Well ? " " Shouldn't it be Monseer ? " " Well, perhaps ; but not Monseer — Mon shure." " I give in to you, Nightingale ; I'm not a French scholar." " Let's call him Mr. for all that.

Monshure twists the tongue unless you're born there." " I'm agreeable. Call him Mr. if you like. Hallo ! " The exclamation was caused by Mrs. Middle more's street door being suddenly opened without any preliminary warning from within, and with such swiftness and violence that the policemen almost fell through it into the passage. As they were recovering their equi librium a young man stepped out of the house, or rather stumbled out of it, in a state of great excitement. He had a crimson scarf round his neck ; it was loosely tied, and the ends floated in the wind. The little bit of colour shone bright in the glare of white snow. Its wearer pulled the door after him, and hurried along the street, looking neither to the right nor to the left, and taking no notice of the policemen, who strained their eyes after him. He walked A'ery unsteadily, and was soon out of sight.

Chapter II. The Spectre Cat

" That's a rum start," said Constable Wigg. " Was it Mr. Felix ? " " No," replied Constable Nightingale ; " Mr. Felix is altogether a different kind of man. Takes things more coolly. Walks slow, talks slow, thinks slow, looks at you slow. This felloAv was like a flash of lightning. Did you catch sight of his face? " " He was in such a deA-il of a hurry that there was no catching sight of anything except the red handkercher round his neck. There was no mistaking that. Seemed a youngish man." " Yes. Been on a visit to Mr. Felix most likely." " Or to some other lodger in the house," suggested Constable Wigg. " There ain't no other," said Constable Nightingale. " EA'ery room in it except the basement is let to Mr. Felix." " A married man, then, with a large family." " No," said Constable Nightingale.

" Single, as far as I know ; or, perhaps, a widower. No business of ours. We was talking of Mrs. Middlemore. You see, Wigg, me and her ain't exactly strangers. I'm a single man, and I'm mistook if she ain't got a bit of money put by." " You're a knowing one, Nightingale," said Constable Wigg enviously ; and it is not to the credit of human nature to state that there flashed into his mind the base idea of en deavouring to supplant his brother constable in Mrs. Middlemore's good graces. " That's what brings me round here now and then," continued Constable Nightingale complacently. " A man might go a good deal further than Mrs. Middlemore, and fare a good deal worse." But here Constable Nightingale was com pelled to pause, and to hold on tight to his comrade. The storm quite suddenly reached such a pitch of fury that the men could scarcely keep their feet, and it would have been impossible to hear a word that was spoken.

It was not a fitful display of temper ; so fierce grew the wind that it blew the street door open AA'ith a crash, and as the policemen were leaning against it, the consequence was that they were precipitated into the passage, and fell flat upon their backs. The reason of the door being blown open so readily was probably, as Constable Nightingale afterwards remarked, because the man who had recently left the house so hastily had not pulled it tight behind him, but the tempest was raging so furiously that it might well have made light of such an obstacle as an old street door. It was with difficulty the policemen reco\'ered their feet, and the strength of the wind as it rushed through the passage was so great that the idea that they would be safer inside the house than out occurred to both of them at once.

Instinctively they advanced to the door, and after a struggle succeeded in shutting it. That being accomplished, they stood in the dark passage, mentally debating what they should do next. " There's something moving," whispered Constable Wigg. Constable Nightingale promptly pulled out his dark lantern, and cast its circle of light upon the floor ; and there, creeping timidly along close to the wall, they saw the miserable half-starved cat, which had shaken Constable Wigg's nerves earlier in the night. It had taken advantage of the open street door to obtain the shelter for which it had long been seeking. " It ain't the first time," said Constable Wigg in a A'icious tone, " that this little beast has given me a turn. Just before you come up it run across me, and almost sent my heart mto my mouth."

But for a mournful, fearstricken look in its yellow eyes the light of the dark lantern seemed to deprive the wretched cat of the power of motion. It remained perfectly still, cowering to the ground. EA'en when Constable Wigg gaA-e it a spiteful kick it did not move of its own volition, and it was only when the attention of the policeman was no longer di rected towards it that it slunk slowly and stealthily away. Meanwhile the tempest raged more furiously than eA'er outside. The shrieking wind tore through the streets, carrying deA'astation hi its train, and the air was thick with whirling, blinding snow. " Did you ever hear anything hke it ? " said Constable Nightingale. " Never," said Constable Wigg. " It would be madness to go out," said Constable Nightingale. " We should be dashed to pieces.

Besides, what good could we do ? Besides, who would be likely to want us ? Besides, who's to know ? " There was a world of philosophy in these reflections, which Constable Wigg was only too ready to acknowledge. " What do you propose, Nightingale ? " he asked. " That we go down to Mrs. Middlemore's kitchen," rephed Constable Nightingale, " and make ourselves comfortable. I know the way." He led it, and Constable Wigg A'ery cheer fully accompanied him. The kitchen was the coziest of apartments, and their hearts warmed within them as they entered it. Mrs. Middle more, hke a sensible woman, had taken the precaution to bank up the fire before she left the house, and it needed but one touch from the poker to cause it to spring into a bright, glowing blaze. This touch was applied by Constable Nightingale, and the shadows upon walls and ceiling leapt into ruddy hfe.

" This is something hke," said Constable Wigg, stooping and warming himself. Having no further need for his dark lantern, Constable Nightingale tucked it snugly away, and proceeded to light a candle, which, in its flat tin candlestick, stood on the kitchen table. They were not the only articles on the table. There was no tablecloth, it is true, but what mattered that ? The whitest of tablecloths would ha\'e made but a sorry supper, and in the present instance could not have added to the attractions which the hghted candle re- A'ealed. There was bread, there was butter, there AA-as cheese, there were pickles, there was a plate of sausages, there was half a roast fowl, and there was a fine piece of cold pork. Con stable Wigg's eyes wandered to the table, and became, so to speak, glued there.

He was now standing with his back to the fire, and was being comfortably warmed through. EA-en a kitchen may become a veritable Aladdin's caA'e, and this was the case with Mrs. Middle more's kitchen, in the estimation of Constable Wigg. " If there's one thing I like better than another for supper," he said meditatively, and with pathos in his voice, "it is cold pork and pickles. And there's enough for three, Night ingale, there's enough for three." Constable Nightingale nodded genially, and, with the air of a man familiar with his sur roundings, took up a piece of butter on a knife, and put it to his mouth. " The best fresh," he observed. " You don't say so ? " exclaimed Constable Wigg, not contentiously, but in amiable won der. " Taste it," said Constable Nightingale, handing his comrade the knife AA'ith a knob of butter on it.

" It is the best fresh," said Constable Wigg. " She lives on the fat of the land. You know your way about, Nightingale. It ain't the first time youVe been in this here snuggery." Consable Nightin gale smiled knowingly, and said, " Cold pork and pickles ain't half a bad supper, to say nothing of sausages, roast fowl, and — and " He sniffed intelligently and inquired, " Ain't there a baked tatery smell somewheres near ? " " Now you mention it," replied Constable AVigg, also sniffing, " I believe there is." " And here they are, Wigg," said Constable Nightingale, opening the door of the oven, and exposing four large floury potatoes baking in thefr skins. " Not yet quite done, not yet quite ready to bust, but all a-growing and a-blowing, and waiting for butter and pepper. They're relishy enough without butter and pepper, but with butter and pepper they're a feast for a emperor."

" Ah," sighed Constable AVigg, " it's better to be born lucky than rich. Now just cast your eye at the door, Nightingale. I'm blest if that beastly cat ain't pokhig its nose in again." And as though there was within him a superabundance of vicious energy which required immediate workmg off, Constable AArigg threw his truncheon at the cat, which, VOL. AA'ithout uttering a sound, fled from the kitchen. " What riles me about that cat is that it moves about like a ghost, without as much as a whine. It takes you all of a sudden, like a stab in the back. It'll be up to some mischief before the night is out." " Why, AArigg," said Constable Nightingale AA'ith a laugh, " you talk of it as if it wasn't a cat at all." " I don't believe it is. In my opinion it's a spectre cat, a spirit without a solid body.

I lifted it with my foot hi the street, and not a sound come from it. I kicked it in the passage, and it crept away like a ghost. I let fly my truncheon at it and hit it on the head, and off it went like a shadder, without a whine. It ain't natural. If it comes across me again I adA-ise it to say its prayers." AVliich, to say the least of it, was an absurd recommendation to offer to a cat. But Con stable AArigg was in an unreasonable and spite ful temper, and he became morose and melan choly when he saw how thoroughly Constable Nightingale was making himself at home hi Mrs. Middlemore's kitchen ; or perhaps it was the sight of the tempting food on the table which, without lawful invitation, he dared not touch. However it was, he was not allowed much time for gloomy reflection, his thoughts being diverted by the violent slamming of the street door, and by the further sound of a person breathing heavily in her course down stairs.

" It's Mrs. Middlemore," said Constable Nightingale, in a low tone. " I neA'er thought she'd be able to open the door alone with such a wind blowing. AVe'll give her a surprise." They heard Mrs. Middlemore stop outside the kitchen, and exclaim, " AVell! To think I should 'ave been so foolish as to leaA'e the candle alight ! I could 'ave swore I blowed it out before I left the room! " Then she opened the door, and it was well that Constable Night ingale darted forward to her support, for if he had not she would haA'e fallen to the ground in affright, and the supper beer would have been lost to taste if not to sight. It was as well, too, that he put his face close enough to her lips to partially stifle a kind of hysterical gurgle which was escaping therefrom. It was, howeA-er, a proceeding of which Constable Wigg did not inwardly appro A'e. " Pluck up, Mrs. Middlemore," said Con stable Nightingale cheerily, " there's nothing wrong.

It's only me and my mate, Wigg, who's on night duty here. Everything's as right as a fiddle. Take a pull at the beer — a long pull. Now you feel better, don't you ? " 2—2 Mrs. Middlemore — her movements being enviously watched dy Constable AVigg, whose thirst was growing almost unbearable — removed her lips from the jug, and said : " Ever so much. But 'ow did you get in ? " " Didn't get in at all," said Constable Night ingale jocosely ; "we was blown in." " Blown in ? " " Yes, my dear. We was standing outside, Wigg and me, leaning against the door, when the wind come like a clap of thunder and blew it clean open, and of course we went with it, flat on our backs the pair of us. When we got on our feet again the wind was tearing so, and the snow was pelting down that fierce, that I thought we might venture to take a liberty, and AA'e come down here to warm our selves.

And that's the long and the short of it, my dear." He still had his arm round Mrs. Middlemore's waist, and now he gave her a hug. She was a pleasant-faced, round-bodied woman, some forty years of age, and she looked up smilingly as the constable — her favourite constable — hugged her, and said : " Well, now, I declare you did startle me. When I opened the door and sor two men a-standing in my kitchen, I thought of burglars, and you might 'ave knocked me down with a feather." " And now we're here," said Constable Nightingale, " I don't suppose you'd have the heart to turn us out." " Turn you out ! " exclaimed Mrs. Middle more. " I wouldn't turn a cat out on sech a night ! " " More cats," thought Constable AVigg, with his eyes on the cold pork and pickles.

Chapter III

A THRILLING INCIDENT. " The wonder is," said Constable Nightingale, Avhile Mrs. Aliddlemore shook the snow out of her clothes, " how you had the courage to venture out in such weather." " It's 'abit, Mr. Nightingale, that's what it is. Once I gits to doing a thing regular, done it must be if I want to keep my peace of mind. There wouldn't be a wink of sleep for me if I didn't go and fetch my supper beer myself eA'ery night. I don't keep a gal,Mr. Winks " " AVigg," said that gentleman in correction, oo" o ■ with a dreamy look at the beer jug. " I beg you a thousand pardons, Air. AVigg, I'm sure. I don't keep a gal, and that's A\diy my place is always nice and clean, as you see it now. If you want your work done, do it yourself — that's my motter. Not that I can't afford to keep a gal, but Mr. Felix he ses when he come to me about the rooms when I didn't 'ave a blessed lodger in the 'ouse, ' I'll take 'em,' he ses, ' conditional.

AArhat rent do you arks for the whole 'ouse with the exception of the basement ? ' I opened my mouth wide, I don't mind telling you that, Air. AVigg. All he ses is, ' Agreed.' ' Then there's attendance, sir,' I ses. ' 'Ow much for that ? ' he arks. I opens my mouth wide agin, and all he ses is, ' Agreed.' You see, Mr. AVigg, see ing as 'ow you're a friend of Mr. Nightingale's, and as no friend of his'n can be anythink but a gentleman, there's no 'arm in my telling you a thing or two about Mr. Felix, more especially as you're on night duty 'ere." " Here's to our better acquaintance," said Constable Wigg, laying hands on the beer jug in an absent kind of way, and raising it to his mouth. When, after a long interval, he put it down again with a sigh of intense satisfaction, he met the reproachful gaze of Constable Nightingale, Avho gasped : " Well, of all the cheek !

Without ever being asked! " " Love your 'eart," said Mrs. Middlemore, " what does that matter ? He's as welcome as the flowers in May, being a friend of your'n." She handed the jug to Constable Nightingale, asking, as she did so, " Did you ever 'ave a inspiration, Mr. Nightingale ? " Constable Nightingale did not immediately reply, his face being buried in the jug. AVhen it was free, and he had wiped his mouth, he said : " I must have had one to-night when I come this way, out of my beat, to see that you was all right. The taters in the OA'en '11 be burnt to a cinder if they're not took out immediate." " You've got a nose for baked taters, you 'aA'e," said Mrs. Middlemore admiringly. " Trust you for finding out things Avithout eyes. But you always can smell what IVe got in the OA'en." Constable AArigg rubbed his hands joyously when he saw Mrs. Middlemore lay three plates and draw three chairs up to the table.