Books: The Mystery of a Hansom Cab
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Fergus Hume (1859 1932) >> The Mystery of a Hansom Cab
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20 This etext was produced by Col Choat colchoat@yahoo.com.au
This etext was produced by Col Choat colchoat@yahoo.com.au
PREFACE
In its original form, "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab" has reached the
sale of 375,000 copies in this country, and some few editions in the
United States of America. Notwithstanding this, the present publishers
have the best of reasons for believing, that there are thousands of
persons whom the book has never reached. The causes of this have
doubtless been many, but chief among them was the form of the
publication itself. It is for this section of the public chiefly that
the present edition is issued. In placing it before my new readers, I
have been asked by the publishers thoroughly to revise the work, and,
at the same time, to set at rest the many conflicting reports
concerning it and myself, which have been current since its initial
issue. The first of these requests I have complied with, and the many
typographic, and other errors, which disfigured the first edition,
have, I think I can safely say, now disappeared. The second request I
am about to fulfil; but, in order to do so, I must ask my readers to go
back with me to the beginning of all things, so far as this special
book is concerned.
The writing of the book was due more to accident than to design.
I was bent on becoming a dramatist, but, being quite unknown, I found
it impossible to induce the managers of the Melbourne Theatres to
accept, or even to read a play. At length it occurred to me I might
further my purpose by writing a novel. I should at all events secure a
certain amount of local attention. Up to that time I had written only
one or two short stories, and the "Cab" was not only the first book I
ever published, but the first book I ever wrote; so to youth and lack
of experience must be ascribed whatever was wanting in the book. I
repeat that the story was written only to attract local attention, and
no one was more astonished than I when it passed beyond the narrow
circle for which it had originally been intended.
My mind made up on this point, I enquired of a leading Melbourne
bookseller what style of book he sold most of He replied that the
detective stories of Gaboriau had a large sale; and as, at this time, I
had never even heard of this author, I bought all his works--eleven or
thereabouts--and read them carefully. The style of these stories
attracted me, and I determined to write a book of the same class;
containing a mystery, a murder, and a description of low life in
Melbourne. This was the origin of the "Cab." The central idea i.e. the
murder in a cab--came to me while driving at a late hour to St. Kilda,
a suburb of Melbourne; but it took some time and much thought to work
it out to a logical conclusion. I was two months sketching out
the skeleton of the novel, but even so, when I had written it, the
result proved unsatisfactory, for I found I had not sufficiently well
concealed the mystery upon which the whole interest of the book
depended. In the first draft I made Frettlby the criminal, but on
reading over the M.S. I found that his guilt was so obvious that I wrote
out the story for a second time, introducing the character of Moreland
as a scape-goat. Mother Guttersnipe I unearthed in the slums off Little
Bourke Street; and I gave what I am afraid was perhaps too vivid a
picture of her language and personality. These I have toned down in the
present edition. Calton and the two lodging-house keepers were actual
personages whom I knew very well, and I do not think I have exaggerated
their idiosyncracies, although many have, I believe, doubted the
existence of such oddities. All the scenes in the book, especially the
slums, are described from personal observation; and I passed a great
many nights in Little Bourke Street, gathering material.
Having completed the book, I tried to get it published, but every one
to whom I offered it refused even to look at the manuscript on the
ground that no Colonial could write anything worth reading. They gave
no reason for this extraordinary opinion, but it was sufficient for
them, and they laughed to scorn the idea that any good could come out
of Nazareth--i.e., the Colonies. The story thus being boycotted on all
hands, I determined to publish it myself, and accordingly an edition
of, I think, some five thousand copies was brought out at my own
cost. Contrary to the expectations of the publishers, and I must add to
my own, the whole edition went off in three weeks, and the public
demanded a second. This also sold rapidly, and after some months,
proposals were made to me that the book should be brought out in
London. Later on I parted with the book to several speculators, who
formed themselves into what they called "The Hansom Cab Publishing
Company." Taking the book to London, they published it there with great
success, and it had a phenomenal sale, which brought in a large sum of
money. The success was, in the first instance, due, in no small degree,
to a very kind and generous criticism written by Mr. Clement Scott. I
may here state that I had nothing to do with the Company, nor did I
receive any money for the English sale of the book beyond what I sold
it for; and, as a matter of fact, I did not arrive in England until a
year after the novel was published I have heard it declared that the
plot is founded on a real criminal case; but such a statement is
utterly without foundation, as the story is pure fiction from beginning
to end. Several people before and since my arrival in England, have
assumed the authorship of the book to themselves; and one gentleman
went so far as to declare that he would shoot me if I claimed to have
written it. I am glad to say that up to the present he has not carried
out his intention. Another individual had his cards printed, "Fergus
Hume. Author of 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,'" and also added the
price for which he was prepared to write a similar book. Many of
the papers put this last piece of eccentricity down to my account.
I may state in conclusion, that I belong to New Zealand, and not to
Australia, that I am a barrister, and not a retired policeman, that I
am yet two decades off fifty years of age, that Fergus Hume is my real
name, and not a nom-de-plume; and finally, that far from making a
fortune out of the book, all I received for the English and American
rights, previous to the issue of this Revised Edition by my present
publishers, was the sum of fifty pounds. With this I take my leave, and
I trust that the present edition may prove as successful as did the
first.
CHAPTER I.
WHAT THE ARGUS SAID.
The following report appeared in the Argus newspaper of Saturday, the
28th July, 18--
"Truth is said to be stranger than fiction, and certainly the
extraordinary murder which took place in Melbourne on Thursday night,
or rather Friday morning, goes a long way towards verifying this
saying. A crime has been committed by an unknown assassin, within a
short distance of the principal streets of this great city, and is
surrounded by an inpenetrable mystery. Indeed, from the nature of the
crime itself, the place where it was committed, and the fact that the
assassin has escaped without leaving a trace behind him, it would seem
as though the case itself had been taken bodily from one of Gaboreau's
novels, and that his famous detective Lecoq alone would be able to
unravel it. The facts of the case are simply these:--
"On the twenty-seventh day of July, at the hour of twenty
minutes to two o'clock in the morning, a hansom cab drove up to the
police station in Grey Street, St. Kilda, and the driver made the
startling statement that his cab contained the body of a man who he had
reason to believe had been murdered. "Being taken into the presence of
the inspector, the cabman, who gave his name as Malcolm Royston,
related the following strange story:--
"At the hour of one o'clock in the morning, he was driving down Collins
Street East, when, as he was passing the Burke and Wills' monument, he
was hailed by a gentleman standing at the corner by the Scotch Church.
He immediately drove up, and saw that the gentleman who hailed him was
supporting the deceased, who appeared to be intoxicated. Both were in
evening dress, but the deceased had on no overcoat, while the other
wore a short covert coat of a light fawn colour, which was open. As
Royston drove up, the gentleman in the light coat said, 'Look here,
cabby, here's some fellow awfully tight, you'd better take him home!'
"Royston then asked him if the drunken man was his friend, but this the
other denied, saying that he had just picked him up from the footpath,
and did not know him from Adam. At this moment the deceased turned his
face up to the light of the lamp under which both were standing, and
the other seemed to recognise him, for he recoiled a pace, letting the
drunken man fall in a heap on the pavement, and gasping out 'You?' he
turned on his heel, and walked rapidly away down Russell Street in the
direction of Bourke Street.
"Royston was staring after him, and wondering at his, strange conduct,
when he was recalled to himself by the voice of the deceased, who had
struggled to his feet, and was holding on to the lamp-post, swaying to
and fro. 'I wan' g'ome,' he said in a thick voice, 'St. Kilda.'
He then tried to get into the cab, but was too drunk to do so, and
finally sat down again on the pavement. Seeing this, Royston got down,
and lifting him up, helped him into the cab with some considerable
difficulty. The deceased fell back into the cab, and seemed to drop off
to sleep; so, after closing the door, Royston turned to remount his
driving-seat, when he found the gentleman in the light coat whom he had
seen holding up the deceased, close to his elbow. Royston said, 'Oh,
you've come back,' and the other answered, 'Yes, I've changed my mind,
and will see him home.' As he said this he opened the door of the cab,
stepped in beside the deceased, and told Royston to drive down to St.
Kilda. Royston, who was glad that the friend of the deceased had come
to look after him, drove as he had been directed, but near the Church
of England Grammar School, on the St. Kilda Road, the gentleman in the
light coat called out to him to stop. He did so, and the gentleman got
out of the cab, closing the door after him.
"'He won't let me take him home,' he said, 'so I'll just walk back to
the city, and you can drive him to St. Kilda.'
"'What street, sir?' asked Royston.
"'Grey Street, I fancy,' said the other, 'but my friend will direct you
when you get to the Junction.' "'Ain't he too much on, sir?' said
Royston, dubiously.
"'Oh, no! I think he'll be able to tell you where he lives--it's Grey
Street or Ackland Street, I fancy. I don't know which.'
"He then opened the door of the cab and looked in. 'Good night, old
man,' he said--the other apparently did not answer, for the gentleman
in the light coat, shrugging his shoulders, and muttering 'sulky
brute,' closed the door again. He then gave Royston half-a-sovereign,
lit a cigarette, and after making a few remarks about the beauty
of the night, walked off quickly in the direction of Melbourne. Royston
drove down to the Junction, and having stopped there, according to his
instructions he asked his 'fare' several times where he was to drive
him to. Receiving no response and thinking that the deceased was too
drunk to answer, he got down from his seat, opened the door of the cab,
and found the deceased lying back in the corner with a handkerchief
across his mouth. He put out his hand with the intention of rousing
him, thinking that he had gone to sleep. But on touching him the
deceased fell forward, and on examination, to his horror, he found that
he was quite dead. Alarmed at what had taken place, and suspecting the
gentleman in the light coat, he drove to the police station at St.
Kilda, and there made the above report. The body of the deceased was
taken out of the cab and brought into the station, a doctor being sent
for at once. On his arrival, however, he found that life was quite
extinct, and also discovered that the handkerchief which was tied
lightly over the mouth was saturated with chloroform. He had no
hesitation in stating that from the way in which the handkerchief was
placed, and the presence of chloroform, that a murder had been
committed, and from all appearances the deceased died easily, and
without a struggle. The deceased is a slender man, of medium height,
with a dark complexion, and is dressed in evening dress, which will
render identification difficult, as it is a costume which has no
distinctive mark to render it noticeable. There were no papers or cards
found on the deceased from which his name could be discovered, and the
clothing was not marked in any way. The handkerchief, however, which
was tied across his mouth, was of white silk, and marked in one of the
corners with the letters 'O.W.' in red silk. The assassin, of course,
may have used his own handkerchief to commit the crime, so that
if the initials are those of his name they may ultimately lead to his
detection. There will be an inquest held on the body of the deceased
this morning, when, no doubt, some evidence may be elicited which may
solve the mystery."
In Monday morning's issue of the ARGUS the following article appeared
with reference to the matter:--
"The following additional evidence which has been obtained may throw
some light on the mysterious murder in a hansom cab of which we gave a
full description in Saturday's issue:--'Another hansom cabman called
at the police office, and gave a clue which will, no doubt, prove of
value to the detectives in their search for the murderer. He states
that he was driving up the St. Kilda Road on Friday morning about
halfpast one o'clock, when he was hailed by a gentleman in a light
coat, who stepped into the cab and told him to drive to Powlett Street,
in East Melbourne. He did so, and, after paying him, the gentleman got
out at the corner of Wellington Parade and Powlett Street and walked
slowly up Powlett Street, while the cab drove back to town. Here all
clue ends, but there can be no doubt in the minds of our readers as to
the identity of the man in the light coat who got out of Royston's cab
on the St. Kilda Road, with the one who entered the other cab and
alighted therefrom at Powlett Street. There could have been no
struggle, as had any taken place the cabman, Royston, surely would have
heard the noise. The supposition is, therefore, that the deceased was
too drunk to make any resistance, and that the other, watching his
opportunity, placed the handkerchief saturated with chloroform over the
mouth of his victim. Then after perhaps a few ineffectual struggles the
latter would succumb to the effects of his inhalation. The man in the
light coat, judging from his conduct before getting into the cab,
appears to have known the deceased, though the circumstance of
his walking away on recognition, and returning again, shows that his
attitude towards the deceased was not altogether a friendly one.
"The difficulty is where to start from in the search after the author
of what appears to be a deliberate murder, as the deceased seems to be
unknown, and his presumed murderer has escaped. But it is impossible
that the body can remain long without being identified by someone, as
though Melbourne is a large city, yet it is neither Paris nor London,
where a man can disappear in a crowd and never be heard of again. The
first thing to be done is to establish the identity of the deceased,
and then, no doubt, a clue will be obtained leading to the detection of
the man in the light coat who appears to have been the perpetrator of
the crime. It is of the utmost importance that the mystery in which the
crime is shrouded should be cleared up, not only in the interests of
justice, but also in those of the public--taking place as it did in a
public conveyance, and in the public street. To think that the author
of such a crime is at present at large, walking in our midst, and
perhaps preparing for the committal of another, is enough to shake the
strongest nerves. In one of Du Boisgobey's stories, entitled 'An
Omnibus Mystery,' a murder closely resembling this tragedy takes place
in an omnibus, but we question if even that author would have been
daring enough to write about a crime being committed in such an
unlikely place as a hansom cab. Here is a great chance for some of our
detectives to render themselves famous, and we feel sure that they will
do their utmost to trace the author of this cowardly and dastardly
murder."
CHAPTER II.
THE EVIDENCE AT THE INQUEST.
At the inquest held on the body found in the hansom cab the following
articles taken from the deceased were placed on the table:--
1. Two pounds ten shillings in gold and silver.
2. The white silk handkerchief which was saturated with chloroform, and
was found tied across the mouth of the deceased, marked with the
letters O.W. in red silk.
3. A cigarette case of Russian leather, half filled with "Old Judge"
cigarettes. 4. A left-hand white glove of kid--rather soiled--with
black seams down the back. Samuel Gorby, of the detective office, was
present in order to see if anything might be said by the witnesses
likely to point to the cause or to the author of the crime.
The first witness called was Malcolm Royston, in whose cab the crime
had been committed. He told the same story as had already appeared in
the ARGUS, and the following facts were elicited by the Coroner:--
Q. Can you give a description of the gentleman in the light coat, who
was holding the deceased when you drove up?
A. I did not observe him very closely, as my attention was taken
up by the deceased; and, besides, the gentleman in the light coat was
in the shadow.
Q Describe him from what you saw of him.
A. He was fair, I think, because I could see his moustache, rather
tall, and in evening dress, with a light coat over it. I could not see
his face very plainly, as he wore a soft felt hat, which was pulled
down over his eyes.
Q. What kind of hat was it he wore--a wide-awake?
A. Yes. The brim was turned down, and I could see only his mouth and
moustache.
Q. What did he say when you asked him if he knew the deceased?
A. He said he didn't; that he had just picked him up.
Q. And afterwards he seemed to recognise him?
A. Yes. When the deceased looked up he said "You!" and let him fall on
to the ground; then he walked away towards Bourke Street.
Q. Did he look back?
A. Not that I saw.
Q. How long were you looking after him?
A. About a minute.
Q. And when did you see him again?
A. After I put deceased into the cab I turned round and found him at my
elbow.
Q. And what did he say?
A. I said, "Oh! you've come back," and he said, "Yes, I've changed my
mind, and will see him home," and then he got into the cab, and told me
to drive to St. Kilda.
Q. He spoke then as if he knew the deceased?
A. Yes; I thought that he recognised him only when he looked up, and
perhaps having had a row with him walked away, but thought he'd come
back.
Q. Did you see him coming back?
A. No; the first I saw of him was at my elbow when I turned.
Q. And when did he get out? A. Just as I was turning down by the
Grammar School on the St. Kilda Road.
Q. Did you hear any sounds of fighting or struggling in the cab during
the drive?
A. No; the road was rather rough, and the noise of the wheels going
over the stones would have prevented my hearing anything.
Q. When the gentleman in the light coat got out did he appear
disturbed?
A. No; he was perfectly calm.
Q. How could you tell that?
A. Because the moon had risen, and I could see plainly.
Q. Did you see his face then?
A. No; his hat was pulled down over it. I only saw as much as I did
when he entered the cab in Collins Street.
Q. Were his clothes torn or disarranged in any way?
A. No; the only difference I remarked in him was that his coat was
buttoned.
Q. And was it open when he got in?
A. No; but it was when he was holding up the deceased.
Q. Then he buttoned it before he came back and got into the cab?
A. Yes. I suppose so.
Q. What did he say when he got out of the cab on the St. Kilda Road?
A. He said that the deceased would not let him take him home, and that
he would walk back to Melbourne.
Q. And you asked him where you were to drive the deceased to?
A. Yes; and he said that the deceased lived either in Grey
Street or Ackland Street, St. Kilda, but that the deceased would direct
me at the Junction.
Q. Did you not think that the deceased was too drunk to direct you?
A. Yes, I did; but his friend said that the sleep and the shaking of
the cab would sober him a bit by the time I got to the Junction.
Q. The gentleman in the light coat apparently did not know where the
deceased lived?
A. No; he said it was either in Ackland Street or Grey Street.
Q. Did you not think that curious?
A. No; I thought he might be a club friend of the deceased.
Q. For how long did the man in the light coat talk to you?
A. About five minutes.
Q. And during that time you heard no noise in the cab?
A. No; I thought the deceased had gone to sleep.
Q. And after the man in the light coat said "good-night" to the
deceased, what happened?
A. He lit a cigarette, gave me a half-sovereign, and walked off towards
Melbourne.
Q. Did you observe if the gentleman in the light coat had his
handkerchief with him?
A. Oh, yes; because he dusted his boots with it. The road was very dusty.
Q. Did you notice any striking peculiarity about him?
A. Well, no; except that he wore a diamond ring.
Q. What was there peculiar about that?
A. He wore it on the forefinger of the right hand, and I never saw it
that way before.
Q. When did you notice this?
A. When he was lighting his cigarette.
Q. How often did you call to the deceased when you got to the
Junction?
A. Three or four times. I then got down, and found he was quite dead.
Q. How was he lying?
A. He was doubled up in the far corner of the cab, very much. in the
same position as I left him when I put him in. His head was hanging on
one side, and there was a handkerchief across his mouth. When I touched
him he fell into the other corner of the cab, and then I found out he
was dead. I immediately drove to the St. Kilda police station and told
the police.
At the conclusion of Royston's evidence, during which Gorby had been
continually taking notes, Robert Chinston was called. He deposed:--
I am a duly qualified medical practitioner, residing in Collins Street
East. I made a POST-MORTEM examination of the body of the deceased on
Friday.
Q. That was within a few hours of his death?
A. Yes, judging from the position of the handkerchief and the presence
of chloroform that the deceased had died from the effects of
ANAESTHESIA, and knowing how rapidly the poison evaporates I made the
examination at once.
Coroner: Go on, sir.
Dr. Chinston: Externally, the body was healthy-looking and well
nourished. There were no marks of violence. The staining apparent at
the back of the legs and trunk was due to POST-MORTEM congestion.
Internally, the brain was hyperaemic, and there was a considerable
amount of congestion, especially apparent in the superficial vessels.
There was no brain disease. The lungs were healthy, but slightly
congested. On opening the thorax there was a faint spirituous odour
discernible. The stomach contained about a pint of completely
digested food. The heart was flaccid. The right-heart contained a
considerable quantity of dark, fluid blood. There was a tendency to
fatty degeneration of that organ.
I am of opinion that the deceased died from the inhalation of some such
vapour as chloroform or methylene.
Q. You say there was a tendency to fatty degeneration of the heart?
Would that have anything to do with the death of deceased?
A. Not of itself. But chloroform administered while the heart was in
such a state would have a decided tendency to accelerate the fatal
result. At the same time, I may mention. that the POST-MORTEM signs of
poisoning by chloroform are mostly negative.
Dr. Chinston was then permitted to retire, and Clement Rankin, another
hansom cabman, was called. He deposed: I am a cabman, living in
Collingwood, and usually drive a hansom cab. I remember Thursday last.
I had driven a party down to St. Kilda, and was returning about
half-past one o'clock. A short distance past the Grammar School I was
hailed by a gentleman in a light coat; he was smoking a cigarette, and
told me to drive him to Powlett Street, East Melbourne. I did so, and
he got out at the corner of Wellington Parade and Powlett Street. He
paid me half-a-sovereign for my fare, and then walked up Powlett
Street, while I drove back to town.
Q. What time was it when you stopped at Powlett Street?
A. Two o'clock exactly.
Q. How do you know?
A. Because it was a still night, and I heard the Post Office clock
strike two o'clock.
Q. Did you notice anything peculiar about the man in the light coat?
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