The Beetle: a Mystery
Copyright© 2025 by Richard Marsh
Chapter 38: The Rest of the Find
It was a woman’s clothing, beyond a doubt, all thrown in anyhow, —as if the person who had placed it there had been in a desperate hurry. An entire outfit was there, shoes, stockings, body linen, corsets, and all, —even to hat, gloves, and hairpins;—these latter were mixed up with the rest of the garments in strange confusion. It seemed plain that whoever had worn those clothes had been stripped to the skin.
Lessingham and Sydney stared at me in silence as I dragged them out and laid them on the floor. The dress was at the bottom, —it was an alpaca, of a pretty shade in blue, bedecked with lace and ribbons, as is the fashion of the hour, and lined with sea-green silk. It had perhaps been a ‘charming confection’ once—and that a very recent one!—but now it was all soiled and creased and torn and tumbled. The two spectators made a simultaneous pounce at it as I brought it to the light.
‘My God!’ cried Sydney, ‘it’s Marjorie’s!—she was wearing it when I saw her last!’
‘It’s Marjorie’s!’ gasped Lessingham, —he was clutching at the ruined costume, staring at it like a man who has just received sentence of death. ‘She wore it when she was with me yesterday, —I told her how it suited her, and how pretty it was!’
There was silence, —it was an eloquent find; it spoke for itself. The two men gazed at the heap of feminine glories, —it might have been the most wonderful sight they ever had seen. Lessingham was the first to speak, —his face had all at once grown grey and haggard.
‘What has happened to her?’
I replied to his question with another.
‘Are you sure this is Miss Lindon’s dress?’
‘I am sure, —and were proof needed, here it is.’
He had found the pocket, and was turning out the contents. There was a purse, which contained money and some visiting cards on which were her name and address; a small bunch of keys, with her nameplate attached; a handkerchief, with her initials in a corner. The question of ownership was placed beyond a doubt.
‘You see,’ said Lessingham, exhibiting the money which was in the purse, ‘it is not robbery which has been attempted. Here are two ten-pound notes, and one for five, besides gold and silver, —over thirty pounds in all.’
Atherton, who had been turning over the accumulation of rubbish between the joists, proclaimed another find.
‘Here are her rings, and watch, and a bracelet, —no, it certainly does not look as if theft had been an object.’
Lessingham was glowering at him with knitted brows.
‘I have to thank you for this.’
Sydney was unwontedly meek.
‘You are hard on me, Lessingham, harder than I deserve, —I had rather have thrown away my own life than have suffered misadventure to have come to her.’
‘Yours are idle words. Had you not meddled this would not have happened. A fool works more mischief with his folly than of malice prepense. If hurt has befallen Marjorie Lindon you shall account for it to me with your life’s blood.’
‘Let it be so,’ said Sydney. ‘I am content. If hurt has come to Marjorie, God knows that I am willing enough that death should come to me.’
While they wrangled, I continued to search. A little to one side, under the flooring which was still intact, I saw something gleam. By stretching out my hand, I could just manage to reach it, —it was a long plait of woman’s hair. It had been cut off at the roots, —so close to the head in one place that the scalp itself had been cut, so that the hair was clotted with blood.
They were so occupied with each other that they took no notice of me. I had to call their attention to my discovery.
‘Gentlemen, I fear that I have here something which will distress you, —is not this Miss Lindon’s hair?’
They recognised it on the instant. Lessingham, snatching it from my hands, pressed it to his lips.
‘This is mine, —I shall at least have something.’ He spoke with a grimness which was a little startling. He held the silken tresses at arm’s length. ‘This points to murder, —foul, cruel, causeless murder. As I live, I will devote my all, —money, time, reputation!—to gaining vengeance on the wretch who did this deed.’
Atherton chimed in.
‘To that I say, Amen!’ He lifted his hand. ‘God is my witness!’
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