There were some half-dozen packets of money in the box, each sealed with black wax and set aside for particular purposes after Mrs Duncomb's death.Other sums, greater in quantity than those contained in the packets, were earmarked in the same way.There was, for example, twenty guineas set aside for the old lady's burial, eighteen moidores to meet unforeseen contingencies, and in a green purse some thirty or forty shillings, which were to be distributed among poor people of Mrs Duncomb's acquaintance.The ritual of telling over the box contents, if something ghostly, had had its usual effect of comforting the old lady's mind.It consoled her to know that all arrangements were in order for her passing in genteel fashion to her long home, that all the decorums of respectable demise would be observed, and that the greatest of these'' would not be forgotten.The ritual over, the black box was closed and locked, and on her departure Mrs Rhymer had taken away the key as usual.
The motive for the crime, as said, was plain.The black box had beenforced, and there was no sign of tankard, packets, green purse, or bag of guineas.
The horror and distress of the old lady's friends that Sunday afternoon may better be imagined than described.Loudest of the four, we are told, was Sarah Malcolm.It is also said that she was, however, the coolest, keen to point out the various methods by which the murderers (for the crime to her did not look like a single-handed effort) could have got into the chambers.She drew attention to the wideness of the kitchen chimney and to the weakness of the lock in the door to the vacant rooms on the other side of the landing.She also pointed out that, since the bolt of the spring-lock of the outer door to Mrs Duncomb's rooms had been engaged when they arrived, the miscreants could not have used that exit.
This last piece of deduction on Sarah's part, however, was made rather negligible by experiments presently carried out by the porter, Fairlow, with the aid of a piece of string.He showed that a person outside the shut door could quite easily pull the bolt to on the inside.
The news of the triple murder quickly spread, and it was not long before a crowd had collected in Tanfield Court, up the stairs to Mrs.Duncomb's landing, and round about the door of Mrs Duncomb's chambers.It did not disperse until the officers had made their investigations and the bodies of the three victims had been removed.And even then, one may be sure, there would still be a few of those odd sort of people hanging about who, in those times as in these, must linger on the scene of a crime long after the last drop of interest has evaporated.
Two further actors now come upon the scene.And for the proper grasping of events we must go back an hour or two in time to notice their activities.
They are a Mr Gehagan, a young Irish barrister, and a friend of his named Kerrel.These young men occupy chambers on opposite sides of the same landing, the third floor, over the Alienation Office in Tanfield Court.
Or Kerrol--the name varies in different accounts of the crime.
Mr Gehagan was one of Sarah Malcolm's employers.That Sunday morning at nine she had appeared in his rooms to do them up and to light the fire.While Gehagan was talking to Sarah he was joined by his friend Kerrel, who offered to stand him some tea.Sarah was given a shilling and sent out to buy tea.She returned and made the brew, then remained about the chambers until the horn blew, as was then the Temple custom, for commons.The two young men departed.After commons they walked for a while in the Temple Gardens, then returned to Tanfield Court.
By this time the crowd attracted by the murder was blocking up the court, and Gehagan asked what was the matter.He was told of the murder, and he remarked to Kerrel that the old lady had been their charwoman's acquaintance.
The two friends then made their way to a coffee-house in Covent Garden.There was some talk there of the murder, and the theory was advanced by some one that it could have been done only by some laundress who knew the chambers and how to get in and out of them.From Covent Garden, towards night, Gehagan and Kerrel went to a tavern in Essex Street, and there they stayed carousing until one o'clock in the morning, when they left for the Temple.They were not a little astonished on reaching their common landing to find Kerrel's door open, a fire burning in the grate of his room, and a candle on the table.By the fire, with a dark riding-hood about her head, was Sarah Malcolm.To Kerrel's natural question of what she was doing there at such an unearthly hour she muttered something about having things to collect.Kerrel then, reminding her that Mrs Duncomb had been her acquaintance, asked her if anyone had been taken up'' for the murder.
That Mr Knight,'' Sarah replied, who has chambers under her, has been absent two or three days.He is suspected.''
Well,'' said Kerrel, remembering the theory put forward in the coffee- house, and made suspicious by her presence at that strange hour, nobody that was acquainted with Mrs Duncomb is wanted here until the murderer is discovered.Look out your things, therefore, and begone!''
Kerrel's suspicion thickened, and he asked his friend to run downstairsand call up the watch.Gehagan ran down, but found difficulty in opening the door below, and had to return.Kerrel himself went down then, and came back with two watchmen.They found Sarah in the bedroom at a chest of drawers, in which she was turning over some linen that she claimed to be hers.The now completely suspicious Kerrel went to his closet, and noticed that two or three waistcoats were missing from a portmanteau.He asked Sarah where they were; upon which Sarah, with an eye to the watchmen and to Gehagan, begged to be allowed to speak with him alone.
Kerrel refused, saying he could have no business with her that was secret.
