The Mystery of M. Felix

CHAPTER LIX.

FROM THE COLUMNS OF THE "THE EVENING MOON," UNDER THE HEADING, "THE MYSTERY OF M. FELIX SOLVED."

"The stirring incidents of a great city are so numerous, and so pressing in their demands upon the space of the local papers, that it occasionally happens that incidents as stirring and exciting which occur at a distance from the Metropolis are either overlooked or dismissed in a short paragraph at the bottom of a column. This happened in a trial for murder which took place in the Midland Circuit, and, were it not that this particular case bears directly upon the mystery known as The Mystery of M. Felix, its remarkable features would probably have escaped notice in the Metropolitan journals. The circumstances of the case, so far as they were known to the public on the day on which the trial took place, are as simple as they are singular. A man was found murdered in Deering Woods. He was a stranger in the neighborhood, and nothing was found on him which could establish his identity. His pockets were empty, and his underclothing was unmarked. He met his death by a shot fired from a revolver, and the bullet was extracted from his body. In the same woods on the same night a man suspected of the murder was taken into custody. He had in his possession a six-barrelled revolver, and one of the barrels had been discharged. Upon being questioned he refused to answer, but looked vacantly about him. The bullet which was extracted from the body of the murdered man fitted the discharged barrel, and was similar to the bullets, with which the remaining five barrels were loaded. The accused, who was properly committed for trial, was, like the victim, a stranger in the neighborhood, and bore about him nothing that could lead to his identification. His silence was a suspicious element in the charge against him, and the revolver with which the deed was done being found upon him, there was little room for doubt that he was the murderer. What the motive for the crime could have been it is impossible to say; if it were robbery the stolen property was carefully hidden away, for no traces of it were discovered. The evidence was simple, but appeared to be complete, and the accused lay in prison until the Assizes, which were held soon after he was committed. At the trial he preserved the same stubborn silence as he had maintained before the magistrate. Asked to plead, he made no answer, and a plea of not guilty was recorded. He had no counsel, and one was assigned to him. The young barrister to whom the defence was entrusted had a difficult task before him. He could obtain not the least assistance from the prisoner, who stood in the dock apparently unconcerned regarding his fate. But it is said that there could occasionally have been observed on his features a pitiful expression, which aroused the sympathy of the spectators. This expression has been described by an onlooker as that of a man who had borne the cruellest and bitterest of buffets in his course through life, and who had been brought to a pass in which he looked upon death as the kindest mercy which could be meted out to him. There were women in court who sobbed as they gazed upon his sad and hopeless face, and yet could not have accounted for their tears on any other ground than those of unreasoning sentiment. That this mute and unconscious appeal had a powerful effect upon the jury will be seen a little further on; it certainly led them to act in a manner which is perhaps unprecedented in a trial for murder in an English court of justice. It will be seen that there were very few witnesses. The surgeon who extracted the bullet, a gun-maker who testified that the barrel had been recently discharged, and that the bullet was one of six with which the weapon had been loaded, the constables who arrested the prisoner-these were all that were called for the prosecution. The Crown counsel elicited all the facts in a fair and impartial manner, and it was evident that he considered the case conclusive. The cross-examination was skilfully conducted, severe tests being applied to the evidence respecting the bullet; but the witnesses remained unshaken. The cross-examination of the constables was directed principally to the demeanor and conduct of the prisoner. Did he make any resistance? – No. When he was arrested, was he endeavoring to make his escape? – It did not appear so; he was wandering through the woods. Was it, to all appearance, an aimless wandering? – Yes. Did he make any excuses for, or give any explanation of his presence in the woods? – He did not utter a single word. Did he endeavor to hide or get rid of the revolver? – No. For the defence a physician who had examined the prisoner was called. His testimony was to the effect that the prisoner was afflicted with melancholia, and that his mind was in such a condition as to render him irresponsible for his actions. It was clear that the line set up for the defence was that the prisoner was insane. The cross-examination of the physician somewhat damaged the weight of his evidence. Did he base his belief that the prisoner was afflicted with melancholia and was not responsible for his actions on the circumstance of his refusing to speak? – Partly, but only to a slight extent. Had he not met in his professional experiences with cases in which persons accused of crime preserved an obstinate and dogged silence for the express purpose of being considered insane and irresponsible? – Yes, there had been such cases. Scanty as was the evidence it occupied several hours. Counsel for the defence made an eloquent and impassioned defence on the plea of irresponsibility and insanity, and then the prosecuting counsel addressed the jury. He dealt in hard and plain facts; he spoke coldly and without passion; he refused to entertain the line of the defence, and said it was more than likely that the prisoner's demeanor proceeded from a cunning nature, and that he hoped by this means to escape the consequences of a ruthless murder committed in cold blood. The Judge, who said that there was no reason why the trial should not be concluded that night, and that the Court would sit late to receive the verdict, summed up dead against the prisoner. Following in the train of the counsel for the Crown, he laid down the law in the clearest manner, and he directed the jury to consider certain issues and be guided by them, and to perform conscientiously the duty for which they were called together. At a quarter to ten o'clock the jury retired, and the Judge left the court, with directions that he should be called when the jury returned.

"It was at this stage of the inquiry that the case promised to assume a new aspect. Our reporter, Mr. Agnold, with whom our readers are acquainted, and to whom the public are indebted for the light thrown upon the Mystery of M. Felix, entered the court in the company of the young girl, Sophy, and immediately fell into earnest conversation with the counsel for the defence. Their conversation lasted a considerable time, during which the counsel took copious notes, breaking off occasionally to put questions to Sophy, who answered them readily. Once the counsel turned Sophy's attention to the prisoner, and she moved toward him. He, turning, saw her, and greeted her with a smile of much sweetness, to which she pitifully responded. This sign of mutual recognition, indicating as it did an acquaintanceship between the prisoner and the young girl, heightened to fever-pitch the interest and excitement of the spectators, but before any explanation of the incident could be given, the return of the jury was announced. Almost at the same moment the Judge made his appearance. The names of the jury were about to be called out, when the counsel for the defence rose for the purpose of making a remark, but was desired by the Judge to resume his seat until the verdict of the jury was given.

"Counsel for the defence: 'If your Lordship knew the importance of the observations I wish to make-'

"The Judge: 'I must request you to be seated until we have done with the jury. Then I will hear you.'

"The jury having answered to their names, were asked if they had agreed upon a verdict; whereupon the following conversation took place:

"The Foreman of the Jury: 'My Lord, the jury wish me to say that they are morally convinced that the prisoner is not guilty.'

"The Judge: 'That is not a verdict. It is not a question of being morally convinced; it is a question of being legally convinced.'

"The Foreman: 'But the jury have the strongest moral doubts, my Lord.'

"The Judge: 'They would not be sufficient to lead to a verdict. The doubts must be legal doubts. It is not for me to influence you one way or another. I have put the facts of the case before you, and it is upon those facts you must decide and pronounce your verdict.'

"The Foreman (after a brief consultation with his brother jurymen): 'Our verdict, my Lord, is Not guilty.'

"The Judge: 'Upon what grounds have you arrived at your verdict?'

"The Foreman: 'Upon the grounds of moral conviction, my Lord.'

"The Judge: 'It is my duty to tell you again that those grounds are insufficient. Sentiment has nothing whatever to do with a criminal case. I must request you to retire and reconsider your verdict.'

"The Foreman: 'With all respect, my Lord, it is useless. We have resolved to return no other verdict than the one we have given, and upon the grounds I have stated.'

"Several of the jury gave audible assent to their foreman's words.

"The Judge: 'I cannot receive your verdict, accompanied by your statement. You will retire and give the matter further consideration.'

"The Foreman: 'If we are locked up all night, my Lord, we shall return no other verdict.'

"The Judge: 'I do not wish to be harsh or oppressive. Equally with yourselves I have a duty to perform. If you do not rightly comprehend any part of the evidence, say so, and I will explain it to you.'

"The Foreman: 'We have no doubts, my Lord. We understand the evidence thoroughly.'

"The Judge: 'Oh, if you cannot agree-'

"The Foreman: 'We are thoroughly agreed, my Lord.'

"The Judge: 'You will retire.'

"The jury were then conducted out of court.

"The Judge, addressing counsel for the defence: 'I am ready to hear you now.'

"Counsel: 'My Lord, during your Lordship's absence from court, while the jury were considering their verdict, the most important revelations have been made to me.'

"The Judge: 'Bearing upon this case?'

"Counsel: 'Bearing directly upon this case. Two persons are present now, who, if I had been able to call them, would have thrown an entirely different light upon the case. One of them is personally acquainted with the prisoner, the other does not know him personally, but knows his name.'

"The Judge 'The Crown is not represented. The learned counsel is not in court. I cannot now hear statements from other persons; but you can go on with your statement. His name is known, you say?'

"Counsel: 'Yes, my Lord. It is Gerald Paget.'

At this mention of his name the prisoner became violently agitated. His countenance was convulsed, and he stretched forth his arms, which trembled from excess of emotion.

"The Judge: 'The prisoner appears to be ill. Is there a doctor in court?'

"The prisoner (speaking for the first time): 'I am not ill. I want to hear what he has to say.'

"Counsel: 'For nineteen years he has been supposed to be dead, and, in pursuance of a diabolical plot, has been confined in a private madhouse as another person. It is this cruel imprisonment which has reduced him to the condition in which we now see him.'

"The Judge: 'Your statement is an extraordinary one.'

"Counsel: 'I shall be able, my Lord, to establish its truth, and the truth of other facts as extraordinary. The strange story which has been revealed to me is too lengthy and complicated to narrate at this hour, but if your Lordship will adjourn until to-morrow I undertake to prove the unfortunate prisoner's innocence, and also the guilt of the man who should now be standing in his place.'

"The Judge: 'Is the man known? Can he be found?'

"Counsel: 'He is known, and is now in prison under another charge which is directly connected with the murder for which the prisoner has been tried.'

"The Judge: 'If your statements are true the case is unprecedented.'

"Counsel: 'It is, my Lord. The person who is guilty of the murder was the prisoner's keeper. There has hitherto been no identification of the murdered man; I am now in a position to prove who he was. He bore the name of Leonard Paget.'

"The Judge: 'Paget is the name of the prisoner.'

"Counsel: 'They were half brothers. There is a question of property involved.'

"An officer of the court here presented himself, and said that the jury wished to speak to the judge.

"The Judge: 'Let them be brought in.'

"Upon this being done, the Judge asked the foreman what he had to say.

"The Foreman: 'It is simply, my Lord, that there is not the remotest possibility of our returning any other verdict than that we have delivered, and in the precise terms in which we have delivered it. There is not the slightest difference of opinion between us; we are absolutely unanimous.'

"The Judge: 'As I have already told you, it is no verdict. Officer, what is that noise?'

"Counsel: 'Witnesses from London have just arrived, my Lord, who are ready to prove the truth of the statements I have made.'

"An extraordinary scene ensued. One of the newly-arrived witnesses was a lady, whose eyes travelled round the court, and finally rested upon the prisoner. In this lady our readers will have no difficulty in recognizing Emilia Paget The moment she saw the prisoner a look of incredulous joy sprang into her eyes.

"'Merciful God!' she cried. 'Has the dead returned to life? Am I awake or dreaming?'

"The Prisoner, with a wild scream: 'Emilia!'

"Emilia: 'It is his voice! Gerald! Gerald!'

"She rushed to the prisoner, and no attempt was made to restrain her. Throwing her arms round his neck she drew his head down to her breast. Convulsive sobs shook their frames.

"Counsel, solemnly: 'My Lord, the prisoner is this lady's husband, whom she has mourned as dead for nineteen years.'

"The Foreman of the Jury: 'My Lord, if anything was needed to prove the justice of our verdict, the proof is now supplied.'

"The Judge: 'You are discharged. The Court is adjourned. Remove the prisoner.'

"Counsel: 'My Lord, my Lord! May not this afflicted couple be allowed a few minutes' intercourse?'

"The Judge: 'I leave it to the discretion of the officers in charge of the prisoner.'

"Counsel: 'Direct them my lord. Say that it may be allowed.'

"The Judge: 'It may be allowed. But all the persons not directly concerned in this unparalleled case must retire.'

"Slowly and reluctantly the spectators left the court in a state of indescribable excitement."

CHAPTER LX.

ROBERT AGNOLD'S LAST WORDS

I resume and conclude the Mystery of M. Felix in my own person. What transpired after the incidents of that exciting night is soon related. Before Gerald Paget was released Dr. Peterssen was put on his trial for the murder. The minor charge of his attempt upon Sophy's life and mine was set aside, and was only incidentally referred to in the evidence and speech of the prosecuting counsel. Guilt was never more clearly proved than his. The revolver with which the murder was committed was the same he had purloined from the rooms in Gerard Street, when he sent Mrs. Middlemore upon a false errand to the Bow Street Police Court. On this head Mrs. Middlemore's evidence was valuable; but my evidence on the point was still more valuable. The initial "F." I had scratched on the metal, and the entry I had made in my pocket book, "A Colt's double-action revolver, nickel-plated, 6 shots, No. 819," enabled me to swear positively to the weapon. Peterssen's own confession of guilt to me when Sophy and I were imprisoned in the cavern in Deering Woods was fatal, and Sophy, who was one of the two heroines of this celebrated trial, won the admiration of all England by the manner in which she gave her evidence. It was imperative that Emilia should be called, and she narrated with great feeling all the circumstances of her brief but fateful acquaintance with Peterssen during the honeymoon tour in Switzerland. There was found upon Peterssen a large sum of money in bank notes, and the manager of the bank in which the murdered man, under the name of M. Felix, kept his account, proved, by the numbers on the notes, that they had been paid to Peterssen's victim across the bank counter. Another witness called was George Street's father, upon whom Peterssen had so long and so successfully imposed. He testified that Gerald Paget was not his son, and said that on every occasion on which he desired to see the patient, Peterssen had declared that a fatal result would be the certain consequence of an interview. Gerald Paget was brought into court, but he was so weak and ill that his evidence could not be taken. The case, however, was complete without him. There was practically no defence; the jury debated for a few minutes only, and brought in a verdict of guilty; the villain was sentenced, and he paid the penalty of his crimes. For Leonard Paget, alias M. Felix, no pity was expressed; the fate he had met with was richly deserved.

Needless to say that the case excited immense interest, and it was universally admitted that its sensational disclosures were without parallel in the history of crime. I may mention that Crawley was not traced; up to this day he has succeeded in concealing himself; but his hour will come.

After all was said and done, I think that Sophy held rank as the heroine of the mystery. A daily paper suggested that a subscription should be got up for her; to this suggestion practical effect was given, and money flowed in from all ranks and classes of people. Close upon a thousand pounds were subscribed; so Sophy is rich. Fame has not turned her head. She said to me but yesterday, "I ain't proud; not a bit of it. Whenever you want me, Mr. Agnold, you'll find me ready." In time she will improve in her language, and one day she may be really a lady.

The words Sophy addressed to me were spoken in Geneva, where these lines are being written. The wedding of Constance Paget and M. Julian Bordier took place yesterday, and we were invited to it. The father of the bride was present. The rescue from his living tomb, the new and happier life, and the care and devotion of his wife Emilia, upon whose sweet face he never tires of gazing, has already brought about a great change for the better, and confident hopes are entertained that before long his reason will be permanently restored. It is pleasant to be able to record that the kind and skilful oculist who had given evidence in what I may call the marriage certificate case has made a cure of M. Julian Bordier. He can see, and the terror of blindness no longer afflicts him.

This morning the oculist (who gave himself a week's holiday to attend the wedding) and I had a chat about M. Felix, whose supposed death in Gerard Street, Soho, caused so great a sensation. He has been hunting up cases of suspended animation, and he read to me half a dozen, each of which lasted for a much longer time than M. Felix's. Since Peterssen's trial there has been a great deal written in newspapers and magazines concerning these instances of apparent death, and wonder has been expressed that, upon M. Felix's disappearance, no one thought it was likely that he had gone through such an experience. My answer to this expression of wonder is that it is easy to be wise after the event.

While we were engaged in our conversation, the oculist and I were sitting at a window of the house which Constance and her husband are to occupy when they return from their honeymoon. The window overlooks a garden in which Emilia and Gerald are walking.

"A good and sweet woman," said the oculist, smiling at Emilia, who had looked up and smiled at us. "She deserves happiness."

"She will have it," I said. "The clouds have disappeared from her life. Her trials are over."