Chapter 5 Chapter Four

No one came forward to prove the identity of the dead woman.The results of the interrogation revealed the following facts. Just after one o'clock in the afternoon on January 8, a richly dressed woman with a slightly foreign accent entered the office of Mr. Barrett and Barker, an estate agent in Knightsbridge.She said she was renting or buying a house on the banks of the Thames near London.The broker gave her some standout listings, including "The Mill."She left her name—Mrs. Castina, and her address was Ruiz, but it turned out that there was no one with that name there, and the people in the hotel couldn't recognize the identity of the deceased.

Sir Eustace Peterler's gardener's wife, Mrs James, was caretaker of The Mill, and lived in the cottage facing the road.She made a positive statement.About three o'clock that afternoon, a lady went to see the house.She produced the certificate given to her by the real estate agent, and Mrs. James handed her the keys to the house, as was customary. The "mill" was some distance from the cottage where she lived, and he usually didn't go with the people who came to see the house.A few minutes later, a young man came.Mrs James described him as tall, broad-shouldered, with a bronzed face and bright gray eyes, clean-shaven, and dressed in brown clothes.He explained to Mrs. James that he was a friend of the lady and was going to look at the house together, but he stopped at the telegraph office on the way to send a telegram and was late.She directed him to the "mill" and then stopped thinking about it.

He reappeared five minutes later, handing her the keys back and explaining that the house might not be suitable for them.Every time Mrs. James saw the lady, she thought she might go first.What she noticed was that the young man seemed very disturbed for some reason. "He looked like someone who had seen a ghost. I thought he was sick." the next day.Another man and woman visited the house and found the body lying in an upstairs room.Mrs. James recognized the body as the lady who had visited the house the day before.The real estate agent also recognized that it was Mrs. Castina.The forensic doctor identified that the woman had been dead for about 24 hours.The Daily Bulletin jumped to the conclusion that the man who had been in trouble at the subway station had strangled the woman and then killed himself.However, since the deceased at the subway station died at two o'clock, and the lady was still alive and well when she planted at three o'clock that day, logically, the two events should be irrelevant, and the dead woman The house inspection certificate found in the man's pocket.It's just a coincidence that often happens in daily life.

A verdict of "deliberate murder by an unknown person" came back, and the police (and the Daily Gazette) were ordered to hunt for the "man in brown".Since Mrs. James was certain that there was no one in the "mill" before the lady entered, and that no one entered the house again that afternoon except the suspicious man, the logical conclusion is that the This man is the murderer of the unfortunate Castina.She had been strangled with a solid black rope, and had been strangled without knowing it, so she had no chance to cry out.In the black silk handbag she carried was a well-stocked notepad, some change, a neat lace handkerchief, and a first-class return ticket to London.There is nothing to offer as a clue.

Such were the details of the Daily Gazette, and their daily cry was "hunt for the man in brown."An average of five hundred people a day wrote to the Daily Gazette that they had found the man, and tall young men with brown faces cursed themselves because their tailors had persuaded them to order brown suits.The incident at the underground train station was considered to be just a coincidence and gradually faded from people's memory. Is that just a coincidence?I don't quite believe it.I'm a little biased—the subway incident is a personal favorite secret of mine—but to me, there seemed to be a connection between the two deaths.In both incidents a young man with a tanned face was involved - apparently an Englishman living overseas - and there were other connections.Consideration of these other connections finally compelled me to take an urgent step.I showed up at Police Scotland Yard and demanded to see the man in charge of the 'mill' incident.

They considered my request for a long time, because I stumbled into the "lost umbrella case" department.But in the end I was ushered into a small room and met Inspector Mito. Inspector Meadow was short, with a ginger head and what I thought was a particularly irascible temper.An attendant, also in casual clothes, sat in a corner without being obtrusive. "Good morning," I said nervously. "Good morning. Sit down, please. I know you have something to tell me that you think might help us." His tone sounded as if what I was about to say was no big deal, and my temper was aroused.

"Of course you know about a man who died in an underground station, eh? The man had a visit certificate in the same house in Marlowe's pocket." "Ah!" said the Inspector, "you are the Miss Beddingfield who testified at the inquest. The man did have a certificate in his pocket. Many others did too--only not dead. " I plucked up my strength and said: "Don't you think it's strange that the man doesn't have a ticket in his pocket?" "Losing a ticket is the most common thing, and I have lost it myself." "And no money."

"He has some change in his trouser pocket." "But no notepad." "Some people don't carry things like notepads." I try another gist. "Don't you think it's strange why the doctor didn't show up again after that?" "Busy medical staff rarely read newspapers. He may have forgotten the whole incident." "As a matter of fact, Inspector, you are determined not to suspect anything." I said coquettishly. "Well, I think you're a little too interested in the word queer, Miss Beddingfield. Young girls are romantic, I know—specially interested in things like the mystical. However since I'm a big people--"

I took his cue and stood up. At this time, the person sitting in the corner said modestly: "Inspector, perhaps the lady would like to give us her version of the incident briefly?" The Inspector found this proposal acceptable. "Well, come here, Miss Beddingfield, and don't think I've offended you. You've asked questions and hinted. Please tell us exactly what's on your mind." I was torn between my bruised dignity and my eagerness to express my opinion.As a result, the injured dignity side failed. "You said at the inquest that you were sure it was not a suicide?"

"Yes, I'm sure. The man was frightened. What frightened him? It wasn't me, but someone who was coming towards us along the platform—someone he knew." "You didn't see anyone?" "No," I admit. "I didn't turn my head. However, as soon as the body was carried onto the platform, a person claiming to be a doctor rushed over to examine it." "There's nothing unusual about it." "But he's not a doctor." "what?" "He's not a doctor," I repeated. "How do you know, Miss Beddingfield?"

"It's hard to say. I worked in hospitals during the war, and I know how doctors look at the human body, and there's a certain professional dexterity and aloofness that the man doesn't have. Besides, doctors don't usually Can touch the right chest of a human body to examine the heart." "He touched the right side?" "Yeah, I didn't notice it at the time, I just felt something was wrong. But when I got home, I figured it out, and then I realized why the whole process felt wrong to me at that time." "Well," said the Inspector.He picked up the paper slowly. "His hands were groping around the upper body of the corpse, and there must have been a good chance of taking whatever he wanted from the corpse's pockets." "It seems unlikely to me," said the inspector. "But—can you describe him?" "He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black overcoat, black boots, and a black bowler hat. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a spiky beard." "Except for his overcoat, beard, and spectacles, it's hard to make out him," complained the Inspector. "If he wanted to, he could easily change his appearance in five minutes—if he was a pickpocket, as you say, he would." I didn't imply that he was a pickpocket or something.By this point I was completely disappointed with the Inspector and gave up. "Is there anything else you want to tell us about him?" he asked as I stood up to leave. "Yes." I said.I seize the opportunity of my parting attack. "His head is clearly brachycephalic and that's not easy to change." I was proud to see the pen in Inspector Mi Tuo's hand shaking.Apparently he didn't know how to spell "brachycephalic."