NO I. THE BLOOMSBURY MURDER.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 342, 13 February 1889, Page 6

NO I. THE BLOOMSBURY MURDER.

Shortly after half past six o'clock on the morning of the 4tli of December, 188 - , the front door of a small house in a street nncra r Bloomsbury Square was opened cautiously, and a gentleman came out and walked briskly away in fche direction of Charing Cross. The policeman on duty was up at the top of the street, and he remembered the circumstance afterwards. He thought nothing of it at tho lime, as ho Mipposed the gentleman was going away somewhere by an early train, and that ho had left so quietly in order to a\oid distuibiutr the other inmates, who might bo asleep. It was still dark at the time, and tho policeman, who was turning the coiner, just caught sight of fche man coming out, and that was all. At eight o'clock a servant girl rushed to the door of tho same house and screamed ' Murder !' at the top of her voice. A small crowd collected at once. 'Oh, my poor mistress !' wailed the terrified girl. ' She's been murdered in her bed. 01), dear ! oh, dear ! whatever shall I do?' A gentleman in the crowd at once stepped forward. He was a doctor returning from a case he had been called up to attend to in the night. 'I am a doctor,' lie said, and accompanied by a constable who had just arrived upon the scene, he followed tho detracted gill into the house. As soon as they had entered, the door was closed in the face of the now rapidly increasing crowd of sightseers, who were piessing forward to ascertain the details of the tragedy. The doctor and the constable : conducted by the eervanf, made their way to a, front bedroom on the Hist floor, and there a shocking spectacle meo their eyes. Lying back on the bed lay a young and handsome woman of abouteighfc and twenty Her hands \>ere clenched, her bcautiiul brown eyes were opened wide in staring agony. It wanted bub a glance to sco that the poor creature had been foully murdeied. The bed clothing was saturated with blood, from a terrible wound in her breast, which had evidently oozed. A short examination was sufficient for the doctor. ' She has been stabbed to the heart,' he said. ' There wasn't much of a struggle, I should say. Probably the poor creature started upon seeing the weapon in the hand of her murdeier, made one frenzied movement, and then fell back under the deadly blow.' The constable, who had been looking about the room while the doctor was at his work, now stepped forward. 4 1 sent a message for the Inspector, sir," he said, 'before I came in. He'll be here directly. Perhaps you'll kindly wait till becomes.' The doctor consented, and ho had not long to wait. The Inspector arrived in hot haste, and having taken a note of such' information as the doctor could give, took his name and address, thanked him and bade him good morning. Then leaving the constable in charge of tho room, he went downstairs and interviewed the servant girl. The facts he was able to gather from her were few and simple. The murdered lady was a JSlrs Clowbury. She was the wifo of Mr George Clowbury, a commercial traveller. They kept the house entirely to themselves, employing only one servant, the witness. Mr Clowbury was rarely at home, being constantly 'on a journey.' On the previous day he arrived home unexpectedly about four in the after noon. Mistress was very cross that he hadn't sent her a telegram. Slio heard him say that he was off again in the morning. Mr and Mrs Clowbury had tea together, and after tea she thought that they quarrelled, for &he heard loud talking as she parsed the sitting-room door. Did the know what the quart el was about? Well, she thought it was about 'a jrentlemnn.' Pressed a little, the girl explained that Mrs Clowbury had a splendid voice and was always saying that she would take to the stage and sing in public. Master didn't like the idea. Lately hermistiess had been taking singing lessons, unknown to the master, of an Italian gentleman. This Italian gentleman had called once or twico lately, and the thought it might be that which made master jealous, as she heaid him say somoHiing about 'that d d foreigner.' Somebody might have told him. She had not. | Asked if she could say what her mistress's movements had been on the previous day, she replied that her mistress had gone out in the morning. In the afternoon the foreign gentleman came. After he left, her mistress reamed very agitated. She was upstairs for some time, and she heaid her mistress opening and shutting the wardrobe, and she fancied she was packing or something of the sort. After that her mistress came downstairs to the sitting-room, and began to write. She was writing a letter when the girl went into the room After she had written ii she tore it up and thiew it into the fire. Then she wrote another, and took it out and posted it herself. She had just come back when they heaid a key turn in the front door, and the master came in. 'Oh !' said the Inspector, ' then he cariied a key of the house V 'Yes, sir, always. Whon we knew ho was coming off a journey late we left the frontdoor unbolted instead of sitting up for him.' The Inspector made a few more inquiries, and the information amounted to this. At eight o'clock that evening the master took a portmanteau and went away. He seemed in a temper. Mistress didn't j come to the door to see him off. The girl heard him tell fche cabman ' Charing Cross.' Mistress seemed very much put out about fche master's going away like that. She. went to bed about eleven o'clock, and that was the last that she (the girl) saw of her until she went into the bedroom with iho hot water about eight and found her poor mistress dead. The Inspector looked over the notes he had taken, and thought over the matter to humelf. So far as was known tho house was closed at eleven o'clock with only these two women in ifc. There were no signs of the premises having been entered in the night, but at eight o'clock the next morning one of the two inmates was found murdered. The Inspector had, of course, duly cautioned the girl before letting her make a a statement, but he was convinced from fche first that she was perfectly innocent of tho crime. There was no sign of anything having been taken. The poor woman's

gold wafcch and chain and her rings were s f ill on the little dressing-table. It was no midnight robber who had done the deed. But it had been done, and someone must have entered the house to do it. _ While the Inspector was thinking the circumstances over in order to provide himpolf with a theory, a mossenger arrived from the station. The' man who was on night duty had been communicated with, and he had given the valuable piece of iniormation that he had seen a man leaving the house ab half-pasb six, but could nofc &ay what he was like owing to the darkness. The only other porson he noticed in the street was a woman who was passing on the opposite side of the way. ' Tba 1 ; man was the murderer,' said the Inspector to himself. 'He was soen Co go out, but how did he get in ?' Beforo trying to decide the question, the Inspector returned to the sceno of the crime. He looked carefully about the' room, bub thore wasn't a scrap of anything that would servo him as a cluo. When he had finished his search he drew the bed curtains back to ha\e one more look ab the victim ; as he did so, his foot struck against some hard metallic substance. Ho looked down at once. There on the ground, close to the bedbide, lay a latchkey. He picked it up and called to the servant to come to him. 'How many latch-keys are theie to the door ?' he asked. ' Two, sir. The one master always car lied, and the one 1 keep in the kitchen to let myself in when I run ci rands. 1 ' Where is you is now ?' 1 In the kitchen, sir.' ' Go and fetch it.' The girl went downstairs and teturnpd in a moment with her key. The Inspector took it and compared it \\ itlrtho one he had just picked up. 1 Come,' ho said to iiiniac'f. ' There isn't much mystery about this case. Mr Geoige Clowbury will have somo difficulty in proving thab he didn't diop his latchkey in liis wife's bedroom.' One more important fact he elicited from the girl, which was, thab her master when travelling always carried a eword stick, or lather a stiletto stick, the blade being \ery short. The &tick he had with him when he returned home, aYul ho took it away with him. He was just going when a thought occurred to him. 'Who closed the house '*{• last night V he said to the girl, ' I did, sir.' ' Did you bolt the front door ?' 'No, sir. I asked mistie-s if I should, and &he said, ' ' No, perhaps your master Mill change his mind and come back tonight.' 'That will do. Thank you.' Leaving two constables in charge of the piemises, the Inspector went off at once to Scotland Yard to pub the machinery in motion for securing the presence of Mr George at the inquest on his murdered wife. The first inquiry Co be made by the detective was at Charing Cross Hotel. There it wa3 found that a person answering the description of Mr Clowbury ariived about 8.30 in the evening and took a bedroom. He left his luggage in the hall, staging thab ho was going away by the 7.40 tram in the morning. lie was told the number of his room, bub didn't go to it He went into the smoke room and, shortly afterwards went out. The next that was seen of him was when ho came ijV through the station entrance about seven o'clock, asked for his bill, and for his luggage to be taken to 1 the Continental express.. The chambermaid reported that the room given to him 'had not been occupied. A communication was at once sent to the French police, and a detective armed witht a photograph of Mr Clowbury, taken from his wife's album, was despatched ' to Paris, to which place it was ascertained from the hotel porter Mr Clow bury 'a portmanteau had been registered through. 'He must be a bit of a flab, 1 said the principal detective to his associate. 'If he's gone on to Paris, he n^uob know that he'll be stopped when he gets out of the train and claims his luggage this evening. Perhaps he's forgotten there's such a thing as the electric telegraph.' The next visit paid was to Mr Clowbury 's employeis, a firm of cloth manufacturers of Bradford and London. The information obtained of them showed thab Mr Clowbury, in going to Parib, was acting on their j instructions entirely. Their regular French I traveller was unable to take the journey on account of a sudden attack of gout, and Clowbury had been summoned from Nottingham to take his place at a day's notice. During olie day telegrams were received from the French authorities. Neither at Calais nor at Amiens had anybody been sufficiently recognised from the meagic description wired to warrant their being detained. But in the evening a more satisfactory message was received. A man answering the description sent to Paris had claimed a portmanteau. Asked his name, I he had given it as George Clowbury, and had been detained. An English offic'al had interviewed him, and told him that his wife had been found murdered. He Lad appeared horrified and over- whelmed at the intelligence, and had expressed his desire to return ab once to London. As under the&o circumstances there was no necessity to go through any formalities in the French Court, on the- -following day George Clowbury arrived in London, and was formally arrested. To the police he-insisted upon making a statement. He declared thab he cduld hardly believe that the terrible news wa3 true. He admitted that he had quarrele d with his wife, and that in a fit of temper he had said that a3 he wasn't welcome at home he would go to an hotel, and he had left the house, taking his luggage with him. He was very miuh upset by an anonymous letter ho had received, informing him thab a foreigner was in bhe habib of visiting his wife during his absence His wife had nob satisfied him in her explanation, and he had paid some very unkind things to her. After ho got to the hotel he felt very restless and unhappy. He didn't care to go to bed, &o he went out for a walk. While oub he met a fiiend who asked him to come to the club. Ho went, and remained with his friend smoking and talking till past three in the morning As he had to bo up again soon after six, he didn't think it worth while to go to bed, and the idea came into his head thab ho would go home and say good bye to his wife and ask her to part friends. He walked to his house in Bloomsbury and got there about half- past four, and let himself in with his latch-key. His wife was surprised but very pleased to see him. He had a loiy talk with her, and she told him everything. She explained that the foreign gentleman was a Signor Moroni, who wes a singing master, and that he had been try ing to indifce her to join a concert company which ho was forming. She assured him that this was all the foundation of his suspicions, and as he knew his wife had a beautiful voice and had often beon told that she ought to sing in public, he saw no reason to doubt her statoment, Ab halfpa&t six he left to go back to tho hotel and claim his luggage and pay his bill, in order to get away by tho 7.40 train. They parted the best of friends. -'The next thing I hoard,' said Clowbury, * was that my poor

wife had been found murdered in her bed. I saw her alive at half-past six. She must have been killed almost immediately afterwards.' Asked about the stiletto which he usually carried, he declared that he had lost it on the journey to Paris. The admission by the prisoner that he bad been in his wife's room during the night, and his failure to produce the weapon he was known to carry, seemed to most people to point conclusively to hia guilt. It was argued that his story had been made up to suit fche finding of the latch key. Ab the coroner's inquest, where all the facts came out, the case seemed proved to the hilt against the husband. Tho jealousy and the quarrel supplied the motive for the crime, and the medical evidence showed that the wound had the appearance of being cau ed with just such a weapon as the ono the seivant described as belonging to her master. After <he evidence at the coroner's inquest and before the magistrate most people were satisfied that the murderer was the woman's jealous husband. Instead of a reconciliation they believed that there had been a fresh quarrel, and that in his passion ho had stabbed her to the he art with some weapon yet to be discovered, and hid intended, as boon a& he reached Paiis, to disappear. After the prisoner had been committed for trial, public interest in tho case lapsed for a time. One witness was absent at the magisterial examination, bub it was hoped he would be present at the trial. This was the Italian professor of singing. The police traced him to his lodgings, but only to find that he had lefc for the Continent. His evidence would not be of any great value ; it was possible the wife's story was cor.ect, and he hud simply railed upon her to induce her to adopt the operatic stage as a profession. SignorMoroni, it was ascertained, had done a littlo in the agency business, and probably would have made a good speculation of so valuable a recruit. In the meantime, George Clowbury was in prison, and his only visitor was his solicitor, Mr Bar I ram, an old friend who had taken the case up con amove. Mr Bartram did not disguise from the unhappy man that the facts looked very black atrainst him. He hastened to assuro Clowbury that he believed him innocent, but he pointed out to him that the difficulty was to make the jury also of his way of thinking. ' I've told the truth,' Clowbury replied, despairingly : ' what more can I do? I tell you honestly that I can't see myself how my poor girl could have been murdeied after I left the house. No one had any reason to do such a dreadful thing, and if any person had, how did he get in? The police say that there are not the slightest signs of anyone having made a forcible entrance, and the servant declares that she heard no noise.' 1 She must be a sound sleeper,' replied the solicitor, ' because she didn't hear you go out.' Talking of the servant, an idea came to the solicitor. Shaking hi? friend's hand, and promising to see him again on the morrow, he left the prison. Mr Bartram drove straight to the addre&s of the servant. She was living at home with her own people. He found her in, and at once began to cross-examine her concerning what was in her mind. ' Your master says he left the house at half-past six. Were you asleep at that time ?' 'Yes, sir.' ' What time did you wake up ?' 'It was seven o'clock, sir.' It was the clock striking that woke me. It was my time to come down, and 1 got up and dressed at once.' 'How long before you were downstairs?' 'About ten minutes.' ' If anybody had left the house after you went down, you would have heard them ?' ' Oh, yes, because I was in the kitchen, and that is in front of the house. I should probably have seen anybody go down the steps.' • That,' said Mr Bartram, ' fixes the murder betv\een 6.30, when Mr C'owbury left, and 7.10, when you were downstairs.' ' Well, &ir, yes ; unless it's true that master — ' 'Never mind about ma&ter, 5 replied Mr Bartram. ' You don't want him hanged if he's innocent, do you ?' ' God forbid, sir ; and I've never been sure in my own mind as he ' ' Never mind that. Now listen to me. When did you go to the front door? 1 'Not till I'd found poor missus deadthen I rushed out.' ' Wasn't there any milk or anything to take in V ' No, sir ; that's always put down the area.' • ' Did you notice if the front door was shut to all right ?' ' I didn t notice anything, sir. I was in such a fearful state of mind.' 'Naturally. Now, one more question. You didn't happen to notico to whom the letter was addressed that your mistress posted that afternoon ?' ' No, sir.' ' Where did she write it ? ' In the sitting-room, sir.' ' Had she a desk or anything ?' ' No, sir.' ' How did you come to be in the room while she was writing it ?' ' She rang tho bell for me.' 4 What for?' ' She told me to find her some blotting paper.' '" Did you ?' ' 1 couldn't find any aboil*-, so I lent her my book.' ' Your book ! What sort of a book ?' 'It's a blotting case that my young man gave me on my birthday.' ' Have you got it now ?' ' Yes, sir. I'll fetch it.' The girl went to hor bedroom and returned with her blotting book, which she handed to the solicitor. It was a little eighteenpenny American leather one, and contained six or eight leaves of blotting paper. 'Have you torn any out?' asked MiBertram. ' None, sir.' ' May I borrow this for an hour or two ?' 4 Certainly, sir,' 'Mr Bartram took the blotting book and drove to his office. He had a hope, but a very forlorn one, that a very old trick of which he had often heard might cast a ray of light upon the dark path he was treading. When he got to his office he procured a piG2e of looking-glass and opened the blotting book. Only the two centre sheets had been used to blot letters. He held the looking glass upright on the paper, and two kinds of writing were instantly revealed, the maid's, and, as he presumed, t the mistress's. In the latter hand, a big, firm, almost manly one, only a few words were discernible. They were theee : cannot leave husband. . Go without not see you again. j all my folly now. • • By heaven !' exclaimed the solicitor, as he deciphered the last word, and brought his fist down on the table with a bang, ' the letter that unhappy woman wrote was one breaking off an assignation with this

foreigner. 'I cannot leave (my) husband. Go without (me). (I can) not see you again. (I see) all my folly now.' She was going away with this follow, then — he had been that afternoon. It was to be an elopemenfc. The girl said something about packing a box, and then her mistress leaving off and coming down and writing that letter. Her conscience touched her just in time, perhaps. No wonder she was worried when her husband popped in co unexpectedly. No wonder she re&ented his jealousy so much. 'And this man left London the next day to iuifil a continental engagement. Sho was to have gone with him. That night he received her letter. How mad he must have been ! 1 How ' The solicitor paused, and sat for a moment absorbed in a brown study. Then he rose slowly, locked the servant's blotting book in his desk, put on his hat and coat, an i went out. He dined that evening at his club, smoked a cigar, and about nine o'clock strolled down to Coven t Garden and asked his way to the stage door. He went in and saw the stage doorkeeper. • I beg your pardon,' he said, 'but could you give me any idea what is the best way to find the address of an Italian singer if you want it?' The stage-door keeper looked at the gentleman over his spectacles ' Can't say, I'm sure. Some of 'cm have so many. Is it a piincipal 01 a chorus you want?' ' A principal.' ' Well, the agents generally knows them. What might be the gentleman's name you want?' 'Signor JVloroni.' 'Signor ivloroni ; oh, him what's name has been mentioned in 1 lie Bloomsbury murder. We've got a little chap hereas knowe him well, he says. He was to have gone out with his company abroad, he says. ' lOh ! Could I see this gpn'leman ?' 1 Yes, I daresay. He's on in the pantomime which is rehearsing now, but I'll send a message down.' A boy was despatched, and in about five minutes an odd, fat little fellow came panting up the staircase. Mr Bartram politely explained his business and the gentleman was quite affable directly. 'Oh yes, I kno n Moroni well, lodge J in the same house when I was better off, sir. I could have gone with him but for the missis and the kids. No, sir, I'm not Italian as you guess, you can tell that by my Hinglish. Moroni was going to take a concert party through the south of France and aftsr that; to Halgiers, so he said. I should say he'd be in Nice now, or somewhere that way. ' 1 Then, if I sent to Nice— to Signor Moroni — ' ' Lord, no ! He wasn't going to run the show in that name ; that's the name he teaches in here. He has another for business of a speckylative kind like this. He's touring ns ' Sisrnor del Marco, of the Royal Italian Opera, London and St. Petersburg.' ' Del Marco ! Thank you, very much.' With a profusion of thanks Mr Bartram shook hands with i>ia intonnant and departed. The next day he had a long interview with the prisoner, and told him ho was going out of town, that he should be absent tor a week, but that his interests would not be neglected. In the meantime he bade him be of good heart, and hope that all might yet be made clear and his innocence established. Mr Baitram went straight toNice, travelling by the Nice and Rome express. In Nice he found that the celebrated Del Marco Opera Company had appealed, and made a grand fiasco, and that the eminent impressario had left without discharging his debts in the town, and that consequently he had not informed anybody where his next engagement was. 'If you ask me,' said the hotelkeeper, who was his informant, ' I should saj' that the people Del Marco brought out with him ha\e had enough of it, and that the company won't appear together anywhere again. It you wane Del Marco I should p-o and look for him at Monte Carlo. That's where he's most likely to be.' Mr Bartram took the hint, and went on the next day to Monte Carlo. There were plenty of Italians there, and as the solici- \ tor had never seen Del Marco, ho wondered how he should find him. Fortune favoured him. Some Englishmen were stai ding by one of the roulette tables where a foreign-look-ing man, with a dark moustache and fiery Southern eyes, was winning heavily. ' Don't you recognise him ?' said one Englishman to the other ; ' that's the fellow who had the opera company that came to grief. Ho stayed at our "hotel. That's how 1 know him.' That was enough for Mr Bartram. He determined to stand by the Italian and wait till he had finished playing. As the Italian won heavily he had to wait some considerable time. At last luck seemed to be on the change. The Italian lost as rapidily as he had. won. The pile of gold and notes in front of him rapidly diminished. Presently he rose from his seat, put what money he had left into his pocket and strolled away. Mr Bartram followed him out of the gaming room and into the grounds. The night had come on and the moon had risen into the heaven 3 and was bathing the lovely gardens of the ' plague spot of Europe ' in soft silver light. The Italian strolled across the grounds to the Hotel de Paris, famous for its restaurant. The Italian was about to enter the restaurant when Mr Bartram touched his elbow. The Italian turned -with a little start. ' Pardon me, signor,' said the solicitor, raising his hat, ' but have I not the pleasure of addressing Signor del Marco ?' The Italian eyed the Englishman steadily for a moment, Then he said quietly ' Well, sir, and then ' [ 'My dear sir, I was so afraid I had made a mistake. I—c1 — er — it is a matter of private business on which I wish to speak to you. i Will you dino with me?' The Italian hesitated. ' You are a stranger to me, sir.' ' True, let me explain my business. I have — er— a young lady friend — a very beautiful girl ; she is most anxious to adopt the operatic stage as a profession. I have heard &o much of you as an agent and tutor that I thought if you — ' Del Marco's face brightened ; ho saw the chance of doing business. ' lunderstand whatyoumean, sir,' he said, ' but for this sort of thing terms are high. To take an unknown young lady and make her a star, get her good parts and ensure her favourable press notices, is a difficult task. I should require, if I am satisfied with lady's appearance and voice, £200 down on the signing of the agreement.' 'Certainly — that is moderate.' ' And the* lady ?' 'Is in Paris. Bufc I can telegraph for her at once. Then if we say in four days' time ?' • Yes. Where shall we meet ?'

'I am staying at the Hotel de Paris. My name is Colonel Benfcley. You can call on me ab any time. Now, having settled our business, do me the honour ot dining with me,' said the Englishman. They went into the resbaurnnfc together, and the Englishman took a table. Then leaving his guest for a moment/ he went into tho hotel and engaged an apartment in the name of Colonel Bentley, explaining that lie would go back to Nice that night and return with his luggage on the following day. Before returning to the restaurant he wrote out two telegrams addressed to persons in London, and gent the hotel porter to the telegraph oflice with them at once. Then he returned and played host to the famous Signor del Marco and when the dinner was over, the Italian felt quite sure that lie had hooked a big fish, and' had only to play him properly to land him high and d ry.

( To be Continued. )