NO II. THE BLOOMSBURY MURDER.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 344, 20 February 1889, Page 6

NO 11. THE BLOOMSBURY MURDER.

On the day after the interview with tho Italian, Mr Baitrara, or Colonel Bentley, as he called himself, took up his quarter s at the Horel de Paris, Monte Carlo. Several telegrams arrived for him during the nex twelve hours, and on tho morning of the fourth day, the one on which he was to re" new his business conversation with tho Signor, a gentleman came to the Hotel an" asked for the Colonel. The stranger was conducted to tteh c ColoneVs sitting-room. ' Colonel Bentley ? ' said the stranger. ' Yes ; and j ou are ? j ' InspecDor Grimwade, of Scotland Yard. I have come out hoie to iclievo our regular man, and my chiot has given me the correspondence you have sent to the office and asked mo to call on you. Your telegiam states that the murderer of Mrs Clow bury is here. We bay that the murderer is in our hands already.' * The husband ? ' 'Yes.' ' Well, I'm sorry, Mr Grimwade, to have to differ with Scotland Yard, bub I say he is here, and I want him arrested.' ' It's not an easy matter to arrest a man on suspicion. There are a lot of formalities to go through. In fact, under the circumstances, one man already being in custody for the crime, 1 don't letlly see what is to be done — at any rate here.' 'I am quite aw cue of the difficulties, and j that is -why I ask for assistance/ replied ,the solicitor. ' Who is the man ?' ♦Moroni.' ' What, the Italian, that the husband was said to bo jealous of ?' j * Yes.' | The detective shrugged his shoulders. 'My dear sit," ho said, 'you must excuse me if 1 appear btupid, but I can't for the ] life of me see how you justify such a theory. The husband of this woman was the only person in the house that night. She was murdered with a sharp instrument, and we have proved that, the husband had in his possession a cword *bick —or rather a stiletto stick. The medical evidence proved that the wound was one which would have I been caused by such an instalment, and | the husband acknowledges that he had such a stick with him at the'time, and that he took it away fiom the house and lost it on the journey to Paris, which means that he got rid of it. These facts are as clear as noonday and all point in one direction. Kow you say this Italian committed the murder. Perhaps you'll tell me how he got into the house that night — why ne waited until seven in the morning to murder her — (it must have been nearly as late as that if the husband's story that he left his wife alive at six-thirty is true), and what the motive for the crime could have been ; and also, it the murder was committed with this stiletto stick, how the Italian gob possession of it after the hus- ■ band had taken it away and started for Paris with it.* * I confess there are difficulties to be overcome,' replied the solicitor, ' but I am convinced in my own mind that Clowbury is innocent. As to the motive, it was disappointed love, if we can piofane the word by usingit in such a connection ; rage, jealousy' if you like. At any rate, I have proof that this Italian had arranged with the murdered woman to elope with him, probably on the very morning of the murder ; that on the previous afternoon she senc him a letter refusing after all to go away with him, and telling him that she would not see him again.' * Oh, that's a new bit of evidence. Where did you get that from ?' * I did gee it. How, I will show you presently. Now, granting that this was the situation of affairs, this woman has an enemy, a fierce, disappointed, Italian lover , jealous, too, for all we know, imagining that he is being thrown over for someone else. Since I left England, someone I have employed has been following up the clue in London for me, while I have been following it up here. Among other things he has interviewed Moroni's landlady, and extracted the following important information from her. I had better read you the statement as sent to me.J Mr Bartrarn drew a letter from his pocket, and read the following passage to the detective : ' The landlady now says that on the night before the murder the Signor had all his things packed, and stated that he was going in the morning by the early Continental train. He had stated some time previously that he had made arrangements for a profes3ionol tour on tbe Continent. About seven o'clock in the evening, just as he was going out, a letter arrived for him, ■which the servant took to him at once. He opened it and read it, and 3eemed to be in a great state of agitation. Half an hour afterwards he went out, and by the next post another letter arrived fur him, which was placed in his room. What time he came in no one knows, as the people went to bed about midnight. But at six o'clock, when the servant called him, he was up and dressed and finishing his packing. The girl, going into the room to assist him in closing his Qladstone bag, lifted a newspaper from vac table and discovered that the letter she had laid' there for him on the previous evening had been accidentally covered over, and so he had not seen it. ' She called his attention to it at once. A3 he took ifc up her mistress rang, and she left the room. ' When she returned bhe Signor had his hat and coat on and was in the hall. "When the cab' comes,'" he said, " send it away. I .shan't go till a later tiain now," and with thuc ho went out.' ' What time was that ?' asked the detective, who had been following the narrative with deep interest. ' About; a quarter past six. That is the time fixed by the servant.' ' And what time did he come back again ?' ' About eight, so the servant says, and at nine o'clock a cab was called which took him bo Holborn Viaduct ' ' According to this,' said the detective, 'if the servant is right all along as to time, Moroni was fout of the house from a quarter past six to eight o'clock.' ' Yes, and if the husband is telling the 1 truth he left his wife alive at half-past six, and at eighto'clock she was found murdered. But Clowbury's servant was downstairs at ten minutes past seven, and , that reduces the period during which the, crime could have been committed, supposing the husband is innocent, to forty minutes. Dining that forty minutes this servant's statement proves that Moroni was away from his lodgings. Leb ub look now at the time he

would roquire to get to , the scone of the crime. His lodgings were in llowland-street, Fitzroy Square. Ho could get to Blooms-bm-y Square under the quarter of an hour, easily.' • Yes,' said the detective, making a mental map of the district, f quite easily. That's all clear enough, provided, as I say, the girl is right as to the clock all along. But nothing that you have said oxplains the knotty point, which i 3, how Moroni could have got into the house in that forty minutes.' ' That's the mystery wo have to clear up,' replied the solicitor. 'I'm firmly convinced in my own mind that this Italian murdered the poor woman. Up to six o'clock in the morning ho believed that sho was going away with him — that was doubtless agreed upon when he left her in tho afternoon. She was to travel with the company and live with him as his wife. Shortly after six he received the letter she had written him informing him that she had altered her mind. lie then went out. My belief is that he went straight to Clowbury's house, thinking, perhaps, she might have altered her mind, perhaps determined to see her and to try to induce / her to alter her determination. He might have intended to risk eveiything and knock the inmates up. He knew nothing of the husband being at home, because at the time Mrs Clowbury wrote him that fatal letter she did not know of her husband's i roturn herself. He was supposed to be safe in Nottingham. ; 'My theory is that when he arrived at | the house he saw a man coming out, a man he didn't know, for he had never seen the husband, and at once jumped to the conclusion that he had been fooled and thrown over for some more favoured lover, who was leaving the house at that earty hour to avoid being noticed by tho neighbours, or seen by the servants. 'His disappointment was then changed to mad jealousy, all the passionate instincts of his race were aroused, and in some way he erot into the house, taxed the unhappy \\ oman with betraying him, and in his mad fury killed her. She died, stabbed to the heart, and although the police account tor that with the husband's missing" stiletto sticu, remember it is an Italian who uses a stiletto, and not an Englishman.' | ' A very plausible theory, Mr Bart) am," said the detective, ' and I am the moie inclined to think you are on the right track because of the husband's conduct after lie left the house. It wasn't running away. 'Of couise not ; he must have known that going lo Paris was ceitain arrest at the end of the journey.' 'Quito so, but some murderers aie re- | inaikably cool hands, and they lely on cheir straightforward conduct as a proof of their innocence. Still we are not hore to discuss that. What can we do about tho Italian '! I can't arrest him without a warrant, and before I could get one it he smells a lat he'll be off. Where is he now ?' | ' Here. He will call on me at four o'clock tbis afternoon on business.' ' Yes, but he'll go away again. The thing is how to keep him until I can get instructions from the office and get a little more evidence. Why can't we work something hei c ?' ! The people here don't care to be too officious. You see, halt the swindlers in Europe come here, and as they bring money the authorities don't want to frighten them away.' ' Very well, I'll get him to Nice somohow. Give me this evening and to-morrow to work there, and come to monow night by the train which leaves here in the evening. I'll look it out in the time table before I go, and 1 shall know what time to expect you. ' What do you propose to do ?' ' I can't tell till I've seen the Nice police. What time is Moroni to come to you ?' • At four o'clock this afternoon.' ' Good, i Then I won't leave here till after you've seen him. I'll be in the readingroom of this hotel at five. You can come to me there.' Mr Grimwade shook hands with the solicitor, and left him. ' It's a curious business,' he said to himself as he strolled out into tho grounds. 'If this man is the murderer and T make a smart capture, it'll be a feather in my cap. But there'll be a nice fuss in the blessed newspapers if I start a fresh hare^nd only take the dogs off the other one by doing it. I must be careful, and leave myself a loophole to creep through.' At four o'clock that afternoon, Signor del Marco was shown into the apartments of Colonel Bentley. The colonel I'ose and received him most courteously. ' It is very good of you, my dear signor,' he said. 'I was afraid that in your many engagements you might have forgotten the appointment.' ' I never forget business, sir,' replied the Italian. ' And tho young lady —is she arrived ?' ' Not yet. She telegraphs me that she will be in Nice to-morrow evening. The delay is most unfortunate, as I have to return to London myself on urgent business, and I must leave here to-morrow. If you could go with me as far as Nice ' The Italian hesitated. The Englishman hastened lo reassure him. • I can go by the last train from here. We can see the young lady at the hotel, settle the matter, and you can return here the next morning.' ( Do I understand that if I approve of the young lady"s appearance and voice, and agree to bring her out, you pay me £200 on the signing of the agreement ?' ' Certainly. If you will accompany me to-morrow, the thing can be settled,' ' I will come with you.' ' Thank you very much. Dine with me to-murrow evening, and we can go to the station together afterwards.' The colonel conducted his guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Inspector Grimwade was going into the reading-room. He turned in time to get a full view of the Italian, and started as if he had been struck. When the solicitor returned, the Inspector had scarcely recovered himself. 'If that's Moroni,' he said, ' I know him. He's been through my hands, I'm certain, but I can't recollect now what for. But he wasn't called Moroni then, or 1 should have remembered the name at once.' ' Come up to my room,' said the solicitor, 'we can talk there. Have a cigar and try and recollect what you know of this man.' The detective sat and smoked for a little while. Presently he jumped up and exclaimed, 'I have it. It was five years ago — ho called himself Alessandri then. It was a swindling job. He had an agency in a back street in Soho, and we made inquiries concerning him for the French authorities. He had been getting money from French singers and dancers by promising them engagements in London. He's a shifty customer, and up to every dodge under the sun. We shall have all our work to stop him slipping through our fingers if he has the slightest suspicion. I'll go back to Nice at once and set to work. To-morrow evening I shall be at the station, when the train from Monte Carlo arrives. Whatever yoa do take' no notice of me, but as you get^oub of the train, just as a precaution take his .arm in a friendly way and begin talking, to him. Then if he recognises me and tries to bolt,- you can hold him till 1 come up.' »

The solicitor promised' to ob,ey" the detective's instructions, and after a little further conversation .they parted, the detective going on to Mcc by the next train. Lefl alone, Mr Bartrain began to piece all the new evidence together, and it" seemed to him that once having secured the Italian there would be little difficulty in bringing the crime home to him. He might be ablo, by fiesh evidence, to establish his theory of how Moroni obtained access to the house on the fatal morning. The next evening, when the train from Monte Carlo arrived at Nice, two gentlemen stepped out of a iirst-class carriage. As they reached the platform, one of them, an Englishman, slipped his arm through that of his companion, an Italian. 1 Now, my dear fellow,' he "aid, ' a few minutes will bring us to the young lady. I do' hope you will form a good opinion of her and be able to do as she wishes.' At the same moment an Englishman came along the platform, accompanied by two officials -of the Nice police. Halting in front of the Italian, one of the officials touched him on the arm and said, ' Signor Moroni, you are my prisoner/ Two gendarmes at this moment stepped up ar.d stood beside tho Italian. His face changed to a deathly pallor and a look ol terror came into his eyes. ' What do you mean ?' he stammered. 4 1 — T — what is the charge against me V ' You aro charged,' was tho reply, ' with having obtained by false pretences, from Jeanne Foutenay, a member of your operatic company, the sum of 3,000 francs.' The Italian's colour returned to his cheoks. 'It is absurd to arrest me on such a charge as that,' ho said ; 'it was a business transaction, nothing: more. She paid mo the money to obtain her an engagement, and I did.' 4 Yes,' replied tho official, ' you engaged her yourself, with others of your dupes, and disbanded the company in a fortnight, without paying them a iarbhing of salary. That i.« 5 swindling, my* friend, not business. Bufc you can arguo the matter out before the Courc. Come along.' The Italian turnecV*to Bartram, fiercely. ' You are at the bottom of this,' he said. ' I have tallon into the same snare that you laid for me. You shall pay for it.' ' Well,' exclaimed tho detective, as the gendarmes marched their prisoner off, 1 don't you think I've worked it nicoly I thought thoy would be able to find an excuse for arresting tho illustrious Signor here. To-morrow I'll have an interview with my gentleman in his new apartments? and spring the Bloomsbury murder on him. I'll come to your hotel and let you know all about it.' On the following day the English detective, accompanied by a French official, visited the crestfallen Moroni in his cell. ' Signor Del Marco, or Moroni, or whatever you call yourself,' said tho detective, • I trust you will be able to clear yourself of this charge at once.' ' What interest is it to do so ?' exclaimed the Italion, looking the detective defiantly in tho face. • Well, you see, if you get out of prison on this charge, you will be able to accompany me to England at once.' The Italian started and changed colour. 'Ah, perhaps you have not heard. You read the English newspapers?' ' I have not read an English newspape; since I have been abroad.' ' Oh ! then that, of course, accounts for your ignorance of the fact that you're wanted as a witness in a murder case?' The detective watched the Italian's face closely as he spoke. His pallor increased, there a*, as a nervous twitching of the mouth, and his voice trembled as the Signor leplied : ! Murder— witness — I — I don't understand you.' ' Let me explain then. Some time last year you became acquainted with an English lady named Clowbury.' The Italian bent his head and made no reply. 'This lady was a married woman, bub you endeavoured to induce her to leave her husband. She was to have accompanied you on this tour — ' ' Ah, you know that ?' exclaimed bho Icalian, startled out of his caution. ' Yes, we know that, and we know more. We know that early on the morning she was to have gone away with you, you received a letter from her which dashed all your hopes to the ground. On receipt of that letter you left the house. During the time you were absent from your house, the woman who had disappointed you was murdered — stabbed to the heart with a stiletto such aa Italians carry.' The Italian, as he listened to the detective, seemed to be a prey bo a variety of emotions, It was some time before he could speak. ' I know nothing of this,' he stammered. 'If Mrs Clowbury was murdered that morning she Good God !' he exclaimed, uaddenly checking himself, ' it is too horrible.' • Signor,' said the detective, coolly, 'of j course you are terribly upset. This is all news to you.' ' Yes, it is. I had no idea. I—lI — I ' Great drops of perspiration stood "upon the man's brow. Presently he exclaimed, with an effort, ' You said something about me being a witness. Who's charged with the crime ?' 'The husband.' ' Oh,' he said,' and do you — do the police think he did it ?' 1 Well, some people do, and some pcoplo don't. What do you* think, Signor ?,' ' I—lI — I can form no idea. I know nothing of tho affair. I cannot be a witness. I know nothing ! Nothing !' exclaimed tho Italian, fiercely. ' You have no right to question me, and I will nob answer. If you bbink I committed the murder why don't you charge me with it ?' ' That's exactly what I'm going to do. That's why I want you to settle this little affair here as Boon as possible, my friend.' ' Oh,' said the Italian, a curious look coming into his eyes, 'that is it, is it? This charge of swindling is brought against me to detain me, while you get the necessary papers fiom England. So. Thank you, sir, for the information. I shall know what to do.' ' So shall I,' replied the detective ; ' and I fancy we shall be travelling together in about a week's time, Signor.' ' Perhaps,' said the Italian, who had grown gradually calmer. • Perhaps, my friend. Ido not mind having my fare paid back to London for me, and, if you want me at once, the best thing is to pay the little Fontenay well to withdraw the charge against me here.' The detective was taken aback by the Italian's sudden assumption of unconcern. 'Come,' said che detective, *I like you best when you're good, tempered, Signor. Of course, I don't want to take you away from your business engagements if you'll be no good as a witness. Suppose, just to satisfy my idle curiosity, you tell me where you passed your time on the 4th of December, between 6.15 and & o'clock in the morning.' ' I went to call upon a friend.' ' A lady or a gentleman V • A lady.' • Rather early, wasn't it ?' ■ ' I could not call J ' later if I was to catch the 7.40 train.'

•Ah, bub before you went' out- you told the girl you weren't going to catch the train.' ' Oh, you have seen the servant-girl then ? You have been getting up a case against me, eh ?' •It looks like it, doesn't it, Signor ?' said the detective with a quiet &mile. 'It does. But what a waste of your valuable time ! JVly friend, 1 shall bo able to prove that I never saw Mrs Clowbury after the afternoon of the 3idof Decembor.' ' Then she wasn't the lady you wont to call on on the morning of the 4th ?' Certainly not.' ' I hope the hidy you did call on will ' come forward and say so at the trial, I Sign or.' ' She will not.' ' Oh i' 1 She couldn't, because she did not see me, nor I her. T shall tell you no more. Good afternoon.' The detective, finding there was nothing more to be got out of the prisoner, took his departure. He went back to Mr Bartram's hotel and told him the result of the interview. ' I can't quite make him out,' said tho detective. ' I hope to goodnees we havon't found a marc's nest.' ' Don't you think him guilty ?' ' Well, sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. Me really did seem startled when I said that Mrs Clowbuzy had been found muideied. Of course, if he can account ior his time between 6.30 and 7.10 the alibi must prove his innocence.' 4 But he says himself the person he went to call on won't come forward, and that she didn't see him • so that tale isn't much good.' ' 1 tell you what,' sbaid the detective, • tho most important witness in this case hasn't been found j r ot. ' Whom do you mean ?' { Why, the woman who was passing on the opposite side ot Uie street, according bo tho policeman, at tho time tho murderer came out.' 'Not so,' replied the solicitor; ' there is no need to idontify the man -who came out. Clowbury cuntesses that he was the man who came out at that time.' ' Yes, but she was close enough to have obbcived the mann manner. She must have seen him go up the htreet, anil besides if tho murderer was not eouceaiui on the premises while Clowbury (feuppoj-iau him innocent) was thore, he must have enteicd \ cry soon afterwards in oi der to commit ! the deed and get clear away by 7.10. At any rate I should like to rind that woman. I have an idea she might ju&t supply the missing link.' ' I don't think so,' leplied the solicitor. * Probably she was some woman going to work and didn't take any notice at all.' ' Wait a minute,' exclaimed the detective, ' I've an idea. The French system isn't a bad one for getting the truth out of a prisoner. I'll go back and just ask our Italian friend one more question.' The detective returned to the gaol, and having obtained admission to the prisoner, apologised ior hi« intrusion. The Italian shiug-ged his shoulders. 'lam at your mercy,' he said. ' I can't resent your impertinence, so I must submit to it.' • Quite so, Signor, but I don't want to be impertinent. 1 only want to ask you one more question. When you came out of Mrs Clowbury's house that morning, did you notice a woman on the opposite side of the street ?' The Italian staited. ' A woman !' he exclaimed. ' I—lI — I have told you I was not there.' j ' Then,' said the detective, making a desperate shot, ' the woman has done you a great wrong, for she has sworn that the man who left the house that morning was you. 3 The Italian leaped from his seat. ' This woman ?' he ciied. his caution deserting him, ' was she English or Italian ? How did she know my name ?' ' She had good reason to know it,' leplied the detective, making another parting shot. ' I'm afraid you'll have a hard job to get over her evidence.' ' So !' cried the Italian pacing his cell, ' she has dared to say that it was I, has she ? Ah, I know wkat to do now !' •The Italian's passion was a levelation to the detective. It set him thinking over the man's past history. It was evident that the signor had some particular woman in hia mind. Suddenly the detective remembered that at the time he had Moroni through his hands he was living with a woman who passed for his wife. It was dangerous ground, but he determined to try it. If he made a mistake he would bo showing his hand to the suspected murderer, but he made up his mind to risk it. If he could goad him into an admission the case was set tied. ' What could you expert, Signor ? You know what women are, especially your countrywomen, when a man plays them false. I auppo&e she didn't like the idea of your throwing her over for this Englishwoman. She was watching the house when you came out. Jealousy, Signor, and tho j most dangerous jealousy of all — the jealousy of a woman !' 'So,' cried the Signor, 'she denounces me, does she ? saya that she watched the house and saw me leave it !' Ah, Margherita, mia bella, you are more foolish than I thought you.' • Margherita,' muttered the detective to himself, ' the woman on the opposite side of the street was an Italian girl named Margherita ; she was the former tni&tiess of the signor, and with these facts to go on I think there is a chance of finding her now.' The Italian was still pacing the cell. The detoctive, thinking it unwise to proceed any further lest ho might get out of his depth, left him and returned in high glee to George Clowbury's solicitor. ' You are right, sir,' he cried. ' You've been right all along. , Moroni is the murderer, and it was a woman with whom he had quarrelled who watched him into the house and out again. We must find this woman, whose name is Margherita, for she is the witness who can save your client's ueck from the hangman's rope.' . [To be Concluded.)