CHAPTER XVI. THE INQUEST.

There was naturally a great deal of excitement over the murder, as, apart from the magnitude of the crime, Lazarus was a well-known character in Melbourne. He knew more secrets than any priest, and many a person of apparently spotless character felt a sensation of relief when they heard that the old Jew was dead. Lazarus was not the sort of man to keep a diary, so to many people it was fortunate that he had died unexpectedly, and carried a number of disagreeable secrets with him to the grave.

The report of the inquest was followed with great interest, for though it was generally thought that robbing was the motive for the crime, yet some hinted that, considering the character of the old man, there might be more cogent reasons for the committal of the murder. One of these sceptics was Naball, in whose hands the case had been placed for elucidation.

"I don't believe it was robbery," he said to a brother detective. "Old Lazarus knew a good many dangerous secrets, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find that the murderer was some poor devil whom he had in his power."

"But the open safe?" said the detective.

"Pish! that can easily be accounted for; there may have been papers implicating the murderer, or the robbery might have been a blind, or--oh, there's dozens of reasons--however, we'll find it all out at the inquest."

In opening the proceedings, the Coroner mentioned all the circumstances in connection with the murder which had come to the knowledge of the police, and said that as yet no clue had been found likely to lead to the detection of the assassin, but without doubt the evidence of the witnesses about to be examined would afford some starting point.

The first witness called was the policeman who had found the body, and he deposed to the circumstances which led to the discovery. He was succeeded by Dr. Chisholm, who had examined the body of the deceased, and, having been sworn in the usual manner, deposed as follows:--

"I am a duly qualified medical practitioner. I have examined the body of the deceased. It is that of an old man--I should say about seventy years of age--very badly nourished; I found hardly any food in the stomach. There were many bruises and excoriations on the body, which, I have no doubt, are due to the struggle between the murderer and his victim. I examined the neck, back, and limbs, but could find no fractures. The throat was cut evidently by some very sharp instrument, as the windpipe was completely severed. I examined the body about nine o'clock in the morning,--it was then warm, and, according to my belief, the deceased must have been dead eight or nine hours."

Coroner.--"Are you certain of that?"

Dr. Chisholm.--"Not absolutely. It is a very difficult thing to tell exactly, by the temperature of the body, what length of time has elapsed since death. After a sudden and violent death, the body often parts with its heat slowly, as I think it has done in this case. Besides, the night was very hot, which would be an additional reason for the body cooling slowly."

Coroner.--"Was the body rigid when you examined it?"

Dr. Chisholm.--"Yes; rigor mortis had set in. It generally occurs within six hours of death, but it might occur earlier if there had been violent muscular exertion, as there was in this case. I think that the deceased was awakened from his sleep, and struggled with his murderer till he became exhausted; then the murderer cut his throat with a remarkably sharp knife."

Coroner.--"And, according to your theory, death took place about midnight?"

Dr. Chisholm.--"Yes--I think so; but, as I said, before, it is very difficult to tell."

The next witness called was Isaiah Jacobs, who gave his evidence in an aggressively shrill voice, but the Coroner was unable to elicit more from him than had already been published in The Penny Whistle. After the echo of the young Israelite's shrill voice had died away, Keith Stewart was sworn, and deposed as follows:--

"I was clerk to the deceased, and had occupied the position for some months. On the day previous to the murder, I had received a hundred pounds, in twenty bank notes of five pounds each, which I gave to the deceased, and saw him place them in his safe. He always slept on the premises, and kept his keys under his pillow. He told me that he always had a loaded revolver on the table beside his bed. On the night, or rather morning, of the murder I was passing along Russell Street on my way home. I saw a man standing near the shop. I knew him as Randolph Villiers. I asked him what he was doing, but could get no very decided answer--he was quite intoxicated, and went off down the street."

Coroner.--"About what time was this?"

Stewart.--"Two o'clock."

Coroner.--"You are certain?"

Stewart.--"Quite--I heard it striking from the Town Hall tower."

Coroner.--"Was Villiers' intoxication real or feigned?"

Stewart.--"Real, as far as I could see."

Coroner.--"It was a moonlight night, I believe?"

Stewart.--"Yes; the moon was very bright."

Coroner.--"Did you notice anything peculiar about Villiers? Was he confused? Were his clothes in disorder? Any marks of blood?"

Stewart.--"No; I saw nothing extraordinary about him. He is generally more or less drunk, so I did not notice him particularly."

Coroner.--"I believe, Mr. Stewart, you belong to the Skylarks' Club?"

Stewart.--"I do."

Coroner.--"And yet you are a clerk in a pawnbroker's office--aren't the two things rather incongruous?"

Stewart.--"No doubt; but I am in a position to be a member of the Skylarks' Club, and as to being a clerk to Lazarus, it's merely a matter of honour. When he engaged me he stipulated that I should stay for six months, and though I unexpectedly came in for some money, I felt myself bound in honour to keep my agreement."

Coroner.--"Thank you, that will do, Mr. Stewart. Call Mrs. Tibsey."

That lady, large, red-faced, and energetic, was sworn and gave her evidence in a voluble manner. She had evidently been drinking, as there was a strong odour of gin in the air, and kept curtseying to the Coroner every time she answered.

"My name's Tibsey, my lord--Maria Tibsey. I've bin married twice, my first being called Bliggings, and died of gunpowder--blowed up in a quarry explosion. My second, also dead, sir, 'ad no lungs, and a corf which tored him to bits. Only one child, sir, 'Tilda Bliggings, out in service, my lord."

Coroner.--"Yes, yes, Mrs. Tibsey, we don't want to learn all these domestic affairs. Come to the point."

Mrs. Tibsey.--"About Sating, sir?--I called 'im Sating, sir, 'cause he were a robber of the widder and orfin--me, sir, and my darter. I was a-talking to my darter on that night, your worships, she 'aving visited me. I lives near old Sating, as it was 'andy to drop in to pop anything, and about twelve I 'eard a scream--a 'orrid 'owl, as made my back h'open and shut, so I ses, ''Tilda,' ses I,' old Sating is 'avin' a time of it, e's boozin',' and that's all, sir."

Coroner.--"You never went to see what it was?"

Mrs. Tibsey.--"Me, my lord? no, your worship, it weren't my bisiniss. I didn't think it were murder."

Coroner.--"You are quite sure it was twelve o'clock?"

Mrs. Tibsey.--"I swears h'it." Miss Matilda Bliggings was then called, and deposed she also heard the scream, and that her mother had said it must be old Lazarus. It was twelve o'clock.

Ezra Lazarus was then called, but could give no material evidence. He said he had quarrelled with his father on the day preceding the murder, and had not seen him since.

The next witness called caused a sensation, as it was none other than Mr. Randolph Villiers, who stated:--

"My name is Villiers. I do nothing. I know old Lazarus. I was passing through Russell Street, and leaned up against the shop door--I was drunk--on my way to Little Bourke Street. I remember meeting Mr. Stewart--think it was two, but ain't sure."

Coroner.--"Where were you before you met Mr. Stewart?"

Villiers.--"About the town somewhere."

Coroner.--"Alone?"

Villiers.--"Sometimes I was, sometimes I wasn't."

This ended all the evidence procurable, and the Coroner summed up.

The crime had evidently been committed for the purpose of robbery, as the hundred pounds which Mr. Stewart swore had been placed in the safe by the deceased were gone; the knife with which the deed had been committed had not yet been found; in fact, all the evidence was of the barest character. According to Dr. Chisholm's evidence, the deceased had been murdered about midnight, and as Mrs. Tibsey and her daughter heard a scream also at that time, all the evidence seemed to point to that hour as having been the time of death. Mr. Stewart met Villiers at two o'clock, and Villiers stated that he had only been in Russell Street a few minutes before he met Mr. Stewart. The jury would be kind enough to bring in a verdict in accordance with the facts before them.

The jury had a long argument; some wanted to bring in a charge of murder against Villiers, as he certainly had not accounted for his presence in Russell Street; but the evidence altogether was so vague that they at length came to the conclusion it would be best to leave the matter to the police, and brought in a verdict that the deceased had met his death at the hands of some person or persons unknown.

Great dissatisfaction was expressed by the public at this verdict, as, in the opinion of most people, Villiers was the guilty man. A regular battle was fought in the newspapers over the whole affair; but one man said nothing.

That man was Naball!