Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

It was a little past eight on Tuesday evening.
Sakaguchi, who had finally arrived in London about three months prior, finished his solitary meal in the desolate house and stepped outside without any particular destination in mind.

The sun had long since set, and lights already glowed in the windows of houses lining both sides of the road.
The neighborhood near the park remained as quiet as it had been during daytime.
Green-painted iron railings stood illuminated under the pallid glare of streetlamps.

Most houses appeared to have finished their evening meals, with sounds of dishwashing and maids' muffled laughter escaping through brightly lit basement windows.
At one residence, someone had thrown open every window flanking the front entrance where a young girl played piano.
Another house revealed only a slender wrist tending potted plants at a second-floor window and the azure sleeve of a kimono visible in silhouette.

From his inherent disposition, Sakaguchi preferred to leave the bustling city streets and walk in silence upon those paving stones, undisturbed by anyone.
His heart was as quiet as the bottom of a discarded wine cask in an old mansion's cellar, and yet gloomy.

Sakaguchi had been thinking about his uncle from the moment he left the house.
Originally, his uncle had been a man of few words and such an eccentric that he rarely spoke except when necessary.
Even past fifty, he remained unmarried and possessed immense wealth.
And twelve years prior, he had bought his current house on Basewater Street near the park and had been spending his days without any particular purpose.

That alone was already perplexing enough, but these past few days he had been frequently absent even during meal times, and it was unclear when he left the house or when he returned.
As Sakaguchi thought about his solitary uncle's lonely behavior, his mood grew even more despondent.

A pleasant night breeze blew against his cheeks.

His feet naturally carried him toward Cromwell Street.
There was the house of Ellis Cox, an old friend of his uncle’s.
Uncle had been friends with Ellis since her days living in Chatham near Chilbury Dockyard.

Ellis’s husband had been an unusual patron of Japanese people.
There was not a single sailor who had sailed up the Thames on a Japanese steamship who did not know the Cox family.
After enduring long, monotonous voyages, when they first set foot on lonely foreign soil, how grateful those sailors must have been for the Cox family—who threw open their doors and welcomed them with outstretched arms.

They were often invited to become guests of the Cox family.
The sailors had called it “Sailor’s Home.”

That was a matter from two decades prior.
One year, the father of “Sailor’s Home” suddenly fell ill and collapsed.
The young, beautiful mother who remained lived in that area for some time with a newborn girl in her arms before eventually selling off the entire estate and moving to present-day Cromwell Street.

Sakaguchi knew nothing of what relationship existed between his uncle and Ellis.
His uncle, who had spent many years as a seaman, had sailed between Britain and Japan countless times since his youth but resigned from the steamship company just a few years ago.
After leaving society and taking up temporary residence in the suburbs of Tokyo for a brief period—what moved him to do so?—he had drifted to London with an air of detachment.

Though their relatives were few in number, even among those nephews and nieces, Uncle had cherished Sakaguchi above all others.
For such reasons, Sakaguchi was permitted to come to London as he had long hoped and live together with his uncle.

Sakaguchi had never once seen his uncle’s smiling face, but the uncle was kind and gentle.
Sakaguchi could not help but feel how lonely the uncle’s life must be.
As he grew closer to the uncle after coming to London and interacted with him more intimately, he found himself increasingly concerned about the man’s unreliable circumstances, nurturing an earnest resolve to care for him despite being in foreign surroundings.

“Perhaps he is at Ms. Ellis’s house,” Sakaguchi muttered to himself as he reached the street corner, then suddenly felt his face grow hot.

The Cox family had a beautiful only daughter named Beatrice.
Shortly after Sakaguchi arrived in London, he and his uncle had been invited to dinner at this very house of Beatrice.
Therefore, she was the first young woman with whom he had ever exchanged words.

The trees of Hōen, encircled by iron railings, loomed jet-black in the darkness.
The tilted roadside streetlamp burned with a sputtering sound.
The narrow sidewalk ahead where Sakaguchi walked was rough with deep irregularities.

He passed Hōen and was walking along the slightly curved Cromwell Street with his head down when he noticed the figure of a woman collapsed on the paving stones about five or six ken ahead.
It was right in front of the Cox house.
Sakaguchi rushed over in surprise.
The woman had soiled the hem of her dark kimono with mud and was crouched on the paving stones.

“Are you all right?”

Sakaguchi approached her side and lifted her up.

The woman, in a voice on the verge of breaking, kept crying out, "Water, water."

“Water! Water!” she cried out.

Fortunately, as it was before the Cox house, Sakaguchi left the woman’s side and was about to ascend the stone steps when the front door opened and young Beatrice appeared.

“Good evening—it’s me,” Sakaguchi said. “When I approached your house just now, that person was lying collapsed there. So I thought I would fetch some water.” At this, Beatrice furrowed her lovely brows and, nodding several times, descended the stone steps toward the woman. In the meantime, Sakaguchi went to the kitchen and drew water into a glass.

The woman appeared heavily intoxicated from strong liquor.

Sakaguchi and Beatrice exchanged glances, but since the woman seemed to have injured her knee, they decided to first help her into the house.

At the commotion, Ellis came downstairs from the second floor.
After giving various instructions to the maid who had rushed up from the kitchen, she amiably extended her hand toward Sakaguchi while—

“How good of you to come.”
“Now then, please come this way,” she said, guiding him hurriedly to the parlor beside the entrance.

“You’re the one who helped that woman, I hear.”
“Truly impressive for one so young.”
“She doesn’t appear injured, but that woman has drunk far too much and is in distress—we should let her rest awhile.”
Ellis spoke in a tone brimming with sympathy.

Her slim figure, clad in a navy serge kimono with a red garnet necklace, simply did not look a day over fifty.

The light from the electric lamp draped in pale lavender fabric spilled softly through the room.
After a moment, Beatrice opened the door and entered.

“There was an empty bed on the third floor, so I took her there to let her sleep.”
“Her clothing is quite proper.”
“How did she get so terribly drunk?”
“Shall we let her stay tonight?”

“Well, she is elderly and in such a pitiful state—you should let her stay.”

“If her home had a telephone, we could call them from here, but she’s in no state to speak properly.”

Their conversation lingered on the woman for some time, but Ellis changed the subject to ask about Uncle’s whereabouts—he had not appeared for two or three days—and inquired whether Sakaguchi was fond of life in London.

Sakaguchi knew well that Uncle had no friends to visit besides the Cox family.
Therefore, he began to wonder where Uncle might be and what he could be doing at that very moment.

Sakaguchi left the Cox house and returned home when it was nearly ten o’clock.
Opening the heavy front door and passing through the quiet hall, he found the electric lamp lit in Uncle’s study.
He,

*Oh, Uncle has already returned home,* he thought as he lightly knocked on the door, but there was no response at all.
He timidly opened the door and peered inside.

The room was neatly arranged, and the bright electric light vainly illuminated its surroundings.
Uncle’s figure was nowhere to be found.

"When I left earlier, the light was definitely off, so it seems Uncle must have returned once during my absence."
He went to the hall mirror as a precaution and, after confirming that neither the usual walking stick nor a hat was there, returned to Uncle’s study.

When he suddenly noticed, there lay a letter from Uncle addressed to Sakaguchi upon the desk. With a sense of foreboding, he swiftly slit open the envelope and read through its contents.

Omitted preamble// This humble one must inform you that urgent business having arisen, I am compelled to journey to the S region. Though my return within four or five days remains uncertain, I humbly entreat you not to trouble yourself with concern. Furthermore, as this present journey demands absolute secrecy, I earnestly beg you to keep this firmly in mind.

Lord Junzaburo
Hayashi

II

Sakaguchi read and reread his uncle’s perplexing letter.
From the ink’s dryness and the light bulb’s residual warmth, he deduced Uncle had departed no more than thirty minutes prior.
He considered racing to the station by motorcar—he might still intercept him—yet...
Knowing Uncle’s unbending nature, Sakaguchi concluded any such attempt would earn only reproach, never halting that ironclad resolve.

The phrases “urgent business” and “absolute secrecy” troubled him.
Uncle maintained no commercial investments beyond converting select assets into shares of Japanese enterprises—the bulk securely banked.
Such mercantile urgency clashed with this reality.
More disquieting still was Uncle’s omission of any destination—uncharacteristic for so methodical a man.
How could secrets fester in a life so devoid of external entanglements?

Sakaguchi lay in the dark second-floor bed, staring intently as he worried about Uncle’s circumstances.

In the room where the lamplight had been extinguished, the glow from the streetlamp outside spilled dimly inward.
The night grew deeper when abruptly, Uncle’s face materialized against Sakaguchi’s weary eyelids.
Next emerged Ellis’s elegant figure—then suddenly Uncle reappeared twenty years younger, his portly frame clad in a captain’s uniform with arms crossed in vigorous posture.
Simultaneously unfolded the vista of a serene dockside town.
This was a scene wholly unknown to Sakaguchi.
Beyond lush willow branches swaying verdant and full came into view a white Western mansion.
There at the French window leaned Ellis, her rounded cheeks graced by a smile as she contemplated the distant clear sky.
Gradually Uncle’s visage dissolved into Sakaguchi’s own features while Ellis’s countenance shifted into Beatrice’s diligent form—now clad in a green blouse.

Sakaguchi soon fell into the land of dreams.

The next morning, he awoke to find it was past nine o'clock.
Radiant sunlight streamed through the glass window by his pillow.
On the lawn behind where roses bloomed, a bluebird had alighted and was trilling a tranquil spring melody.

Sakaguchi visited the Cox household after finishing his meal.
He was concerned about the woman from last night.
But also, having left a note and thinking of Uncle—who had not returned home all last night—he could not stay put at home.

It was exactly eleven o'clock. He entered the front door opened by the maid. The study at the far end of the hall stood open, and from there, the handrail of the stone steps leading to the garden and the green lawn were visible. In the cage placed on the study’s veranda, a parrot with pale pink and blue plumage—as though painted in those hues—flapped its wings while basking in the sunlight, letting out shrill cries. Beatrice, who had been knitting intently in a chair drawn up beside the window, smiled and rose to her feet upon seeing Sakaguchi.

“Oh! I thought it was someone else—it’s you. How good of you to come.”
“It’s grown into quite a fine season, hasn’t it?”
“You like this weather, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s ideal for walks.”
As she stared at him with laughing eyes, Sakaguchi answered stiffly.

“The outdoors suits you splendidly.”
“How I envy men.”
“Going wherever they please without a care.”

“Women too can go anywhere freely, I should think.”

“Oh, it’s not so simple.”
“Though Mother does go out often enough.”
Beatrice said this lightly, but her expression clouded suddenly as she fell into deep thought.

“Is Auntie not here? And what became of the woman from last night?”

“Ah, I hear that lady is called Mrs. Edward. She’s made a full recovery and had breakfast with us this morning. She was here until just moments ago—likely went up to the third floor. She ought to come down soon.”

While Beatrice was speaking, the much-discussed Mrs. Edward entered with a pallid complexion.

“Last night, I truly caused you such trouble.”
“Thanks to your kindness, I was saved.”
“There’s no need for thanks.”

“But it’s good that you’ve recovered your health,” said Sakaguchi.

Mrs. Edward turned toward Beatrice.

“Miss, I sincerely thank you.
“I mustn’t let the people at the inn worry, so I shall return home once and come again properly to express my gratitude.”
“When your mother returns home, please convey my regards to her.”

“I see. Then take care on your way back.”
“Since I hear your home is in Morton Town, you needn’t trouble yourself to come all the way back from such a distance.”
“Please return home and rest comfortably.”
Beatrice said earnestly.

Mrs. Edward soon left the house.

On the veranda of the study, the parrot was clamorously calling the maid’s name.
The two of them sat silently in their chairs for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

“How has Uncle Hayashi been lately?”

Beatrice, who had placed her knitting on her lap and was gazing absently through the glass door at the world outside, suddenly spoke.

"Uncle? ... I don't believe there's been anything unusual compared to normal, but..."

"That's right—my mother has been acting truly strange these past five or six days."
"Have you noticed that?"

"If you say so, I do think she seemed rather restless and lonely last night as well."

"Yes, that's exactly right—I simply can't stop worrying about it."
"And what's strange is that lately, letters have been arriving frequently from somewhere—each time Mother lets out such sorrowful sighs."

"Has Mother said anything to you about that matter?"
Sakaguchi gazed intently at her face with a puzzled expression.

"Yes, I've grown so worried that I've repeatedly asked her about the reason, but she says nothing about the matter—she even tries to conceal from me that letters are arriving at all."
"Could it be that something terrible has happened?"

Hearing Beatrice's words, Sakaguchi recalled the mysterious letter his uncle had left behind the previous night.
He nearly let that matter slip out, but catching himself, he sealed his lips.

“Miss Beatrice, you shouldn’t worry so much. Since Uncle is also here, he will surely do anything for Auntie’s sake to alleviate her worries. But what kind of letters could they possibly be?”

Sakaguchi said after a moment.

“The handwriting is one I’ve never seen before, and it seems they all come from the same person. Mother even objects to having the maids see the envelopes of the letters. This morning too, Mrs. Edward received a letter and brought it to Mother’s room, but unlike her usual self, Mother snatched it away and retreated upstairs with it.”

“Isn’t that Uncle Hayashi’s letter?”

“Absolutely not! It’s undoubtedly a man’s handwriting, but different from Uncle Hayashi’s.”

“I don’t know where these frequent letters are coming from... Wait—I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“If we tail Auntie’s movements, I believe we’ll surely identify the sender of those letters.”

“You—if we do that and it somehow ends up harming Mother, what then?” Beatrice flusteredly pressed to stop him.

“I don’t believe that would happen… In that case, I’ll enlist Uncle’s assistance.”

“Please do so. If it’s Uncle, I’m certain he’ll find a way. Mother is truly pitiable.”

Beatrice pictured her mother growing lonelier with each passing year, tears welling in her large eyes.
Sakaguchi too, having no means to respond, fell silent and steadfastly endured the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.
He turned his gaze to the empty upper part of the window, then after a moment, bid farewell deliberately and cheerfully before leaving Beatrice’s house.

III

After seeing Sakaguchi to the entrance, Beatrice returned to the parlor—when suddenly, the hall telephone let out a shrill ring.
Unfortunately, as the maid happened to be out shopping, Beatrice answered the phone.

The man on the other end spoke in a polite tone.

“I have been entrusted with a message from Mrs. Cox and would like you to come to the telephone.”

“This is Beatrice, her daughter.”
“And who might you be?”

“Yes, I am a waiter at Park Hotel. Mrs. Cox and Mr. Hayashi are dining here, and they requested that you come immediately.”

“What did you say?”
“Where are you saying Mother and Mr. Hayashi are?”

“This includes the Japanese gentleman staying at our hotel and a person referred to as Mr. Kondo—three individuals in total.”

“What hotel did you say?…The line is bad, so I can’t hear you well…Pardon?”
“Park Hotel?…Ah, I understand—Park Hotel, then.”
“Ah…I see. Room 128 is on the fifth floor?…Then I’ll come right away.”
Beatrice hung up the phone and hurriedly rushed up to the second-floor bedroom.

A few minutes after she emerged from the bedroom, Beatrice wore a violet satin garment adorned with black at the cuffs and hem, looking so beautiful she was nearly unrecognizable. She floated down the stairs with a light step and went to the basement to search for the maid, but she had not yet returned from her errand.

Beatrice clicked her tongue and looked up at the wall clock, but thinking it futile to wait endlessly for the maid whose return time was uncertain, she decided to leave a note and set out. On the edge of a scrap of paper, she scribbled in pencil that her mother had called about going out for a meal, so the maid should expect that, then placed it on the kitchen table and hurried out of the house.

Beatrice got into a taxi at the street corner and urged it toward Park Hotel near H Park.

She soon arrived at the hotel.
After getting out of the car and paying the fare, she entered the lift room to the left of the entrance as directed over the phone.

When Beatrice reached the fifth floor and stepped into the hallway, not a soul was present.
The vast hotel stood hushed, devoid of any audible sound.
As she moved down the corridor counting door numbers, a waiter clad in a spotless white linen jacket approached from ahead.

“Are you looking for Room 128?”
The man bowed slightly as he spoke.

“Yes.”
“Please take me there.”

“Understood.”
“Please come this way.”

The man led the way and came to a certain room,

"This is the room," he said, stepping back.

Beatrice gave a slight nod and turned the handle—the instant the door opened, the waiter standing behind her suddenly lunged forward.

"Agh!" Before she could react, her arms were twisted upward.

The room stood empty as expected.

The waiter with a terrifying face thrust a slender, trembling knife toward Beatrice’s nose.
She struggled to maintain her composure,

“What do you hope to achieve with this brutality? Are you trying to kill me?” she cried, though her entire body shook uncontrollably from terror.

After tying Beatrice’s wrists behind her back, the man smiled creepily and said,

“As long as you stay quiet, there’s no danger of that.”
“Why don’t you sit on that chair awhile and calm yourself.”

“Who are you?
If you want what I have—my rings, my necklace—I’ll give them all to you. Just let me out,” said Beatrice. The man answered calmly.

“I’ll let you out once I finish my business here.”
“You’ve come this far—no amount of screaming will help you escape now. Best resign yourself to that.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“All you need do is stay here quietly until ten tonight.”

“The idea that Mother and Mr. Hayashi are here at this hotel—it was you who made that phone call earlier, wasn’t it?”

“That was simply a means to take you captive.”

“If Mother or Mr. Hayashi sees your face, they will surely know who you are. You are cowardly toward the truth despite being a man. If you have a grudge against Mother, then why don’t you come at me head-on like a man?”

Beatrice was gradually calming down. She said while staring fixedly at the man’s face. The man was a large-framed, dark-skinned individual in his mid-fifties. He did not respond to that,

“Well then, I’ll be going out,” he said briskly while gagging Beatrice and leading her to the inner bedroom connected to the room. “You can take a nap until I return.”

He fastened the end of the cord binding Beatrice’s wrists to the bed.

“Listen here—stay quiet. You hear? If you make a racket and flee back home, your mother will die. Got it, huh?”
The man closed the partition door and locked it, clattered around in the next room for a while, then locked the hallway-facing door before departing.

The interior of Park Hotel remained quiet like a deserted land.
The sun, having shifted slightly westward, was casting a red light upon the window frame.

Beatrice was unable to move a muscle. Even if she were to exhaust all her strength gnawing through the gag and slip free of the ropes, the man’s lingering words weighed on her mind, making any rash action seem impossible. The man’s words might have been a common threat, but there seemed to be an air of truthfulness in his demeanor that suggested he was speaking the truth.

Beatrice closed her eyes and bitterly thought of her own helplessness—how rashly she had fallen for a stranger’s phone call, ending up confined in this hotel.

IV

Sakaguchi left Cromwell Street and was passing by V Station when he saw Ellis get out of an automobile and hurry into the bank.

Having heard from Beatrice about Ellis’s recent behavior over the past few days, Sakaguchi found her rushed entry into the bank profoundly suspicious; he turned on his heel and followed her.

Ellis withdrew five hundred pounds and stepped outside immediately.
Sakaguchi called out to her from behind, but Ellis appeared utterly unaware as she climbed into the waiting automobile and sped away.

Sakaguchi returned to his home on Basewater Street with his head tilted.
The eagerly awaited letter from Uncle had not arrived, and the room with its blinds still drawn was dark and gloomy.

He lay down on the long chair near the window and, to distract himself from an anxious mood that threatened to engulf him, haphazardly leafed through the stacked magazines.
Suddenly, the front doorbell rang.
Sakaguchi leaped up from the chair and rushed to open the door.

There stood Ellis, looking terribly flustered.

“You—something terrible has happened.”
“Beatrice has gone somewhere.”
“When I returned home just now, there was a note left for the maid saying she went out because I called.”
“I have never called my daughter.”
“She has surely been kidnapped by someone.”

Sakaguchi paled and stared wordlessly at Ellis’s face.

“Is Mr. Hayashi here?” Ellis asked hurriedly.

“No, he’s not here.”
"He left early this morning for somewhere."
“I believe he’ll return by late night, but…”
Sakaguchi gave a flustered reply while stammering,

“Why don’t you report this to the police immediately?”
"If there is anything I can do, I will do it, so please do not hesitate to ask," he said earnestly.

Ellis, upon hearing that Hayashi was absent, began to leave while showing a look of disappointment, but—

“Though pitiful for that girl, she must be safe regardless, so please keep quiet.”
“You must never involve the police.”
“She will certainly return tonight.”
“And when Mr. Hayashi comes home, please have him visit my house at once.”
“Then come to my house early tomorrow morning,” she said faintly as she went down the stone steps.
Yet across her sorrowful face there showed an expression of firm resolve.

Wednesday was nearing dusk. As for Uncle not returning since last night, there had been no need for concern due to the note he himself had left, so there was little reason to dwell on it; but regarding Beatrice, the anxiety was so intense it pained his chest. Sakaguchi could no longer lie sprawled on the chair reading magazines as he had earlier. He was pacing back and forth in the closed room but, unable to bear it any longer, left the house.

He found himself back in his own neighborhood without realizing where or how he had walked. After finishing his meal at his usual Belgian Café, he visited the Cox residence again.

Every window was pitch black, with only the hall’s overhead light casting a bright reflection on the glass panel above the door. The house was empty.

"Madam returned briefly a short while ago but left again immediately.
As for Miss Beatrice, while I was out shopping, she left a note and went out somewhere, and has not yet returned."
The maid, appearing anxious and fidgety, showed Sakaguchi the note Beatrice had left.

He read the pencil-scrawled note under the hall light.
Then suddenly, there was a sound from the shadows of the hall.

The two of them turned around in surprise.
In the cage hung beside the telephone, the parrot flapped its wings.

“Oh my, what on earth happened?”
“With all the commotion, I completely forgot to attend to the parrot.”

The maid muttered to herself as she brought the cage cover that had been placed before the mirror with a hat rack.

“I wonder where Miss Beatrice could have gone off to. The letter made it seem she was with Madam…” As the maid began to say this, the parrot in its cage suddenly let out a loud cry.

“Wait, wait—the parrot is saying something, isn’t it?” Sakaguchi said in a low voice.

The two of them held their breath for a fleeting moment and listened to the parrot’s words.

“That’s right—when the call came through to Miss Beatrice, the only one present in this vast house was you,” Sakaguchi thought, staring fixedly at the birdcage.

He attempted to deduce the two-syllable hotel name starting with P—relying on phrases he had heard roughly twice—after much effort of ringing the telephone and pretending to answer calls.
He immediately flipped through the telephone directory and began reading the P entries, but suddenly his face lit up,

“Park Hotel! This must be it. H Park’s no trouble—I’ll go there now!” he shouted.

Thirty minutes later, Sakaguchi appeared in the side street before the hotel.
When he looked, a man and a woman who had emerged from the hotel hurriedly entered the automobile waiting at the exit.
Though separated by the road made certainty impossible, the man wearing a bowler hat appeared to be his Uncle—who should have been traveling—and the young woman seemed to be Beatrice.
Sakaguchi cut straight across the thoroughfare and was about to dash toward the automobile when, with a violent roar, the vehicle began to move.

“Wait! It’s me!” Sakaguchi shouted at the top of his voice and gave chase, but though the two clearly turned to look back, they continued to dash off at full speed.

Sakaguchi dashed to the park corner and finally managed to find an available taxi.
The car that had gone ahead had long since vanished from sight, but Sakaguchi got into it and headed for Cromwell Street.
The driver unfamiliar with the area took a long detour and finally arrived before the Cox residence, whereupon Sakaguchi—irritated—jumped out of the car, dashed up the stone steps, and violently knocked on the door.

The entrance was opened immediately. He pushed past the stunned maid and burst into the parlor to find Beatrice alone, her face deathly pale as she stared anxiously at the doorway.

“Ah, thank goodness—you’ve returned home safely,” Sakaguchi said, gasping for breath.

When Beatrice saw Sakaguchi’s face, she let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Because a car stopped in front of the house, I was worried about who had come. It was really you—thank goodness. I was confined on the fifth floor of Park Hotel by a villain. Uncle Hayashi rescued me from that.” Beatrice trembled as if even the memory terrified her while recounting the entire sequence of events—from receiving a call from a man claiming to be a Park Hotel attendant, to being bound hand and foot by a stranger, gagged with a muzzle-like device, and confined in a fifth-floor room.

“So there I was, wondering what would become of me while keeping my eyes tightly shut, when outside grew completely dark and I gradually grew hungry.”
“I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“As I writhed about trying to free my wrists, someone came clattering at the lock and entered the room.”
“That was Uncle Hayashi.”
“Truly, how overjoyed I was!”
“Uncle Hayashi swiftly untied the ropes and led me outside.”
“When we stepped out front, it seemed someone was pursuing us—but fortunately a taxi stood waiting before the hotel. After urging the driver to hurry, we returned home just moments ago.”

Sakaguchi listened to Beatrice’s story with his heart racing and, as if suddenly noticing something,

“Where did Uncle go?” he said, glancing around.

“We returned home, but from what the maid told us, we learned that Mother had gone out in worry and still hadn’t returned.”
“Wondering where she might have gone, I first went up to the second-floor room without any particular reason, and there among the discarded clothes, I found that mysterious letter.”
“Given the circumstances, I resolved myself to open and read it.”
“It was a blackmail letter from some man stating that if she did not bring five hundred pounds by nine tonight to Parliament Hill, he would not only expose her secret but also take her daughter’s life.”
“When I showed it to Uncle Hayashi in shock, he turned pale and left the house just now to save Mother.”

Upon hearing this, Sakaguchi suddenly put on the hat he was holding and stepped toward the doorway.

“I’ll go right now. If anything were to happen to Uncle, it would be disastrous.”

“Ah—if you were here, how much stronger Mother’s and Uncle’s resolve would be. If it’s nine o’clock already, there’s only ten minutes left. Please come immediately.”

Sakaguchi left the entranceway, letting Beatrice's words flow past him.
The automobile headed toward Hampstead at full speed.

In the dark car, Sakaguchi had no time for thought, focused solely on reaching his destination.
Before long, the automobile carrying him passed before an underground railway station and stopped at the park entrance.
Sakaguchi dismissed the taxi there and entered a path that wound through a copse of trees.

The clock showed fifteen minutes past nine.
Unlike the daytime's weather, the sky had grown completely overcast.
A humid night wind hung thickly over the park with clinging dampness.

Sakaguchi was ascending an upward-sloping path and was about to reach the embankment of Parliament Hill when a tremendous gunshot erupted around him. At the same moment came the clattering sound of scrambling footsteps. Sakaguchi instinctively froze on the grassy ground but then moved stealthily toward the source of the noise.

The footsteps had vanished unnoticed.

Peering through the darkness, he spotted a figure moving furtively about a dozen meters ahead. A bit beyond that stood a few trees. The man wore a fedora and held a cane in his right hand. He suddenly stopped under the shade of a tree.

Looking, he saw a pitch-black figure lying stretched out at the man’s feet.
The man wearing the fedora was unmistakably Uncle’s figure.

V

Sakaguchi stood frozen in the darkness for an instant, but the next moment, Uncle hurriedly walked away along the path running northward.
Sakaguchi suddenly came to his senses and began to feel that lingering in the area was dangerous.
It was truly regrettable not to examine the person collapsed before the park bench, but even in the dark, it was clearly seen that it was not a woman.

"Why on earth would Uncle do something so drastic?"
"What about Miss Ellis?"
"That sound of running footsteps I heard earlier—that might have been Miss Ellis."

No sooner had Sakaguchi raced down the hill than he cut straight through a roadless thicket of mixed trees, attempting to exit the park. Hurrying to reach a bustling thoroughfare as soon as possible, he crossed a low wire-mesh fence and finally emerged beside the pond.

When he looked, there was a woman about a dozen meters ahead, crossing the square-shaped path and running off in a frantic dash. Her figure vanished instantly, but she was a woman wearing a broad-brimmed hat.

When Sakaguchi came to the vicinity of the underground railway station, he boarded a motor cab that was there and returned to the house on Basewater Street.

Uncle had not yet returned.
So he immediately visited the Cox residence.
The maid had long since retired to her room; it was Beatrice who opened the door.

In the parlor, Ellis sat motionless with bowed head in a deep chair, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes.
Beatrice and Sakaguchi stood wordlessly by her side.

Beatrice was stroking her mother’s shoulder as though tending to something fragile.

“Truly, I don’t know what to do at all…… Everything—it’s all my fault.”

In an instant, Ellis spoke in a low, despairing voice.

“Both Miss Beatrice being confined at Park Hotel and Uncle—who was supposed to have departed on a trip last night—following you to Parliament Hill… I can’t make heads or tails of any of it,” said Sakaguchi.

“You’re saying he’s been traveling since last night? Where is Mr. Hayashi?”
Ellis looked up with eyes swollen from crying and asked.

“From there I immediately returned home to check, but Uncle still hadn’t returned.”

“Then you also know about that matter?”
Ellis fearfully covered her face with a handkerchief.

“Yes... I saw Uncle standing by the corpse... But who on earth was the murdered man? Of course I believe it’s the man who confined you at Park Hotel...” said Sakaguchi in a hoarse voice.

Beatrice raised her hand to stop Sakaguchi. “That doesn’t matter now… What about Uncle Hayashi? Why hasn’t he returned sooner?” she asked calmly.

Ellis seemed about to say something but, with a sorrowful look, fell silent.

Suddenly, the entrance bell rang.
The three of them involuntarily exchanged glances; not a single one rose from their seats.
When the doorbell rang a second time, Sakaguchi stood up resolutely and went to the entrance.

When he opened the door, two men in plain clothes stepped abruptly into the house.
They unceremoniously closed the door behind them.

“You are the nephew of Mr. Hayashi residing at No. 20 Basewater Street – the one addressed as Mr. Sakaguchi – correct?”
One of the men broke the silence.
Sakaguchi gave a silent nod.

Meanwhile, the other man kept rapping insistently on the parlor door.
Then Beatrice materialized abruptly from within the room.

“Who are you? Isn’t it rude to enter someone else’s house without any notice?” she said in a stern tone, as if to admonish them.

The two men hurriedly removed their hats and spoke with meticulous courtesy.

“We most humbly apologize for this outrageous disturbance so late at night,” said the man who had taken the lead. “Though it is indeed discourteous as you say, we must beg your magnanimous forgiveness given our official capacity.” He pressed on.

“Might you be the young mistress of this house? The fact is, a murder occurred at Parliament Hill approximately ninety minutes past. As it became necessary to question the young man called Sakaguchi present here—after conducting inquiries elsewhere—we have accordingly ascended to your residence.”

“Mr. Sakaguchi is our friend and is not someone who would be involved in such a terrible murder.”

“That may indeed be the case. Since Mr. Sakaguchi is a friend of your household, it naturally follows that he is acquainted with Mr. Hayashi. To determine the extent of their relationship—we would like to meet with the lady and hear her account on this matter. How would that be?” The man said tactfully.

“Mother is unwell, so I cannot let you meet her tonight,” Beatrice said with displeasure.

“Since when has your mother been unwell?”
“Judging by your mother’s condition, I surmise there is some involvement in the matter.”

Beatrice did not answer that and stared back at the man’s face.

“Ah, I must apologize for this outrageous discourtesy.”
The man turned to Sakaguchi,

“You’ll have to come along to the station—troublesome as it is. Since your uncle was taken from the scene, naturally the repercussions have reached you,” he declared loudly, making sure his words carried.

“Oh! Was Uncle Hayashi arrested?” Beatrice exclaimed involuntarily.

“That’s correct.”
“In light of our usual relations with your household, we shall return after following proper formalities to make our inquiries.”
“We must regrettably inform you in advance that tomorrow you are not to set foot outside even a single step.”

The two detectives left with meaningful smirks, offering insincere courtesies as they escorted Sakaguchi away.

In a chilly room at H Police Station, Sakaguchi underwent questioning by the duty officer.
At Parliament Hill, the one who had been shot dead by someone was an impeccably dressed man in his mid-fifties.

He had initially persisted in stubbornly feigning ignorance no matter what he was asked.
However, he came to realize that this only deepened suspicion toward his uncle and drove him into mortal peril.
Sakaguchi did not believe his uncle was entirely innocent in the least, yet a sliver of doubt still lingered there.
So in the end, after reconsidering, he told all he knew.

And he vehemently asserted that his having seen his uncle standing by the corpse at Parliament Hill rather proved that his uncle was not the perpetrator.
In other words, had Uncle fired the revolver, it would have been natural for him to flee immediately as the victim fell.
Yet the fact that he stood calmly by the corpse with his cane clearly indicated that after someone else had fired the revolver, Uncle had heard the sound and come to the scene.

However, his earnest testimony could have no effect unless positive counter-evidence emerged proving that his uncle had not committed the shooting.

The duty officer laughed coldly and refused to engage.

After night had deepened, he was temporarily released.

VI

The ashen old rows of houses along Cromwell Street lay in decay, winding their way endlessly into the distance. There were sections where the paving stones were cracked and houses with worn stone steps leading to their entrances, but every house retained the imposing porches of the previous century and thick columns that held memories of times long past sealed within them. The massive oak door had been repainted multiple times in deep greenish-brown hues, yet the cast-iron lion’s head mounted at its center and the door knocker hanging below remained unchanged from ages past, their surfaces polished black from countless hands over time.

In the middle of that single street stood the Cox residence.
Sakaguchi and Beatrice were facing each other with worried looks in the downstairs parlor facing the street.

Outside, the gentle early summer sun brightened the town.
The closed-off room was dark and gloomy.

Ellis had been summoned to H Police Station even before Sakaguchi came to the Cox residence and still had not returned.

“The man who was killed is the same suspicious individual who confined you at Park Hotel. What sort of acquaintance could that man and your mother have had? And does my Uncle know that man as well?” After a period of silence, Sakaguchi said.

“I don’t know for certain myself, but they say he was Mother’s old friend. I heard he put Mother through something terrible before fleeing abroad.” Beatrice spoke as though unable to bear touching upon her mother’s painful old wound.

"I had also thought it was likely something of that nature."
"Does Uncle know about that?"

“Since Uncle was in Chatham around that time, he might have had some inkling… But Mother said Uncle and that man never met face to face.”

"But how did Uncle come to know you were confined at Park Hotel?"
"It’s also strange that Uncle—who unusually mentioned going on a trip—hadn’t returned home since the previous night."

The two fell silent and began pondering separate matters.

From his uncle’s usual disposition, Sakaguchi simply could not believe he had committed such a horrific murder.
Given how long Uncle had lived abroad, he might well have owned a revolver—yet Sakaguchi had never once seen it...... But on another front, he felt he had gradually come to understand why Uncle had remained unmarried to this day.
......Uncle loves Ellis.
...Uncle loves Ellis more than anyone in the world.
For the sake of those they love, human beings can make any sacrifice... He shuddered at the thought.

Beatrice buried her chin in her blouse collar, blankly lowering her gaze to the floor beneath her feet. She felt herself slipping into a precarious mental state, as though being drawn into another realm. For no discernible reason, she couldn't dispel the conviction that once her mother had gone to the police station, she would never return. She desperately tried to suppress the thought, but no matter how vigorously she fought them, ominous visions kept welling up one after another, pressing ever more heavily upon her heart. The sorrowful eyes her mother had worn when leaving home that morning persisted in flickering before her vision without end.

Beatrice knew the feelings her mother harbored toward Hayashi.
And she knew how her mother had cursed the man who had been killed and how deeply she had concealed their relationship marked by ugly memories.

Sakaguchi and Beatrice suddenly exchanged glances, but the two averted their eyes toward the window outside.

The surface of the paving stones, bathed in sharply defined yellow light, was more desolate than the shade.
The blue sky, the streets, the houses across the way—all appeared bleakly vivid as if viewed through smoked glasses, yet crumbling into decay.

Before long, Ellis entered with a corpse-like pallor.

“Oh, it’s too late.”
“Everything is over.”

Ellis sank weakly into a chair and wept quietly.

“Auntie, what happened to Uncle?”
Sakaguchi pressed urgently.

“I was not permitted to meet with Mr. Hayashi, but he has fully confessed and wishes to admit his guilt.”
Ellis said between sobs.

“Is that the truth? …But I cannot believe it no matter what… Then what became of the murder weapon?”

“As a result of their investigation, they discovered the revolver in a thicket not far from the crime scene.”
“And it was found to be the murdered man’s property.”

“Isn’t it strange that Uncle would shoot the man with the victim’s own revolver?”
Sakaguchi straightened and exclaimed.

“That’s precisely why it’s damning.”
“Mr. Hayashi pretended to go on a trip but was actually staying in the room adjacent to that man at Park Hotel.”
“The police believe this allowed him to rescue my daughter and take the revolver.”

“But how did they establish that the revolver belonged to the murdered man?”

"The fact that he was staying at Park Hotel became known through his belongings last night."
"In searching the hotel room, they found a firearm purchase permit from the authorities and a receipt from a gun shop issued when that man was in Sumatra."
"The receipt had the revolver's serial number recorded on it."
Ellis shook her head despairingly from side to side.

"I see. If Uncle himself has confessed guilt, then there's nothing to be done."
Sakaguchi kept his head bowed momentarily before looking up—

“Please tell me exactly what happened. How long were you on that bench, Auntie? And what sort of conversation did you have with that man?” he pressed eagerly.

Ellis gazed at Sakaguchi’s face with slight perplexity, but soon spoke as though resolving herself.

“About ten minutes.”
“The man extorted five hundred pounds from me.”
“I had prepared that money and was carrying it.”
“Of course I was resolved to hand it over, but fearing I might face such extortion again in the future, I told him I would give him the funds only if he vowed to go to South America as he said and never set foot in Britain again.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then he said, ‘Since I have enemies who ceaselessly hound me, I cannot rest easy in Britain for a single moment. I’ll sail to South America on the first available ship and never return for the rest of my life,’” she answered.

“You mean he said there were enemies targeting that man?”

“Yes.”
He said this:
Then, suddenly, a revolver shot rang out, and with a sharp cry, he toppled forward from the bench.
“I was so overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events that I fled.”

“Wait a moment. At that time, on which side of the bench was he sitting?”

“Because I was on the left end facing the square, he was on the right side. Yes, he clutched his right side with both hands and collapsed forward.”

Hearing this, Sakaguchi suddenly leaped up from his chair and shouted, “Thank heavens! Uncle is innocent!”

According to Ellis's account, the man had been positioned to her right and received the bullet in his right flank. However, when he noticed the corpse immediately after the gunshot, Uncle had been standing right beside it. Sakaguchi had taken the right-hand path from where the park's forked trail diverged the previous night. The left-hand path drew a curve as it made a wide detour, came alongside the bench, and continued running further northward.

About eighteen meters to the right of the crime scene stood a dense thicket of mixed trees casting pitch-black shadows. Considering both the interval between Sakaguchi hearing the revolver shot and his subsequent recognition of the corpse, Uncle—who had been hiding in the right-hand thicket—could not possibly have reached the corpse's side in time. Even if one were to assume he could traverse the eighteen-meter distance almost instantaneously, he would have been unable to pass between the thicket and bench—a space fully visible from Sakaguchi's position—without being seen. Considering this, Uncle must have taken the left-hand path from where the trail forked. If the man was on Ellis's right side and was shot in the right flank, then someone must have been hiding in the right-hand thicket and fired.

Leaving the stunned Ellis and Beatrice behind, he hurriedly rushed outside.

Sakaguchi hurried to Parliament Hill.
Taking the same road as the previous night, he arrived at the crime scene.
He walked to the front of the bench, turned back, and from where the path forked took the left-hand route to investigate.
Next he entered the right-hand thicket and carefully examined footprints on the ground, but after days of clear weather, the earth had completely dried hard.
At first his eyes lit up upon finding trampled grass underfoot and broken branches on shrubs—but he soon realized these marks had been made by police detectives searching for the murder weapon.

When he emerged from the thicket, he considered investigating the bench area more thoroughly, but a plainclothes detective who had been pacing nearby since earlier was watching his movements with evident suspicion, prompting him to leave the spot briskly.

As he passed by the pond’s edge, the retreating figure of the woman who had crossed the road the previous night flitted through his mind, but by the time he exited the park, he had already completely forgotten it.
He returned to the city.
Yet somehow, as if drawn by some unseen force, he found himself standing before Park Hotel adjacent to H Park.

A few buildings down from the hotel stood a neat little bar.
He recalled that he had only eaten a light meal that morning and hadn’t taken a single drop of water until four in the afternoon, then smiled bitterly.
Even so, he still had no appetite, but he felt quite fatigued and was increasingly aware of a persistent dryness in his throat.

He entered the bar and sat on a round stool in front of the counter, slowly drinking whiskey mixed with soda water.

Then, from the neighboring ladies' room separated by wooden panels, came the sound of a woman speaking loudly. Sakaguchi couldn't quite make out her words, but her speech carried a distinct Irish lilt punctuated by occasional obscenities. Each time she swore, two or three women erupted in raucous laughter.

Finding the commotion too boisterous, Sakaguchi casually craned his neck over the counter to peer inside—and there she was: unmistakably the same woman who had lain drunk before the Cox residence on Tuesday night.

She appeared thoroughly drunk, holding a glass of foamy dark beer in one hand as she staggered unsteadily around the room.
As Sakaguchi watched this scene with bitter intensity, the black shadow he had momentarily forgotten suddenly spread across his mind.

The previous night at the edge of Hampstead’s pond, the retreating figure of the woman who had crossed the road rose vividly before his eyes. Whether it was the wide-brimmed hat or her silhouette, it had to be that woman. Sakaguchi considered something and suddenly adopted a stern expression.

The woman soon left the bar.

Sakaguchi turned to the waitress who had circled around to his front with a laugh,

"What's with that person?" he asked.

"She’s likely a madwoman," she said. "She’s been coming nearly every day for about a week now."

Sakaguchi then went outside.
He called out to the woman from behind as she staggered unsteadily a few buildings ahead.

“Wait a moment.”
“I have something to ask you.”

The woman started and turned around.

“Please come with me to the police.”

The woman stared fixedly at his face for a short while,

“Ah, you… It’s too late now.”
“Take me wherever you want. …I acted according to God’s will and spoke the truth, so I have nothing to fear.”
“I’ll spill every last detail!” she shouted.

Sakaguchi hailed a passing taxi, helped the woman—unsteady on her feet—inside, then ordered the driver to rush to H Police Station.

VII

Due to the woman’s confession, Hayashi was released from police custody that very night.

From the lonely Cox residence on Cromwell Street spilled forth brilliant, joyful laughter—the first since Chatham. Surrounded by Ellis and her child along with his nephew Sakaguchi, the graying Hayashi spoke with a characteristically Eastern innocent smile perpetually gracing his lips.

On Tuesday at five in the afternoon, Hayashi had gone to the bank on business and was drinking tea at a café in Cheapside on his way back when he saw Ellis and an unfamiliar man seated behind a partition. Given the nature of the place—one where Ellis was unlikely to visit—Hayashi found it rather suspicious. The two continued talking in hushed tones. Soon they left the shop. When he glanced over, a woman around Ellis’s age—not particularly well-dressed—was following them, appearing and disappearing as she went. Hayashi lost sight of the woman amidst the dense crowd before he knew it.

Meanwhile, Ellis got into a taxi from the street corner.
The unfamiliar man descended into the underground railway station.
Looking back now, Hayashi said he found it strange even to himself that he had felt compelled to tail the unfamiliar man simply because Ellis had been with him.

That was at dusk.
The man disembarked at K Station and entered Park Hotel.

The man exchanged casual jokes with the hotel attendant in the gold-braided uniform, received the key to his room from the front desk, and proceeded up the staircase.

Hayashi approached the attendant.

“Isn’t that Mr. Jenkin?” he inquired tactfully.

Upon hearing the attendant’s words—“It’s Mr. Edward”—Hayashi returned home. Then leaving behind a note stating he would be traveling for several days, he left the house again. He carried only a small suitcase and sped in an automobile to Park Hotel as if he had just arrived in London. While registering his name at the front desk, he ascertained that the man calling himself Edward was staying in Room 128 on the fifth floor. His request for the quietest possible room having been granted, he occupied Room 127 on the fifth floor. He kept racking his brains, certain he had seen Edward’s face somewhere before, but try as he might, the memory refused to surface.

It was nearing nine o'clock at night. The man named Edward in the adjacent room appeared to have gone down to the dining hall. Hayashi also attempted to follow downstairs, but considering he himself looked somewhat familiar, he thought the other party might recognize him too; deciding he must not be noticed, he abandoned going to the dining hall. After confirming that the corridor was deserted, he stealthily entered the man’s room. What immediately caught his eye were a trunk and a handbag left carelessly on the bed. They each bore the initials T.C., marking the first letters of a surname and given name. As he stared fixedly at the initials on the trunk, the name of Thomas Colton—his romantic rival from long ago—came back to him. That's right—it's Colton! Hayashi cried out inwardly. To be precise, he had only ever met that man face-to-face once before or since. Moreover, that was an event from twenty years prior in the town of Chatham, when Ellis had been walking with a man. He had been told afterward that the man was Colton.

Startled by sudden footsteps in the corridor, Hayashi could do nothing but hide in the inner bedroom adjoining the room.
As he held his breath beneath the bed, the footsteps halted before the room, and someone entered the front chamber with brisk steps.
Fortunately, after a few minutes, the footsteps faded away down the corridor.

Hayashi finally returned to his room after a perilous ordeal.
He then went outside, but Colton’s figure was nowhere to be seen.
He, lost in thought, slowed his pace and wandered aimlessly until he found himself before Ellis’s house on Cromwell Street.
When he checked his watch and saw that it was well past nine o'clock, he returned to the inn.

Colton had already returned to the room.
For a moment, there came a click-clacking sound like footsteps pacing across the floorboards, but then the noise ceased entirely, and just like that, dawn broke.

The next day, Colton did not take a single step outside, remaining shut in his room until noon.
It seemed he had called a waiter and ordered lunch to be brought to his room as well, but...

Hayashi remembered the name of the pharmaceutical company in Chatham where Colton had worked at the time.
So it suddenly occurred to him, and he decided to visit the pharmaceutical company in Chatham to investigate Colton’s subsequent activities.

Hayashi promptly boarded a train.
He proceeded to Chatham.
He went to the pharmaceutical company and made various inquiries, but as many years had passed, he was unable to obtain as much information as he had hoped.
On his way back, he disembarked at Fein Church Station, stopped by a few steamship companies, and had them show him the passenger lists of vessels that had recently arrived.
As a result, he learned that the man calling himself Thomas Colton had boarded a ship from Dutch Sumatra and arrived in London two weeks prior.

When Hayashi returned to the inn after having supper in town, a faint groan could be heard from the adjacent room.
He had confirmed at the front desk that Colton had not yet returned.
Hayashi, finding this strange, knocked on Room 128's door as a precaution before entering, and unexpectedly succeeded in rescuing Beatrice.
He escorted Beatrice to Cromwell Street.
After reading Colton's threatening letter addressed to Ellis, he immediately rushed to Parliament Hill.
He intended to pay a sum of money to drive Colton abroad and save Ellis.

Hayashi arrived at Parliament Hill at five past nine. He turned left down a dark path and, while searching for Colton and Ellis, suddenly heard a revolver shot right beside him. Rushing toward the sound's origin, he saw Ellis's retreating figure through the thin night mist - a fleeting silhouette dissolving into shadows. Tormented by dreadful certainty, he reached a communal bench framed by sparse trees to find Colton prone on the grass. Gunpowder's acrid sting still hung in the air. Hayashi knew Ellis had pulled the trigger. Even in that panicked moment, his resolve crystallized: he must bury this crime to shield her from consequence. But as he descended the hill, constables who'd raced toward the gunfire seized him. Designated prime suspect, he was hauled to H Police Station for merciless interrogation.

“Before long, the murder weapon—a revolver—was discovered near the crime scene. Colton’s identity was established, and though he had a residence on Basewater Street, the fact that I had deliberately taken lodgings at Park Hotel—moreover in the room adjacent to the victim’s—came to light, and suspicion against me grew ever deeper. In the end, it became too troublesome, so I went ahead and confessed to the murder charge myself. However, thanks to the fortunate emergence of a mysterious woman, my innocence was proven, and as you can see, I’ve been exonerated.” With this, Hayashi concluded his lengthy account.

Why did he admit to a murder charge he had no involvement in? Most likely, he had taken on the crime himself out of fear that Ellis’s name would become fodder for the heartless public’s gossip. Yet Hayashi, faced with Ellis, her child, and Sakaguchi, avoided any explanation on that point, disposing of the matter with extreme brevity and nonchalance.

The members of the Cox and Hayashi families learned through the next morning’s newspaper that the mysterious woman had once been Thomas Colton’s mistress.
The two had cohabited in Sumatra for several years before Colton abandoned her and disappeared.
Assuming his destination was likely his British birthplace, she had recently come to London and discovered his stay at Park Hotel through persistent daily searches.
However, knowing Colton was no ordinary scoundrel, she bided her time cautiously.
When she learned he was exchanging letters and meeting secretly with another woman, intense jealousy and hatred consumed her.
She eventually located Ellis’s house.
Her collapse before Ellis’s doorstep had been a ruse to gain entry.
She sought to uncover Ellis’s relationship with him.
Though she left once, she doggedly pursued them both.
That night at Parliament Hill—as Colton and Ellis sat on a deserted bench—she lurked in a nearby copse listening until hatred overwhelmed her and she pulled the revolver’s trigger.

The Parliament Hill murder case thus came to its conclusion. Around the communal bench where Colton’s corpse had lain, green grass grew thick and lush with oblivious indifference.

London soon became the season when sweet-scented roses bloomed.

(*Secret Detective Magazine*
May 1923 Issue*)