In a vague way I remembered some details of
the woman’s career, her unbridled debauchery, the coldblooded and
protracted torture of her sick father, the murder of her brothers for
motives of petty gain. I recollected also that the bravery of her end
had done something to atone for the horror of her life, and that all
Paris had sympathized with her last moments, and blessed her as a martyr
within a few days of the time when they had cursed her as a murderess. One objection, and one only, occurred to my mind. “How came her initials and her badge of rank upon the filler? Surely
they did not carry their medieval homage to the nobility to the point of
decorating instruments of torture with their titles?”

“I was puzzled with the same point,” said Dacre, “but it admits of a
simple explanation. The case excited extraordinary interest at the time,
and nothing could be more natural than that La Reynie, the head of the
police, should retain this filler as a grim souvenir. It was not often
that a marchioness of France underwent the extraordinary question. That
he should engrave her initials upon it for the information of others was
surely a very ordinary proceeding upon his part.”

“And this?” I asked, pointing to the marks upon the leathern neck. “She was a cruel tigress,” said Dacre, as he turned away. “I think it is
evident that like other tigresses her teeth were both strong and sharp.”




                           THE BEETLE-HUNTER


A curious experience? said the Doctor. Yes, my friends, I have had one
very curious experience. I never expect to have another, for it is
against all doctrines of chances that two such events would befall any
one man in a single lifetime. You may believe me or not, but the thing
happened exactly as I tell it. I had just become a medical man, but I had not started in practice, and
I lived in rooms in Gower Street. The street has been renumbered since
then, but it was in the only house which has a bow-window, upon the
left-hand side as you go down from the Metropolitan Station. A widow
named Murchison kept the house at that time, and she had three medical
students and one engineer as lodgers. I occupied the top room, which was
the cheapest, but cheap as it was it was more than I could afford. My
small resources were dwindling away, and every week it became more
necessary that I should find something to do. Yet I was very unwilling
to go into general practice, for my tastes were all in the direction of
science, and especially of zoology, towards which I had always a strong
leaning. I had almost given the fight up and resigned myself to being a
medical drudge for life, when the turning-point of my struggles came in
a very extraordinary way. One morning I had picked up the _Standard_ and was glancing over its
contents. There was a complete absence of news, and I was about to toss
the paper down again, when my eyes were caught by an advertisement at
the head of the personal column. It was worded in this way:—

    Wanted for one or more days the services of a medical man. It
    is essential that he should be a man of strong physique, of
    steady nerves, and of a resolute nature. Must be an
    entomologist—coleopterist preferred. Apply, in person, at 77B,
    Brook Street. Application must be made before twelve o’clock
    to-day. Now, I have already said that I was devoted to zoology. Of all branches
of zoology, the study of insects was the most attractive to me, and of
all insects beetles were the species with which I was most familiar. Butterfly collectors are numerous, but beetles are far more varied, and
more accessible in these islands than are butterflies. It was this fact
which had attracted my attention to them, and I had myself made a
collection which numbered some hundred varieties. As to the other
requisites of the advertisement, I knew that my nerves could be depended
upon, and I had won the weight-throwing competition at the
inter-hospital sports. Clearly, I was the very man for the vacancy. Within five minutes of my having read the advertisement I was in a cab
and on my way to Brook Street. As I drove, I kept turning the matter over in my head and trying to make
a guess as to what sort of employment it could be which needed such
curious qualifications. A strong physique, a resolute nature, a medical
training, and a knowledge of beetles—what connection could there be
between these various requisites? And then there was the disheartening
fact that the situation was not a permanent one, but terminable from day
to day, according to the terms of the advertisement. The more I pondered
over it the more unintelligible did it become; but at the end of my
meditations I always came back to the ground fact that, come what might,
I had nothing to lose, that I was completely at the end of my resources,
and that I was ready for any adventure, however desperate, which would
put a few honest sovereigns into my pocket. The man fears to fail who
has to pay for his failure, but there was no penalty which Fortune could
exact from me. I was like the gambler with empty pockets, who is still
allowed to try his luck with the others. No. 77B, Brook Street, was one of those dingy and yet imposing houses,
dun-coloured and flat-faced, with the intensely respectable and solid
air which marks the Georgian builder. As I alighted from the cab, a
young man came out of the door and walked swiftly down the street. In
passing me, I noticed that he cast an inquisitive and somewhat
malevolent glance at me, and I took the incident as a good omen, for his
appearance was that of a rejected candidate, and if he resented my
application it meant that the vacancy was not yet filled up. Full of
hope, I ascended the broad steps and rapped with the heavy knocker. A footman in powder and livery opened the door. Clearly I was in touch
with people of wealth and fashion. “Yes, sir?” said the footman. “I came in answer to——”

“Quite so, sir,” said the footman. “Lord Linchmere will see you at once
in the library.”

Lord Linchmere! I had vaguely heard the name, but could not for the
instant recall anything about him. Following the footman, I was shown
into a large, book-lined room in which there was seated behind a
writing-desk a small man with a pleasant, clean-shaven, mobile face, and
long hair shot with grey, brushed back from his forehead. He looked me
up and down with a very shrewd, penetrating glance, holding the card
which the footman had given him in his right hand. Then he smiled
pleasantly, and I felt that externally at any rate I possessed the
qualifications which he desired. “You have come in answer to my advertisement, Dr. Hamilton?” he asked.