clutch too firm to be relaxed. He at once rushed out to give the alarm, but even in his agitation noticed that the sitting-room door was locked, an unheard-of thing, and that the key was on the inside. A doctor was summoned, and messengers to call the police and Dr Bessford, Mr Mortimer’s usual medical attendant, were also despatched. By the time the latter arrived Mr Mortimer’s body had been raised from the floor and laid upon a sofa, but the doctor first summoned had not yet succeeded in removing the hands from the throat. In the presence of the police Dr Bessford and his brother practitioner ultimately succeeded in releasing the deadly grip, and a hasty examination was made which disclosed the undoubted cause of death as self strangulation; the post-mortem later on showed that there was no bodily infirmity, nor any cause of death save this one alone. Both medical men testified to their amazement at so singular and so determined a form of suicide, and both, but especially Dr Bessford, as well as White, commented on the peculiar look of abject terror on the dead face. There was no evidence found of any struggle or disturbance in the room, and Mr Mortimer’s clothing was quite in order. The coroner’s jury brought in a verdict of Suicide in the usual form; Mr Mortimer’s body was in due course buried; and the whole affair gradually passed into the limbo of forgetfulness.
Mr Mortimer left no will or any instructions, and as his next of kin and heir, a distant sailor cousin, was then absent with his ship on the China station, Mr Mortimer’s solicitor took charge his of effects and affairs. The rooms in — Street were given up, the furniture sold, and the books and manuscripts packed up and stored. On returning home, Lieutenant Mortimer did not trouble himself with unpacking the latter, and it is only since his death that they have again seen the light, and that the diary has become accessible.
It was apparently Mr Mortimer’s practice to keep a diary, but seemingly only spasmodically – at any rate, only fragments have been found. Unluckily there are no existing volumes of the date at which he was brought into touch with Mr Bradshaw, so there is no clue to the real relations between the two men. The diary after a long interval had been recommenced about six months before Mr Mortimer’s death, but it is only of interest for the present purpose during the last eight days of his life. With this preamble the diary may now be quoted in full.
July 8th . ‘I was the subject today of a singular hallucination: I believe the spiritualist jargon describes it as clair-audience. I was in my rooms dressing to dine out with Lady L. when I distinctly heard the voice of James Bradshaw saying, ‘The day of reckoning will come soon.’ The impression was so strong that for a moment I supposed the man to have obtained admittance to my rooms, and to be speaking to me, but on looking round I perceived I was alone. There was no one in the sitting-room, and White, for whom I rang, assured me that he had admitted no one to see me. I am of the opinion that my subconscious memory has played me a trick and has recalled to my conscious self the last words that Bradshaw spoke as he flung himself out of the room at York, after refusing my offer of £1000. It is curious that this memory should have been revived after so many years, and even more curious that it should have been revived wrongly, for I am certain that the actual words Bradshaw used were, ‘The day of reckoning will come some time.’ However, it is useless to speculate on these tricks of the memory.
July 9th . I have been feeling uneasy and depressed today. I cannot describe myself as ill, but I suppose I have been working too hard at my article for Robertson, and that the heat has helped to affect me; I will get away for a breath of sea air as soon as possible. It must be my physical condition acting on my mind, but I cannot get Bradshaw out of my head. I know that he