The Eye of Osiris (1911) by R. Austin Freeman
“....nowhere else in the world are so many strange and abnormal human beings gathered together in one place.”
Readers unfamiliar with The Eye of Osiris may wish to read my notes only after reading the novel.
The Eye of Osiris is a superb mystery, a crime novel that excites passion and loyalty beyond the last page. Freeman displays consummate assurance in calling to life each character and locale.
Plot:
The Eye of Osiris follows the mysterious disappearance of John Bellingham, a wealthy Egyptologist, and the ensuing legal complications surrounding his will. His brother, Godfrey Bellingham, and his niece, Ruth, are left in poverty due to the unusual conditions of the will, which stipulate that John must be buried in a specific location for Godfrey to inherit. The case takes a turn when the dismembered remains of a body, possibly John's, begin to surface. Dr. Thorndyke, a medico-legal expert, takes on the case, using his sharp observation and scientific knowledge to unravel the truth behind John's disappearance and the strange circumstances surrounding the will.
Characters:
Dr. John Thorndyke: A brilliant medico-legal expert known for his sharp observation and analytical skills.
Paul Berkeley: A young doctor and former student of Thorndyke, who becomes interested in the case and assists in the investigation.
Godfrey Bellingham: Brother of the missing John Bellingham, faces financial difficulties due to his brother's will.
Ruth Bellingham: Niece of John Bellingham, intelligent and resourceful, assists her father and Dr. Thorndyke.
Mr. Hurst: A relative of the Bellinghams, implicated in the mystery, stands to gain from John's disappearance.
Mr. Jellicoe: John Bellingham's solicitor, a key figure in the mystery, possesses a suspicious demeanor.
[Young Dr. Berkeley accompanies young Ruth Bellingham to the British Museum, where she works as a freelance researcher.]
The janitor in the little glass box by the entrance to the library inspected us and passed us on, with a silent benediction, to the lobby, whence (when I had handed my stick to a bald-headed demigod and received a talismanic disc in exchange) we entered the enormous rotunda of the reading-room.
I have often thought that, if some lethal vapor of highly preservative properties — such as formaldehyde, for instance — could be shed into the atmosphere of this apartment, the entire and complete collection of books and book-worms would be well worth preserving, for the enlightenment of posterity, as a sort of anthropological appendix to the main collection of the Museum. For, surely, nowhere else in the world are so many strange and abnormal human beings gathered together in one place. And a curious question that must have occurred to many observers is: Whence do these singular creatures come, and whither do they go when the very distinct-faced clock (adjusted to literary eyesight) proclaims closing time? The tragic-faced gentleman, for instance, with the corkscrew ringlets that bob up and down like spiral springs as he walks? Or the short, elderly gentleman in the black cassock and bowler hat, who shatters your nerves by turning suddenly and revealing himself as a middle-aged woman? Whither do they go? One never sees them elsewhere. Do they steal away at closing time into the depths of the Museum and hide themselves until morning in sarcophagi or mummy cases? Or do they creep through spaces in the book-shelves and spend the night behind the volumes in a congenial atmosphere of leather and antique paper? Who can say? What I do know is that when Ruth Bellingham entered the reading-room she appeared in comparison with these like a creature of another order; even as the head of Antinous, which formerly stood (it has since been moved) amidst the portrait-busts of the Roman Emperors, seemed like the head of a god set in a portrait gallery of illustrious baboons.
Setting:
The story takes place in London, England, in the early 1900s. The settings include:
The School of St. Margaret's Hospital
The Bellinghams' residence in Nevill's Court
Thorndyke's chambers in King's Bench Walk
The British Museum
The Probate Court
Jellicoe's house in Lincoln's Inn
Themes:
Mystery and suspense: The mysterious disappearance of John Bellingham and the gradual uncovering of the truth.
Legal complications: The unusual conditions of John's will and the ensuing legal challenges.
Scientific investigation: The use of scientific methods and observation to solve the mystery.
Family relationships: The dynamics between the Bellinghams and the impact of the mystery on their lives.
Social commentary: The story touches on themes of wealth, poverty, and social class in Edwardian England.
Style:
The story is written in a classic detective fiction style, with a focus on observation, deduction, and scientific investigation. The narrative is primarily told from the perspective of Dr. Berkeley, creating a sense of immediacy and allowing the reader to follow the investigation as it unfolds.
[Thorndyke dispatches narrator Dr. Paul Berkeley to examine remains at a mortuary. ]
The sergeant watched my proceedings with an indulgent smile.
“You’re making a regular inventory, sir,” he remarked, “as if you were going to put ‘em up for auction. I shouldn’t think those snails’ eggs would be much help in identification. And all that has been done already,” he added as I produced my measuring-tape.
“No doubt,” I replied; “but my business is to make independent observations, to check the others, if necessary.” And I proceeded to measure each of the principal bones separately and to compare those of the opposite sides. The agreement in dimensions and general characteristics of the pairs of bones left little doubt that all were parts of one skeleton, a conclusion that was confirmed by the eburnated patch on the head of the right thigh-bone and the corresponding patch in the socket of the right hip-bone. When I had finished my measurements I went over the entire series of bones in detail, examining each with the closest attention for any of those signs which Thorndyke had indicated, and eliciting nothing but a monotonously reiterated negative. They were distressingly and disappointingly normal.
“Well, sir, what do you make of ‘em?” the sergeant asked cheerfully as I shut up my notebook and straightened my back. “Whose bones are they? Are they Mr. Bellingham’s, think ye?”
“I should be very sorry to say whose bones they are,” I replied. “One bone is very much like another, you know.”
“I suppose it is,” he agreed; “but I thought that, with all that measuring and all those notes, you might have arrived at something definite.” Evidently he was disappointed in me; and I was somewhat disappointed in myself when I contrasted Thorndyke’s elaborate instructions with the meager result of my investigations. For what did my discoveries amount to? And how much was the inquiry advanced by the few entries in my notebook?
The bones were apparently those of a man of fair though not remarkable muscular development; over thirty years of age, but how much older I was unable to say. His height I judged roughly to be five feet eight inches, but my measurements would furnish data for a more exact estimate by Thorndyke. Beyond this the bones were quite uncharacteristic. There were no signs of disease either local or general, no indications of injuries either old or recent, no departures of any kind from the normal or usual; and the dismemberment had been effected with such care that there was not a single scratch on any of the separate surfaces. Of adipocere (the peculiar waxy or soapy substance that is commonly found in bodies that have slowly decayed in damp situations) there was not a trace; and the only remnant of the soft structures was a faint indication, like a spot of dried glue, of the tendon on the tip of the right elbow.
The sergeant was in the act of replacing the sheet, with the air of a showman who has just given an exhibition, when there came a sharp rapping on the mortuary door. The officer finished spreading the sheet with official precision, and having ushered me out into the lobby turned the key and admitted three persons, holding the door open after they had entered for me to go out. But the appearance of the newcomers inclined me to linger. One of them was a local constable, evidently in official charge; a second was a laboring man, very wet and muddy, who carried a small sack; while in the third I thought I scented a professional brother.
The sergeant continued to hold the door open.
“Nothing more I can do for you, sir?” he asked genially.
“Is that the divisional surgeon?” I inquired.
“Yes. I am the divisional surgeon,” the newcomer answered. “Did you want anything of me?”
“This,” said the sergeant, “is a medical gentleman who has got permission from the coroner to inspect the remains. He is acting for the family of the deceased — I mean, for the family of Mr. Bellingham,” he added in answer to an inquiring glance from the surgeon.
“I see,” said the latter. “Well, they have found the rest of the trunk, including, I understand, the ribs that were missing from the other part. Isn’t that so, Davis?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the constable. “Inspector Badger says all the ribs is here, and all the bones of the neck as well.”
“The inspector seems to be an anatomist,” I remarked.
The sergeant grinned. “He is a very knowing gentleman, is Mr. Badger. He came down here this morning quite early and spent a long time looking over the bones and checking them by some notes in his pocket-book. I fancy he’s got something on, but he was precious close about it.”
Here the sergeant shut up rather suddenly — perhaps contrasting his own conduct with that of his superior.
“Let us have these new bones out on the table,” said the police surgeon. “Take the sheet off, and don’t shoot them out as if they were coals. Hand them out carefully.”
The laborer fished out the wet and muddy bones one by one from the sack, and as he laid them on the table the surgeon arranged them in their proper relative positions.
“This has been a neatly executed job,” he remarked; “none of your clumsy hacking with a chopper or a saw. The bones have been cleanly separated at the joints. The fellow who did this must have had some anatomical knowledge, unless he was a butcher, which by the way, is not impossible. He has used his knife uncommonly skilfully, and you notice that each arm was taken off with the scapula attached, just as a butcher takes off a shoulder of mutton. Are there any more bones in that bag?”
“No, sir,” replied the laborer, wiping his hands with an air of finality on the posterior aspect of his trousers; “that’s the lot.”
The surgeon looked thoughtfully at the bones as he gave a final touch to their arrangement, and remarked:
“The inspector is right. All the bones of the neck are there. Very odd. Don’t you think so?”
“You mean — —”
“I mean that this very eccentric murderer seems to have given himself such an extraordinary amount of trouble for no reason that one can see. There are these neck vertebrae, for instance. He must have carefully separated the skull from the atlas instead of just cutting through the neck. Then there is the way he divided the trunk; the twelfth ribs have just come in with this lot, but the twelfth dorsal vertebra to which they belong was attached to the lower half. Imagine the trouble he must have taken to do that, and without cutting or hacking the bones about, either. It is extraordinary. This is rather interesting, by the way. Handle it carefully.”
He picked up the breast-bone daintily — for it was covered with wet mud — and handed it to me with the remark:
“That is the most definite piece of evidence we have.”
“You mean,” I said, “that the union of the two parts into a single mass fixes this as the skeleton of an elderly man?”
“Yes, that is the obvious suggestion, which is confirmed by the deposit of bone in the rib-cartilages. You can tell the inspector, Davis, that I have checked this lot of bones and that they are all here.”
“Would you mind writing it down, sir?” said the constable. “Inspector Badger said I was to have everything in writing.”
The surgeon took out his pocket-book, and, while he was selecting a suitable piece of paper, he asked: “Did you form any opinion as to the height of the deceased?”
“Yes, I thought he would be about five feet eight” (here I caught the sergeant’s eyes, fixed on me with a knowing leer).
“I made it five eight and a half,” said the police surgeon; “but we shall know better when we have seen the lower leg-bones. Where was this lot found, Davis?”
“In the pond just off the road in Lord’s Bushes, sir, and the inspector has gone off now to — —”
“Never mind where he’s gone,” interrupted the sergeant. “You just answer questions and attend to your business.”
The sergeant’s reproof conveyed a hint to me on which I was not slow to act. Friendly as my professional colleague was, it was clear that the police were disposed to treat me as an interloper who was to be kept out of the “know” as far as possible. Accordingly I thanked my colleague and the sergeant for their courtesy, and bidding them adieu until we should meet at the inquest, took my departure and walked away quickly until I found an inconspicuous position from which I could keep the door of the mortuary in view. A few moments later I saw Constable Davis emerge and stride away up the road....
Chapter Summaries:
Chapter I: Introduction to Dr. Thorndyke and the mysterious disappearance of John Bellingham.
Chapter II: Berkeley's encounter with the Bellinghams and their unusual living situation.
Chapter III: Discussion of the case with Thorndyke and Jervis.
Chapter IV: The discovery of human remains in a watercress bed.
Chapter V: Berkeley's visit to the Bellinghams and discussion of the will.
Chapter VI: Berkeley's collaboration with Ruth Bellingham on her research.
Chapter VII: Examination of John Bellingham's will and its peculiar provisions.
Chapter VIII: Berkeley and Ruth's visit to the British Museum.
Chapter IX: Discussion of the case with Thorndyke and Jervis, focusing on the legal complications.
Chapter X: Thorndyke's analysis of the evidence and his suspicions about Jellicoe.
Chapter XI: Berkeley's visit to the mortuary to examine the remains.
Chapter XII: The coroner's inquest into the unidentified remains.
Chapter XIII: The hearing in the Probate Court regarding the presumption of John Bellingham's death.
Chapter XIV: Berkeley and Ruth's visit to the churchyard and encounter with Jellicoe.
Chapter XV: Berkeley's emotional turmoil and Thorndyke's revelation about the plot.
Chapter XVI: Thorndyke's investigation and the revelation that the body is in the British Museum.
Chapter XVII: Jellicoe's arrest and his agreement to make a statement.
Chapter XVIII: Jellicoe's confession, revealing his role in the plot.
Chapter XIX: Jellicoe's sudden death and Thorndyke's explanation of his investigative methods.
Chapter XX: The resolution of the case and the revelation of Jellicoe's motive.
Osiris is a tightly plotted and absorbing mystery.
Not to be missed.
Jay
25 December 2024
