"It doesn't seem to be of much importance, since he undoubtedly came back," I remarked; but to this Thorndyke demurred.
"It is impossible to estimate the importance of the unknown," said he.
"Well, how does the matter stand," asked Jervis, "on the evidence that we have? John Bellingham disappeared on a certain date. Is there anything to show what was the manner of his disappearance?"
"The facts in our possession," said Thorndyke, "which are mainly those set forth in the newspaper report, suggest several alternative possibilities; and in view of the coming inquiry--for they will, no doubt, have to be gone into in Court, to some extent--it may be worth while to consider them. There are five conceivable hypotheses"--here Thorndyke checked them on his fingers as he proceeded--"First, he may still be alive. Second, he may have died and been buried without identification. Third, he may have been murdered by some unknown person. Fourth, he may have been murdered by Hurst and his body concealed. Fifth, he may have been murdered by his brother. Let us examine these possibilities seriatim.
"First, he may still be alive. If he is, he must either have disappeared voluntarily, have lost his memory suddenly and not been identified, or have been imprisoned--on a false charge or otherwise. Let us take the first case--that of voluntary disappearance. Obviously, its improbability is extreme."
"Jellicoe doesn't think so," said I. "He thinks it quite on the cards that John Bellingham is alive. He says that it is not a very unusual thing for a man to disappear for a time."
"Then why is he applying for a presumption of death?"
"Just what I asked him. He says that it is the correct thing to do; that the entire responsibility rests on the Court."
"That is all nonsense," said Thorndyke. "Jellicoe is the trustee for his absent client, and, if he thinks that client is alive, it is his duty to keep the estate intact; and he knows that perfectly well. We may take it that Jellicoe is of the same opinion as I am: that John Bellingham is dead."
"Still," I urged, "men do disappear from time to time, and turn up again after years of absence."
"Yes, but for a definite reason. Either they are irresponsible vagabonds who take this way of shuffling off their responsibilities, or they are men who have been caught in a net of distasteful circumstances. For instance, a civil servant or a solicitor or a tradesman finds himself bound for life to a locality and an occupation of intolerable monotony. Perhaps he has an ill-tempered wife, who, after the amiable fashion of a certain type of woman, thinking that her husband is pinned down without a chance of escape, gives a free rein to her temper. The man puts up with it for years, but at last it becomes unbearable. Then he suddenly disappears; and small blame to him. But this was not Bellingham's case. He was a wealthy bachelor with an engrossing interest in life, free to go whither he would and to do whatsoever he wished. Why should he disappear? The thing is incredible.