How do you do? I'm going to read you a little verse. There are so much good in the worst of us and so much bad in the best of us, that it ill behoves any of us to find fault with the rest of us. Any time you are being justly criticized, this quotation will be found effective in putting the other person in the wrong. In this week's Case Book History, there's so much good and the worst of us does almost apply, because it is this perhaps that makes the case generally accepted as the most outstanding in the last century or more. The fact that a man with so many endearing qualities could conceive a murder so cold-blooded and revolting, yes, revolting, and yet gain the liking and even respect of those who were with him just before he was hacked. Without doubt there was something of worth, something of sacrifice in the love he felt for the last woman in his life. The romantic murderer I've called this Case Book History. First of all then, what would he like to look at, this passionate lover? Well, the police bill says... Age fifty, height five feet four, hair thin, ball-long cup, long scented moustache, false teeth, throws his feet outwards when walking. He doesn't sound exactly like your favorite movie star, Betty. On this occasion, love must have been particularly blind, since to Ethel Lanive, the girl who so adored him, he was a knight in shining armor. Now must I think have been more to the little man, and was shown by his outward appearance. Dr. Hawley Harvey Crippen, known as Peter Crippen, took his medical degree in America and came to England, where he obtained a post as manager of the firm of Munyon, an advertising business in Patent Medicine. Crippen was a married man, but for the first few months after his arrival in London, Mrs. Crippen remained in New York. Soon after their marriage, he'd insisted upon having singing lessons with a view to being trained for grand opera. But though she had furnished herself with the attractive stage name of Belle Elmore, and though her good-natured little husband had paid unhesitatingly all that the agents demanded, she never succeeded in realizing her ambition. She was a good-looking, vain, and tidy woman with ambitions far outreaching her talents. Having failed lamentably on the operatic stage, she decided to join her husband and try her luck on the English music halls. Her chance came with a tryout at the Bedford Palace during a strike of music hall artists, but she was promptly pissed off the stage. This seems to have been her sole public appearance. Although never again employed professionally, she continued to speak of herself as an accepted performer with success, just round the corner. Belle's wounded vanity made things increasingly difficult for Dr. Crippen, who nevertheless treated her kindly, played up to her conceits, and put up with her music hall friends who appeared like magic when they knew he'd pay the bill. On January the 1st, 1910, a Mr. and Mrs. Martinetti, music hall friends of Belle Elmore, were just leaving the Crippens after dining at their house in Hill Rock Crescent. That's in the north of London. Good night, dear Belle, and good luck. Good night. Don't worry, old girl, you are going to be a great success, isn't she, Crippen? Yes, I always tell her it's just a matter of patience. Oh, English audiences are funny. They were crazy over me in New York. And they are going to be crazy over you here, my girl. You've got a lot of talent. Well, of course, I gave up a great career by joining Peter here in London. It hasn't helped things. And it's trying to make up for it, dear. What a help. Good night, old girl. Good night, Belle. Good night, Jack. That's nice behavior, I must say. What's the matter, my dear? Sitting there after dinner half asleep? Why don't you look after your guests? Ask Thomas if he'd like to wash his hands or something. Call yourself a gentleman. Well, dear, he's been to the house so many times, I thought. I'm sick of it. After giving up everything I've worked for in America. My dear, surely you thought you would do better here. After all, you didn't find things too easy, even in New York. I've had enough. This is the end. I'm going away tomorrow, and you'll never hear of me again. Oh, you nigger, you know you don't mean that. Who says so? And I know who I'm going away with. Someone who'll look after me properly. Since Belle's arrival in England, such scenes occurred with increasing frequency. A man so mild-mannered as Crippen, they were almost unbearable. Little wonder, then, that he'd sought companionship elsewhere and had turned to his secretary, Miss Ethel Lanise, for the peace and affection his wife was incapable of giving him. Ethel was a gentle, affectionate young girl, not unattractive. But other than the love affair with Crippen, she remained quite respectable and conventional, and the irregularity of their meetings caused her many misgivings. The day following the quarrel, the unhappy lovers met and tried to console each other. Peter, dear. Yes, my love? About your wife, saying she was going to leave you. Wouldn't it be better for us? You could divorce her and we could get married and be together always. Yes, but she never will leave me. Her threats mean nothing, she has no money, and I don't think she really has anyone to go to. What is to become of her? It's so dreadful to go on like this. I hate to tell you, there's nothing else to be done. My dear one, you know I only care for you. But it's so wrong, so unknowful. I can't help worrying. Dr. Crippen, beset by both his wife and his lover, became more and more desperate. Nevertheless, he continued to treat his wife with great kindness. Each morning he'd get up, prepare, and take coffee to his wife in bed before going to the office. Belle's temper didn't improve and she never ceased to nag and bully him. The situation became so impossible for Crippen that there came the inevitable climax. One morning, following a night of reproaches and abuse by Belle, Dr. Crippen got up and prepared his wife's coffee as usual. But this time, he took a little longer. Oh, hurry up. I've been lying awake for hours. Here you are, my dear. My dress is half cold. I don't think so, dear. Well, don't stand there staring at me. Hurry up and get out. I want to get some sleep. I must get to the office early this morning. I won't be long dressing. Oh, all right, all right. Go on, hurry up. And then you will be at peace. I say, this coffee tastes funny. Oh, I think it's a new brand, dear. Well, it's lousy. What are you trying to do, poison me? Taste of a bitter. The next day, Crippen wrote to the Music Hall Ladies Guild, of which Belle had been made honorary treasurer, announcing his wife's sudden departure from her Mandarin high resignation. Nothing unusual was learned of his movements during the next two weeks, except that he took occasion to pawn some jewelry that he'd given to Belle for the sum of about 200 pounds. On the night of the 20th of February, Dr. Crippen was foolish enough to attend a dance at the Music Hall Guild, and took with him Ethel Lanee. Oh, well, look at those two. Where? That skinny kid in the fall, little bloke with glasses. Oh, he ain't half squeaky. Oh, why not? A little bit of what you've spent, but it's good. You're never too old to fall in love. Are you addressing me, sir? Oh, hello, Mr. Martinette City. Now we would just admire the lovely couple over there. Oh, I see. Why, that is Dr. Crippen. He certainly seems to be enjoying himself. Chai, who's the girl? I don't recognize her. She was kidding for me. But wait a minute. There is something I do recognize. Those earrings she is wearing. I am sure I remember Crippen giving them to his wife. That is a funny thing to do. A few days after the dance, Crippen wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Martinette saying he might go to America, and he'd heard from Belle that she was seriously ill. This served to allay any suspicions felt by the Martinette's. To join his sick wife was consistent with Crippen's solicitous and kindly nature. A few days later they received a wire. Belle died yesterday at six o'clock. She'll be away a week. So Crippen did not, after all, leave for America. But he went to Dieppe for the Easter holidays, and Ethel and Eve went with him. A honeymoon would perhaps be too unkind a term to use, but Ethel almost certainly believed everything she'd been told about Belle's illness, and saw no reason why she and Crippen should ever again be parted, as a ship bearing the two lovers was nearing France. You'll soon be on dry land, dear. I'm afraid I'm such a bad sailor. Oh, it's not quite so rough now. No, I'm beginning to feel a little better. The color's coming back to your cheeks. Oh, Peter, isn't it wonderful? No more partings, ever. Well, when we get back perhaps we should wait a few weeks. Oh, no, Peter. Now I can show everyone how much I love you. There's nothing to hide. Of course not, dear. Well, we'd better get our luggage together. Here are my two teal cases, and I have my handbags. Good, you're all ready. Let me see. You brought three bags, didn't you? Three? No, only two, dear. Here they are. But Peter, I remember in the pring there were those two and the shiny black leather ones. Oh, darling, is this to belong to someone else? No, perhaps. But I also seem to remember seeing it on board. Well, that doesn't prove it belonged to me, dear. No, of course not. You know what I think. I think you let it fall overboard, and you don't want me to know how careless you are. When going on a honeymoon with a lady, it would be considered extraordinary behavior to take your ex-wife with you. Although Crippen didn't go as far as that, I'm afraid he did take part of her, and then dropped her on the way. We left our lovers on the way to Dieppe, where they were to spend the Easter holidays. Promptly at the end of the week, they returned to London. Crippen then did an astonishing thing. He took Ethel and Niamh to live with him at Hill Drop Crest as housekeepers. Surely he must have known the criticism this would arouse. Blind infatuation can be the only explanation of his running at the risk. As treasurer of the Music Hall Ladies Guild, Belle Elmore was known intimately to a close little society, wherein, as you can imagine, much time was spent in gossip, and the circumstances of Belle's disappearance gave them plenty to gossip about. Finally, Mrs. Martinetti, a member of the Guild, suggested to her husband that he should waylay Dr. Crippen one evening on his way home from the city, make a few casual inquiries, and report back. Hello, good evening, Doctor. I haven't seen you for a long time. No, I'm very busy, I'm glad to say. Oh, nothing like worth to keep you from worrying. My wife, she tells me that the ladies at the Guild are always asking for news of you. What do they want to know? I have no news. Oh, they feel very sympathetic with your loss, you understand. But they were fond of Belle, and without distressing you, they would like to know something of how she died. Please don't think we talk about it. It hurts too much. She is dead. That is all there is to know. Of course, they would wish to respect your grief. But if you could just tell them where she is buried, they were good friends of hers. Naturally, they would like to know this. They would like to hold a memorial service. Yes, yes, it's very kind of them. My son lives in California, in Los Angeles. It was there that Belle died. I have asked him to have the body cremated. Cremated? Yes, and sent home. So you can tell the ladies at the Guild that they can have their little ceremony then. That is what they wanted to know, Doctor. And thank you for telling me. Oh, this sounds as factoring enough that Tom Martinetti made his way home thinking he'd clear the matter up. But when he repeated the conversation to his wife, she had very different views. And you believe that cock and bull story, do you? Oh, he seemed so very sincere. In fact, he's a better actor than you are. And so very upset. What he upset about. He's got that girl and leave living with him, hasn't he? That is what he wanted, wasn't it? But of course, if you put it like that. Mrs. Martinetti wasn't the only one who put it like that. And although the doctor was rarely a most impressive liar, gossip developed into rumor and suspicion. And at the end of June, a Mr. Nash, acting as a spokesman for Friends of Belle Elmore, laid the whole matter before Scotland Yard. Inspector Dew, after a brief checking up, dropped in on Cribben at his business office. If it's only to silence the gossip, Dr. Cribben, I think you would be wise to give a full account of your wife's death. What exactly do you want to know, Inspector? Well, why did she go to America so suddenly? I'm not sure there's some reason. Where did she die? Got a certificate? No, I have not. Not yet. And then you told Mr. Martinetti that your wife was fit into going out to America to look after her. That's right. And then I heard she had passed away. How did you hear? Have you got a cable or a letter? I think I destroyed the cable. You must see it's very un-terrificatory. And unless you can clear things up, it's bound to be an official investigation. I know. I know. By who? It's no use, Inspector. I've got a confession to make. There's not a word of truth in what I've said, just a lot of lies. Then you'd better make a clean break to this. We had a quarrel. She left me. Do you know where she went? I'm only certain to join a man, an old lover of hers in America. That may be true. But why did you make up all that story? Is she still alive? As far as I know. You see, Inspector, it would have meant a terrible scandal. I should never have heard the last of it. Well, maybe that sounds logical enough. But I'm afraid we can't dismiss the matter until we find Mrs. Crippen. Crippen had told his tale so frankly and convincingly. It was only a matter of form that Inspector Dew paid another visit, this time to Hilltop Crescent. The doctor assured him all over the house that he was not a victim of a murder. He was a victim of a murder. He was a victim of a murder. He was a victim of a murder. He was a victim of a murder.
