THE MYSTERY OF THE CIRCULAR COUNTERS
However obscure a mystery may be, there is always some point or
circumstance which, if rightly interpreted, will lead to its solution.
Even in those crimes which have never been elucidated this point
exists, only it has never been duly appreciated. It is this key-clew,
as I may call it, for which the detective first looks, and, since few
crimes, if any, are committed without some definite reason, it is most
frequently found in the motive.
His almost superhuman power of recognizing this key-clew was the
foundation of Christopher Quarles's success, and his solution of the
mysterious burglaries which caused such speculation for a time was not
the least of his achievements.
Sir Joseph Maynard, the eminent physician of Harley Street, had given
a small dinner party one evening. The guests left early, and soon
after midnight the household had retired.
Neither Sir Joseph nor Lady Maynard nor any of the servants were
disturbed during the night, but next morning it was found that
burglars had entered. They had got in by a passage window at the
back--not a very difficult matter--and had evidently gone to the
dining room and helped themselves to spirits from a tantalus which was
on the sideboard. Three glasses, with a little of the liquor left in
them, were on the table, and near them were some biscuit crumbs.
There were several silver articles on the sideboard, but these had not
been touched.
The burglars appeared to have given all their attention to Sir
Joseph's room, which was in a state of confusion. Two cupboards and
every drawer had been turned out and the contents thrown about in all
directions. A safe which stood in a corner had been broken open. It
was a large safe, but of an old-fashioned type, presenting little
difficulty to experts. In it, besides papers and about seventy pounds
in gold in a canvas bag, Sir Joseph had a considerable amount of
silver, presentations which had been made to him, and some unique
specimens of the Queen Anne period. All this silver was upon the
floor, also the bag of money intact.
So far as Sir Joseph could tell, not a thing had been taken. Half a
dozen cigarette-ends had been thrown down upon the carpet, and a small
box containing some round counters lay broken by the writing-table. It
looked as if the box had been knocked down and trodden on by mistake,
for the counters were in a little heap close to the broken fragments.
It appeared that the burglars must have been disturbed and had made
off without securing their booty.
This was the obvious explanation, but it did not satisfy me. I
questioned Sir Joseph about his papers. Had he any document which, for
private or public reasons, someone might be anxious to obtain? He said
he had not, was inclined to laugh at my question, and proceeded to
inform me that he had no family skeleton, had no part in any
Government secret, had never been in touch with any mysterious
society, and had no papers giving any valuable details of scientific
experiments upon which he was engaged.
Of course the thieves might have been disturbed, but there were
certain points against this idea. No one had moved about the house
during the night, so apparently there had been nothing to disturb
them. The silver on the floor was scattered, not gathered together
ready to take away as I should have expected to find it, and it looked
as if it had been thrown aside carelessly, as though it were not what
the thieves were in search of; and surely, had they left in a hurry,
the bag of money would have been taken. Moreover, the cigarette-ends
and the dirty glasses suggested a certain leisurely method of going to
work, and men of this kind would not be easily frightened.
The cigarette-ends puzzled me. They were of a cheap American brand,
had not been taken from Sir Joseph's box, which contained only Turkish
ones, and, although they had apparently been thrown down carelessly,
there was no ash upon the carpet nor anywhere else. They looked like
old ends rather than the remains of cigarettes smoked last night. If
my idea were correct, it would mean that they had been put there on
purpose to mislead.
I examined the three glasses on the dining-room table; there was the
stain of lips at the rim of one, but not of the other two. Only one
had been drunk out of, and probably a little of the liquid had been
emptied out of this into the other two. On inquiry, one of the
servants told me that only a very little of the spirit had been taken.
She also said there was only one biscuit left in the box last night,
and it was there now; therefore a few crumbs from the box must have
been purposely scattered on the tablecloth.
This was the story I told to Professor Quarles and his granddaughter.
I went to him at once, feeling that the case was just one of those in
which his theoretical method was likely to be useful. By doing so I
certainly saved one valuable life, possibly more than one.
That he was interested was shown by our adjournment to the empty room,
and he did not ask a question until I had finished my story.
"What is the opinion you have formed about it, Wigan?" he said.
"I think there was only one burglar, but for some reason he thought it
important that it should be believed there were more."
"A very important point, and a reasonable conclusion, I fancy," said
Quarles. "If you are right, it narrows the sphere of inquiry--narrows
it very much, taken with the other facts of the case."
"Exactly," I answered. "There is a suggestion to my mind of
amateurishness in the affair. I grant the safe was not a difficult one
to break open, but it had not been done in a very expert manner. The
cigarette-ends, the dirty glasses, and the biscuit crumbs seem to me
rather gratuitous deceptions, and----"
"Wait," said Quarles. "You assume a little too much. They would have
deceived nine men out of ten--you happen to be the tenth man. Amateur
or not, we have to deal with a very smart man, so don't underestimate
the enemy, Wigan. Assuming this to be the work of an amateur, to what
definite point does it lead you?"
"To this question," I replied. "Did Sir Joseph Maynard burgle his own
house?"
"Why should you think so?"
"His manner was curious. Then there is only his own statement that
nothing has been taken. But supposing he wished to get rid of papers,
or of something else which was in his possession and for which he was
responsible to others, a burglary would be an easy way out of the
difficulty."
"Would he not have robbed himself of something to make the affair more
plausible?" said Quarles.
"The amateur constantly overlooks the obvious," I answered.
The professor shook his head.
"Besides, Wigan, if he wanted to suggest that some important document
had been stolen, that is just the one thing he would mention."
"I think that would entirely depend on the man's temperament,
professor."
"That may be true, but we have also got to consider the man's
character. Sir Joseph's standing is very high."
"Sudden temptation or necessity may subvert the highest character," I
answered. "You know that as well as I do. When I questioned Sir
Joseph about his papers his manner seemed curious, as I have said. He
at once declared that he had no part in any Government secret or
mysterious society, gratuitous information, you understand, not in
answer to any direct question of mine, showing that the ideas were in
his mind. Why? The explanation would be simple if he were the burglar
of his own papers."
"I admit the argument is sound, Wigan, but it does not creep into my
brain with any compelling influence. There is a link missing in the
chain somewhere," and he looked at Zena.
His often-repeated statement that she helped him by her questions had
never impressed me very greatly. When a mystery was cleared up, it was
easy to say that Zena had put him on the right road, and I considered
it a whim of his more than anything else. Still I am bound to say that
her seemingly irrelevant questions often had a curious bearing on the
problem. It was so now.
"You do not seem interested in the broken box of counters?" she said,
turning toward her grandfather.
"I wonder, Wigan--is that the clew?" Quarles said quickly. "It creeps
into my brain."
"The counters were in a heap," I said.
"As if they had fallen out of the box when it was broken?" asked
Quarles.
"No, that would have scattered them more. They were round, and might
have fallen over after having been put one upon another as one gathers
coppers together when counting a number of them. Sir Joseph picked
them up and put them on the writing-table while he was talking to me."
"Did that strike you as significant?" asked Quarles.
"I cannot say it did. The floor was covered with things, and I fancy
they happened to be in his way, that was all."
"They are significant, Wigan, but I cannot see yet in which direction
they lead us. We must wait; for the moment there is nothing to be
done."
I had become so accustomed to Quarles jumping to some sudden
conclusion that I was disappointed. I think I was prepared to find him
a failure in this case. Naturally I was not idle during the next few
days, but at the end of them I had learnt nothing.
Then the unexpected happened. On consecutive nights two doctors'
houses were burgled. The first was in Kensington. Dr. Wheatley had
taken some part in local politics which had made him unpopular with
certain people, and he was inclined to consider the burglary one of
revenge rather than intended robbery. Nothing had been stolen, but
everything in his room was in disorder, and a small and unique inlaid
cabinet with a secret spring lock had been smashed to pieces. Several
cigarette-ends were on the floor.
The second was at Dr. Wood's in Ebury Street, an eminent surgeon, and
the author of one or two textbooks. He had several cabinets in his
room containing specimens, and everything had been turned on to the
floor and damaged more or less. In fact, although nothing had been
taken, the damage was considerable. On the night of the burglary Dr.
Wood was away from home, only servants being in the house. The cook,
suffering from faceache, had been restless all night, but had heard
nothing. It seemed, however, that the burglar must have heard her
moving about and had been prepared to defend himself, for a revolver,
loaded in every chamber, was found on one of the cabinets. Apparently,
having put it ready for use, he had forgotten to take it away.
The doctor was furious at the wanton destruction of his specimens,
and, being irascible and suspicious, fancied the revolver was merely a
blind and that the culprit was some jealous medical man. Again there
were cigarette-ends among the debris.
As soon as possible I went to Quarles and was shown into the empty
room.
"The unexpected has happened," I said.
"No, no; the expected," he said impatiently, and he pointed to a heap
of newspapers. "I've read every report, but tell me yourself--every
detail."
I did so.
"The same brand of cigarettes?" he asked.
"No, but all cheap American ones."
"One man trying to give the impression that he is several. You still
think that? Nothing has happened to make you change that opinion?"
"No, I hold to the one man theory."
"And you are right," he snapped. "I admit I might not have got upon
the right track had you not made that discovery. It was clever,
Wigan."
"It did not seem to help you to a theory," I answered.
"True. But it made me ask myself a question. Had the thief found what
he was looking for? Much depended upon the answer. If he had, I saw
small chance of elucidating the mystery. I might have propounded a
theory, but I should have had no facts to support it.
"Indeed, had I theorized, then my theory would have been wrong. If the
thief had not found what he wanted, he would continue his search, I
argued. For some reason he connected Sir Joseph Maynard with the
object of his search, and, when he tried again, we stood a chance of
finding the link in the chain we wanted. It might implicate Sir
Joseph, it might not. That is why I said we must wait. The thief has
tried again--twice. Now, what is he looking for?"
"Presumably something a doctor is likely to have," I said.
"And not silver, nor money, nor papers, nor----"
"Nor counters, I suppose," I interrupted.
"Not precisely," said Quarles. "But those counters have inspired me.
They crept into my brain, Wigan, and remained there. Whatever it is
the thief is seeking for, he is desperately anxious to obtain
it--witness his two attempts on consecutive nights."
"You forget that days have elapsed since Sir Joseph's was broken
into."
"Forget? Nonsense!" said the professor sharply. "Should I be likely to
forget so important a point? It means that opportunity has been
lacking. More, it means that any doctor would not do, only certain
medical practitioners. And that is where the counters help me--or I
think they do."
"How?"
"Call for me to-morrow morning; we are going to pay a visit together.
We may be too late, but I hope not. That revolver left in Dr. Wood's
house rather frightens me."
"Why, particularly?"
"It proves that the thief will use violence if he is disturbed, and
that he is a desperate man. I should say he will grow more dangerous
with every failure."
It was like Christopher Quarles to raise my curiosity, and then to
leave it unsatisfied. It was his way of showing that he was my
superior--at least, it always impressed me like this. No man has ever
made me more angry than he has done. Yet I owe him much, and there is
no gainsaying his marvelous deductions.
He made me angry now, first by his refusal to tell me more, and then
by his patronizing air when I left the house.
"You are clever, Wigan, very clever. You have shown it in this case.
But you lack imagination to step out as far as you ought to do.
Cultivate imagination, and don't be too bound up by common sense.
Common sense is merely the knowledge with which fools on the dead
level are content. Imagination carries one to the hills, and shows
something of that truth which lies behind what we call truth."
I found him ready and waiting for me next morning, as eager to be on
the trail as a dog in leash.
"We are going to call on Dr. Tresman, in Montagu Street," he said,
stopping a taxi. "You will tell him that you have reason to believe
that his house is being watched, and will be burgled on the first
opportunity. If the opportunity is given, it may happen to-night,
which will suit us admirably, because we have got to keep watch every
night in his room until it is burgled. Of course, you will tell him
who you are, and get his permission. We don't want to have to commit
burglary ourselves in order to catch the thief."
"Why do you expect this particular doctor will be visited?" I asked.
"It is part of my theory," was all the explanation I could get out of
him.
Dr. Tresman was a man in the prime of life, and evidently believed
himself capable of dealing with any thieves who visited him. I told
him that the man we expected was no ordinary thief.
"A gang at work, eh? I have been out of town for a little while
holiday-making, and part of my holiday consists in not reading the
papers. Of course you may keep watch, and I shall be within call
should you want help."
"You had better leave it to us, doctor," said Quarles, who, for the
purpose of this interview, posed as my assistant.
"Come, now, if it means a rough-and-tumble, I should back myself
against you," laughed Tresman, drawing himself up to his full inches.
"No lack of muscle, I can see, doctor, but then there is my
experience."
"For all that, you may be glad of my muscle when it comes to the
point," was the answer.
At nine o'clock that night Quarles and I were concealed in the
doctor's room, Quarles behind a chesterfield sofa in a corner, while I
crouched close to the wall behind one of the window curtains.
We had decided that the most likely means of entry was by a window at
the end of the hall, and we expected our prey to enter the room by the
door. We had got the doctor to put a spirit tantalus on the sideboard,
also some biscuits and a box of cigarettes. We were anxious to
reproduce the circumstances of the burglary at Sir Joseph Maynard's as
nearly as possible, for Quarles declared it was impossible to say what
significance there might be in the man's every action.
So we waited--waited all night, in fact. Nothing happened.
"Something alarmed him," was all Quarles said when we left the house
in the morning.
He showed no disappointment, nor any sign that his theory had received
a shock.
The next night we were on the watch again, concealed as before.
By arrangement, the house retired to rest early. So slowly did time go
that half the night seemed to have passed when I heard a neighboring
church clock strike one, and almost directly afterward the door of the
room was opened stealthily and was shut again.
Until that moment I had not heard a sound in the house, and I was not
certain that anyone had entered the room even now, until I saw a tiny
disk, the end of a ray of light, on the wall. The disk moved, so the
man holding the lantern was moving. The next moment he almost trod
upon me. His first care was to see that the curtains covered the
windows securely, and it evidently never occurred to him that there
might be watchers in the room. It was discovery from without that he
was afraid of. The ray from his lantern swung about the room for a
moment, then he switched on the electric light.
As he had drawn the curtain closer across the window, I had arranged
the folds so that no scrap of my clothing should show beneath them.
Now I made a slit in the fabric with my penknife so that I could watch
him through it. He was middle-aged, well groomed, decently dressed.
Having glanced round the room, he placed a bag and the lantern on the
floor and went to the sideboard. He put a little spirit into one of
the tumblers and added a little water--a very modest dose,
indeed--and, having just sipped it, he poured some of the contents
into two other glasses, and placed the three glasses on a small table
near the door, so that no one could fail to see them on entering. Then
he broke off a piece of biscuit, crumbled it in his hands, and
scattered the crumbs beside the glasses. The cigarette box he did not
touch, but he took some cigarette-ends from his pocket and threw them
on the floor. These preliminaries seemed stereotyped ones, and he
appeared glad to be done with them.
There was a curious eagerness in his face as he bent down and opened
his bag, taking a thin chisel from it, and from his hip pocket he took
a revolver. His method was systematic. He began at one corner of the
room, and opened every drawer and box he could find. If a drawer were
locked, he pried it open. He laid the revolver ready to his hand upon
the piece of furniture he was examining. Every drawer he emptied on to
the floor. Some of the contents he hardly looked at. Indeed, most of
the contents did not interest him. But now and then his attention was
closer, and at intervals he seemed puzzled, standing quite still, his
hands raised, a finger touching his head, almost as a low comedian
does when he wishes the audience to realize that he is in deep
thought.
For some time I could not make out what kind of article it was to
which he gave special attention, but presently noticed that anything
in ivory or bone interested him, especially if it were circular. I
remembered the counters in Sir Joseph's room, and wished we had
thought to place some in here to see what he would have done with
them.
Watching him closely, I was aware that he became more irritable as he
proceeded. One small cabinet, which might possess a secret
hiding-place, he broke with the chisel, and I noticed that whenever a
drawer was locked his scrutiny of the contents was more careful. He
evidently expected that the man he was robbing would value the thing
he was looking for, and would be likely to hide it securely.
He had worked round half the room when he suddenly stopped, and, with
a quick movement, took up the revolver. I had not heard a sound in the
house, but he had. There was no sign of doubt in his attitude, which
was of a most uncompromising character. He did not make any movement
to switch off the light, he did not attempt to conceal himself. He
just raised his arm and pointed the revolver toward the door, on a
level at which the bullet would strike the head of a man of average
height.
The handle was turned, and the door began to open. The next five
seconds were full of happenings. For just a fraction of time I
realized that the burglar meant to shoot the intruder without a word
of warning, and for a moment I seemed unable to utter a sound. Then I
shouted:
"Back for your life!"
Immediately there was a sharp report. Quarles had fired from behind
the Chesterfield, and the burglar's arm dropped like a dead thing to
his side, his revolver falling to the floor.
"Quickly, Wigan!" Quarles cried.
I had dashed aside the curtain, and I threw myself upon the burglar
just in time to prevent his picking up his weapon with his left hand.
He struggled fiercely, and I was glad of Tresman's help in securing
him, although the doctor had come perilously near to losing his life
by his unexpected intrusion. But for Christopher Quarles he would have
been a dead man.
We called in the police, and, when our prisoner had been conveyed to
the station, the professor and I went back to Chelsea.
"Do you know what he was looking for, Wigan?" Quarles asked.
"Something in bone or ivory."
"Bone," answered Quarles. "Thank heaven that fool Tresman didn't come
sooner! We might have missed much that was interesting. You noted how
keen he was with every piece of bone he could find, how irritable he
was growing. The counters, Wigan, they were the clew. But I did not
understand their significance at first."
"I do not understand the case now," I confessed, "except that we have
caught a mad burglar."
"Yes, it's an asylum case, not a prison one," said Quarles. "What was
the man looking for? That was my first question, as I told you. If he
had not found it at Sir Joseph's he would look again. He did, and
visited two other doctors. Round counters--doctors. There was the
link. I daresay you know, Wigan, there is an annual published giving
particulars of all the hospitals, with the names of the medical staff,
consulting surgeons and physicians, and so forth. In the paragraph
concerning St. James's Hospital you will find that the first three
names mentioned are Sir Joseph Maynard, Dr. Wheatley, and Dr. Wood.
The fourth is Dr. Tresman. It could not be chance that the burglar had
visited these men in exact order, so I argued that he would next go to
Dr. Tresman. The man had had something to do with St. James's
Hospital, and, since he was acting like a madman, yet with method, I
judged he had been a patient who had undergone an operation, outwardly
successful, really a failure. He was looking for something of which a
doctor at this hospital had robbed him, as he imagined, and, not
knowing which doctor, looked at this annual and began at the first
name. I have no doubt he was conscious of the loss of some sense or
faculty, and believed that if he could get back the something that was
missing he would recover this sense. Moreover, he was exceedingly
anxious that no one should guess what he was looking for, so he
attempted to suggest that a gang was at work--the glasses, the crumbs,
the cigarette-ends, all placed where they would be certain to attract
notice. Did you see how he touched his head several times to-night?"
"Yes."
"That gives the explanation, I think," said Quarles. "To relieve some
injury to his head, he was trepanned at St. James's Hospital, and he
was looking for the bone which the little circular trephine had cut
from his head. I have no doubt he examined Sir Joseph's round counters
very carefully to make sure that what he wanted was not among them,
and he would naturally damage Dr. Wood's specimens. Probably the
original pressure was relieved by the operation, but in some other way
the brain was injured. We have seen the result."
Subsequent inquiry at St. James's Hospital proved that Quarles was
right. The man was a gentleman of small independent means, a bachelor,
and practically alone in the world. There was no one to watch his
goings and comings, no one to take note of his growing peculiarities.
His madness was intermittent, but the doctors said he would probably
become worse, as, indeed, he did, poor fellow!
"Ah, it is wonderful what surgery can do," said Quarles afterward.
"But there are limitations, Wigan, great limitations. And when we come
to the brain, great heavens! We are mere babies playing with a
mechanism of which we know practically nothing. No wonder we so often
make a mess of it."