+By Lieutenant-Colonel Donald Mackenzie.+
For many years the author was Chief of Police in one of the
native States of the Malay Peninsula, and here relates three
queer little adventures which befell him in his official
capacity.
"Do you mean to say you can't get any evidence whatever to go on?"
"No, Tuan."
[Illustration: LIEUTENANT-COLONEL DONALD MACKENZIE, THE AUTHOR.
_From a Photograph._]
"Then you and your detectives must be a lot of fools! In England a
burglar or a murderer might be clever enough to hide all traces of
his crime, but out here they are all coolies, and must leave no end
of evidence which any officer who knows his work could easily follow
up. If you can't do the simplest detective work, you and your men had
better return to duty and leave your work to me. The next crime I will
investigate myself. You can go."
I was Chief of Police of the native State of Sungei Ujong,[4] in
the Malay Peninsula, and Detective-Sergeant Cassim stood rigidly at
attention before me in my office. As I finished he saluted and left.
[4] Now combined with Jelebu and Negri Sembilan.
I was a fool--doubly a fool, for I had not only made a statement which
I knew was wrong, but I had lost my temper. The Malay is dignified, if
he is nothing else, and to lose one's temper with him is to lower one's
own dignity, and that means lowering his respect.
When a man is worried, however, he is apt to forget the little
niceties. Two gang robberies and a murder within ten days, and not a
particle of evidence to go on, would fret most policemen's tempers, to
say nothing of receiving one's reports back from the Resident minuted,
"The police appear to be doing their duty in a somewhat perfunctory
manner." I had to trust to my detectives, and they had failed to help
me.
The following morning Barton, the Collector of Land Revenue, came to my
office.
"Morning, old chap," he said. "You might send a detective to my house
to see if he can find out anything. A burglary was committed last
night, but the beggar must have been disturbed, for he only took away a
Bee clock."
"I'll go myself," I said. I would show Sergeant Cassim how easily a
crime could be detected, I told myself.
Like most of the houses in the place, Barton's was a bungalow. The
upper halves of all the outer doors were venetianed, the doors
themselves being merely fastened by bolts top and bottom. We did not go
in for locks.
The burglary seemed quite simple of explanation. The "boy" must have
forgotten to bolt one of the doors, and a midnight thief had simply
walked in. Of course, the "boy" denied having failed in his duty--a
Chinaman naturally would do so. But why the thief was contented with a
clock, value two dollars, when he could have taken twenty times that
amount beat me entirely.
As we left the compound to return to the office the doctor met us on
his pony.
"You are the very man I was looking for," he said to me. "I had a thief
in my house last night. One of the veranda doors was found open, but
the queer part of the business is that he only took a clock. Thank
goodness, he did not walk off with the Sultan's Cup."
"That's funny!" I replied. "Exactly the same thing happened to Barton
last night, even to the article stolen. Let's go and have a look."
Examination convinced me that the robbery had been carried out in
identically the same manner, and I grew puzzled.
"What does your 'boy' say?" I asked. "He probably forgot to bolt the
door. I am almost sure that is what happened at Barton's."
"I can answer for that," replied the doctor. "I am a pretty late bird,
as you fellows know; I did not turn in till about two last night, and I
fastened the two doors myself."
If ever I searched a house thoroughly I did that one, but not a scrap
of any sort of evidence could I find, in spite of my boast. I next sent
the sergeant-major to scour the pawnshops, but without success; no one
had tried to pawn a clock that day.
The climax was reached the following morning when, as I was returning
from early parade, one of the Resident's "boys" met me with a note:--
"You might come up to the Residency and investigate a burglary which
took place here last night. A clock was stolen."
I trust neither the boy nor my Sikh orderly fully understood my remarks
on the subject. The doctor and Barton might pass their little robberies
off as a joke, but a burglary at the Residency was a very different
matter.
Exactly the same thing had occurred. A door had been found open and
a clock gone. Nothing else had been touched. The Resident's remarks
on the efficiency of my force as guardians of the peace were not
complimentary, but distinctly to the point. Very sore, and very much
mystified, I put my pride in my pocket and sent for Sergeant Cassim.
When he arrived I took him on one side and discussed these three
bewildering robberies with him.
"Perhaps you can make something out of them," I said. "I believe it is
the servants in each case."
He walked round the Resident's drawing-room, examined the floor of the
veranda and the steps, and then said:--
"I shall be able to tell the Tuan to-morrow morning who committed the
robberies."
"If you are so certain, why not now?"
"The Tuan must give me time to think and act."
That afternoon I received a letter through the post addressed to me in
Malay. It contained a slip of paper bearing the following words, also
in Malay:--
"If the Tuan will pretend he is going away to-night, and will return
about eleven and hide near the veranda of his house, he will catch the
burglar."
I have received a fair number of anonymous letters in my time, which
usually meant nothing, but this was the oddest of them all. Why on
earth should I pretend to leave for the night? Why could I not have
been told merely to hide?
Suddenly the reason flashed across my mind--the guard! When I was
living at head-quarters a guard, consisting of a lance-corporal and
three men, was posted at my house from sunset till sunrise; in that
district it was extremely useful to have four fully-armed men ready to
accompany me anywhere at a moment's notice. When, however, I was absent
on a tour of inspection the guard was dispensed with. It was apparently
essential for the detecting of the burglar that the guard should be
absent.
Of course, it might be only an excuse to get the house unguarded till
the hour named in order that the burglar could enter before my return,
and so doubly fool me; but I determined to risk it.
Accordingly I sent for the sergeant-major and told him I was going to
investigate the last gang robbery myself on the spot, and that I should
not be back till the following morning. He need not therefore post my
guard.
A little before sunset I drove to a police-station about six miles
away, and sent my dogcart back with instructions to return for me at
six the following morning. I then told the sergeant in charge of the
station that I was going to investigate the matter of the gang robbery,
and that I should probably stay the night at the Towkay's (Chinese
headman).
I visited the place, and, after spending an hour or so making
inquiries--incidentally having to split a bottle of the vilest apology
for champagne with the hospitable Towkay--I walked back to my house.
I suppose I must have been hiding at the side of the veranda for nearly
an hour when a figure appeared at one of the dining-room doors. Being
barefooted, I had not heard him approach the house, and I must confess
that his sudden appearance was somewhat startling. He fumbled with the
venetians for a couple of minutes; then the door opened silently and
he entered the house. No sooner had he done so than the light of a
bull's-eye lantern began to flash about the room; the man was evidently
no ordinary thief.
[Illustration: "CREEPING ON TIP-TOE TO THE DOOR, I WAITED WITH WHAT
PATIENCE I COULD MUSTER."]
Creeping on tip-toe to the door he had entered by, I waited with what
patience I could muster, intending to commence operations by knocking
the thief down as soon as he appeared. Presently the light went out,
and I had drawn my arm back to let him have my fist on the side of his
head, when a voice said:--
"Tuan, here is the burglar."
It was Sergeant Cassim himself!
"What on earth does this mean?" I demanded. "Where is the man?"
"I am he. Did not the Tuan see me enter the house?"
"Of course I did; but what is the meaning of it?"
"The Tuan told me I was a fool, and that no man committed a crime in
this country without leaving some trace of it; also that the Tuan would
prove this to me by investigating the next case himself. I am a Malay,
Tuan, and do not like to be called names when I have not deserved them.
I knew that crimes were often committed and no trace left, so I thought
I would prove this to the Tuan. Did I leave any traces?"
"No, you certainly did not."
"But if the Tuan had only thought, he must have known these were not
real burglaries; they were all exactly alike, even to the article
stolen. Has the Tuan ever known such a thing happen before? Even the
letter did not help him. Surely no thief gives himself away--in this
country, at least! I was quite prepared for the Tuan to tell me he saw
the whole thing when he got the letter. He must have forgotten how he
spoke to me."
Cassim was evidently a reader of character and knew how I would take
his rebuke, which I had undoubtedly fully deserved.
"You are right and I was wrong, Cassim," I said; "I am sorry I spoke
as I did. But you were doing a very risky thing. Suppose Tuan Barton,
or the Tuan Doctor, or the Tuan Besar (the Resident) had caught you in
their houses?"
"Who would have suspected or said anything to me? I am the
detective-sergeant, and if I find a house open at night it is my duty
to investigate the matter. I _was_ seen, but the Tuan never thought of
asking even that. If he had asked the Sikh sentry at the Residency,
he would have said he had seen me walk round the building, for he
challenged me. Why did the Tuan forget such a simple inquiry?"
"Of course, no one knows anything of this?" I said, evading his last
question.
"Surely the Tuan can trust me?" he replied.
"All right. Keep it to yourself. I am much obliged to you for the
lesson, and in future we will work together. Produce the clocks, and
make up any story you like as to how you found them. The thief, of
course, must have cleared out, and these burglaries must go in the
crime book as 'Undetected: property recovered.' Oh, I forgot. How did
you manage to open the doors?"
"That is very easy, Tuan," he replied, and he proceeded to show me. It
was the simplest thing imaginable, but I am not going to give it away,
for obvious reasons. Perhaps they have not got locks on the doors out
there yet. I do not, however, mind telling a brother police-officer.
I have never told this yarn before; it would not have been fair to
Cassim while he was in the service. It happened over fifteen years
ago, and he must now have retired on pension. I hope it is the
highest he could get, and that he is enjoying life under the shade of
his own coco-nut plantation, for he was a thorough good fellow. No
doubt he sometimes chuckles when he thinks of how he taught the Tuan
Superintendent a lesson, not only in dignity, but also in the art of
detecting crime.
Meanwhile the two gang robberies, which were the cause of Sergeant
Cassim's little joke at my expense, seemed as far off discovery as
ever. They had taken place within forty-eight hours of each other and
less than five miles apart; and, so far, not a vestige of a clue could
be found to work on.
"Look here, Cassim," I said, the morning after his exploit at my house,
"something has got to be done. It is absurd, our being beaten like
this. I don't want the Tuan Besar to report to the Tuan Governor that
the police have not been able to do anything in the matter, or someone
will get into trouble about it."
Cassim was as much bothered as myself, for complaints would probably
mean the loss of his stripes, if nothing worse. An undetected crime of
any magnitude was an unpardonable offence.
"Shall I read the Tuan my notes on the robbery at Ah Sing's again?" he
asked.
"Yes. We may find we have overlooked something."
He got out his note-book and proceeded to read.
"Towkay Ah Sing reports that shortly before midnight on Thursday he was
awakened by the door of his house being broken open. He was sleeping
in a small room at the back, and his two coolies were asleep in the
kitchen. He rushed out to see what had happened, and found the front
room full of men; he thinks there were about a dozen. Their faces were
blackened, and he could not recognise any of them; one had a lighted
torch in his hand. The two coolies came in almost at the same time as
himself. One of them had a stick, which he raised to strike a member
of the gang, but he was stabbed in the side with a knife. Ah Sing and
the two coolies were then knocked down, their hands and feet tied,
and they were carried into the kitchen and thrown upon the floor.
After about ten minutes the robbers left. One of the coolies managed
to free his hands, and he unbound the other two. The gang took away a
box containing clothing and jewellery from the front room, and another
containing seven hundred dollars which Ah Sing kept under his bed. That
is all, Tuan."
"And you found no traces of the robbers in or round the house?"
"Nothing except the extinguished torch."
"Ah Sing gave you a full description of all the articles stolen?" I
asked.
"Yes, Tuan. He also says the money was in rolls of a hundred dollars,
and that each roll had his 'chop' (private mark) on it."
"Well, he can say good-bye to his dollars," I said. "The robbers won't
be such fools as to keep the 'chopped' papers they were wrapped in."
"The only other thing Ah Sing could state was that the men spoke the
Fuhkien dialect," said Cassim.
"That is not much use as a clue, I am afraid. There are hundreds of
Fuhkiens in the State. I will give a hundred dollars to the detective
who can clear up this case. Why not try and earn them yourself, Cassim?"
"I will try, Tuan," he replied. "Shall I read the notes of the other
robbery?"
"No; one at a time is enough. If we discover this one it may help us
with the other."
As he left the office my Chinese clerk came in with a number of passes
for me to initial.
In order to protect employers of Chinese labour, no coolie was allowed
to leave any of the native States without a pass. Before a man could
obtain a pass he had to produce from his employer a certificate giving
his name and province and stating that he owed nothing to the mine or
estate. This was attached to the pass, which was in English and Malay,
and signed by the chief police-officer. On every road, at its junction
with the neighbouring State, was a police-station, where all passes
were examined.
"So-and-so, Fuhkien," began the clerk, putting the letters down in
front of me, one by one, to be initialed.
What was it Cassim had said? "Ah Sing says the men spoke the Fuhkien
dialect." Now, the robbers would not attempt to dispose of the stolen
property in the State where the robbery had been committed. They knew
that every police-station and pawnshop had been warned. They would
therefore try and take it out of the country. I would mark every
Fuhkien's pass and have him searched at the frontier station he tried
to leave by.
"Hold on," I said; "I have not been listening to what you read out.
Begin again." He did so, and I initialed every Fuhkien's pass in red
pencil, those of other provinces in blue. When the passes were brought
in, I also signed all the Fuhkiens' in red ink.