Transcribed from the 1919 Harper and Brothers edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: The Stranger drew forth a bundle of business cards]
THE PURSUIT OF THE
HOUSE-BOAT
_BEING SOME FURTHER_
_ACCOUNT OF THE DOINGS_
_OF THE ASSOCIATED SHADES_,
_UNDER THE LEADERSHIP_
_OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ESQ._
BY
JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
AUTHOR OF “A HOUSE-BOAT ON THE STYX,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
[Picture: Decorative graphic]
LONDON AND NEW YORK
HARPER AND BROTHERS
45, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1919
* * * * *
FOURTEENTH IMPRESSION
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. The Associated Shades take Action 1
II. The Stranger Unravels a Mystery and Reveals 19
Himself
III. The Search-Party is Organized 42
IV. On Board the House-Boat 58
V. A Conference on Deck 73
VI. A Conference Below-Stairs 89
VII. The “Gehenna” is Chartered 105
VIII. On Board the “Gehenna” 121
IX. Captain Kidd Meets with an Obstacle 139
X. A Warning Accepted 157
XI. Marooned 172
XII. The Escape and the End 189
ILLUSTRATIONS
“The Stranger drew forth a bundle of business _Frontispiece_
cards”
“Dr. Johnson’s point is well taken” 8
“What has all this got to do with the question?” 10
“Poor old Boswell was pushed overboard” 22
“Three rousing cheers, led by Hamlet, had been 42
given”
“A black person by the name of Friday finds a 54
bottle”
Madame Récamier has a plan 66
The hard features of Captain Kidd were thrust 70
through
“Here’s a kettle of fish!” said Kidd 74
“Every bloomin’ million was represented by a 84
certified check, an’ payable in London”
Queen Elizabeth desires an axe and one hour of her 90
olden power
“The committee on treachery is ready to report” 102
“You are very much mistaken, Sir Walter” 108
“In the dead of night he had stolen quietly up the 118
gang-plank”
Shem in the lookout 128
Judge Blackstone refuses to climb to the mizzentop 126
Captain Kidd consents to be cross-examined by 148
Portia
Kidd’s companions endeavouring to restore 154
evaporating portions of his anatomy with a
steam-atomizer
“He told us we were going to Paris” 160
“You are a very clear-headed young woman, Lizzie,” 170
said Mrs. Noah
“That ought to be a lesson to you” 178
“The pirates made a mad dash down the rough, rocky 180
hill-side”
“Now, my child,” said Mrs. Noah, firmly, “I do not 192
wish any words”
“A great helpless hulk ten feet to the rear” 200
I
THE ASSOCIATED SHADES TAKE ACTION
THE House-boat of the Associated Shades, formerly located upon the River
Styx, as the reader may possibly remember, had been torn from its
moorings and navigated out into unknown seas by that vengeful pirate
Captain Kidd, aided and abetted by some of the most ruffianly inhabitants
of Hades. Like a thief in the night had they come, and for no better
reason than that the Captain had been unanimously voted a shade too shady
to associate with self-respecting spirits had they made off with the
happy floating club-house of their betters; and worst of all, with them,
by force of circumstances over which they had no control, had sailed also
the fair Queen Elizabeth, the spirited Xanthippe, and every other
strong-minded and beautiful woman of Erebean society, whereby the men
thereof were rendered desolate.
“I can’t stand it!” cried Raleigh, desperately, as with his accustomed
grace he presided over a special meeting of the club, called on the bank
of the inky Stygian stream, at the point where the missing boat had been
moored. “Think of it, gentlemen, Elizabeth of England, Calpurnia of
Rome, Ophelia of Denmark, and every precious jewel in our social diadem
gone, vanished completely; and with whom? Kidd, of all men in the
universe! Kidd, the pirate, the ruffian—”
“Don’t take on so, my dear Sir Walter,” said Socrates, cheerfully.
“What’s the use of going into hysterics? You are not a woman, and should
eschew that luxury. Xanthippe is with them, and I’ll warrant you that
when that cherished spouse of mine has recovered from the effects of the
sea, say the third day out, Kidd and his crew will be walking the plank,
and voluntarily at that.”
“But the House-boat itself,” murmured Noah, sadly. “That was my delight.
It reminded me in some respects of the Ark.”
“The law of compensation enters in there, my dear Commodore,” retorted
Socrates. “For me, with Xanthippe abroad I do not need a club to go to;
I can stay at home and take my hemlock in peace and straight. Xanthippe
always compelled me to dilute it at the rate of one quart of water to the
finger.”
“Well, we didn’t all marry Xanthippe,” put in Cæsar firmly, “therefore we
are not all satisfied with the situation. I, for one, quite agree with
Sir Walter that something must be done, and quickly. Are we to sit here
and do nothing, allowing that fiend to kidnap our wives with impunity?”
“Not at all,” interposed Bonaparte. “The time for action has arrived.
All things considered, he is welcome to Marie Louise, but the idea of
Josephine going off on a cruise of that kind breaks my heart.”
“No question about it,” observed Dr. Johnson. “We’ve got to do something
if it is only for the sake of appearances. The question really is, what
shall be done first?”
“I am in favor of taking a drink as the first step, and considering the
matter of further action afterwards,” suggested Shakespeare, and it was
this suggestion that made the members unanimous upon the necessity for
immediate action, for when the assembled spirits called for their various
favorite beverages it was found that there were none to be had, it being
Sunday, and all the establishments wherein liquid refreshments were
licensed to be sold being closed—for at the time of writing the local
government of Hades was in the hands of the reform party.
“What!” cried Socrates. “Nothing but Styx water and vitriol, Sundays?
Then the House-boat must be recovered whether Xanthippe comes with it or
not. Sir Walter, I am for immediate action, after all. This ruffian
should be captured at once and made an example of.”
“Excuse me, Socrates,” put in Lindley Murray, “but, ah—pray speak in
Greek hereafter, will you, please? When you attempt English you have a
beastly way of working up to climatic prepositions which are offensive to
the ear of a purist.”
“This is no time to discuss style, Murray,” interposed Sir Walter.
“Socrates may speak and spell like Chaucer if he pleases; he may even
part his infinitives in the middle, for all I care. We have affairs of
greater moment in hand.”
“We must ransack the earth,” cried Socrates, “until we find that boat.
I’m dry as a fish.”
“There he goes again!” growled Murray. “Dry as a fish! What fish, I’d
like to know, is dry?”
“Red herrings,” retorted Socrates; and there was a great laugh at the
expense of the purist, in which even Hamlet, who had grown more and more
melancholy and morbid since the abduction of Ophelia, joined.
“Then it is settled,” said Raleigh; “something must be done. And now the
point is, what?”
“Relief expeditions have a way of finding things,” suggested Dr.
Livingstone. “Or rather of being found by the things they go out to
relieve. I propose that we send out a number of them. I will take
Africa; Bonaparte can lead an expedition into Europe; General Washington
may have North America; and—”
“I beg pardon,” put in Dr. Johnson, “but have you any idea, Dr.
Livingstone, that Captain Kidd has put wheels on this House-boat of ours,
and is having it dragged across the Sahara by mules or camels?”
“No such absurd idea ever entered my head,” retorted the Doctor.
“Do you, then, believe that he has put runners on it, and is engaged in
the pleasurable pastime of taking the ladies tobogganing down the Alps?”
persisted the philosopher.
“Not at all. Why do you ask?” queried the African explorer, irritably.
“Because I wish to know,” said Johnson. “That is always my motive in
asking questions. You propose to go looking for a house-boat in Central
Africa; you suggest that Bonaparte lead an expedition in search of it
through Europe—all of which strikes me as nonsense. This search is the
work of sea-dogs, not of landlubbers. You might as well ask Confucius to
look for it in the heart of China. What earthly use there is in
ransacking the earth I fail to see. What we need is a navel expedition
to scour the sea, unless it is pretty well understood in advance that we
believe Kidd has hauled the boat out of the water, and is now using it
for a roller-skating rink or a bicycle academy in Ohio, or for some other
purpose for which neither he nor it was designed.”
[Picture: Dr. Johnson’s point is well taken]
“Dr. Johnson’s point is well taken,” said a stranger who had been sitting
upon the string-piece of the pier, quietly, but with very evident
interest, listening to the discussion. He was a tall and excessively
slender shade, “like a spirt of steam out of a teapot,” as Johnson put it
afterwards, so slight he seemed. “I have not the honor of being a member
of this association,” the stranger continued, “but, like all well-ordered
shades, I aspire to the distinction, and I hold myself and my talents at
the disposal of this club. I fancy it will not take us long to establish
our initial point, which is that the gross person who has so foully
appropriated your property to his own base uses does not contemplate
removing it from its keel and placing it somewhere inland. All the
evidence in hand points to a radically different conclusion, which is my
sole reason for doubting the value of that conclusion. Captain Kidd is a
seafarer by instinct, not a landsman. The House-boat is not a house, but
a boat; therefore the place to look for it is not, as Dr. Johnson so well
says, in the Sahara Desert, or on the Alps, or in the State of Ohio, but
upon the high sea, or upon the waterfront of some one of the world’s
great cities.”
“And what, then, would be your plan?” asked Sir Walter, impressed by the
stranger’s manner as well as by the very manifest reason in all that he
had said.
“The chartering of a suitable vessel, fully armed and equipped for the
purpose of pursuit. Ascertain whither the House-boat has sailed, for
what port, and start at once. Have you a model of the House-boat within
reach?” returned the stranger.
“I think not; we have the architect’s plans, however,” said the chairman.
“We had, Mr. Chairman,” said Demosthenes, who was secretary of the House
Committee, rising, “but they are gone with the House-boat itself. They
were kept in the safe in the hold.”
A look of annoyance came into the face of the stranger.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “It was a most important part of my plan that
we should know about how fast the House-boat was.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Socrates, with ill-concealed sarcasm. “If you’ll
take Xanthippe’s word for it, the House-boat was the fastest yacht
afloat.”
“I refer to the matter of speed in sailing,” returned the stranger,
quietly. “The question of its ethical speed has nothing to do with it.”
“The designer of the craft is here,” said Sir Walter, fixing his eyes
upon Sir Christopher Wren. “It is possible that he may be of assistance
in settling that point.”
[Picture: What has all this got to do with the question]
“What has all this got to do with the question, anyhow, Mr. Chairman?”
asked Solomon, rising impatiently and addressing Sir Walter. “We aren’t
preparing for a yacht-race, that I know of. Nobody’s after a cup, or a
championship of any kind. What we do want is to get our wives back. The
Captain hasn’t taken more than half of mine along with him, but I am
interested none the less. The Queen of Sheba is on board, and I am
somewhat interested in her fate. So I ask you what earthly or unearthly
use there is in discussing this question of speed in the House-boat. It
strikes me as a woful waste of time, and rather unprecedented too, that
we should suspend all rules and listen to the talk of an entire
stranger.”
“I do not venture to doubt the wisdom of Solomon,” said Johnson, dryly,
“but I must say that the gentleman’s remarks rather interest me.”
“Of course they do,” ejaculated Solomon. “He agreed with you. That
ought to make him interesting to everybody. Freaks usually are.”
“That is not the reason at all,” retorted Dr. Johnson. “Cold water
agrees with me, but it doesn’t interest me. What I do think, however, is
that our unknown friend seems to have a grasp on the situation by which
we are confronted, and he’s going at the matter in hand in a very
comprehensive fashion. I move, therefore, that Solomon be laid on the
table, and that the privileges of the—ah—of the wharf be extended
indefinitely to our friend on the string-piece.”
The motion, having been seconded, was duly carried, and the stranger
resumed.
“I will explain for the benefit of his Majesty King Solomon, whose wisdom
I have always admired, and whose endurance as the husband of three
hundred wives has filled me with wonder,” he said, “that before starting
in pursuit of the stolen vessel we must select a craft of some sort for
the purpose, and that in selecting the pursuer it is quite essential that
we should choose a vessel of greater speed than the one we desire to
overtake. It would hardly be proper, I think, if the House-boat can sail
four knots an hour to attempt to overhaul her with a launch, or other
nautical craft, with a maximum speed of two knots an hour.”
“Hear! hear!” ejaculated Cæsar.
“That is my reason, your Majesty, for inquiring as to the speed of your
late club-house,” said the stranger, bowing courteously to Solomon.
“Now, if Sir Christopher Wren can give me her measurements, we can very
soon determine at about what rate she is leaving us behind under
favorable circumstances.”
“’Tisn’t necessary for Sir Christopher to do anything of the sort,” said
Noah, rising and manifesting somewhat more heat than the occasion seemed
to require. “As long as we are discussing the question I will take the
liberty of stating what I have never mentioned before, that the designer
of the House-boat merely appropriated the lines of the Ark. Shem, Ham,
and Japhet will bear testimony to the truth of that statement.”
“There can be no quarrel on that score, Mr. Chairman,” assented Sir
Christopher, with cutting frigidity. “I am perfectly willing to admit
that practically the two vessels were built on the same lines, but with
modifications which would enable my boat to sail twenty miles to windward
and back in six days’ less time than it would have taken the Ark to cover
the same distance, and it could have taken all the wash of the excursion
steamers into the bargain.”
“Bosh!” ejaculated Noah, angrily. “Strip your old tub down to a flying
balloon-jib and a marline-spike, and ballast the Ark with elephants until
every inch of her reeked with ivory and peanuts, and she’d outfoot you on
every leg, in a cyclone or a zephyr. Give me the Ark and a breeze, and
your House-boat wouldn’t be within hailing distance of her five minutes
after the start if she had 40,000 square yards of canvas spread before a
gale.”
“This discussion is waxing very unprofitable,” observed Confucius. “If
these gentlemen cannot be made to confine themselves to the subject that
is agitating this body, I move we call in the authorities and have them
confined in the bottomless pit.”
“I did not precipitate the quarrel,” said Noah. “I was merely trying to
assist our friend on the string-piece. I was going to say that as the
Ark was probably a hundred times faster than Sir Christopher Wren’s—tub,
which he himself says can take care of all the wash of the excursion
boats, thereby becoming on his own admission a wash-tub—”
“Order! order!” cried Sir Christopher.
“I was going to say that this wash-tub could be overhauled by a launch or
any other craft with a speed of thirty knots a mouth,” continued Noah,
ignoring the interruption.
“Took him forty days to get to Mount Ararat!” sneered Sir Christopher.
“Well, your boat would have got there two weeks sooner, I’ll admit,”
retorted Noah, “if she’d sprung a leak at the right time.”
“Granting the truth of Noah’s statement,” said Sir Walter, motioning to
the angry architect to be quiet—“not that we take any side in the issue
between the two gentlemen, but merely for the sake of argument—I wish to
ask the stranger who has been good enough to interest himself in our
trouble what he proposes to do—how can you establish your course in case
a boat were provided?”
“Also vot vill be dher gost, if any?” put in Shylock.
A murmur of disapprobation greeted this remark.
“The cost need not trouble you, sir,” said Sir Walter, indignantly,
addressing the stranger; “you will have carte blanche.”
“Den ve are ruint!” cried Shylock, displaying his palms, and showing by
that act a select assortment of diamond rings.
“Oh,” laughed the stranger, “that is a simple matter. Captain Kidd has
gone to London.”
“To London!” cried several members at once. “How do you know that?”
“By this,” said the stranger, holding up the tiny stub end of a cigar.
“Tut-tut!” ejaculated Solomon. “What child’s play is this!”
“No, your Majesty,” observed the stranger, “it is not child’s play; it is
fact. That cigar end was thrown aside here on the wharf by Captain Kidd
just before he stepped on board the House-boat.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Raleigh. “And granting the truth of the
assertion, what does it prove?”
“I will tell you,” said the stranger. And he at once proceeded as
follows.
II
THE STRANGER UNRAVELS A MYSTERY AND REVEALS HIMSELF
“I HAVE made a hobby of the study of cigar ends,” said the stranger, as
the Associated Shades settled back to hear his account of himself. “From
my earliest youth, when I used surreptitiously to remove the unsmoked
ends of my father’s cigars and break them up, and, in hiding, smoke them
in an old clay pipe which I had presented to me by an ancient sea-captain
of my acquaintance, I have been interested in tobacco in all forms, even
including these self-same despised unsmoked ends; for they convey to my
mind messages, sentiments, farces, comedies, and tragedies which to your
minds would never become manifest through their agency.”
The company drew closer together and formed themselves in a more compact
mass about the speaker. It was evident that they were beginning to feel
an unusual interest in this extraordinary person, who had come among them
unheralded and unknown. Even Shylock stopped calculating percentages for
an instant to listen.
“Do you mean to tell us,” demanded Shakespeare, “that the unsmoked stub
of a cigar will suggest the story of him who smoked it to your mind?”
“I do,” replied the stranger, with a confident smile. “Take this one,
for instance, that I have picked up here upon the wharf; it tells me the
whole story of the intentions of Captain Kidd at the moment when, in
utter disregard of your rights, he stepped aboard your House-boat, and,
in his usual piratical fashion, made off with it into unknown seas.”
“But how do you know he smoked it?” asked Solomon, who deemed it the part
of wisdom to be suspicious of the stranger.
“There are two curious indentations in it which prove that. The marks of
two teeth, with a hiatus between, which you will see if you look
closely,” said the stranger, handing the small bit of tobacco to Sir
Walter, “make that point evident beyond peradventure. The Captain lost
an eye-tooth in one of his later raids; it was knocked out by a
marine-spike which had been hurled at him by one of the crew of the
treasure-ship he and his followers had attacked. The adjacent teeth were
broken, but not removed. The cigar end bears the marks of those two
jagged molars, with the hiatus, which, as I have indicated, is due to the
destruction of the eye-tooth between them. It is not likely that there
was another man in the pirate’s crew with teeth exactly like the
commander’s, therefore I say there can be no doubt that the cigar end was
that of the Captain himself.”
“Very interesting indeed,” observed Blackstone, removing his wig and
fanning himself with it; “but I must confess, Mr. Chairman, that in any
properly constituted law court this evidence would long since have been
ruled out as irrelevant and absurd. The idea of two or three hundred
dignified spirits like ourselves, gathered together to devise a means for
the recovery of our property and the rescue of our wives, yielding the
floor to the delivering of a lecture by an entire stranger on ‘Cigar Ends
He Has Met,’ strikes me as ridiculous in the extreme. Of what earthly
interest is it to us to know that this or that cigar was smoked by
Captain Kidd?”
“Merely that it will help us on, your honor, to discover the whereabouts
of the said Kidd,” interposed the stranger. “It is by trifles, seeming
trifles, that the greatest detective work is done. My friends Le Coq,
Hawkshaw, and Old Sleuth will bear me out in this, I think, however much
in other respects our methods may have differed. They left no stone
unturned in the pursuit of a criminal; no detail, however trifling,
uncared for. No more should we in the present instance overlook the
minutest bit of evidence, however irrelevant and absurd at first blush it
may appear to be. The truth of what I say was very effectually proven in
the strange case of the Brokedale tiara, in which I figured somewhat
conspicuously, but which have never made public, because it involves a
secret affecting the integrity of one of the noblest families in the
British Empire. I really believe that mystery was solved easily and at
once because I happened to remember that the number of my watch was
86507B. How trivial and yet how important it was, to what then
transpired, you will realize when I tell you the incident.”
[Picture: Poor old Boswell was pushed overboard]
The stranger’s manner was so impressive that there was a unanimous and
simultaneous movement upon the part of all present to get up closer, so
as the more readily to hear what he said, as a result of which poor old
Boswell was pushed overboard, and fell, with a loud splash into the Styx.
Fortunately, however, one of Charon’s pleasure-boats was close at hand,
and in a short while the dripping, sputtering spirit was drawn into it,
wrung out, and sent home to dry. The excitement attending this diversion
having subsided, Solomon asked:
“What was the incident of the lost tiara?”
“I am about to tell you,” returned the stranger; “and it must be
understood that you are told in the strictest confidence, for, as I say,
the incident involves a state secret of great magnitude. In life—in the
mortal life—gentlemen, I was a detective by profession, and, if I do say
it, who perhaps should not, I was one of the most interesting for purely
literary purposes that has ever been known. I did not find it necessary
to go about saying ‘Ha! ha!’ as M. Le Coq was accustomed to do to
advertise his cleverness; neither did I disguise myself as a drum-major
and hide under a kitchen-table for the purpose of solving a mystery
involving the abduction of a parlor stove, after the manner of the
talented Hawkshaw. By mental concentration alone, without fireworks or
orchestral accompaniment of any sort whatsoever, did I go about my
business, and for that very reason many of my fellow-sleuths were forced
to go out of real detective work into that line of the business with
which the stage has familiarized the most of us—a line in which nothing
but stupidity, luck, and a yellow wig is required of him who pursues it.”
“This man is an impostor,” whispered Le Coq to Hawkshaw.
“I’ve known that all along by the mole on his left wrist,” returned
Hawkshaw, contemptuously.
“I suspected it the minute I saw he was not disguised,” returned Le Coq,
knowingly. “I have observed that the greatest villains latterly have
discarded disguises, as being too easily penetrated, and therefore of no
avail, and merely a useless expense.”
“Silence!” cried Confucius, impatiently. “How can the gentleman proceed,
with all this conversation going on in the rear?”
Hawkshaw and Le Coq immediately subsided, and the stranger went on.
“It was in this way that I treated the strange case of the lost tiara,”
resumed the stranger. “Mental concentration upon seemingly insignificant
details alone enabled me to bring about the desired results in that
instance. A brief outline of the case is as follows: It was late one
evening in the early spring of 1894. The London season was at its
height. Dances, fêtes of all kinds, opera, and the theatres were in full
blast, when all of a sudden society was paralyzed by a most audacious
robbery. A diamond tiara valued at £50,000 sterling had been stolen from
the Duchess of Brokedale, and under circumstances which threw society
itself and every individual in it under suspicion—even his Royal Highness
the Prince himself, for he had danced frequently with the Duchess, and
was known to be a great admirer of her tiara. It was at half-past eleven
o’clock at night that the news of the robbery first came to my ears. I
had been spending the evening alone in my library making notes for a
second volume of my memoirs, and, feeling somewhat depressed, I was on
the point of going out for my usual midnight walk on Hampstead Heath,
when one of my servants, hastily entering, informed me of the robbery. I
changed my mind in respect to my midnight walk immediately upon receipt
of the news, for I knew that before one o’clock some one would call upon
me at my lodgings with reference to this robbery. It could not be
otherwise. Any mystery of such magnitude could no more be taken to
another bureau than elephants could fly—”
“They used to,” said Adam. “I once had a whole aviary full of winged
elephants. They flew from flower to flower, and thrusting their
probabilities deep into—”
“Their what?” queried Johnson, with a frown.
“Probabilities—isn’t that the word? Their trunks,” said Adam.
“Probosces, I imagine you mean,” suggested Johnson.
“Yes—that was it. Their probosces,” said Adam. “They were great
honey-gatherers, those elephants—far better than the bees, because they
could make so much more of it in a given time.”
Munchausen shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid I’m outclassed by these
antediluvians,” he said.
“Gentlemen! gentlemen!” cried Sir Walter. “These interruptions are
inexcusable!”
“That’s what I think,” said the stranger, with some asperity. “I’m
having about as hard a time getting this story out as I would if it were
a serial. Of course, if you gentlemen do not wish to hear it, I can
stop; but it must be understood that when I do stop I stop finally, once
and for all, because the tale has not a sufficiency of dramatic climaxes
to warrant its prolongation over the usual magazine period of twelve
months.”
“Go on! go on!” cried some.
“Shut up!” cried others—addressing the interrupting members, of course.
“As I was saying,” resumed the stranger, “I felt confident that within an
hour, in some way or other, that case would be placed in my hands. It
would be mine either positively or negatively—that is to say, either the
person robbed would employ me to ferret out the mystery and recover the
diamonds, or the robber himself, actuated by motives of
self-preservation, would endeavor to direct my energies into other
channels until he should have the time to dispose of his ill-gotten
booty. A mental discussion of the probabilities inclined me to believe
that the latter would be the case. I reasoned in this fashion: The
person robbed is of exalted rank. She cannot move rapidly because she is
so. Great bodies move slowly. It is probable that it will be a week
before, according to the etiquette by which she is hedged about, she can
communicate with me. In the first place, she must inform one of her
attendants that she has been robbed. He must communicate the news to the
functionary in charge of her residence, who will communicate with the
Home Secretary, and from him will issue the orders to the police, who,
baffled at every step, will finally address themselves to me. ‘I’ll give
that side two weeks,’ I said. On the other hand, the robber: will he
allow himself to be lulled into a false sense of security by counting on
this delay, or will he not, noting my habit of occasionally entering upon
detective enterprises of this nature of my own volition, come to me at
once and set me to work ferreting out some crime that has never been
committed? My feeling was that this would happen, and I pulled out my
watch to see if it were not nearly time for him to arrive. The robbery
had taken place at a state ball at the Buckingham Palace. ‘H’m!’ I
mused. ‘He has had an hour and forty minutes to get here. It is now
twelve-twenty. He should be here by twelve-forty-five. I will wait.’
And hastily swallowing a cocaine tablet to nerve myself up for the
meeting, I sat down and began to read my Schopenhauer. Hardly had I
perused a page when there came a tap upon my door. I rose with a smile,
for I thought I knew what was to happen, opened the door, and there
stood, much to my surprise, the husband of the lady whose tiara was
missing. It was the Duke of Brokedale himself. It is true he was
disguised. His beard was powdered until it looked like snow, and he wore
a wig and a pair of green goggles; but I recognized him at once by his
lack of manners, which is an unmistakable sign of nobility. As I opened
the door, he began:
“‘You are Mr. —’
“‘I am,’ I replied. ‘Come in. You have come to see me about your stolen
watch. It is a gold hunting-case watch with a Swiss movement; loses five
minutes a day; stem-winder; and the back cover, which does not bear any
inscription, has upon it the indentations made by the molars of your son
Willie when that interesting youth was cutting his teeth upon it.’”
“Wonderful!” cried Johnson.
“May I ask how you knew all that?” asked Solomon, deeply impressed.
“Such penetration strikes me as marvellous.”
“I didn’t know it,” replied the stranger, with a smile. “What I said was
intended to be jocular, and to put Brokedale at his ease. The Americans
present, with their usual astuteness, would term it bluff. It was. I
merely rattled on. I simply did not wish to offend the gentleman by
letting him know that I had penetrated his disguise. Imagine my
surprise, however, when his eye brightened as I spoke, and he entered my
room with such alacrity that half the powder which he thought disguised
his beard was shaken off on to the floor. Sitting down in the chair I
had just vacated, he quietly remarked:
“‘You are a wonderful man, sir. How did you know that I had lost my
watch?’
“For a moment I was nonplussed; more than that, I was completely
staggered. I had expected him to say at once that he had not lost his
watch, but had come to see me about the tiara; and to have him take my
words seriously was entirely unexpected and overwhelmingly surprising.
However, in view of his rank, I deemed it well to fall in with his
humour. ‘Oh, as for that,’ I replied, ‘that is a part of my business.
It is the detective’s place to know everything; and generally, if he
reveals the machinery by means of which he reaches his conclusions, he is
a fool, since his method is his secret, and his secret his
stock-in-trade. I do not mind telling you, however, that I knew your
watch was stolen by your anxious glance at my clock, which showed that
you wished to know the time. Now most rich Americans have watches for
that purpose, and have no hesitation about showing them. If you’d had a
watch, you’d have looked at it, not at my clock.’
“My visitor laughed, and repeated what he had said about my being a
wonderful man.
“‘And the dents which my son made cutting his teeth?’ he added.
“‘Invariably go with an American’s watch. Rubber or ivory rings aren’t
good enough for American babies to chew on,’ said I. ‘They must have
gold watches or nothing.’
“‘And finally, how did you know I was a rich American?’ he asked.
“‘Because no other can afford to stop at hotels like the Savoy in the
height of the season,’ I replied, thinking that the jest would end there,
and that he would now reveal his identity and speak of the tiara. To my
surprise, however, he did nothing of the sort.
“‘You have an almost supernatural gift,’ he said. ‘My name is Bunker. I
am stopping at the Savoy. I _am_ an American. I _was_ rich when I
arrived here, but I’m not quite so bloated with wealth as I was, now that
I have paid my first week’s bill. I _have_ lost my watch; such a watch,
too, as you describe, even to the dents. Your only mistake was that the
dents were made by my son John, and not Willie; but even there I cannot
but wonder at you, for John and Willie are twins, and so much alike that
it sometimes baffles even their mother to tell them apart. The watch has
no very great value intrinsically, but the associations are such that I
want it back, and I will pay £200 for its recovery. I have no clew as to
who took it. It was numbered—’
“Here a happy thought struck me. In all my description of the watch I
had merely described my own, a very cheap affair which I had won at a
raffle. My visitor was deceiving me, though for what purpose I did not
on the instant divine. No one would like to suspect him of having
purloined his wife’s tiara. Why should I not deceive him, and at the
same time get rid of my poor chronometer for a sum that exceeded its
value a hundredfold?”
“Good business!” cried Shylock.
The stranger smiled and bowed.
“Excellent,” he said. “I took the words right out of his mouth. ‘It was
numbered 86507B!’ I cried, giving, of course, the number of my own watch.
“He gazed at me narrowly for a moment, and then he smiled. ‘You grow
more marvellous at every step. That was indeed the number. Are you a
demon?’
“‘No,’ I replied. ‘Only something of a mind-reader.’
“Well, to be brief, the bargain was struck. I was to look for a watch
that I knew he hadn’t lost, and was to receive £200 if I found it. It
seemed to him to be a very good bargain, as, indeed, it was, from his
point of view, feeling, as he did, that there never having been any such
watch, it could not be recovered, and little suspecting that two could
play at his little game of deception, and that under any circumstances I
could foist a ten-shilling watch upon him for two hundred pounds. This
business concluded, he started to go.
“‘Won’t you have a little Scotch?’ I asked, as he started, feeling, with
all that prospective profit in view, I could well afford the expense.
‘It is a stormy night.’
“‘Thanks, I will,’ said he, returning and seating himself by my
table—still, to my surprise, keeping his hat on.
“‘Let me take your hat,’ I said, little thinking that my courtesy would
reveal the true state of affairs. The mere mention of the word hat
brought about a terrible change in my visitor; his knees trembled, his
face grew ghastly, and he clutched the brim of his beaver until it
cracked. He then nervously removed it, and I noticed a dull red mark
running about his forehead, just as there would be on the forehead of a
man whose hat fitted too tightly; and that mark, gentlemen, had the
undulating outline of nothing more nor less than a tiara, and on the apex
of the uttermost extremity was a deep indentation about the size of a
shilling, that could have been made only by some adamantine substance!
The mystery was solved! The robber of the Duchess of Brokedale stood
before me.”
A suppressed murmur of excitement went through the assembled spirits, and
even Messrs. Hawkshaw and Le Coq were silent in the presence of such
genius.
“My plan of action was immediately formulated. The man was completely at
my mercy. He had stolen the tiara, and had it concealed in the lining of
his hat. I rose and locked the door. My visitor sank with a groan into
my chair.
“‘Why did you do that?’ he stammered, as I turned the key in the lock.
“‘To keep my Scotch whiskey from evaporating,’ I said, dryly. ‘Now, my
lord,’ I added, ‘it will pay your Grace to let me have your hat. I know
who you are. You are the Duke of Brokedale. The Duchess of Brokedale
has lost a valuable tiara of diamonds, and you have not lost your watch.
Somebody has stolen the diamonds, and it may be that somewhere there is a
Bunker who has lost such a watch as I have described. The queer part of
it all is,’ I continued, handing him the decanter, and taking a couple of
loaded six-shooters out of my escritoire—‘the queer part of it all is
that I have the watch and you have the tiara. We’ll swap the swag. Hand
over the bauble, please.’
“‘But—’ he began.
“‘We won’t have any butting, your Grace,’ said I. ‘I’ll give you the
watch, and you needn’t mind the £200; and you must give me the tiara, or
I’ll accompany you forthwith to the police, and have a search made of
your hat. It won’t pay you to defy me. Give it up.’
“He gave up the hat at once, and, as I suspected, there lay the tiara,
snugly stowed away behind the head-band.
“‘You are a great fellow,’ said I, as I held the tiara up to the light
and watched with pleasure the flashing brilliance of its gems.
“‘I beg you’ll not expose me,’ he moaned. ‘I was driven to it by
necessity.’
“‘Not I,’ I replied. ‘As long as you play fair it will be all right.
I’m not going to keep this thing. I’m not married, and so have no use
for such a trifle; but what I do intend is simply to wait until your wife
retains me to find it, and then I’ll find it and get the reward. If you
keep perfectly still, I’ll have it found in such a fashion that you’ll
never be suspected. If, on the other hand, you say a word about
to-night’s events, I’ll hand you over to the police.’
“‘Humph!’ he said. ‘You couldn’t prove a case against me.’
“‘I can prove any case against anybody,’ I retorted. ‘If you don’t
believe it, read my book,’ I added, and I handed him a copy of my
memoirs.
“‘I’ve read it,’ he answered, ‘and I ought to have known better than to
come here. I thought you were only a literary success.’ And with a
deep-drawn sigh he took the watch and went out. Ten days later I was
retained by the Duchess, and after a pretended search of ten days more I
found the tiara, restored it to the noble lady, and received the £5000
reward. The Duke kept perfectly quiet about our little encounter, and
afterwards we became stanch friends; for he was a good fellow, and was
driven to his desperate deed only by the demands of his creditors, and
the following Christmas he sent me the watch I had given him, with the
best wishes of the season.
“So, you see, gentlemen, in a moment, by quick wit and a mental
concentration of no mean order, combined with strict observance of the
pettiest details, I ferreted out what bade fair to become a great diamond
mystery; and when I say that this cigar end proves certain things to my
mind, it does not become you to doubt the value of my conclusions.”
“Hear! hear!” cried Raleigh, growing tumultuous with enthusiasm.
“Your name? your name?” came from all parts of the wharf.
The stranger, putting his hand into the folds of his coat, drew forth a
bundle of business cards, which he tossed, as the prestidigitator tosses
playing-cards, out among the audience, and on each of them was found
printed the words:
SHERLOCK HOLMES,
DETECTIVE.
FERRETING DONE HERE.
_Plots for Sale_.
“I think he made a mistake in not taking the £200 for the watch. Such
carelessness destroys my confidence in him,” said Shylock, who was the
first to recover from the surprise of the revelation.
III
THE SEARCH-PARTY IS ORGANIZED
“WELL, Mr. Holmes,” said Sir Walter Raleigh, after three rousing cheers,
led by Hamlet, had been given with a will by the assembled spirits,
“after this demonstration in your honor I think it is hardly necessary
for me to assure you of our hearty co-operation in anything you may
venture to suggest. There is still manifest, however, some desire on the
part of the ever-wise King Solomon and my friend Confucius to know how
you deduce that Kidd has sailed for London, from the cigar end which you
hold in your hand.”
[Picture: Three rousing cheers, led by Hamlet, had been given]
“I can easily satisfy their curiosity,” said Sherlock Holmes, genially.
“I believe I have already proven that it is the end of Kidd’s cigar. The
marks of the teeth have shown that. Now observe how closely it is
smoked—there is barely enough of it left for one to insert between his
teeth. Now Captain Kidd would hardly have risked the edges of his
mustache and the comfort of his lips by smoking a cigar down to the very
light if he had had another; nor would he under any circumstances have
smoked it that far unless he were passionately addicted to this
particular brand of the weed. Therefore I say to you, first, this was
his cigar; second, it was the last one he had; third, he is a confirmed
smoker. The result, he has gone to the one place in the world where
these Connecticut hand-rolled Havana cigars—for I recognize this as one
of them—have a real popularity, and are therefore more certainly
obtainable, and that is at London. You cannot get so vile a cigar as
that outside of a London hotel. If I could have seen a quarter-inch more
of it, I should have been able definitely to locate the hotel itself.
The wrappers unroll to a degree that varies perceptibly as between the
different hotels. The Fortuna cigar can be smoked a quarter through
before its wrapper gives way; the Felix wrapper goes as soon as you light
the cigar; whereas the River, fronting on the Thames, is surrounded by a
moister atmosphere than the others, and, as a consequence, the wrapper
will hold really until most people are willing to throw the whole thing
away.”
“It is really a wonderful art!” said Solomon.
“The making of a Connecticut Havana cigar?” laughed Holmes. “Not at all.
Give me a head of lettuce and a straw, and I’ll make you a box.”
“I referred to your art—that of detection,” said Solomon. “Your logic is
perfect; step by step we have been led to the irresistible conclusion
that Kidd has made for London, and can be found at one of these hotels.”
“And only until next Tuesday, when he will take a house in the
neighborhood of Scotland Yard,” put in Holmes, quickly, observing a sneer
on Hawkshaw’s lips, and hastening to overwhelm him by further evidence of
his ingenuity. “When he gets his bill he will open his piratical eyes so
wide that he will be seized with jealousy to think of how much more
refined his profession has become since he left it, and out of mere pique
he will leave the hotel, and, to show himself still cleverer than his
modern prototypes, he will leave his account unpaid, with the result that
the affair will be put in the hands of the police, under which
circumstances a house in the immediate vicinity of the famous police
headquarters will be the safest hiding-place he can find, as was
instanced by the remarkable case of the famous Penstock bond robbery. A
certain churchwarden named Hinkley, having been appointed cashier
thereof, robbed the Penstock Imperial Bank of £1,000,000 in bonds, and,
fleeing to London, actually joined the detective force at Scotland Yard,
and was detailed to find himself, which of course he never did, nor would
he ever have been found had he not crossed my path.”
Hawkshaw gazed mournfully off into space, and Le Coq muttered profane
words under his breath.
“We’re not in the same class with this fellow, Hawkshaw,” said Le Coq.
“You could tap your forehead knowingly eight hours a day through all
eternity with a sledge-hammer without loosening an idea like that.”
“Nevertheless I’ll confound him yet,” growled the jealous detective. “I
shall myself go to London, and, disguised as Captain Kidd, will lead this
visionary on until he comes there to arrest me, and when these club
members discover that it is Hawkshaw and not Kidd he has run to earth,
we’ll have a great laugh on Sherlock Holmes.”
“I am anxious to hear how you solved the bond-robbery mystery,” said
Socrates, wrapping his toga closely about him and settling back against
one of the spiles of the wharf.
“So are we all,” said Sir Walter. “But meantime the House-boat is
getting farther away.”
“Not unless she’s sailing backwards,” sneered Noah, who was still nursing
his resentment against Sir Christopher Wren for his reflections upon the
speed of the Ark.
“What’s the hurry?” asked Socrates. “I believe in making haste slowly;
and on the admission of our two eminent naval architects, Sir Christopher
and Noah, neither of their vessels can travel more than a mile a week,
and if we charter the _Flying Dutchman_ to go in pursuit of her we can
catch her before she gets out of the Styx into the Atlantic.”
“Jonah might lend us his whale, if the beast is in commission,” suggested
Munchausen, dryly. “I for one would rather take a state-room in Jonah’s
whale than go aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ again. I made one trip on the
_Dutchman_, and she’s worse than a dory for comfort; further—I don’t see
what good it would do us to charter a boat that can’t land oftener than
once in seven years, and spends most of her time trying to double the
Cape of Good Hope.”
“My whale is in commission,” said Jonah, with dignity. “But Baron
Munchausen need not consider the question of taking a state-room aboard
of her. She doesn’t carry second-class passengers. And if I took any
stock in the idea of a trip on the _Flying Dutchman_ amounting to a seven
years’ exile, I would cheerfully pay the Baron’s expenses for a round
trip.”
“We are losing time, gentlemen,” suggested Sherlock Holmes. “This is a
moment, I think, when you should lay aside personal differences and
personal preferences for immediate action. I have examined the wake of
the House-boat, and I judge from the condition of what, for want of a
better term, I may call the suds, when she left us the House-boat was
making ten knots a day. Almost any craft we can find suitably manned
ought to be able to do better than that; and if you could summon Charon
and ascertain what boats he has at hand, it would be for the good of all
concerned.”
“That’s a good plan,” said Johnson. “Boswell, see if you can find
Charon.”
“I am here already, sir,” returned the ferryman, rising. “Most of my
boats have gone into winter quarters, your Honor. The _Mayflower_ went
into dry dock last week to be calked up; the _Pinta_ and the _Santa
Maria_ are slow and cranky; the _Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_ I haven’t
really had time to patch up; and the _Valkyrie_ is two months overdue. I
cannot make up my mind whether she is lost or kept back by excursion
steamers. Hence I really don’t know what I can lend you. Any of these
boat I have named you could have had for nothing; but my others are
actively employed, and I couldn’t let them go without a serious
interference with my business.”
The old man blinked sorrowfully across the waters at the opposite shore.
It was quite evident that he realized what a dreadful expense the club
was about to be put to, and while of course there would be profit in it
for him, he was sincerely sorry for them.
“I repeat,” he added, “those boats you could have had for nothing, but
the others I’d have to charge you for, though of course I’ll give you a
discount.”
And he blinked again, as he meditated upon whether that discount should
be an eighth or one-quarter of one per cent.
“The _Flying Dutchman_,” he pursued, “ain’t no good for your purposes.
She’s too fast. She’s built to fly by, not to stop. You’d catch up with
the House-boat in a minute with her, but you’d go right on and disappear
like a visionary; and as for the Ark, she’d never do—with all respect to
Mr. Noah. She’s just about as suitable as any other waterlogged
cattle-steamer’d be, and no more—first-rate for elephants and kangaroos,
but no good for cruiser-work, and so slow she wouldn’t make a ripple high
enough to drown a gnat going at the top of her speed. Furthermore, she’s
got a great big hole in her bottom, where she was stove in by running
afoul of—Mount Arrus-root, I believe it was called when Captain Noah went
cruising with that menagerie of his.”
“That’s an unmitigated falsehood!” cried Noah, angrily. “This man talks
like a professional amateur yachtsman. He has no regard for facts, but
simply goes ahead and makes statements with an utter disregard of the
truth. The Ark was not stove in. We beached her very successfully. I
say this in defence of my seamanship, which was top-notch for my day.”
“Couldn’t sail six weeks without fouling a mountain-peak!” sneered Wren,
perceiving a chance to get even.
“The hole’s there, just the same,” said Charon. “Maybe she was a
centreboard, sad that’s where you kept the board.”
“The hole is there because it was worn there by one of the elephants,”
retorted Noah. “You get a beast like the elephant shuffling one of his
fore-feet up and down, up and down, a plank for twenty-four hours a day
for forty days in one of your boats, and see where your boat would be.”