'It is the same thing, Monsieur Hale.'
'Well, of all the conceited--' and the good Hale could get no further.
'If you wish my assistance, it is yours.'
'Very good. Not to put too fine a point upon it, I do.'
'In that case, my dear Podgers, you will return to the residence of
our friend Summertrees, and get together for me in a bundle all of
yesterday's morning and evening papers, that were delivered to the
house. Can you do that, or are they mixed up in a heap in the coal
cellar?'
'I can do it, sir. I have instructions to place each day's papers in a
pile by itself in case they should be wanted again. There is always
one week's supply in the cellar, and we sell the papers of the week
before to the rag men.'
'Excellent. Well, take the risk of abstracting one day's journals, and
have them ready for me. I will call upon you at half-past three
o'clock exactly, and then I want you to take me upstairs to the
clerk's bedroom in the third story, which I suppose is not locked
during the daytime?'
'No, sir, it is not.'
With this the patient Podgers took his departure. Spenser Hale rose
when his assistant left.
'Anything further I can do?' he asked.
'Yes; give me the address of the shop in Tottenham Court Road. Do you
happen to have about you one of those new five-shilling pieces which
you believe to be illegally coined?'
He opened his pocket-book, took out the bit of white metal, and handed
it to me.
'I'm going to pass this off before evening,' I said, putting it in my
pocket, 'and I hope none of your men will arrest me.'
'That's all right,' laughed Hale as he took his leave.
At half-past three Podgers was waiting for me, and opened the front
door as I came up the steps, thus saving me the necessity of ringing.
The house seemed strangely quiet. The French cook was evidently down
in the basement, and we had probably all the upper part to ourselves,
unless Summertrees was in his study, which I doubted. Podgers led me
directly upstairs to the clerk's room on the third floor, walking on
tiptoe, with an elephantine air of silence and secrecy combined, which
struck me as unnecessary.
'I will make an examination of this room,' I said. 'Kindly wait for me
down by the door of the study.'
The bedroom proved to be of respectable size when one considers the
smallness of the house. The bed was all nicely made up, and there were
two chairs in the room, but the usual washstand and swing-mirror were
not visible. However, seeing a curtain at the farther end of the room,
I drew it aside, and found, as I expected, a fixed lavatory in an
alcove of perhaps four feet deep by five in width. As the room was
about fifteen feet wide, this left two-thirds of the space unaccounted
for. A moment later, I opened a door which exhibited a closet filled
with clothes hanging on hooks. This left a space of five feet between
the clothes closet and the lavatory. I thought at first that the
entrance to the secret stairway must have issued from the lavatory,
but examining the boards closely, although they sounded hollow to the
knuckles, they were quite evidently plain matchboarding, and not a
concealed door. The entrance to the stairway, therefore, must issue
from the clothes closet. The right hand wall proved similar to the
matchboarding of the lavatory as far as the casual eye or touch was
concerned, but I saw at once it was a door. The latch turned out to be
somewhat ingeniously operated by one of the hooks which held a pair of
old trousers. I found that the hook, if pressed upward, allowed the
door to swing outward, over the stairhead. Descending to the second
floor, a similar latch let me in to a similar clothes closet in the
room beneath. The two rooms were identical in size, one directly above
the other, the only difference being that the lower room door gave
into the study, instead of into the hall, as was the case with the
upper chamber.
The study was extremely neat, either not much used, or the abode of a
very methodical man. There was nothing on the table except a pile of
that morning's papers. I walked to the farther end, turned the key in
the lock, and came out upon the astonished Podgers.
'Well, I'm blowed!' exclaimed he.
'Quite so,' I rejoined, 'you've been tiptoeing past an empty room for
the last two weeks. Now, if you'll come with me, Podgers, I'll show
you how the trick is done.'
When he entered the study, I locked the door once more, and led the
assumed butler, still tiptoeing through force of habit, up the stair
into the top bedroom, and so out again, leaving everything exactly as
we found it. We went down the main stair to the front hall, and there
Podgers had my parcel of papers all neatly wrapped up. This bundle I
carried to my flat, gave one of my assistants some instructions, and
left him at work on the papers.
* * * * *
I took a cab to the foot of Tottenham Court Road, and walked up that
street till I came to J. Simpson's old curiosity shop. After gazing at
the well-filled windows for some time, I stepped aside, having
selected a little iron crucifix displayed behind the pane; the work of
some ancient craftsman.
I knew at once from Podgers's description that I was waited upon by
the veritable respectable clerk who brought the bag of money each
night to Park Lane, and who I was certain was no other than Ralph
Summertrees himself.
There was nothing in his manner differing from that of any other quiet
salesman. The price of the crucifix proved to be seven-and-six, and I
threw down a sovereign to pay for it.
'Do you mind the change being all in silver, sir?' he asked, and I
answered without any eagerness, although the question aroused a
suspicion that had begun to be allayed,--
'Not in the least.'
He gave me half-a-crown, three two-shilling pieces, and four separate
shillings, all the coins being well-worn silver of the realm, the
undoubted inartistic product of the reputable British Mint. This
seemed to dispose of the theory that he was palming off illegitimate
money. He asked me if I were interested in any particular branch of
antiquity, and I replied that my curiosity was merely general, and
exceedingly amateurish, whereupon he invited me to look around. This I
proceeded to do, while he resumed the addressing and stamping of some
wrapped-up pamphlets which I surmised to be copies of his catalogue.
He made no attempt either to watch me or to press his wares upon me. I
selected at random a little ink-stand, and asked its price. It was two
shillings, he said, whereupon I produced my fraudulent five-shilling
piece. He took it, gave me the change without comment, and the last
doubt about his connection with coiners flickered from my mind.
At this moment a young man came in, who, I saw at once, was not a
customer. He walked briskly to the farther end of the shop, and
disappeared behind a partition which had one pane of glass in it that
gave an outlook towards the front door.
'Excuse me a moment,' said the shopkeeper, and he followed the young
man into the private office.
As I examined the curious heterogeneous collection of things for sale,
I heard the clink of coins being poured out on the lid of a desk or an
uncovered table, and the murmur of voices floated out to me. I was now
near the entrance of the shop, and by a sleight-of-hand trick, keeping
the corner of my eye on the glass pane of the private office, I
removed the key of the front door without a sound, and took an
impression of it in wax, returning the key to its place unobserved. At
this moment another young man came in, and walked straight past me
into the private office. I heard him say,--
'Oh, I beg pardon, Mr. Simpson. How are you, Rogers?'
'Hallo, Macpherson,' saluted Rogers, who then came out, bidding
good-night to Mr. Simpson, and departed whistling down the street, but
not before he had repeated his phrase to another young man entering,
to whom he gave the name of Tyrrel.
I noted these three names in my mind. Two others came in together, but
I was compelled to content myself with memorising their features, for
I did not learn their names. These men were evidently collectors, for
I heard the rattle of money in every case; yet here was a small shop,
doing apparently very little business, for I had been within it for
more than half an hour, and yet remained the only customer. If credit
were given, one collector would certainly have been sufficient, yet
five had come in, and had poured their contributions into the pile
Summertrees was to take home with him that night.
I determined to secure one of the pamphlets which the man had been
addressing. They were piled on a shelf behind the counter, but I had
no difficulty in reaching across and taking the one on top, which I
slipped into my pocket. When the fifth young man went down the street
Summertrees himself emerged, and this time he carried in his hand the
well-filled locked leather satchel, with the straps dangling. It was
now approaching half-past five, and I saw he was eager to close up and
get away.
'Anything else you fancy, sir?' he asked me.
'No, or rather yes and no. You have a very interesting collection
here, but it's getting so dark I can hardly see.'
'I close at half-past five, sir.'
'Ah, in that case,' I said, consulting my watch, 'I shall be pleased
to call some other time.'
'Thank you, sir,' replied Summertrees quietly, and with that I took my
leave.
From the corner of an alley on the other side of the street I saw him
put up the shutters with his own hands, then he emerged with overcoat
on, and the money satchel slung across his shoulder. He locked the
door, tested it with his knuckles, and walked down the street,
carrying under one arm the pamphlets he had been addressing. I
followed him some distance, saw him drop the pamphlets into the box at
the first post office he passed, and walk rapidly towards his house in
Park Lane.