I have no doubt that I found my right vocation when I joined the
detective police; especially if I am to take into consideration the
overwhelming praise which my superiors gradually poured upon me, or the
flattering attention which the papers and the public began to bestow
upon me.
Monk paused, and for a few minutes paced up and down the floor, as was
his habit when he was deeply occupied in thought.
Well, he continued, I think I have now given you an account of my life
until the day when the incident occurred which since has played such an
important part in my life, and continues to do so to this very day.
It was a rainy and stormy night at the end of September, about seven
years ago, when, wet to the skin, and dead beat, I came driving up to my
lodgings in University Street. At that time I always had rooms on the
ground floor, so that I could get in and out quickly and unobserved.
I had been on an expedition after some burglars high up on the Egeberg
hills. The expedition had been long and irksome, both for myself and my
assistants, and without result.
I always employ the same cabman--you remember Peter Lyverson, of course?
Well, he had been waiting for us five hours in one of the small streets
in the East end, and was just as disappointed at the lack of success and
as wet as I was, so I thought it only right to ask him inside and give
him a stiff glass of brandy.
Lyverson had just finished his glass, and with a profusion of thanks was
lighting a cigar and bowing himself out, when we heard a ring at the
telephone.
"Wait a moment," I cried to him, and rushed to the apparatus.
"Hello! are you Monk, the police detective?"
"Yes; who is it?"
"Bartholomew Frick of Drammen Road. Can you come out here at once? My
house has been broken into. I thought that a man like you would prefer
to be the first on the spot, and as quickly as possible!"
"All right, I will come."
It was not pleasant, for I was wet and tired; but business is business,
and Bartholomew Frick was right in saying that I liked to be the first
on the spot. Some minutes later the carriage was rolling along the
deserted streets in the pouring rain toward Drammen Road.
I used the time, while we were on our way, to recall what I knew about
"Old Frick."
Bartholomew or "Captain" Frick, as he was also called, had left Norway
when quite a young man--somewhere between twenty and thirty years of
age. For a generation or so no one heard anything of him, until suddenly
he returned to his native country, an old man. This was some years
before my story begins.
He came to Christiania, bringing with him a whole shipload of
curiosities and costly articles, and was, on the whole, considered to be
a very rich man.
His title of captain he presumably got from the fact that he had won his
fortune, so people said, as captain of a pirate ship, and later on as a
slave-dealer.
A more likely explanation, and one which carried with it a greater
conviction of truth, was that he had acquired his fortune at gold
washing in Australia, and diamond digging in Africa. He had, in both
places, been one of the first to discover the rich treasures there.
On his return to Christiania he bought himself a large house in Drammen
Road, and this he filled with the curiosities which he had collected and
brought with him from all quarters of the globe.
After becoming settled, he began to look about him to make inquiries
regarding his family, and he found that his only remaining relations
were his brother's widow and two young children in needy circumstances.
Apparently in order to make some reparation for his earlier neglect, he
overwhelmed the poor widow with benefactions, and brought the poor, weak
soul to a state of great bewilderment by placing large, and to her
notions fabulous, sums at her disposal.
After a short time she died, and Frick then adopted her two children, a
boy and a girl, and it was generally assumed that they would inherit his
wealth.
Old Frick was a well-known figure in Christiania, and had a widespread
reputation for his riches, benevolence, and--irascibility.
The house is situated just outside Skillebek, as you must know. I
should not wonder, however, if you have never seen him, although your
house is not far from his property, for during the last few years old
Frick has been confined to his house, an invalid, and he never shows
himself outside of it. As it usually happens, the indifference of the
world to him now is just as great as its interest in him and his affairs
was at one time.
Presently, the carriage drew up before an iron gate, which was
immediately opened by a man, the coachman of the house, with a lantern
in his hand.
Words were unnecessary; he was prepared for my arrival, and I followed
him immediately up to the house.
We went along a passage and passed one or two rooms, in the last of
which stood some servants whispering together, until we came, at length,
into a large room or salon which was lighted up.
This salon presented a motley appearance. Some of the furniture was
old-fashioned, and some of it modern. There were tropical plants in
large tubs; Venetian pier glasses on the walls, having between them
large cases filled with wonders from all climes, and of all ages;
stuffed animals in the middle of the room and in the corners. On a
shelf stood some heavy altar candelabra from an old church, and from a
neighbouring shelf hung a lamp, doubtless stolen from some Hindoo
temple. On a bracket, opposite a clock worked by sand, a relic of the
Middle Ages, ticked a splendid specimen of a modern Parisian timepiece.
Indeed, I might go on forever enumerating the extraordinary and
wonderful assortment of curiosities that met one's eye at every turn.
In spite of this conglomeration, the room was not unpleasant. My first
impression--and later it proved to be correct--was that, though all
these things had been brought together by Bartholomew Frick, they had
been arranged by his niece.
At one end of the room only was there any noticeable disorder. There
several chairs were overturned, a couple of cupboards stood wide open,
and a window was entirely smashed, both glass and woodwork. The storm
and rain, however, did not beat in, as this room lay to the leeward side
of the house, and the cheerful fire in the grate at the other end of the
room impressed one with a sense of warmth and comfort.
By the fireside sat old Frick in an armchair. On the mantelpiece before
him lay a large American revolver, with brightly polished barrel, and
leaning against his chair was an enormous Prussian cavalry sword.
The master of the house was clad in a large-patterned dressing-gown and
slippers, and he got up at once when I came in.
At his side stood his brother's children, a fine young fellow with an
honest face, and a very pretty young girl.
Old Frick himself could hardly be considered handsome. He had a large,
fat, red face, with an enormous reddish-blue nose, white bushy hair,
which stuck out in unkempt tufts, and a white, thick heard under his
chin. His eyes were light, and generally friendly: but when he was
angry, which not seldom happened, they changed into a kind of greenish
colour, which was anything but pleasant to see.
Every human being is said to resemble some animal or another in
appearance; Bartholomew Frick would not have done discredit to a Bengal
tiger.
He came quickly across to me, and pressed my hand in his own large ones;
they were of the fulness and size of a walrus's flippers. He was stout,
broad, and thick-set, but moved about with youthful energy, although
somewhat clumsily.
"Oh, are you here already, Mr. Monk? Glad to see you! It isn't more
than twenty minutes since I rang you up through the telephone; that's
smart work if you like! That's the thing, young man, promptitude above
everything! It is the most important thing in the world. How do you
think Napoleon managed to conquer the whole of Europe? What do you
think it was that helped him? His promptitude, my friend, and nothing
else. Don't talk to me of generalship or anything of that sort. He was
smarter and quicker than every one else, and that's the reason he could
do what he liked with them all.
"But now you must hear how it all happened with regard to the
burglary--ah, you wink at me, Sigrid? I suppose you mean that I must
first introduce you to Mr. Monk? Very well! This is my niece, Sigrid
Frick, and that is my nephew, Einar Frick; both are the joy and stay of
my old age. But now what about the--what are you now making signs
about, Einar? I suppose you mean Mr. Monk should be asked to take a
seat."
"And a glass of wine," whispered the young girl, casting a compassionate
glance at my wet clothes.
"Yes, of course: Mr. Monk shall sit down and have everything he wants.
But meanwhile I can in a few words tell him how it all happened."
Bartholomew Frick was, however, not a man of few words, and it took some
time before I got to know how he had lain sleepless, kept awake by a
"devilish unpleasant pain in his big toe," and so toward one o'clock had
heard a strange sound in the room below,--for he slept just over the
salon where we sat.
The old man had lost not a minute in getting out of bed; he had seized a
loaded revolver, which always lay at hand on his table, and a sword,
which was also within reach, both mementos, no doubt, of his adventurous
life.
Thus armed, and with slippers on his feet, but with no other clothes on
than his nightshirt, he had crept down the stairs and slowly opened the
door of the salon.
Here he saw two men, who were quietly at work breaking open his
cupboards and emptying their most valuable contents into a sack.
"I first of all fired two shots at their heads," continued Frick; "but
when the smoke had lifted, I saw they were both as alive as ever, and on
their way to the window to escape. I rushed after them with the sword,
and they would not have got away alive if I had not stumbled over that
confounded panther!" and he pointed to a large stuffed panther which lay
overturned on its side in the middle of the room.
"But you might have killed them, uncle!" faltered the young girl,
reproachfully.
"Yes, killed them! I only wish I had hacked them to sausage-meat! But
just listen; now comes the most irritating part of all. Only one of the
scoundrels could get out through the open window, for the one half has
no hinges on it and does not open; so the other fellow, who evidently
didn't think he had time to escape before I came up, disappeared head
foremost, through both glass and framework. But he didn't get through
quickly enough, for when I got away from the confounded panther, his
left leg was still hanging inside the window ledge. 'You shan't take
that with you, at any rate,' thought I, for now I was only a couple of
yards from him, and the sword was just raised above my head, ready to
strike, when, one of my feet caught in the jaw of the ice bear, and over
I fell for the second time.
"Yes, you laugh! Perhaps you do not believe me? But I tell you, if
that ice bear had not been in the way, I should have been able at this
moment to place on the table before you the rascal's foot, and perhaps a
bit of his leg as well. Here, you can see for yourself; the sword just
cut off the heel with a bit of the sole, and more than that I could not
manage; but another inch or two would have done it."
He triumphantly put before me a broad heel, with a bit of the sole
attached, evidently cut from the boot with a powerful stroke.
"This was the only bit of the scoundrel that was left behind; the rest
of him ran across the garden, over the railings, and out into the road.
The revolver had also fallen from my grasp, or else I should have tried
a couple more shots after them. I once shot a Zulu at seventy paces,
with the same revolver; he had stolen a hen from me, the rascal!"
I didn't quite know what to think of such a bloodthirsty old man. But a
certain humorous twinkle in his eyes gave me to understand that this was
not genuine, and, as the young people didn't try to hide their
merriment, we all three had a good laugh.
I afterward learned that old Frick suffered from many of the defects
which are so often the outcome of a hard and adventurous life, such as
he had led from his youth to old age: stubbornness, waywardness, and
tyrannical contempt for the feelings of others when his own were
aroused. Otherwise his heart was soft, and as good as gold.
It was plain to see that the burglary had not in the least ruffled his
temper. On the contrary, he felt himself considerably enlivened with
this reminder of a life which had been full of such scenes.
At last he finished his description of how the thieves had disappeared,
the house had become aroused, and I telephoned for, etc., with the
result known. But what he was especially proud about was that he had
given orders that nothing should be touched or moved in the room after
the burglary.
"I myself have been a policeman," he said. "I was sheriff in Ballarat
for three years in succession, and I had charge of many investigations
there. One thing I have learned by experience, and that is, that the
place of a crime must remain untouched until the police arrive,
otherwise it is impossible for them to get to work."
I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and presence of mind, which seemed
to please him.
I have described this, my first meeting with old Frick, so fully, not
because it is of any great importance to my story, but because it will,
perhaps, give you some idea of the man and his characteristics.
Next I proceeded to examine the scene of the burglary. It was just as
Frick had said, nothing had been touched or moved. Even the sack which
the thieves had used to stow away their spoil in, lay there on the
floor, just as they had flung it from them when they took to flight.
Several of the cupboards in the room had been filled with gold and
silver articles, and precious stones. It was a complete museum; and the
thieves had, so far, carried out a sensible plan in having broken open
all the cupboards and drawers, but only putting into the bag the
articles which were of the most value and the easiest of transport.
Otherwise, there was little else to discover. We could follow the
tracks of the thieves through the garden, over the palings, and out into
Drammen Road; but they had left nothing behind them except old Frick's
trophy, the heel with the bit of sole adhering, and the sack.
This was emptied, and the contents set in their places in the cupboards.
Nothing seemed to be missing; and as each article was numbered, and the
place in which it was to stand, it was an easy matter to control them.