THE 'THUMBOGRAPH'
"So your net has been sweeping the quiet and pleasant waters of feminine
conversation," remarked Thorndyke when we met at the dinner table and I
gave him an outline of my afternoon's adventures.
"Yes," I answered, "and here is the catch cleaned and ready for the
consumer."
I laid on the table two of my notebooks in which I had entered such
facts as I had been able to extract from my talk with Miss Gibson.
"You made your entries as soon as possible after your return, I
suppose?" said Thorndyke--"while the matter was still fresh?"
"I wrote down my notes as I sat on a seat in Kensington Gardens within
five minutes after leaving Miss Gibson."
"Good!" said Thorndyke. "And now let us see what you have collected."
He glanced quickly through the entries in the two books, referring back
once or twice, and stood for a few moments silent and abstracted. Then
he laid the little books down on the table with a satisfied nod.
"Our information, then," he said, "amounts to this: Reuben is an
industrious worker at his business and, in his leisure, a student of
ancient and medieval art; possibly a babbling fool and a cad or, on the
other hand, a maligned and much-abused man. "Walter Hornby is
obviously a sneak and possibly a liar; a keen man of business, perhaps a
flutterer round the financial candle that burns in Throgmorton Street;
an expert photographer and a competent worker of the collotype process.
You have done a very excellent day's work, Jervis. I wonder if you see
the bearing of the facts that you have collected."
"I think I see the bearing of some of them," I answered; "at least, I
have formed certain opinions."
"Then keep them to yourself, _mon ami_, so that I need not feel as if I
ought to unbosom myself of my own views."
"I should be very much surprised if you did, Thorndyke," I replied, "and
should have none the better opinion of you. I realise fully that your
opinions and theories are the property of your client and not to be used
for the entertainment of your friends."
Thorndyke patted me on the back playfully, but he looked uncommonly
pleased, and said, with evident sincerity, "I am really grateful to you
for saying that, for I have felt a little awkward in being so reticent
with you who know so much of this case. But you are quite right, and I
am delighted to find you so discerning and sympathetic. The least I can
do under the circumstances is to uncork a bottle of Pommard, and drink
the health of so loyal and helpful a colleague. Ah! Praise the gods!
here is Polton, like a sacrificial priest accompanied by a sweet savour
of roasted flesh. Rump steak I ween," he added, sniffing, "food meet for
the mighty Shamash (that pun was fortuitous, I need not say) or a
ravenous medical jurist. Can you explain to me, Polton, how it is that
your rump steak is better than any other steak? Is it that you have
command of a special brand of ox?"
The little man's dry countenance wrinkled with pleasure until it was as
full of lines as a ground-plan of Clapham Junction.
"Perhaps it is the special treatment it gets, sir," he replied. "I
usually bruise it in the mortar before cooking, without breaking up the
fibre too much, and then I heat up the little cupel furnace to about 600
C, and put the steak in on a tripod."
Thorndyke laughed outright. "The cupel furnace, too," he exclaimed.
"Well, well, 'to what base uses'--but I don't know that it is a base use
after all. Anyhow, Polton, open a bottle of Pommard and put a couple of
ten by eight 'process' plates in your dark slides. I am expecting two
ladies here this evening with a document."
"Shall you bring them upstairs, sir?" inquired Polton, with an alarmed
expression.
"I expect I shall have to," answered Thorndyke.
"Then I shall just smarten the laboratory up a bit," said Polton, who
evidently appreciated the difference between the masculine and feminine
view as to the proper appearance of working premises.
"And so Miss Gibson wanted to know our private views on the case?" said
Thorndyke, when his voracity had become somewhat appeased.
"Yes," I answered; and then I repeated our conversation as nearly as I
could remember it.
"Your answer was very discreet and diplomatic," Thorndyke remarked, "and
it was very necessary that it should be, for it is essential that we
show the backs of our cards to Scotland Yard; and if to Scotland Yard,
then to the whole world. We know what their trump card is and can
arrange our play accordingly, so long as we do not show our hand."
"You speak of the police as your antagonists; I noticed that at the
'Yard' this morning, and was surprised to find that they accepted the
position. But surely their business is to discover the actual offender,
not to fix the crime on some particular person."
"That would seem to be so," replied Thorndyke, "but in practice it is
otherwise. When the police have made an arrest they work for a
conviction. If the man is innocent, that is his business, not theirs; it
is for him to prove it. The system is a pernicious one--especially since
the efficiency of a police officer is, in consequence, apt to be
estimated by the number of convictions he has secured, and an inducement
is thus held out to him to obtain a conviction, if possible; but it is
of a piece with legislative procedure in general. Lawyers are not
engaged in academic discussions or in the pursuit of truth, but each is
trying, by hook or by crook, to make out a particular case without
regard to its actual truth or even to the lawyer's own belief on the
subject. That is what produces so much friction between lawyers and
scientific witnesses; neither can understand the point of view of the
other. But we must not sit over the table chattering like this; it has
gone half-past seven, and Polton will be wanting to make this room
presentable."
"I notice you don't use your office much," I remarked.
"Hardly at all, excepting as a repository for documents and stationery.
It is very cheerless to talk in an office, and nearly all my business is
transacted with solicitors and counsel who are known to me, so there is
no need for such formalities. All right, Polton; we shall be ready for
you in five minutes."
The Temple bell was striking eight as, at Thorndyke's request, I threw
open the iron-bound "oak"; and even as I did so the sound of footsteps
came up from the stairs below. I waited on the landing for our two
visitors, and led them into the room.
"I am so glad to make your acquaintance," said Mrs. Hornby, when I had
done the honours of introduction; "I have heard so much about you from
Juliet--"
"Really, my dear aunt," protested Miss Gibson, as she caught my eye with
a look of comical alarm, "you will give Dr. Thorndyke a most erroneous
impression. I merely mentioned that I had intruded on him without notice
and had been received with undeserved indulgence and consideration."
"You didn't put it quite in that way, my dear," said Mrs. Hornby, "but I
suppose it doesn't matter."
"We are highly gratified by Miss Gibson's favourable report of us,
whatever may have been the actual form of expression," said Thorndyke,
with a momentary glance at the younger lady which covered her with
smiling confusion, "and we are deeply indebted to you for taking so much
trouble to help us."
"It is no trouble at all, but a great pleasure," replied Mrs. Hornby;
and she proceeded to enlarge on the matter until her remarks threatened,
like the rippling circles produced by a falling stone, to spread out
into infinity. In the midst of this discourse Thorndyke placed chairs
for the two ladies, and, leaning against the mantelpiece, fixed a stony
gaze upon the small handbag that hung from Mrs. Hornby's wrist.
"Is the 'Thumbograph' in your bag?" interrupted Miss Gibson, in response
to this mute appeal.
"Of course it is, my dear Juliet," replied the elder lady. "You saw me
put it in yourself. What an odd girl you are. Did you think I should
have taken it out and put it somewhere else? Not that these handbags are
really very secure, you know, although I daresay they are safer than
pockets, especially now that it is the fashion to have the pocket at the
back. Still, I have often thought how easy it would be for a thief or a
pickpocket or some other dreadful creature of that kind, don't you know,
to make a snatch and--in fact, the thing has actually happened. Why, I
knew a lady--Mrs. Moggridge, you know, Juliet--no, it wasn't Mrs.
Moggridge, that was another affair, it was Mrs.--Mrs.--dear me, how
silly of me!--now, what was her name? Can't you help me, Juliet? You
must surely remember the woman. She used to visit a good deal at the
Hawley-Johnsons'--I think it was the Hawley-Johnsons', or else it was
those people, you know--"
"Hadn't you better give Dr. Thorndyke the 'Thumbograph'?" interrupted
Miss Gibson.
"Why, of course, Juliet, dear. What else did we come here for?" With a
slightly injured expression, Mrs. Hornby opened the little bag and
commenced, with the utmost deliberation, to turn out its contents on to
the table. These included a laced handkerchief, a purse, a card-case, a
visiting list, a packet of _papier poudré_, and when she had laid the
last-mentioned article on the table, she paused abruptly and gazed into
Miss Gibson's face with the air of one who has made a startling
discovery.
"I remember the woman's name," she said in an impressive voice. "It was
Gudge--Mrs. Gudge, the sister-in-law of--"
Here Miss Gibson made an unceremonious dive into the open bag and fished
out a tiny parcel wrapped in notepaper and secured with a silk thread.
"Thank you," said Thorndyke, taking it from her hand just as Mrs. Hornby
was reaching out to intercept it. He cut the thread and drew from its
wrappings a little book bound in red cloth, with the word "Thumbograph"
stamped upon the cover, and was beginning to inspect it when Mrs. Hornby
rose and stood beside him.
"That," said she, as she opened the book at the first page, "is the
thumb-mark of a Miss Colley. She is no connection of ours. You see it is
a little smeared--she said Reuben jogged her elbow, but I don't think he
did; at any rate he assured me he did not, and, you know--"
"Ah! Here is one we are looking for," interrupted Thorndyke, who had
been turning the leaves of the book regardless of Mrs. Hornby's rambling
comments; "a very good impression, too, considering the rather rough
method of producing it."
He reached out for the reading lens that hung from its nail above the
mantelpiece, and I could tell by the eagerness with which he peered
through it at the thumb-print that he was looking for something. A
moment later I felt sure that he had found that something which he had
sought, for, though he replaced the lens upon its nail with a quiet and
composed air and made no remark, there was a sparkle of the eye and a
scarcely perceptible flush of suppressed excitement and triumph which I
had begun to recognise beneath the impassive mask that he presented to
the world.
"I shall ask you to leave this little book with me, Mrs. Hornby," he
said, breaking in upon that lady's inconsequent babblings, "and, as I
may possibly put it in evidence, it would be a wise precaution for you
and Miss Gibson to sign your names--as small as possible--on the page
which bears Mr. Reuben's thumb-mark. That will anticipate any suggestion
that the book has been tampered with after leaving your hands."
"It would be a great impertinence for anyone to make any such
suggestion," Mrs. Hornby began; but on Thorndyke's placing his fountain
pen in her hand, she wrote her signature in the place indicated and
handed the pen to Miss Gibson, who signed underneath.
"And now," said Thorndyke, "we will take an enlarged photograph of this
page with the thumb-mark; not that it is necessary that it should be
done now, as you are leaving the book in my possession; but the
photograph will be wanted, and as my man is expecting us and has the
apparatus ready, we may as well despatch the business at once."
To this both the ladies readily agreed (being, in fact, devoured by
curiosity with regard to my colleague's premises), and we accordingly
proceeded to invade the set of rooms on the floor above, over which the
ingenious Polton was accustomed to reign in solitary grandeur.
It was my first visit to these mysterious regions, and I looked about me
with as much curiosity as did the two ladies. The first room that we
entered was apparently the workshop, for it contained a small
woodworker's bench, a lathe, a bench for metal work and a number of
mechanical appliances which I was not then able to examine; but I
noticed that the entire place presented to the eye a most unworkmanlike
neatness, a circumstance that did not escape Thorndyke's observation,
for his face relaxed into a grim smile as his eye travelled over the
bare benches and the clean-swept floor.
From this room we entered the laboratory, a large apartment, one side of
which was given up to chemical research, as was shown by the shelves of
reagents that covered the wall, and the flasks, retorts and other
apparatus that were arranged on the bench, like ornaments on a
drawing-room mantelpiece. On the opposite side of the room was a large,
massively-constructed copying camera, the front of which, carrying the
lens, was fixed, and an easel or copyholder travelled on parallel guides
towards, or away, from it, on a long stand.
This apparatus Thorndyke proceeded to explain to our visitors while
Polton was fixing the "Thumbograph" in a holder attached to the easel.
"You see," he said, in answer to a question from Miss Gibson, "I have a
good deal to do with signatures, cheques and disputed documents of
various kinds. Now a skilled eye, aided by a pocket-lens, can make out
very minute details on a cheque or bank-note; but it is not possible to
lend one's skilled eye to a judge or juryman, so that it is often very
convenient to be able to hand them a photograph in which the
magnification is already done, which they can compare with the original.
Small things, when magnified, develop quite unexpected characters; for
instance, you have handled a good many postage stamps, I suppose, but
have you ever noticed the little white spots in the upper corner of a
penny stamp, or even the difference in the foliage on the two sides of
the wreath?"
Miss Gibson admitted that she had not.
"Very few people have, I suppose, excepting stamp-collectors," continued
Thorndyke; "but now just glance at this and you will find these
unnoticed details forced upon your attention." As he spoke, he handed
her a photograph, which he had taken from a drawer, showing a penny
stamp enlarged to a length of eight inches.
While the ladies were marvelling over this production, Polton proceeded
with his work. The "Thumbograph" having been fixed in position, the
light from a powerful incandescent gas lamp, fitted with a parabolic
reflector, was concentrated on it, and the camera racked out to its
proper distance.
"What are those figures intended to show?" inquired Miss Gibson,
indicating the graduation on the side of one of the guides.
"They show the amount of magnification or reduction," Thorndyke
explained. "When the pointer is opposite 0, the photograph is the same
size as the object photographed; when it points to, say, x 4, the
photograph will be four times the width and length of the object, while
if it should point to, say, ÷ 4, the photograph will be one-fourth the
length of the object. It is now, you see, pointing to x 8, so the
photograph will be eight times the diameter of the original thumb-mark."
By this time Polton had brought the camera to an accurate focus and,
when we had all been gratified by a glimpse of the enlarged image on the
focussing screen, we withdrew to a smaller room which was devoted to
bacteriology and microscopical research, while the exposure was made and
the plate developed. Here, after an interval, we were joined by Polton,
who bore with infinite tenderness the dripping negative on which could
be seen the grotesque transparency of a colossal thumb-mark.
This Thorndyke scrutinised eagerly, and having pronounced it
satisfactory, informed Mrs. Hornby that the object of her visit was
attained, and thanked her for the trouble she had taken.
"I am very glad we came," said Miss Gibson to me, as a little later we
walked slowly up Mitre Court in the wake of Mrs. Hornby and Thorndyke;
"and I am glad to have seen these wonderful instruments, too. It has
made me realise that something is being done and that Dr. Thorndyke
really has some object in view. It has really encouraged me immensely."
"And very properly so," I replied. "I, too, although I really know
nothing of what my colleague is doing, feel very strongly that he would
not take all this trouble and give up so much valuable time if he had
not some very definite purpose and some substantial reasons for taking
a hopeful view."
"Thank you for saying that," she rejoined warmly; "and you will let me
have a crumb of comfort when you can, won't you?" She looked in my face
so wistfully as she made this appeal that I was quite moved; and,
indeed, I am not sure that my state of mind at that moment did not fully
justify my colleague's reticence towards me.
However, I, fortunately, had nothing to tell, and so, when we emerged
into Fleet Street to find Mrs. Hornby already ensconced in a hansom, I
could only promise, as I grasped the hand that she offered to me, to see
her again at the earliest opportunity--a promise which my inner
consciousness assured me would be strictly fulfilled.
"You seem to be on quite confidential terms with our fair friend,"
Thorndyke remarked, as we strolled back towards his chambers. "You are
an insinuating dog, Jervis."
"She is very frank and easy to get on with," I replied.
"Yes. A good girl and a clever girl, and comely to look upon withal. I
suppose it would be superfluous for me to suggest that you mind your
eye?"
"I shouldn't, in any case, try to cut out a man who is under a cloud," I
replied sulkily.
"Of course you wouldn't; hence the need of attention to the ophthalmic
member. Have you ascertained what Miss Gibson's actual relation is to
Reuben Hornby?"
"No," I answered.
"It might be worth while to find out," said Thorndyke; and then he
relapsed into silence.