Susan. That's why she came in here.'
"'Ah!' said I, 'then it was not a dream. Then just now I distinctly
heard the street door shut, so I went down and found the gas alight in
the dining-room and the safe open.'
"'Lor', sir!' exclaimed Susan, 'I hope nothing's been took.' (She spoke
exceedingly badly for a good-class housemaid.)
"'That,' said I, 'is what I wish you to find out. Perhaps you will come
down and take a look round. There is no one about now.'
"On this they came down with alacrity, each provided with a candle, all
agog, no doubt, to see what success their friends had had. The first
trace of the intruders was a large blood-stain at the foot of the
stairs, at which Susan shied like a horse. There was another stain near
the street door, and there was the burglar's knife on the mat, which the
cook picked up and then dropped with a faint scream. I examined it and
discovered the letters 'G.B.' cut on the handle.
"'It looks,' I remarked, 'as if the burglars had quarreled. However,
that is none of our business. Let us see what has happened to the safe.'
"We went into the dining-room and the two women looked eagerly at the
open safe; but though they both repeated the hope that 'nothing had been
took,' they could hardly conceal their disappointment when they saw that
the contents were intact. I examined the roughly-made false key without
comment but with a significant glance at them which I think they
understood; and I overhauled a couple of large carpet bags, neither of
which contained anything but the outfit of appliances for the raid.
"'I suppose I ought to communicate with the police,' said I (without the
slightest intention of doing anything of the kind).
"'I don't see what good that would do, sir,' said Susan. 'The men is
gone and nothing hasn't been took. The police would only come in and
turn the place upside down and take up your time for nothing.'
"Thus Susan Slodger, with a vivid consciousness of the false key, made
exactly the suggestion that I desired. Of course it would never do to
have the police in the house again so soon. I affected to be deeply
impressed by her sagacity and in the end decided to 'let sleeping dogs
lie.' Only Susan did not realize how exceedingly soundly they slept.
"It was necessary for me to visit the osteological dealer in the course
of the morning to obtain three suitable skeletons as understudies
according to my plan. This was quite indispensable. The dealer's receipt
and invoice for three human skeletons was my passport of safety. But I
regretted the necessity. For it was certain that as soon as I was out of
the house one of these hussies would run off to make inquiries about her
friends; and when it was found that the burglars were missing, there
might be trouble. You can never calculate the actions of women. I did
not suppose that either of them was capable of breaking into the
laboratory. But still, one or both of them might. And if they did, the
fat would be in the fire with a vengeance.
"However, it had to be done, and accordingly I set forth after
breakfast with a spring tape and a note of the measurements in my
pocket. Fortunately the dealer had just received a large consignment of
skeletons from Germany (Heaven alone knows whence these German exporters
obtain their supply), so I had an ample number to select from; and as
they ran rather small--I suspect they were mostly Frenchmen--I had no
difficulty in matching my specimens, which, as is usual with criminals,
were all below the average stature.
"On my return I found that the housemaid was out, 'doing some shopping,'
the cook explained. But she returned shortly, and as soon as I saw her I
knew that she had been making 'kind inquiries.' Her manner was most
peculiar, and so was the cook's for that matter. They were both
profoundly depressed and anxious; they both regarded me with evident
dislike and still more evident fear. They mumped about the house, silent
and restless; they showed an inconvenient desire to keep me in sight and
yet they hurried out of the rooms at my approach.
"The housemaid was very much disturbed. When waiting at table, she eyed
me incessantly and if I moved suddenly she jumped. Once she dropped a
soup tureen merely because I looked at her rather attentively; she was
continually missing my wine-glass and pouring the claret on to the
table-cloth; and when I tested the edge of a poultry-carver, which had
become somewhat blunt, she hurried from the room and I saw her watching
me through the crack of the door.
"The arrival of the 'understudy' skeletons from the dealers a couple of
days later gave her a terrible shock. I was in the dining-room when they
arrived and through the open door heard what passed; and certainly the
incident was not without a humorous side.
"The carrier came to the front door and to Susan, who answered his ring,
he addressed himself with the familiarity of his class.
"'Here's three cases for your master. Funny uns, they are, too. He don't
happen to be in the resurrection line, I suppose?'
"'I don't know what you mean,' Susan replied, sourly.
"'You will when you see the cases,' the man retorted. 'Three of 'em,
there are. Big uns. Where will you have 'em?'
"Susan came to me for instructions and I directed that they should be
taken through to the museum, the door of which I unlocked for the
purpose.
"The appearance of the cases was undeniably funereal, not in shape only
but also in color; for the dealer, with an ill-timed sense of fitness,
had had them painted black. And the effect was heightened by the conduct
of the two grinning carriers, who bore each case on their shoulders,
coffin-wise, and proceeded to the museum at a slow, funereal walk; and
when I was out of sight, though not out of earshot, I heard the leading
carrier, who seemed to be somewhat of a humorist, softly whistling the
'Dead March in Saul.'
"Meanwhile, Susan Slodger stood in the hall with a face as white as a
tallow candle. She stared with fearful fascination at the long, black
cases and uttered no sound even when the facetious carrier questioned
her as to the destination of 'our dear departed brother.' She was
absolutely thunderstruck.
"When the carriers had gone I directed her to come to the museum and
help me to unpack the cases, which she flatly refused to do unless
supported by the cook. To this, of course, I had no objection, and when
she went off to the kitchen to fetch her colleague, I took up a position
just inside the laboratory door and awaited developments. The cases had
hinged lids secured with a simple hook, so that when the binding cords
were cut there would be no difficulty in ascertaining the nature of the
contents.
"The two women came briskly through the lobby, the cook babbling
cheerfully and the housemaid silent; but at the museum door they both
stopped short and the former ejaculated, 'Gawd! what's this?'
"Here I stepped out and explained, 'These are some cases of specimens
for the museum. I want you to unfasten the cords. That is all. I will
take out the things myself.' With this I went back to the laboratory;
but in less than half a minute I heard a series of shrieks, and the two
women raced through the lobby and disappeared below stairs.
"After this the position grew worse than ever. Though obviously
terrified of me, these two women dogged me incessantly. It was most
inconvenient, for the excess of material kept me exceedingly busy; and
to make things worse, I had received from Jamrach's (without an
order--but I had to keep the thing) a dead hyena which had been affected
with _osteitis deformans_. It was a fine specimen and was useful as
serving to explain my great preoccupation; but it added to my labors and
made me impatient of interruptions.
"The museum wing had an entrance of its own in a side street for the
delivery of material (such as the hyena), and this gave me some relief;
for I could go out of the front door and slip in by the side entrance.
But Susan soon discovered this and thereafter was continually banging at
the lobby door to see if I was in. I don't know what she thought. She
was an ignorant woman and stupid, but I think she vaguely associated my
labors in the laboratory with her absent friends.
"This perpetual spying on my actions became at last intolerable and I
was on the point of sending the two hussies about their business when an
accident put an end to the state of affairs. I had gone out of the front
door and let myself in by the side entrance, but, by some amazing
inadvertence, had left the lobby door unfastened; and I had barely got
on my apron to begin work when I heard someone enter the lobby. Then
came a gentle tapping at the door of the laboratory. I took no notice,
but waited to see what would happen. The tapping was repeated louder and
yet louder, and still I made no move. Then, after an interval, I heard a
wire inserted in the lock.
"I determined to make an end of this. Quietly concealing the material on
which I was working, I took down from a hook a large butterfly-net (my
poor wife had been interested in Lepidoptera). Very softly I tiptoed to
the door and suddenly flung it open. There stood Susan Slodger with a
hair-pin in her hand, absolutely paralyzed with terror. In a moment,
before she had time to recover, I had slipped the butterfly-net over her
head.
"That revived her. With a piercing yell she turned and fled, and with
such precipitancy that she pulled the net off the handle. I saw her
flying down the lobby with the net over her head, looking like an
oriental bride; I heard the street door bang, and I found the butter-fly
net on the doormat. But Susan Slodger I never set eyes on again.
"The cook left me the same day, taking Susan's box with her. It was a
great relief. I now had the house to myself and could work without
interruption or the discomfort of being spied upon. As to the products
of my labors, they are fully set forth in the catalogue; and of this
adventure I can only say to the visitor to my museum in the words of the
well-known inscription, '_Si monumentum requiris, circumspice_'."
Such was Challoner's account of his acquisition of the specimens
numbered 2, 3 and 4. The descriptions of the preparations were, as he
had said, set out in dry and precise detail in the catalogue, and some
of the particulars were really quite interesting, as, for instance, the
fact that "the skull of Number 4 combines an extreme degree of
dolichocephaly (67.5) with a cranial capacity of no more than 1523 cubic
centimeters." It was certainly what one might have expected from his
conduct.
But to the general reader the question which will suggest itself is,
What was the state of Challoner's mind? Was he mad? Was he wicked? Or
had he merely an unconventional point of view? It is to the latter
opinion that I incline after long consideration. He clearly rejected the
criminal as a fellow-creature and regarded himself as a public
benefactor in eliminating him. And perhaps he was right.
As to the apparently insane pleasure that he took in the actual
captures, I can only say that sane men take a pleasure in the slaughter
of harmless animals--such as the giraffe--for which they have no need;
and other sane men actually go abroad and kill--by barbarous
methods--foreign men of estimable character with whom they have no
quarrel. This sport they call war and seem to enjoy it. But killing is
killing; and a foreign peasant's life is surely worth more than a
British criminal's.
This, however, is only an _obiter dictum_ from which many will no doubt
dissent.
IV
THE GIFTS OF CHANCE
The testamentary arrangements of eccentric people must, from time to
time, have put their legatees in possession of some very queer property.
I call to mind an old gentleman who bequeathed to a distant relative the
products of a lifetime of indiscrimate collecting; which products
included an obsolete field gun, a stuffed camel, a collection of bottled
tapeworms, a fire engine, a church pulpit and the internal fittings of a
public-house bar. And other instances could be quoted. But surely no
legatee ever found himself in possession of a queerer legacy than that
which my poor friend Challoner had bequeathed to me when he made over to
me the mortal remains of some two dozen deceased criminals.
The bequest would have been an odd one under any circumstances, but what
made it much more so was the strange intimacy that became established
between me and the deceased. To the ordinary observer a skeleton in a
museum case or in an art school conveys no vivid sense of humanity. That
this bony shape was once an actual person, a Me, that walked abroad and
wore clothes, that loved and hated, sorrowed and rejoiced, that had
friends and lovers, parents and perhaps children; that was, in short, a
living man or woman, occurs to him but vaguely. The thing is an
osteological specimen; a mere anatomical abstraction.
Now these skeletons of Challoner's were quite different. Walking down
the long room and looking into the great wall-case, I was confronted
with actual individuals. Number One was Jimmy Archer, who had tried to
steal the "blimy teapot." Number Three was the burglar Fred; I could
tell him by the notch on his fifth rib that his comrade's bullet had
made. Number Two was the man who had fired that shot, and Number Four
was Joe, who was "done in in the dark." I knew them all. The weird
"Museum Archives" had told me all about them; and as to the rest of that
grisly company, strangers to me as yet, the neatly written,
Russia-bound volume that Challoner had left would give me their
histories too.
It was some days before I was able to resume my reading of the uncanny
little book, but an unoccupied evening at length gave me the
opportunity. As ten o'clock struck, I put on my slippers, adjusted the
light, drew an armchair up to my study fire and opened the volume at the
place marked by the envelope that I had inserted at the end of the last
reading. The page was headed "Circumstances attending the acquirement of
Numbers Five and Six," and the account ran as follows:
"The most carefully conceived plans, when put into practice, are apt to
discover unforeseen defects. My elaborate plan for the capture of
burglars was no exception to the rule. The idea of employing palpably
dishonest servants to act as decoy ducks to lure the burglars on to the
premises was an excellent one and had fully answered my expectations.
But it had a defect which I had overlooked. The burglars themselves,
when reduced to a condition suitable for exhibition in a show-case,
were entirely innocuous. There was no danger of their making any
indiscreet statements. But with the servants--female servants, too--it
was quite otherwise. From the shelter of my roof they had gone forth to
sow distrust and suspicion in quarters where perfect confidence and
trustfulness should prevail. It was a most unfortunate oversight. Now,
when it was too late, I saw clearly that they ought never to have left
me. I ought to have added them to the collection, too.
"The evil results of the mistake soon became apparent. I had replaced
the late cook and housemaid by two women of quite unimpeachable
dishonesty, of whom I had, naturally, great hopes. But nothing happened.
I let them handle the plate freely, I gave them the key of the safe from
time to time, I brushed the sham diamond pendants and bracelets under
their very noses, and still there was no result. It is true that the
silver spoons dwindled in number and that a stray candlestick or
salt-cellar would now and again 'report absent'; that the tradesmen's
bills were preposterous and that the tea consumed in a week would have
impaired the digestion of a Lodge of Good Templars. But that was all. No
aspirant for museum honors made his appearance. The concussor became
dusty with disuse; the safe in the dining-room remained neglected and
untouched, and as for the burglar alarm, I had to stand on it myself at
stated intervals to keep it in working order.
"I had already resolved to get rid of those two women when they saved me
the trouble. I directed them to accompany me to the laboratory to clean
out the furnace, whereat they both turned pale and flatly refused; and I
saw them half an hour later secretly handing their boxes up the area
steps to a man with a barrow. Obviously someone had told them something
of my methods.
"The cook and housemaid who succeeded them were jail-birds pure and
simple. They were dirty, dishonest, lazy and occasionally drunk. But for
their actual function they were quite useless. They drank my whiskey,
they devoured and distributed my provisions, they stole my portable
property, and once, when I had incautiously left the door unfastened, I
caught them browsing round the museum; but they brought no grist to my
mill.
"It is true that during their reign I had one visitor, a scurvy little
wry-faced knave who sneaked in through the scullery window; but I think
he had no connection with them or he would have entered by some more
convenient route and have used a false key instead of a jimmy to open
the safe. He was a wretched little creature and his capture quite
uninteresting; for, when he had bitten me twice, he crumpled up like a
rag doll and I carried him to the tank as if he had been a monkey.
"Yet I ought not to disparage him unduly, for he was the one specimen in
my collection, up to that time, who presented the orthodox 'stigmata of
degeneration.' His hair was bushy, his face strikingly asymmetrical, and
his ears were like a pair of Lombroso's selected examples; outstanding,
with enormous Darwinian tubercles and almost devoid of lobules.
"Still, whatever his points of interest, he was but a stray catch.
Chance had brought him as it might bring others of the same kind in the
course of years. But this would not answer my purpose. Numbers were what
I wanted and what I had arranged for; and it was with deep
disappointment that I recognized that my plan had failed. The supply of
anthropological material had come to an end. In a word, the criminal
class had 'smoked' me.
"This was not mere surmise on my part. I had direct and very quaint
evidence of it soon after I had completed the preparation of Number
Five. I was returning home one evening and was approaching the vicinity
of my house when I became aware of a small man of seedy aspect who
appeared to be following me. I slackened my pace somewhat to let him
overtake or pass me, and when nearly opposite my side door (the museum
entrance) he edged alongside and addressed me in a hoarse whisper.
"'Guv'nor.'
"I halted and looked at him attentively; a proceeding that caused him
evident discomfort. 'Did you speak to me?' I asked.
"He edged up closer, but still did not meet my eye, and, looking first
over one shoulder and then over the other, replied, 'Yus, I did,
guv'nor.'
"'What do you want?' I demanded.
"He edged up yet closer and said in a hoarse undertone, 'I want to know
what you've been and done with my cousin Bill.'
"'Your cousin Bill,' I repeated. 'Do I know him?'
"'I dunno whether you know 'im,' was the reply, 'but I see 'im go into
your house and I never see 'im come out agin, and I want to know what
you've been and done with 'im.'
"Now here was an interesting circumstance. I had already noted something
familiar in the man's face. His question explained it. Cousin Bill was
clearly Number Five in the Anthropological Series. In fact, the
resemblance was quite remarkable. The present example, like the late
Bill, was an undergrown creature, and had the same curiously-twisted
nose, the same asymmetrical face and similar ears--large, flat ears that
stood out from his head like the handles of an amphora, that had
strongly marked Darwinian tubercles, unformed helices and undeveloped
lobules. Lombroso would have loved him. He would have made a delightful
photograph for purposes of illustration, and--it suddenly occurred to
me--he would make a most interesting companion preparation to Number
Five.
"'Your Cousin Bill,' I said, with this new idea in my mind. 'Was he the
son of your mother's sister?' (A few details as to heredity add
materially to the value and instructiveness of a specimen.)
"'And supposin' he was. What about it? I want to know what you've been
and done with 'im.'
"'What makes you think I have done anything with him?' I asked.
"'Why, I see 'im go into your 'ouse and I never see 'im come out.'
"'But, my good man,' I protested, 'that is exceedingly bad logic. If you
saw him go in, there is a fair presumption that he went in--'
"'I see 'im with my own eyes,' my friend interrupted, as though there
were other alternative means of vision.
"'But,' I continued, 'the fact that you did not see him come out
establishes no presumption that he did not come out. He may have come
out unobserved.'
"'No, he didn't. He never come out. I see 'im go in--'
"'So you have mentioned. May I ask what his business was?'
"'His business,' my acquaintance replied with some hesitation, 'was of a
private nature.'
"'I see. Did he go in by the front door?'
"'No, 'e didn't. 'E went in by the scullery window.'
"'In the evening, no doubt?'
"'Two hay hem,' was the reply.
"'Ah!' said I. 'He went in by the scullery window at two A.M. on private
business. Quite so! Well, you see, the common sense of the position is
that if he went into the house and never came out, he must be in the
house still."
"'That's just what I think,' my friend agreed.
"'Very well. Then in that case perhaps you would like to step in and
look round to see if you can find him.' I took out my latch-key and
motioned invitingly towards the museum door.
"'No yer don't,' exclaimed the man, backing away hastily down the
street. 'Yer don't git me in there, so I tell yer straight.'
"'What do you want me to do, then?'
"'I want to know,' he reiterated, 'what you've been and done with my
cousin Bill. I see 'im go into--'
"'I know,' I interrupted impatiently. 'You said that before.'
"'And look 'ere, guv'nor,' he added. 'Where did you git all them
skillintons from?' Evidently somebody had been talking to this little
rascal.
"'I can't go into questions of that kind, you know,' I replied.
"'No, I don't suppose yer can,' he retorted; 'but I'll tell yer what I
think you've been and done with Bill. You got 'im in there and you done
'im in. That's what I think. And I tell yer it ain't the cheese. When a
cove goes into an 'ouse for to do an 'armless crack he stands for to be
lagged if so be as he 'appens to git copped. But 'e don't stand for to
be done in. 'Tain't playin' the game, and I ain't a-goin' to 'ave it.'
"'Then what do you propose to do?' I asked with some curiosity.
"'I perpose,' the little wastrel replied haughtily, 'for to 'ave the
loar on yer. I'm a-goin' to put the coppers on to this 'ere job.'
"With this he turned somewhat hastily and shambled away up the street at
the quick shuffle characteristic of his class. I let myself in at the
side door and proceeded to the museum to examine Number Five with
renewed interest. The resemblance was remarkable. It was plainly
traceable even in the skull and in the proportions of the skeleton
generally, while in the small, dry preparation of the head the likeness
was ridiculous. It was most regrettable that he should have refused my
invitation to come in. As a companion preparation, illustrating the
physical resemblances in degenerate families, he would have been
invaluable.
"His conversation and his ludicrous threat of legal proceedings gave me
much matter for reflection. To him burglary presented itself as a
legitimate sporting pursuit governed by certain rules. The players were
respectively the burglar and the householder, of whom the latter staked
his property and the former a certain period of personal liberty; and
the rules of the game were equally binding on both. It was a conception
worthy of comic opera; and yet, incredible as it may seem, it is the
very view of crime that is today accepted and acted upon by society.