CONSTABLE HOBBS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
CONSTABLE HOBBS, on duty outside Mrs. Delfosse’s, had for a long time
nothing to break the monotony of his watch. He allowed the Professor to
pass, knowing him well. Mr. Gosper puzzled him. He concluded at once he
was not a resident of the Shore; he certainly did not know him as such,
yet he had a kind of inward conviction he had seen him before, but where,
he could not call to mind. But the thought did not trouble him. He met,
every day, people he had met before, without being able, or caring for
that matter, to locate the time and place.
It had been some time dark when the meditations of a quiet smoke were
interrupted by the opening of the front door, and the coming out of a
lady.
“It is her; what the dickens is she up to!”
It was indeed Bertha. Bertha, hysterical, nearly mad. To be in the
house was no longer endurable, she was stifled, choked. The suggestion
of Huey had grown in her mind till her reason seemed to forsake her. A
hundred fancies that she could not brush aside rose up as threatening
witnesses.
“The Professor had always wanted to marry her, that was certain; so who
but he could desire the death of Alec? Who but he could control her
will, unknown to her? He must have made her open the door.”
So her mind ran on. She left the house, and walked down the road,
heedless where she went, and the precautions of Mr. Hobbs to be
unobserved in his following was so much skill thrown away. He noted that
she walked unsteadily, and, with his varied experience in “drunks,” the
suggestion of partial intoxication occurred to him. To his credit, he
put the thought aside as only worthy of an ignorant member of the force.
Evidently, he said to himself, she is going somewhere of importance, or
she would hardly go at night, and by herself such a day as this has been
for her. No doubt I shall now gain a clue.
“Cheer up, old man,” he said to himself; “‘there is a tide in the affairs
of man,’ etc. Now is your chance; this is the first good case you have
had a hand in. The ladder of promotion is before you. Climb!”
Bertha by this time had descended the steep path that leads to M‘Mahon’s
Point wharf.
“The devil!” said Hobbs. “It seems she means to go to Sydney. What if
she is really guilty, and means to give us the slip? I will close up.”
Once, twice, three times Bertha paced the wharf, her eyes bent on the
water with a hungry longing.
She made a step forward.
“Be careful!” sang out the warning voice of the constable.
But, with a wild cry, Bertha threw up her arms and plunged down. There
was a splash, a few bubbles, and a little whirl in the waves as constable
Hobbs rushed forward.
“Well, I’m damned! Just my luck!” he exclaimed, as he threw off his coat
and hat, and with a wild sweep of his arms dived into the harbour.
* * * * *
The _Evening Times_, of August 16, contained the following double-headed
paragraph in its middle page—
“FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS IN THE NORTH SHORE MYSTERY.
THE PLOT THICKENS.
ATTEMPTED SUICIDE OF MRS. BOOTH, AND
GALLANT RESCUE BY ONE OF THE
POLICE FORCE.
PORTRAIT AND BIOGRAPHY OF THE HERO,
POLICE-CONSTABLE HOBBS.
“Never perhaps in the history of the colony has a crime claimed such
universal interest, and aroused such general curiosity, as the so-called
North Shore mystery. On train, boat, or ’bus, or wherever men are
gathered together, it forms the sole and engrossing topic of
conversation. Nearly every man one meets considers himself a born
detective, and has a solution of the mystery at his fingers’ ends.
Unfortunately, however, hardly two of three solutions agree, either as to
the personality of the criminal or the method of the crime.
“An unexpected development was added to the already complicated skein by
the attempted suicide last night of Mrs. Booth. It appears, from reports
received, that Police-Constable Hobbs had been stationed on duty by the
authorities to watch the house of Mrs. Delfosse, the scene of the crime,
his orders being to note the doings of the inmates. That this precaution
was a wise one was shown by the sequel.
“Late in the evening, after a gentleman, a stranger to the constable, had
called at the house and again departed, the constable’s attention was
aroused by the front door opening, and Mrs. Booth, with her outdoor
garments on, leaving the house and walking towards Blue’s Point.
Needless to say, the constable followed in her wake. According to his
statement, her movements struck him as being, to say the least, very
strange. Her walk was unsteady and erratic, and his first impression was
that she was intoxicated; but, being a man of more than average
intelligence, he soon scouted this idea, and came to the more natural
conclusion that the poor lady, as was very natural, was suffering from
strong excitement.
“After some hesitation Mrs. Booth took the path leading to the ferry at
M‘Mahon’s Point, and Police-Constable Hobbs at once concluded that her
intention was to take the incoming boat with the object of going to
Sydney or Milson’s Point. What was his astonishment to see her step
forward on the wharf, and with what looked like a determined plunge, jump
into the water. Without a moment’s hesitation the constable ran forward,
and, rapidly divesting himself of his hat and heavy tunic, jumped in
after her. So quick was he that Mrs. Booth had barely come to the
surface ere her form was grasped, and fortunately the ferry steamer was
close at hand to provide a rope. By this time, however, Mr. Hobbs had
already landed on the wharf, neither he nor Mrs. Booth being much the
worse for their immersion. Mrs. Booth was promptly removed to her house,
where she remains under surveillance.
“The numerous witnesses to this act of gallantry were unanimous in their
chorus of praise of the pluck shown by the hero, and we are enabled by
the kindness of Mrs. Hobbs to furnish the following short account of her
husband—Police-Constable Hobbs is a native of Bethnal Green, London,
England. He has always been noted for courage and resolution, this being
the third life he has saved from drowning. He is, moreover, a man of
education, being a B.A. of London University, and qualified by his mental
attainments for a far higher position than that at present held by him.
It is one of the anomalies of Colonial life, that some of our best men
have to commence life in such subordinate positions as that held by
Police-Constable Hobbs. As a swimmer he is no mean exponent, having been
for three years previous to leaving the old country champion and captain
of the Serpentine Swimming Club; as an athlete he had few equals, either
at quoits or the more active game of rounders. We certainly think the
attention of the authorities should be drawn—more particularly the Royal
Humane Society—to the meritorious conduct of this officer. True courage
and ability such as his call for more than the usual perfunctory meed of
thanks.
“As to the crime itself, we have no further development to make public.
Speculation is rife, and the police, as usual, are said to ‘have a clue.’
If so, they preserve a most frigid reticence on the point. During the
day the rear and front of the house have been surrounded by the customary
gaping crowd, and it has been found necessary to detail an additional
constable to preserve order in the neighbourhood. The inquest, which was
to have been held to-day, has been postponed until to-morrow to allow of
the more perfect recovery of Mrs. Booth.”
* * * * *
In consideration of his immersion in the harbour, P.-C. Hobbs was
allowed a day off from his duties, and he readily seized the opportunity
to pursue his investigations as to the origin of the crime.
The view of his wife, that the murder was not a woman’s murder, strongly
influenced him. He was further impressed in Mrs. Booth’s favour by the
fact that popular opinion, backed by Detective Dobell, generally
condemned her. Popular opinion, said Mr. Hobbs to himself, is an ass.
It sees no further than the end of its nose. Because the door was locked
and bolted, then, forsooth, the woman must be guilty. But would a guilty
person have so locked and bolted the door? Would they not rather have
left it open so as to admit others to suspicion, and not fastened it, and
suspicion too, on themselves? For the crime was premeditated, the knife
was not a common one, and must have been procured on purpose by some
person versed in anatomy. It was, in fact, more of a skewer than a
knife, such a skewer as is used in ham and beef shops to join together
the pieces of brisket.
That door unfastened would have meant the inclusion of the whole
household in the range of doubt—a sharing of the burden of suspicion that
would be comparatively light to bear. Of course, it was true that even
the cleverest criminals often committed the greatest blunders, and such
might be the case in the present instance. But was it not more
reasonable to suppose that the criminal had himself refastened the door;
the lock was a common one, and worked easily; a pair of pliers to grasp
it, with the help of a skeleton key, would have both unlocked and locked
it from the outside. Then there was the bolt. Certainly that was a
puzzle, but one that could be solved must be solved.
At any rate, he would go to Sydney and interview these boarders; and
David Israel, the clerk, his statement required sifting. It was a
curious accident if these two crimes were not in some way connected. He
found the first address in his pocket-book—
SCHNIDER BROTHERS,
CLARENCE STREET,
_Wholesale Importers of Jewellery and_
_Fancy Goods_.
A few minutes’ walk took him to Clarence Street, and in answer to his
inquiry he was promptly ushered into a back office, where two fair
gentlemen were seated at a huge desk.
“Are you the Messrs. Schnider?”
“Ve are,” said the elder, promptly turning round. “Vat can we have ze
pleasure of doing for you?”
“I am in the Police Department,” replied Mr. Hobbs, handing over his
card, “and I have called for such information as you can give relative to
the crime committed at your lodgings.”
“Ah! Dat vas vat I say to my brothers. Ve shall have some policemans
round to ask us shoost nothings at all.”
“Did you know much of Mr. and Mrs. Booth?”
“No; ve knows very little. Ve sees them zometimes at dinner; ve speak to
them English—ve love the language—but they not speak much to us, and they
speak the English very padly. They do not understand what you call the
idiom, so we get tired. Ve speak not much to them; ve fear to speak like
them. Ah, Sydney is bad for the English language. Not like in Shermany;
there they speak her particularly. I hear no good speaking in zis
country. They learn the English like some parrots, not like in Shermany,
vere ve learn at school. It is much shame to you.”
“Did you notice if Mr. and Mrs. Booth were friendly together? Did they
have disputes? Was she a good wife?
“Not so good vife as we have in Shermany. There the frau, she stop home
all ze day, do all ze work of ze home, and ze good man, when he have
dinner, go to the beer garden and drink twenty, thirty bock, and when he
come home a little bit what you call tipsy, the good frau she help him to
bed, and not say one little word. Not like as here, vere the vife goes
out to valk about half ze day. It was bad, very bad!”
“I am sorry to interrupt you, but what I wish to know is not about
Germany, but about this business of the murder. Have you any reason to
think Mrs. Booth had any ill-feeling towards her husband?”
“Ve know nothings, shoost nothings at all about zese peoples. They
speak, I tell you, the English very padly, not like as in Shermany.”
“Damn Shermany,” said P.-C. Hobbs to himself, as he promptly bowed
himself out. “They are either a pair of fools or a pair of rogues,
trying to bluff me with gammon.”
But he did not escape so quickly as he expected. After a hurried
consultation together, one of the partners stepped forward.
“Do not go for a little minute. This, I tink, is the first time zat you
see our store. We always like to make some little present to our new
friends. Come zis vay. Come zis vay.” And the German led the way to the
back premises, where on numerous shelves a host of packets and cardboard
boxes were stored, having for the most part fastened on the outside a
sample of the goods within. With much preliminary graciousness the
merchant went to a small box and produced a common wooden pipe, worth,
perhaps, twopence, and, presenting it to Mr. Hobbs, he said—
“You will keep that, my friend. It is vat you call ze keepsake. That is
vone good pipe—vone very good pipe; same as they smoke in Shermany. If
you will show zat pipe to your friends it shall do us some good in the
pisiness!”
Pocketing the present, the constable made his way out.
“Now for the third man, the acknowledged friend of Mrs. Booth—Professor
Norris, Park Street, is the address, I think. Yes, it is Park Street.”
The shop was easily found, a small narrow-windowed place with this sign
written in large letters across the front—
PROFESSOR NORRIS, SCIENTIFIC
FOOTIST.
THE PAST, THE PRESENT, THE FUTURE.
Characters Delineated by the Marvellous Science—The
Discovery of Professor Norris—The Secret of Life Long
Hidden Under Foot Now First Revealed. Phrenology,
Physiognomy, and Palmistry Entirely Superseded by
the Up-to-date Science, Footology.
“Man, Know Your Feet.”
Do not Waste Your Old Boots, but Send One Along
with Five Shillings in Stamps for Full Character Chart.
The greater part of this window was occupied by a mammoth foot in plaster
of Paris, and P.-C. Hobbs regarded it curiously. A large bump, like a
bunion, on the big toe, was marked, “Mount of Venus.” A zigzag track down
the instep, looking like the plan of the river Murray, as seen on maps,
was designated, “Line of Life.”
“What humbug will they be up to next?” exclaimed Hobbs, as he regarded
this curiosity.
In answer to his inquiry the attendant at the counter informed him that
the Professor had not arrived that day, and had sent a message saying he
should not come till the next morning.
“An important engagement, no doubt,” added the speaker. “The Professor
is often summoned to attend some of the highest families.”
“To read their feet?”
“Of course. You see, it’s all the rage now. The foot, unlike the hand,
is not distorted by work and hard wear. Being used solely to tread with,
it retains all Nature’s revelations in their pristine purity. Fortunes
are constantly made by those who are wise enough to consult the future in
their feet, and in love and matrimony none should be without their
guidance. Shall I make an appointment with you to meet the
Professor—your feet appear to be really interesting? The Professor loves
his work, and I am sure he would be pleased to see you.”
“No, thank you, young man. I called on other matters. Perhaps I can
find your master at his private address. Good-day.”