MR THOMPSON INVESTIGATES
The Pavilion burglary was discussed in other places besides Charteris'
study. In the Masters' Common Room the matter came in for its full
share of comment. The masters were, as at most schools, divided into
the athletic and non-athletic, and it was for the former class that the
matter possessed most interest. If it had been that apple of the
College Library's eye, the original MS. of St Austin's private diary,
or even that lesser treasure, the black-letter Eucalyptides, that had
disappeared, the elder portion of the staff would have had a great deal
to say upon the subject. But, apart from the excitement caused by the
strangeness of such an occurrence, the theft of a couple of Sports
prizes had little interest for them.
On the border-line between these two castes came Mr Thompson, the
Master of the Sixth Form, spelt with a _p_ and no relation to the
genial James or the amiable Allen, with the former of whom, indeed, he
was on very indifferent terms of friendship. Mr Thompson, though an
excellent classic, had no knowledge of the inwardness of the Human Boy.
He expected every member of his form not only to be earnest--which very
few members of a Sixth Form are--but also to communicate his innermost
thoughts to him. His aim was to be their confidant, the wise friend to
whom they were to bring their troubles and come for advice. He was, in
fact, poor man, the good young master. Now, it is generally the case at
school that troubles are things to be worried through alone, and any
attempt at interference is usually resented. Mr Thompson had asked Jim
to tea, and, while in the very act of passing him the muffins, had
embarked on a sort of unofficial sermon, winding up by inviting
confidences. Jim had naturally been first flippant, and then rude, and
relations had been strained ever since.
'It must have been a professional,' alleged Perkins, the master of the
Upper Fourth. 'If it hadn't been for the fact of the money having been
stolen as well as the cups, I should have put it down to one of our
fellows.'
'My dear Perkins,' expostulated Merevale.
'My dear Merevale, my entire form is capable of any crime except the
theft of money. A boy might have taken the cups for a joke, or just for
the excitement of the thing, meaning to return them in time for the
Sports. But the two pounds knocks that on the head. It must have been a
professional.'
'I always said that the Pavilion was a very unsafe place in which to
keep anything of value,' said Mr Thompson.
'You were profoundly right, Thompson,' replied Perkins. 'You deserve a
diploma.'
'This business is rather in your line, Thompson,' said Merevale. 'You
must bring your powers to bear on the subject, and scent out the
criminal.'
Mr Thompson took a keen pride in his powers of observation. He would
frequently observe, like the lamented Sherlock Holmes, the vital
necessity of taking notice of trifles. The daily life of a Sixth Form
master at a big public school does not afford much scope for the
practice of the detective art, but Mr Thompson had once detected a
piece of cribbing, when correcting some Latin proses for the master of
the Lower Third, solely by the exercise of his powers of observation,
and he had never forgotten it. He burned to add another scalp to his
collection, and this Pavilion burglary seemed peculiarly suited to his
talents. He had given the matter his attention, and, as far as he could
see, everything pointed to the fact that skilled hands had been at
work.
From eleven until half-past twelve that day, the Sixth were doing an
unseen examination under the eye of the Headmaster, and Mr Thompson was
consequently off duty. He took advantage of this to stroll down to the
Pavilion and make a personal inspection of the first room, from which
what were left of the prizes had long been removed to a place of
safety.
He was making his way to the place where the ground-man was usually to
be found, with a view to obtaining the keys, when he noticed that the
door was already open, and on going thither he came upon Biffen, the
ground-man, in earnest conversation with a stranger.
'Morning, sir,' said the ground-man. He was on speaking terms with most
of the masters and all the boys. Then, to his companion, 'This is Mr
Thompson, one of our masters.'
'Morning, sir,' said the latter. 'Weather keeps up. I am Inspector
Roberts, Scotland Yard. But I think we're in for rain soon. Yes. 'Fraid
so. Been asked to look into this business, Mr Thompson. Queer
business.'
'Very. Might I ask--I am very interested in this kind of thing--whether
you have arrived at any conclusions yet?'
The detective eyed him thoughtfully, as if he were hunting for the
answer to a riddle.
'No. Not yet. Nothing definite.'
'I presume you take it for granted it was the work of a professional
burglar.'
'No. No. Take nothing for granted. Great mistake. Prejudices one way or
other great mistake. But, I think, yes, I think it was probably--almost
certainly--_not_ done by a professional.'
Mr Thompson looked rather blank at this. It shook his confidence in his
powers of deduction.
'But,' he expostulated. 'Surely no one but a practised burglar would
have taken a pane of glass out so--ah--neatly?'
Inspector Roberts rubbed a finger thoughtfully round the place where
the glass had been. Then he withdrew it, and showed a small cut from
which the blood was beginning to drip.
'Do you notice anything peculiar about that cut?' he enquired.
Mr Thompson did not. Nor did the ground-man.
'Look carefully. Now do you see? No? Well, it's not a clean cut.
Ragged. Very ragged. Now if a professional had cut that pane out he
wouldn't have left it jagged like that. No. He would have used a
diamond. Done job neatly.'
This destroyed another of Mr Thompson's premises. He had taken it for
granted that a diamond had been used.
'Oh!' he said, 'was that pane not cut by a diamond; what did the
burglar use, then?'
'No. No diamond. Diamond would have left smooth surface. Smooth as a
razor edge. This is like a saw. Amateurish work. Can't say for certain,
but probably done with a chisel.'
'With a chisel? Surely not.'
'Yes. Probably with a chisel. Probably the man knocked the pane out
with one blow, then removed all the glass so as to make it look like
the work of an old hand. Very good idea, but amateurish. I am told that
three cups have been taken. Could you tell me how long they had been in
the Pavilion?'
Mr Thompson considered.
'Well,' he said. 'Of course it's difficult to remember exactly, but I
think they were placed there soon after one o'clock the day before
yesterday.'
'Ah! And the robbery took place yesterday in the early morning, or the
night before?'
'Yes.'
'Is the Pavilion the usual place to keep the prizes for the Sports?'
'No, it is not. They were only put there temporarily. The Board Room,
where they are usually kept, and which is in the main buildings of the
School, happened to be needed until the next day. Most of us were very
much against leaving them in the Pavilion, but it was thought that no
harm could come to them if they were removed next day.'
'But they were removed that night, which made a great difference,' said
Mr Roberts, chuckling at his mild joke. 'I see. Then I suppose none
outside the School knew that they were not in their proper place?'
'I imagine not.'
'Just so. Knocks the idea of professional work on the head. None of the
regular trade can have known this room held so much silver for one
night. No regular would look twice at a cricket pavilion under ordinary
circumstances. Therefore, it must have been somebody who had something
to do with the School. One of the boys, perhaps.'
'Really, I do not think that probable.'
'You can't tell. Never does to form hasty conclusions. Boy might have
done it for many reasons. Some boys would have done it for the sake of
the excitement. That, perhaps, is the least possible explanation. But
you get boy kleptomaniacs just as much in proportion as grown-up
kleptomaniacs. I knew a man. Had a son. Couldn't keep him away from
anything valuable. Had to take him away in a hurry from three schools,
good schools, too.'
'Really? What became of him? He did not come to us, I suppose?'
'No. Somebody advised the father to send him to one of those
North-Country schools where they flog. Great success. Stole some money.
Got flogged, instead of expelled. Did it again with same result.
Gradually got tired of it. Reformed character now.... I don't say it is
a boy, mind you. Most probably not. Only say it may be.'
All the while he was talking, his eyes were moving restlessly round the
room. He came to the window through which Jim had effected his
entrance, and paused before the broken pane.
'I suppose he tried that window first, before going round to the
other?' hazarded Mr Thompson.
'Yes. Most probably. Broke it, and then remembered that anyone at the
windows of the boarding Houses might see him, so left his job half
done, and shifted his point of action. I think so. Yes.'
He moved on again till he came to the other window. Then he gave vent
to an excited exclamation, and picked up a piece of caked mud from the
sill as carefully as if it were some fragile treasure.
'Now, see this,' he said. 'This was wet when the robbery was done. The
man brought it in with him. On his boot. Left it on the sill as he
climbed in. Got out in a hurry, startled by something--you can see he
was startled and left in a hurry from the different values of the cups
he took--and as he was going, put his hand on this. Left a clear
impression. Good as plaster of Paris very nearly.'
Mr Thompson looked at the piece of mud, and there, sure enough, was the
distinct imprint of the palm of a hand. He could see the larger of the
lines quite clearly, and under a magnifying-glass there was no doubt
that more could be revealed.
He drew in a long breath of satisfaction and excitement.
'Yes,' said the detective. 'That piece of mud couldn't prove anything
by itself, but bring it up at the end of a long string of evidence, and
if it fits your man, it convicts him as much as a snap-shot photograph
would. Morning, sir. I must be going.' And he retired, carrying the
piece of mud in his hand, leaving Mr Thompson in the full grip of the
detective-fever, hunting with might and main for more clues.
After some time, however, he was reluctantly compelled to give up the
search, for the bell rang for dinner, and he always lunched, as did
many of the masters, in the Great Hall. During the course of the meal
he exercised his brains without pause in the effort to discover a
fitting suspect. Did he know of any victim of kleptomania in the
School? No, he was sorry to say he did not. Was anybody in urgent need
of money? He could not say. Very probably yes, but he had no means of
knowing.
After lunch he went back to the Common Room. There was a letter lying
on the table. He picked it up. It was addressed to 'J. Thomson, St
Austin's.' Now Mr Thompson's Christian name was John. He did not notice
the omission of the _p_ until he had opened the envelope and
caught a glimpse of the contents. The letter was so short that only a
glimpse was needed, and it was not till he had read the whole that he
realised that it was somebody else's letter that he had opened.
This was the letter:
'Dear Jim--Frantic haste. Can you let me have that two pounds directly
you come back? Beg, borrow, or steal it. I simply must have it.--Yours
ever,
Allen.'