All business London, and a good many other people besides, must remember
the famous United Empire Bank Fraud. Bonds had been stolen and
negotiated, vast sums of money were discovered to be missing, and the
manager and one of the directors were absent also. So cleverly had the
affair been worked, and so flaring were the defalcations, that had it
not been for the public-spirited behaviour and generosity of two of the
directors, the position of the bank would have been most seriously
compromised, if not shattered altogether. How the culprits had managed
to slip through the fingers of the law in the first place no one could
say, but the fact remains that they were able to get out of England,
without, apparently, leaving a trace of their intentions or their
whereabouts behind them. Scotland Yard took the matter up with its usual
promptness, and at first were confident of success. They set their
cleverest detectives to work upon it, and it was not until more than a
month had elapsed that the men engaged were compelled most reluctantly
to admit their defeat. They had done their best: it was the system under
which they worked that was to blame. In the detection of crime, or in
the tracing of a criminal, it is best, as in every other walk of life,
to be original.
One morning on arriving at my office I found a letter awaiting me from
the remaining directors of the bank, in which they inquired if I could
make it convenient to call upon them at the head-office that day. To
tell the truth I had been expecting this summons for nearly a week, and
was far from being displeased when it came. The work I had expected them
to offer me was after my own heart, and if they would only trust the
business to me and give me a free hand, I was prepared on my part to
bring the missing gentlemen to justice.
Needless to say I called upon them at the hour specified, and after a
brief wait was conducted to the board room where the directors sat in
solemn conclave.
The chairman, Sir Walter Bracebridge, received me on behalf of his
colleagues.
"We wrote to you, Mr. Fairfax," he said, "in order to find out whether
you could help us concerning the difficulty in which we find ourselves
placed. You of course are aware of the serious trouble the bank has
experienced, and of the terrible consequences which have resulted
therefrom?"
I admitted that I was quite conversant with it, and waited to hear what
he would have to say next.
"As a matter of fact," he continued, "we have sent for you to know
whether you can offer us any assistance in our hour of difficulty? Pray
take a chair, and let us talk the matter over and see what conclusion we
can arrive at."
I seated myself, and we discussed the affair to such good purpose that,
when I left the Boardroom, it was on the understanding that I was to
take up the case at once, and that my expenses and a very large sum of
money should be paid me, provided I could manage to bring the affair to
a successful termination. I spent the remainder of that day at the Bank,
carefully studying the various memoranda. A great deal of what I had
read and heard had been mere hearsay, and this it was necessary to
discard in order that the real facts of the case might be taken up, and
the proper conclusions drawn therefrom. For three days I weighed the
case carefully in my mind, and at the end of that time was in a position
to give the Board a definite answer to their inquiries. Thereupon I left
England, with the result that exactly twelve weeks later the two men, so
much wanted, were at Bow Street, and I had the proud knowledge of
knowing that I had succeeded where the men who had tried before me had
so distinctly failed.
As will be remembered, it was a case that interested every class of
society, and Press and Public were alike united in the interest they
showed in it. It is not, however, to the trial itself as much as another
curious circumstance connected with it, that has induced me to refer to
it here. The case had passed from the Magistrate's Court to the Old
Bailey, and was hourly increasing in interest. Day after day the Court
was crowded to overflowing, and, when the time came for me to take my
place in the witness-box and describe the manner in which I had led up
to and effected the capture of the offenders, the excitement rose to
fever-heat. I can see the whole scene now as plainly as if it had
occurred but yesterday; the learned Judge upon the Bench, the jury in
their box, the rows of Counsels, and the benches full of interested
spectators. I gave my evidence and was examined by the Counsels for the
prosecution and for the defence. I described how I had traced the men
from England to their hiding-place abroad, and the various attempts that
had been made to prevent their extradition, and had just referred to a
certain statement one of the prisoners had made to me soon after his
arrest, when an interruption caused me to look behind at the rows of
spectators. At the further end of the bench, nearest me, were two men;
one was evidently tall, the other very short. The taller was the
possessor of silvery white hair and a long and venerable beard. He was a
handsome looking man of about forty, and my first glance at him told me
that he was blind. As I have said, his companion was a much smaller man,
with a smooth, almost boyish face, a pair of twinkling eyes, but a mouth
rather hard set. Both were evidently following the case closely, and
when on the next day I saw that they were in the same place, I took an
even greater interest in them than before. It was not however until the
trial had finished and the pair of miserable men had been sent to penal
servitude for a lengthy term of years, that I made the acquaintance of
the men I have just described. I remember the circumstance quite
distinctly. I had left the Court and was proceeding down the Old Bailey
in the direction of Ludgate Hill, when I heard my name pronounced.
Turning round I discovered to my astonishment the two men I had seen in
the Court, and who had seemed to take such an interest in the case. The
smaller was guiding his friend along the crowded pavement with a
dexterity that was plainly the outcome of a long practice. When I
stopped, they stopped also, and the blind man addressed me. His voice
was deep and had a note of pathos in it impossible to describe. It may
have been that I was a little sad that afternoon, for both the men who
had been condemned to penal servitude had wives and children, to whose
pitiful condition the learned Judge had referred when passing sentence.
"You are Mr. Fairfax, are you not?" inquired the taller of the men.
"That is my name," I admitted. "What can I do for you?"
"If we could persuade you to vouchsafe us an hour of your valuable time
we should be more grateful than we could say," the man replied. "We have
an important piece of business which it might possibly be to your
advantage to take up. At any rate it would be worthy of your
consideration."
"But why have you not come to me before?" I inquired. "You have seen me
in Court every day. Why do you wait until the case is at an end?"
"Because we wanted to be quite sure of you," he answered. "Our case is
so large and of such vital importance to us, that we did not desire to
run any risk of losing you. We thought we would wait and familiarize
ourselves with all that you have done in this affair before coming to
you. Now we are satisfied that we could not place our case in better
hands, and what we are anxious to do is to induce you to interest
yourself in it and take it up."
"You pay me a very high compliment," I said, "but I cannot give you a
decision at once. I must hear what it is that you want me to do and have
time to think it over, before I can answer you. That is my invariable
rule, and I never depart from it. Do you know my office?"
"We know it perfectly," returned the blind man. "It would be strange if
we did not, seeing that we have stood outside it repeatedly, trying to
summon up courage to enter. Would it be possible for you to grant us an
interview to-night?"
"I fear not," I said. "I am tired, and stand in need of rest. If you
care to come to-morrow morning, I shall be very pleased to see you. But
you must bear in mind the fact that my time is valuable, and that it is
only a certain class of case that I care to take up personally."
"We are not afraid of our case," the man replied. "I doubt if there has
ever been another like it. I fancy you yourself will say so when you
hear the evidence I have to offer. It is not as if we are destitute. We
are prepared to pay you well for your services, but we must have the
very best that England can supply."
My readers must remember that this conversation was being carried on at
the corner of Ludgate Hill and the Old Bailey. Curious glances were
being thrown at my companions by passers-by, and so vehement were the
taller man's utterances becoming, that a small crowd was gradually
collecting in our neighbourhood.
"Very well," I said, "if you are really desirous of consulting me, I
shall be very glad to see you at my office at ten o'clock to-morrow
morning. I must ask you, however, not to be late, as I have several
other appointments."
"We shall not be late," the man answered, "you may rely upon that. We
have too much at stake to run any risks of losing your assistance. We
will be with you to-morrow morning at ten o'clock punctually."
He thereupon bade me good-bye and raising his hat politely was led along
the street by his companion in an opposite direction to that I was
taking. They seemed delighted that I had given them an appointment, but
for my part I am afraid I was too absorbed by the memories of the day,
and the punishment that had been allotted to the two principal members
in the swindle, to think very much of them and their business. Indeed,
although I made a note of the appointment, it was not until I had
arrived at the office on the following morning that I recollected their
promised visit. I had just finished my correspondence, and had dictated
a few letters to my managing clerk, when a junior entered with two
cards, which he placed before me. The first I took up bore the name of
Mr. Septimus Codd, that of the second, Mr. George Kitwater. When I had
finished the letter I was in the act of dictating, I bade the clerk
admit them, and a moment later the blind man and his companion whom I
had seen on Ludgate Hill the previous evening, were ushered into my
presence. I cannot remember a more venerable appearance than that
presented by the taller man. His was a personality that would have
appealed forcibly to any student of humanity. It was decidedly an open
countenance, to which the long white beard that descended almost to his
waist gave an added reverence. His head was well shaped and well set
upon his shoulders, his height was six feet two if an inch, and he
carried himself with the erectness of a man accustomed to an outdoor
life. He was well dressed, and for this reason I surmised that he was
the possessor of good manners. His companion was as much below the
middle height as he was above it. His was a peculiar countenance
resembling that of a boy when seen at a distance, and that of an old man
when one was close to him. His eyes, as I have already said, were small,
and they were set deep in his head. This, in itself, was calculated to
add to his peculiar appearance. He steered his blind companion into the
room and placed him in a seat. Then he perched himself on a chair beside
him and waited for me to open the debate.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," I said. "Allow me to congratulate you on your
punctuality."
"We were afraid of missing you," observed Kitwater. "Our business is so
particular that we did not want to run any risk of losing our
appointment."
"Perhaps you will now be good enough to tell me what that business is?"
I replied, taking my note-book out of a drawer preparatory to writing
down what they had to say.
"In the first place, sir," the man began, "we of course understand that
everything we have to tell you will be regarded by you as strictly
private and confidential?"
"That goes without saying," I replied. "If I were to divulge what my
clients tell me, my business would not be worth a day's purchase. You
can rest assured that everything you may impart to me will be treated in
strictest confidence."
"We thank you," said Kitwater. "The story I have to tell you is perhaps
the strangest that has ever been told to mortal man. To begin with, you
must understand that my companion and myself have but lately arrived in
England. We have been for many years missionaries in China, sowing the
good seed in the Western Provinces. I do not know whether you have ever
visited that country, but even if you have not you must be aware to some
extent of the dangers to which our calling is subjected. We carry our
lives in our hands from the moment we leave civilization until we enter
it again. There are times, however, that compensate one for all the
trials that have to be undergone."
"You must excuse me," I said, "if I remind you that my time is valuable,
and that, however interested I may be in the missionary work of China, I
cannot allow it to interfere with my business. The sooner you tell me in
what way you want me to help you, the sooner I shall be able to give you
the answer you are seeking."
"I must implore your pardon," the man continued, humbly enough, "I am
afraid our calling, however, is apt to make us a trifle verbose. If you
will allow me, I will put what I have to say in as few words as
possible."
I bowed and signed to him to proceed.
"Our case is as follows," he began. "As I have told you, we have been in
China for several years, and during that time we have had the good
fortune to enroll not a few well-known names among our converts. To make
a long story short, we were so successful as to be able to persuade even
the Mandarin of the Province to listen to our message. He was an
enormously rich man, one of the richest perhaps in China, and was so
impressed by the good news we brought to him that, on his death-bed, he
left to us for the benefit of the mission all his wealth, in gold,
silver, and precious stones. It was a princely legacy, and one that
would have enabled us to carry on our mission with such success as we
had never before dreamed of."
"But if you were so lucky and so much in love with your profession, how
does it come about that you are in England now?" I inquired.
"I will tell you why," he answered, leaning towards me and tapping with
his fingers upon the edge of my writing-table. "It is a sad story, and
the mere telling of it causes me more pain than you would believe. You
must understand that at the time of the Mandarin's death an English
traveller, who had been passing through the Western Provinces, reached
our city and took up his abode with us. Needless to say we were
overwhelmed with grief at the loss of our patron. The treasure he had
presented us with we took to the mission and deposited it in a safe
place. We had no suspicion of any sort of treachery. I fear my companion
and I are not men of the world, that is to say we do not go about
suspecting evil of our neighbours."
"I think I understand," I said. "You brought the treasure home, put it
in what you considered a safe place, and one day awoke to find your
estimable guest missing and the treasure gone with him. Have I guessed
correctly?"
"You have hit the mark exactly," Kitwater replied. "We woke one day not
only to find the treasure gone, but also ourselves and our mission
seriously compromised. The relations of the dead man not only accused us
of having alienated him from the faith of his forefathers, but also of
having robbed him of his ancestral treasure. We could not but admit that
we had been presented with the wealth in question, and when it was
demanded of us, we could only explain that we had lost it in our turn.
You can imagine the position for yourself. At the best of times the
foreigner is not popular in China, and our situation was particularly
unpleasant. Situated as we were in one of the wildest portions of the
empire, and accused of the basest sacrilege, that is to say of violating
the home of a dead man, we could hope for but small mercy. The man who
had robbed us had entirely disappeared and no trace of him could be
discovered. To attempt to offer any explanation, or to incriminate him,
was out of the question. We could only suffer in silence."
He paused and heaved a heavy sigh.
"And what form did your punishment take?" I inquired, for I was
beginning to be interested in their story.
"Can you not see for yourself?" the man answered. "Can you not see that
I am blind, while my companion is dumb? That was what they condemned us
to. By that man's villainy I am destined never to look upon God's earth
again, while my companion will never be able to converse with his
fellow-men, except by signs. We are in the world, yet out of it."
I looked at them both in amazement. Their tale seemed too terrible to be
true. And yet I had the best of evidence to show that it was correct.
"And why have you come to me? What do you want me to do? I cannot give
you back your sight, nor your friend his power of speech."
"But you can help us to find the man who brought this misery upon us,"
Kitwater replied. "That is what we have come to ask of you. He must not
be permitted to enjoy the wealth he stole from us. It is sacred to a
special duty, and that duty it must perform. We are not overburdened
with riches, in fact we are dependent upon the bounty of another, but
if you can help us to recover the sum that was stolen from us, we will
gladly pay whatever you may ask! We cannot say more than that."
"But this is a most unheard-of request," I said. "How do you know where
the man may be at this moment?"
"We do not know, or we should scarcely have asked your assistance,"
Kitwater replied with some show of reason. "It is because we have heard
of your wonderful powers in tracing people that we have come to you. Our
only cause for attending the trial at which you saw us was to hear the
evidence you gave and to draw our own conclusions from it. That those
conclusions were complimentary to you, our presence here is evidence of.
We know that we could not put our case in better hands, and we will
leave it with you to say whether or not you will help us. As I said just
now, my companion is dumb, while I am blind; we cannot do much
ourselves. Will you not take pity upon us and help us to find the man
who betrayed and ruined us?"
"But he may be at the other end of the world at this moment?" I said.
"That does not matter," he returned. "We know that wherever he may be,
you will find him. All we ask you to do is to bring us face to face with
him. We will manage the rest. It will be strange then if we are not able
to get him to a proper way of thinking."
This was the most unusual case I had had to do with, and for the moment
I scarcely knew what to say. I turned to the blind man once more.
"Have you any idea where the man went after he robbed you?"
"He crossed the province of Yunnan into Burmah," he replied. "After that
he made his way through Mandalay to Rangoon, and shipped on board the
steamer _Jemadar_ for London."
"When did the _Jemadar_ reach London?"
"On the twenty-third of June," he answered. "We have made inquiries upon
that point."
I made a note of this and then continued my inquiries.
"One other question," I said. "While we are on the subject, what do you
suppose would be the total value of the treasure of which he
robbed you?"
"That is very difficult to say," Kitwater replied, and then turned to
his companion and held out his hand. The other took it and tapped upon
the palm with the tips of his fingers in a sort of dot-and-telegraph
fashion that I had never seen used before.
"My friend says that there were ninety-three stones, all rubies and
sapphires; they were of exquisite lustre and extraordinary size.
Possibly they might have been worth anything from a hundred and seventy
thousand pounds to a quarter of a million."
I opened my eyes on hearing this. Were the men telling me the truth? I
asked myself, or were they trying to interest me in the case by
exaggerating the value of the treasure?
"What you say is almost incomprehensible," I continued. "I trust you
will forgive me, but can you substantiate what you say?"
"When we say that we are willing to pay your expenses in advance if you
will try to find the man, I think we are giving you very good proof of
our _bona fides,_" he remarked. "I am afraid we cannot give you any
other, seeing as I have said, that we are both poor men. If you are
prepared to take up our case, we shall be under a life-long gratitude to
you, but if you cannot, we must endeavour to find some one else who will
undertake the task."
"It is impossible for me to decide now whether I can take it up or not,"
I said, leaning back in my chair and looking at them both as I spoke. "I
must have time to think it over; there are a hundred and one things to
be considered before I can give you a direct reply."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Kitwater, who had been
holding his usual mysterious communications with his friend, said--
"When do you think you will be able to let us have an answer?"
"That depends upon a variety of circumstances," I replied. "It is a
matter difficult to average. In the first place there is no knowing
where the man is at present: he may be in London; he may be in America;
he may be in any other portion of the globe. It might cost five hundred
pounds to find him, it might cost five thousand. You must see for
yourselves how uncertain it all is."
"In that case we should be prepared to give security for the first-named
amount, or pay you half in advance," Kitwater replied. "I hope you do
not think, Mr. Fairfax, that we are endeavouring to play you false? You
can see for yourself that our injuries are permanent, and, as far as
they go, are at least evidence concerning the truth of our story. You
can also see for yourself how this man has behaved towards us. He has
robbed us of all we hold valuable, and to his act of treachery we owe
the mutilations we have suffered. Can you wonder that we are anxious to
find him?"
"I do not wonder at that at all," I said. "My only feeling is that I
must regard it as an entirely business matter."
"We cannot blame you," Kitwater replied. "Yet you must surely understand
our anxiety for a definite and immediate answer. The man has had a
considerable start of us already, and he has doubtless disposed of the
jewels ere this. At whatever price he sold them, he must now be in
possession of a considerable fortune, which rightly belongs to us. We
are not vindictive men; all we ask is for our own."
"I quite agree with you there," I replied. "The only question in my mind
is, who shall get it for you? Let me explain matters a little more
clearly. In the first place I have no desire to offend you, but how am I
to know that the story you tell me is a true one?"
"I have already told you that you will have to take our word for that,"
he said. "It will be a great disappointment to us if you cannot take the
matter up, but we must bear it as we have borne our other misfortunes.
When we realized the way you managed those bank people we said to each
other--'That's the man for us! If any one can catch Hayle he's that
person.' It naturally comes to us as a disappointment to find that you
are not willing to take up the case."
"I have not said that I am not willing," I answered; "I only said that I
am not going to commit myself until I have given the matter due
consideration. If you will call here at four o'clock to-morrow
afternoon, I shall be able to give you a definite answer."
"I suppose we must be content with that," said Kitwater lugubriously.
They thereupon thanked me and rose to go.
"By the way," I said, "does this man Hayle know that you are in
England?"
The blind man shook his head.
"He thinks we are lying dead in the jungle," he said, "and it is not his
fault that we are not. Did he suspect for a moment that we were alive
and in the same country as himself, he'd be out of it like a rat driven
by a ferret from his hole. But if you will give us your assistance, sir,
we will make him aware of our presence before very long."
Though he tried to speak unconcernedly, there was an expression upon the
man's face that startled me. I felt that, blind though he was, I should
not care to be in Mr. Hayle's place when they should meet.
After they had left me I lit a cigar and began to think the matter over.
I had had a number of strange cases presented to me in my time, but
never one that had opened in such a fashion as this. A man robs his
friends in the centre of China; the latter are tortured and maimed for
life, and come to me in London to seek out their betrayer for them, in
whatever part of the globe he might be. The whole thing seemed so
preposterous as to be scarcely worth consideration, and yet, try how I
would to put it out of my mind, I found myself thinking of it
continually. The recollection of the blind man's face and that of his
dumb companion haunted me awake and asleep. More than once I determined
to have nothing to do with them, only later to change my mind, and vow
that I would see the matter through at any cost to myself.
Next morning, however, saner counsels prevailed. An exceedingly
remunerative offer was made me by a prominent Trust Company, which, at
any other time I should have had no hesitation in immediately
accepting. Fate, however, which is generally more responsible for these
matters than most folk imagine, had still a card to play upon Messrs.
Kitwater and Codd's behalf, and it was destined to overthrow all my
scruples, and what was more to ultimately revolutionize the conduct of
my whole life.