THE STRAND MAGAZINE
_An Illustrated Monthly_
EDITED BY GEORGE NEWNES
Vol VII., Issue 42.
June, 1894
[Illustration: "MIRSKY WAS STARING STRAIGHT AT ME."
(_See page 571._)]
_Martin Hewitt, Investigator._
BY ARTHUR MORRISON.
IV.--THE CASE OF THE DIXON TORPEDO.
Hewitt was very apt, in conversation, to dwell upon the many curious
chances and coincidences that he had observed, not only in connection
with his own cases, but also in matters dealt with by the official
police, with whom he was on terms of pretty regular and, indeed,
friendly acquaintanceship. He has told me many an anecdote of singular
happenings to Scotland Yard officials with whom he has exchanged
experiences. Of Inspector Nettings, for instance, who spent many weary
months in a search for a man wanted by the American Government, and in
the end found, by the merest accident (a misdirected call), that the
man had been lodging next door to himself the whole of the time; just
as ignorant, of course, as was the inspector himself as to the enemy at
the other side of the party-wall. Also of another inspector, whose name
I cannot recall, who, having been given rather meagre and insufficient
details of a man whom he anticipated having great difficulty in
finding, went straight down the stairs of the office where he had
received instructions, and actually _fell over_ the man near the door,
where he had stooped down to tie his shoe-lace! There were cases, too,
in which, when a great and notorious crime had been committed and
various persons had been arrested on suspicion, some were found among
them who had long been badly wanted for some other crime altogether.
Many criminals had met their deserts by venturing out of their own
particular line of crime into another: often a man who got into trouble
over something comparatively small, found himself in for a startlingly
larger trouble, the result of some previous misdeed that otherwise
would have gone unpunished. The rouble note-forger, Mirsky, might never
have been handed over to the Russian authorities had he confined his
genius to forgery alone. It was generally supposed at the time of his
extradition that he had communicated with the Russian Embassy, with a
view to giving himself up--a foolish proceeding on his part, it would
seem, since his whereabouts, indeed, even his identity as the forger,
had not been suspected. He _had_ communicated with the Russian Embassy,
it is true, but for quite a different purpose, as Martin Hewitt well
understood at the time. What that purpose was is now for the first time
published.
* * * * *
The time was half-past one in the afternoon, and Hewitt sat in his
inner office examining and comparing the handwriting of two letters by
the aid of a large lens. He put down the lens and glanced at the clock
on the mantelpiece with a premonition of lunch; and as he did so his
clerk quietly entered the room with one of those printed slips which
were kept for the announcement of unknown visitors. It was filled up in
a hasty and almost illegible hand thus:--
Name of visitor: _F. Graham Dixon_.
Address: _Chancery Lane_.
Business: _Private and urgent_.
"Show Mr. Dixon in," said Martin Hewitt.
Mr. Dixon was a gaunt, worn-looking man of fifty or so, well although
rather carelessly dressed, and carrying in his strong though drawn face
and dullish eyes the look that characterizes the life-long strenuous
brain-worker. He leaned forward anxiously in the chair which Hewitt
offered him, and told his story with a great deal of very natural
agitation.
"You may possibly have heard, Mr. Hewitt--I know there are rumours--of
the new locomotive torpedo which the Government is about adopting;
it is, in fact, the Dixon torpedo, my own invention; and in every
respect--not merely in my own opinion, but in that of the Government
experts--by far the most efficient and certain yet produced. It will
travel at least four hundred yards farther than any torpedo now made,
with perfect accuracy of aim (a very great desideratum, let me tell
you), and will carry an unprecedentedly heavy charge. There are other
advantages, speed, simple discharge, and so forth, that I needn't
bother you about. The machine is the result of many years of work and
disappointment, and its design has only been arrived at by a careful
balancing of principles and means, which are expressed on the only four
existing sets of drawings. The whole thing, I need hardly tell you, is
a profound secret, and you may judge of my present state of mind when I
tell you that one set of drawings has been stolen."
"From your house?"
"From my office, in Chancery Lane, this morning. The four sets of
drawings were distributed thus: Two were at the Admiralty Office,
one being a finished set on thick paper, and the other a set of
tracings therefrom; and the other two were at my own office, one
being a pencilled set, uncoloured--a sort of finished draft, you
understand--and the other a set of tracings similar to those at the
Admiralty. It is this last set that has gone. The two sets were kept
together in one drawer in my room. Both were there at ten this morning,
of that I am sure, for I had to go to that very drawer for something
else, when I first arrived. But at twelve the tracings had vanished."
"You suspect somebody, probably?"
"I cannot. It is a most extraordinary thing. Nobody has left the office
(except myself, and then only to come to you) since ten this morning,
and there has been no visitor. And yet the drawings are gone!"
"But have you searched the place?"
"Of course I have. It was twelve o'clock when I first discovered my
loss, and I have been turning the place upside down ever since--I and
my assistants. Every drawer has been emptied, every desk and table
turned over, the very carpet and linoleum have been taken up, but
there is not a sign of the drawings. My men even insisted on turning
all their pockets inside out, although I never for a moment suspected
either of them, and it would take a pretty big pocket to hold the
drawings, doubled up as small as they might be."
"You say your men--there are two, I understand--had neither left the
office?"
"Neither; and they are both staying in now. Worsfold suggested that it
would be more satisfactory if they did not leave till something was
done towards clearing the mystery up, and although, as I have said, I
don't suspect either in the least, I acquiesced."
"Just so. Now--I am assuming that you wish me to undertake the recovery
of these drawings?"
[Illustration: "YOU WISH ME TO UNDERTAKE THE RECOVERY OF THESE
DRAWINGS?"]
The engineer nodded hastily.
"Very good; I will go round to your office. But first perhaps you can
tell me something about your assistants; something it might be awkward
to tell me in their presence, you know. Mr. Worsfold, for instance?"
"He is my draughtsman--a very excellent and intelligent man, a very
smart man, indeed, and, I feel sure, quite beyond suspicion. He has
prepared many important drawings for me (he has been with me nearly ten
years now), and I have always found him trustworthy. But, of course,
the temptation in this case would be enormous. Still, I cannot suspect
Worsfold. Indeed, how can I suspect anybody in the circumstances?"
"The other, now?"
"His name's Ritter. He is merely a tracer, not a fully skilled
draughtsman. He is quite a decent young fellow, and I have had him
two years. I don't consider him particularly smart, or he would have
learned a little more of his business by this time. But I don't see
the least reason to suspect him. As I said before, I can't reasonably
suspect anybody."
"Very well; we will get to Chancery Lane now, if you please, and you
can tell me more as we go."
"I have a cab waiting. What else can I tell you?"
"I understand the position to be succinctly this: the drawings were in
the office when you arrived. Nobody came out, and nobody went in; and
_yet_ they vanished. Is that so?"
"That is so. When I say that absolutely nobody came in, of course I
except the postman. He brought a couple of letters during the morning.
I mean that absolutely nobody came past the barrier in the outer
office--the usual thing, you know, like a counter, with a frame of
ground glass over it."
"I quite understand that. But I think you said that the drawings
were in a drawer in your _own_ room--not the outer office, where the
draughtsmen are, I presume?"
"That is the case. It is an inner room, or, rather, a room parallel
with the other, and communicating with it; just as your own room is,
which we have just left."
"But then, you say you never left your office, and yet the drawings
vanished--apparently by some unseen agency--while you were there, in
the room?"
"Let me explain more clearly." The cab was bowling smoothly along
the Strand, and the engineer took out a pocket-book and pencil. "I
fear," he proceeded, "that I am a little confused in my explanation--I
am naturally rather agitated. As you will see presently, my offices
consist of three rooms, two at one side of a corridor, and the other
opposite: thus." He made a rapid pencil sketch.
[Illustration]
"In the outer office my men usually work. In the inner office I work
myself. These rooms communicate, as you see, by a door. Our ordinary
way in and out of the place is by the door of the outer office leading
into the corridor, and we first pass through the usual lifting flap in
the barrier. The door leading from the _inner_ office to the corridor
is always kept locked on the inside, and I don't suppose I unlock it
once in three months. It has not been unlocked all the morning. The
drawer in which the missing drawings were kept, and in which I saw them
at ten o'clock this morning, is at the place marked D--it is a large
chest of shallow drawers, in which the plans lie flat."
"I quite understand. Then there is the private room opposite. What of
that?"
"That is a sort of private sitting-room that I rarely use, except for
business interviews of a very private nature. When I said I never
left my office I did not mean that I never stirred out of the inner
office. I was about in one room and another, both the outer and the
inner offices, and once I went into the private room for five minutes,
but nobody came either in or out of any of the rooms at that time, for
the door of the private room was wide open and I was standing at the
book-case (I had gone to consult a book), just inside the door, with a
full view of the doors opposite. Indeed, Worsfold was at the door of
the outer office most of the short time. He came to ask me a question."
"Well," Hewitt replied, "it all comes to the simple first statement.
You know that nobody left the place or arrived, except the postman, who
couldn't get near the drawings, and yet the drawings went. Is this your
office?"
The cab had stopped before a large stone building. Mr. Dixon alighted
and led the way to the first floor. Hewitt took a casual glance round
each of the three rooms. There was a sort of door in the frame of
ground glass over the barrier, to admit of speech with visitors. This
door Hewitt pushed wide open, and left so.
He and the engineer went into the inner office. "Would you like to ask
Worsfold and Ritter any questions?" Mr. Dixon inquired.
"Presently. Those are their coats, I take it, hanging just to the right
of the outer office door, over the umbrella stand?"
"Yes, those are all their things--coats, hats, stick, and umbrella."
"And those coats were searched, you say?"
"Yes."
"And this is the drawer--thoroughly searched, of course?"
"Oh, certainly, every drawer was taken out and turned over."
"Well, of course, I must assume you made no mistake in your hunt. Now
tell me, did anybody know where these plans were, beyond yourself and
your two men?"
[Illustration: "I WAS STANDING AT THE BOOKCASE."]
"As far as I can tell, not a soul."
"You don't keep an office-boy?"
"No. There would be nothing for him to do except to post a letter now
and again, which Ritter does quite well for."
"As you are quite sure that the drawings were there at ten o'clock,
perhaps the thing scarcely matters. But I may as well know if your men
have keys of the office?"
"Neither. I have patent locks to each door and I keep all the keys
myself. If Worsfold or Ritter arrive before me in the morning, they
have to wait to be let in; and I am always present myself when the
rooms are cleaned. I have not neglected precautions, you see."
"No. I suppose the object of the theft--assuming it is a theft--is
pretty plain: the thief would offer the drawings for sale to some
foreign Government?"
"Of course. They would probably command a great sum. I have been
looking, as I need hardly tell you, to that invention to secure me a
very large fortune, and I shall be ruined, indeed, if the design is
taken abroad. I am under the strictest engagements to secrecy with the
Admiralty, and not only should I lose all my labour, but I should lose
all the confidence reposed in me at headquarters should, in fact, be
subject to penalties for breach of contract, and my career stopped for
ever. I cannot tell you what a serious business this is for me. If you
cannot help me, the consequences will be terrible. Bad for the service
of the country, too, of course."
"Of course. Now tell me this. It would, I take it, be necessary for
the thief to _exhibit_ these drawings to anybody anxious to buy the
secret--I mean, he couldn't describe the invention by word of mouth?"
"Oh, no, that would be impossible. The drawings are of the most
complicated description, and full of figures upon which the whole
thing depends. Indeed, one would have to be a skilled expert properly
to appreciate the design at all. Various principles of hydrostatics,
chemistry, electricity, and pneumatics are most delicately manipulated
and adjusted, and the smallest error or omission in any part would
upset the whole. No, the drawings are necessary to the thing, and they
are gone."
At this moment the door of the outer office was heard to open, and
somebody entered. The door between the two offices was ajar, and Hewitt
could see right through to the glass door left open over the barrier,
and into the space beyond. A well-dressed, dark, bushy-bearded man
stood there carrying a hand-bag, which he placed on the ledge before
him. Hewitt raised his hand to enjoin silence. The man spoke in a
rather high-pitched voice and with a slight accent. "Is Mr. Dixon now
within?" he asked.
"He is engaged," answered one of the draughtsmen; "very particularly
engaged. I'm afraid you won't be able to see him this afternoon. Can I
give him any message?"
"This is two--the second time I have come to-day. Not two hours ago Mr.
Dixon himself tells me to call again. I have a very important--very
excellent steam-packing to show him that is very cheap and the best of
the market." The man tapped his bag. "I have just taken orders from the
largest railway companies. Cannot I see him, for one second only? I
will not detain him."
"Really, I'm sure you can't this afternoon--he isn't seeing anybody.
But if you'll leave your name----"
"My name is Hunter; but what the good of that? He ask me to call a
little later and I come, and now he is engaged. It is a very great
pity." And the man snatched up his bag and walking-stick and stalked
off indignantly.
Hewitt stood still, gazing through the small aperture in the doorway.
"You'd scarcely expect a man with such a name as Hunter to talk with
that accent, would you?" he observed, musingly. "It isn't a French
accent, nor a German; but it seems foreign. You don't happen to know
him, I suppose?"
"No, I don't. He called here about half-past twelve, just while we
were in the middle of our search and I was frantic over the loss of
the drawings. I was in the outer office myself, and told him to call
later. I have lots of such agents here, anxious to sell all sorts of
engineering appliances. But what will you do now? Shall you see my men?"
"I think," said Hewitt, rising, "I think I'll get you to question them
yourself."
"Myself?"
"Yes, I have a reason. Will you trust me with the key of the private
room opposite? I will go over there for a little, while you talk to
your men in this room. Bring them in here and shut the door--I can look
after the office from across the corridor, you know. Ask them each to
detail his exact movements about the office this morning, and get them
to recall each visitor who has been here from the beginning of the
week. I'll let you know the reason of this later. Come across to me in
a few minutes."
Hewitt took the key and passed through the outer office into the
corridor.
Ten minutes later, Mr. Dixon, having questioned his draughtsmen,
followed him. He found Hewitt standing before the table in the private
room, on which lay several drawings on tracing-paper.
"See here, Mr. Dixon," said Hewitt, "I think these are the drawings you
are anxious about?"
[Illustration: "MY NAME IS HUNTER."]
The engineer sprang toward them with a cry of delight. "Why, yes,
yes," he exclaimed, turning them over, "every one of them. But
where--how--they must have been in the place after all, then? What a
fool I have been!"
Hewitt shook his head. "I'm afraid you're not quite so lucky as you
think, Mr. Dixon," he said. "These drawings have most certainly been
out of the house for a little while. Never mind how--we'll talk of that
after. There is no time to lose. Tell me, how long would it take a good
draughtsman to copy them?"
"They couldn't possibly be traced over properly in less than two or two
and a half long days of very hard work," Dixon replied, with eagerness.
"Ah! then, it is as I feared. These tracings have been photographed,
Mr. Dixon, and our task is one of every possible difficulty. If they
had been copied in the ordinary way, one might hope to get hold of
the copy. But photography upsets everything. Copies can be multiplied
with such amazing facility that, once the thief gets a decent start,
it is almost hopeless to checkmate him. The only chance is to get
at the negatives before copies are taken. I must act at once; and
I fear, between ourselves, it may be necessary for me to step very
distinctly over the line of the law in the matter. You see, to get at
those negatives may involve something very like housebreaking. There
must be no delay--no waiting for legal procedure--or the mischief is
done. Indeed, I very much question whether you have any legal remedy,
strictly speaking."
"Mr. Hewitt, I implore you, do what you can. I need not say that all
I have is at your disposal. I will guarantee to hold you harmless
for anything that may happen. But do, I entreat you, do everything
possible. Think of what the consequences may be!"
"Well, yes, so I do," Hewitt remarked, with a smile. "The consequences
to me, if I were charged with housebreaking, might be something that no
amount of guarantee could mitigate. However, I will do what I can, if
only from patriotic motives. Now, I must see your tracer, Ritter. He is
the traitor in the camp."
"Ritter? But how?"
"Never mind that now. You are upset and agitated, and had better not
know more than necessary for a little while, in case you say or do
something unguarded. With Ritter I must take a deep course; what I
don't know I must appear to know, and that will seem more likely to him
if I disclaim acquaintance with what I do know. But first put these
tracings safely away out of sight."
Dixon slipped them behind his book-case.
"Now," Hewitt pursued, "call Mr. Worsfold and give him something to do
that will keep him in the inner office across the way, and tell him to
send Ritter here."
Mr. Dixon called his chief draughtsman and requested him to put in
order the drawings in the drawers of the inner room that had been
disarranged by the search, and to send Ritter, as Hewitt had suggested.
Ritter walked into the private room, with an air of respectful
attention. He was a puffy-faced, unhealthy-looking young man, with very
small eyes and a loose, mobile mouth.
[Illustration: "SIT DOWN, MR. RITTER."]
"Sit down, Mr. Ritter," Hewitt said, in a stern voice. "Your recent
transactions with your friend, Mr. Hunter, are well known both to Mr.
Dixon and myself."
Ritter, who had at first leaned easily back in his chair, started
forward at this, and paled.
"You are surprised, I observe; but you should be more careful in your
movements out of doors if you do not wish your acquaintances to be
known. Mr. Hunter, I believe, has the drawings which Mr. Dixon has
lost, and, if so, I am certain that you have given them to him. That,
you know, is theft, for which the law provides a severe penalty."
Ritter broke down completely and turned appealingly to Mr. Dixon:--
"Oh, sir," he pleaded, "it isn't so bad, I assure you. I was tempted, I
confess, and hid the drawings; but they are still in the office, and I
can give them to you--really, I can."
"Indeed?" Hewitt went on. "Then, in that case, perhaps you'd better get
them at once. Just go and fetch them in--we won't trouble to observe
your hiding-place. I'll only keep this door open, to be sure you don't
lose your way, you know--down the stairs, for instance."
The wretched Ritter, with hanging head, slunk into the office opposite.
Presently he reappeared, looking, if possible, ghastlier than before.
He looked irresolutely down the corridor, as if meditating a run for
it, but Hewitt stepped toward him and motioned him back to the private
room.
"You mustn't try any more of that sort of humbug," Hewitt said, with
increased severity. "The drawings are gone, and you have stolen
them--you know that well enough. Now attend to me. If you received your
deserts, Mr. Dixon would send for a policeman this moment, and have you
hauled off to the gaol that is your proper place. But, unfortunately,
your accomplice, who calls himself Hunter--but who has other names
beside that, as I happen to know--has the drawings, and it is
absolutely necessary that these should be recovered. I am afraid that
it will be necessary, therefore, to come to some arrangement with this
scoundrel--to square him, in fact. Now, just take that pen and paper,
and write to your confederate as I dictate. You know the alternative if
you cause any difficulty."
Ritter reached tremblingly for the pen.
"Address him in your usual way," Hewitt proceeded. "Say this: '_There
has been an alteration in the plans_.' Have you got that? '_There has
been an alteration in the plans. I shall be alone here at six o'clock.
Please come, without fail._' Have you got it? Very well, sign it,
and address the envelope. He must come here, and then we may arrange
matters. In the meantime, you will remain in the inner office opposite."
The note was written, and Martin Hewitt, without glancing at the
address, thrust it into his pocket. When Ritter was safely in the
inner office, however, he drew it out and read the address. "I see,"
he observed, "he uses the same name, Hunter; 27, Little Carton Street,
Westminster, is the address, and there I shall go at once with the
note. If the man comes here, I think you had better lock him in with
Ritter, and send for a policeman--it may at least frighten him. My
object is, of course, to get the man away, and then, if possible,
to invade his house, in some way or another, and steal or smash his
negatives if they are there and to be found. Stay here, in any case,
till I return. And don't forget to lock up those tracings."
* * * * *
It was about six o'clock when Hewitt returned, alone, but with a
smiling face that told of good fortune at first sight.
"First, Mr. Dixon," he said, as he dropped into an easy chair in the
private room, "let me ease your mind by the information that I have
been most extraordinarily lucky--in fact, I think you have no further
cause for anxiety. Here are the negatives. They were not all quite dry
when I--well, what?--stole them, I suppose I must say; so that they
have stuck together a bit, and probably the films are damaged. But you
don't mind that, I suppose?"
He laid a small parcel, wrapped in newspaper, on the table. The
engineer hastily tore away the paper and took up five or six glass
photographic negatives, of the half-plate size, which were damp, and
stuck together by the gelatine films, in couples. He held them, one
after another, up to the light of the window, and glanced through them.
Then, with a great sigh of relief, he placed them on the hearth and
pounded them to dust and fragments with the poker.
For a few seconds neither spoke. Then Dixon, flinging himself into a
chair, said:--
"Mr. Hewitt, I can't express my obligation to you. What would have
happened if you had failed I prefer not to think of. But what shall we
do with Ritter now? The other man hasn't been here yet, by-the-bye."
"No--the fact is, I didn't deliver the letter. The worthy gentleman
saved me a world of trouble by taking himself out of the way." Hewitt
laughed. "I'm afraid he has rather got himself into a mess by trying
two kinds of theft at once, and you may not be sorry to hear that his
attempt on your torpedo plans is likely to bring him a dose of penal
servitude for something else. I'll tell you what has happened.
"Little Carton Street, Westminster, I found to be a seedy sort of
place--one of those old streets that have seen much better days. A good
many people seem to live in each house--they are fairly large houses,
by the way--and there is quite a company of bell-handles on each
doorpost--all down the side, like organ-stops. A barber had possession
of the ground-floor front of No. 27 for trade purposes, so to him I
went. 'Can you tell me,' I said, 'where in this house I can find Mr.
Hunter?' He looked doubtful, so I went on: 'His friend will do, you
know--I can't think of his name; foreign gentleman, dark, with a bushy
beard.'
"The barber understood at once. 'Oh, that's Mirsky, I expect,' he said.
'Now I come to think of it, he has had letters addressed to Hunter once
or twice--I've took 'em in. Top floor back.'
"This was good, so far. I had got at 'Mr. Hunter's' other alias. So,
by way of possessing him with the idea that I knew all about him, I
determined to ask for him as Mirsky, before handing over the letter
addressed to him as Hunter. A little bluff of that sort is invaluable
at the right time. At the top floor back I stopped at the door and
tried to open it at once, but it was locked. I could hear somebody
scuttling about within, as though carrying things about, and I knocked
again. In a little while the door opened about a foot, and there stood
Mr. Hunter--or Mirsky, as you like--the man who, in the character of a
traveller in steam-packing, came here twice to-day. He was in his shirt
sleeves and cuddled something under his arm, hastily covered with a
spotted pocket-handkerchief.
"'I have called to see M. Mirsky,' I said, 'with a confidential letter
----.'
"'Oh, yas, yas,' he answered, hastily; 'I know--I know. Excuse me one
minute.' And he rushed off downstairs with his parcel.
"Here was a noble chance. For a moment I thought of following him, in
case there might be anything interesting in the parcel. But I had to
decide in a moment, and I decided on trying the room. I slipped inside
the door, and, finding the key on the inside, locked it. It was a
confused sort of room, with a little iron bedstead in one corner and a
sort of rough boarded inclosure in another. This I rightly conjectured
to be the photographic darkroom, and made for it at once.
"There was plenty of light within when the door was left open, and I
made at once for the drying-rack that was fastened over the sink. There
were a number of negatives in it, and I began hastily examining them
one after another. In the middle of this, our friend Mirsky returned
and tried the door. He rattled violently at the handle and pushed. Then
he called.
"At this moment I had come upon the first of the negatives you have
just smashed. The fixing and washing had evidently only lately been
completed, and the negative was drying on the rack. I seized it, of
course, and the others which stood by it.
"'Who are you, there, inside?' Mirsky shouted indignantly from the
landing. 'Why for you go in my room like that? Open this door at once,
or I call the police!'
"I took no notice. I had got the full number of negatives, one for each
drawing, but I was not by any means sure that he had not taken an extra
set; so I went on hunting down the rack. There were no more, so I set
to work to turn out all the undeveloped plates. It was quite possible,
you see, that the other set, if it existed, had not yet been developed.
[Illustration: "I HAVE CALLED TO SEE M. MIRSKY."]
"Mirsky changed his tune. After a little more banging and shouting,
I could hear him kneel down and try the keyhole. I had left the key
there, so that he could see nothing. But he began talking softly and
rapidly through the hole in a foreign language. I did not know it in
the least, but I believe it was Russian. What had led him to believe
I understood Russian I could not at the time imagine, though I have
a notion now. I went on ruining his stock of plates. I found several
boxes, apparently of new plates, but, as there was no means of telling
whether they were really unused or were merely undeveloped, but with
the chemical impress of your drawings on them, I dragged every one
ruthlessly from its hiding-place and laid it out in the full glare of
the sunlight--destroying it thereby, of course, whether it was unused
or not.
"Mirsky left off talking, and I heard him quietly sneaking off. Perhaps
his conscience was not sufficiently clear to warrant an appeal to the
police, but it seemed to me rather probable at the time that that was
what he was going for. So I hurried on with my work. I found three dark
slides--the parts that carry the plates in the back of the camera,
you know--one of them fixed in the camera itself. These I opened, and
exposed the plates to ruination as before. I suppose nobody ever did so
much devastation in a photographic studio in ten minutes as I managed.
"I had spoilt every plate I could find and had the developed negatives
safely in my pocket, when I happened to glance at a porcelain
washing-well under the sink. There was one negative in that, and I took
it up. It was _not_ a negative of a drawing of yours, but of a Russian
twenty-rouble note!
[Illustration: "HE BEGAN TALKING SOFTLY AND RAPIDLY."]
"This _was_ a discovery. The only possible reason any man could have
for photographing a bank-note was the manufacture of an etched plate
for the production of forged copies. I was almost as pleased as I had
been at the discovery of _your_ negatives. He might bring the police
now as soon as he liked; I could turn the tables on him completely. I
began to hunt about for anything else relating to this negative.
"I found an inking-roller, some old pieces of blanket (used in printing
from plates), and in a corner on the floor, heaped over with newspapers
and rubbish, a small copying-press. There was also a dish of acid, but
not an etched plate or a printed note to be seen. I was looking at
the press, with the negative in one hand and the inking-roller in the
other, when I became conscious of a shadow across the window. I looked
up quickly, and there was Mirsky, hanging over from some ledge or
projection to the side of the window, and staring straight at me, with
a look of unmistakable terror and apprehension.
"The face vanished immediately. I had to move a table to get at the
window, and by the time I had opened it, there was no sign or sound
of the rightful tenant of the room. I had no doubt now of his reason
for carrying a parcel downstairs. He probably mistook me for another
visitor he was expecting, and, knowing he must take this visitor into
his room, threw the papers and rubbish over the press, and put up his
plates and papers in a bundle and secreted them somewhere downstairs,
lest his occupation should be observed.
"Plainly, my duty now was to communicate with the police. So, by the
help of my friend the barber downstairs, a messenger was found and a
note sent over to Scotland Yard. I awaited, of course, for the arrival
of the police, and occupied the interval in another look round--finding
nothing important, however. When the official detective arrived he
recognised at once the importance of the case. A large number of forged
Russian notes have been put into circulation on the Continent lately,
it seems, and it was suspected that they came from London. The Russian
Government have been sending urgent messages to the police here on the
subject.
"Of course I said nothing about your business; but while I was
talking with the Scotland Yard man a letter was left by a messenger,
addressed to Mirsky. The letter will be examined, of course, by the
proper authorities, but I was not a little interested to perceive
that the envelope bore the Russian Imperial arms above the words,
'Russian Embassy.' Now, why should Mirsky communicate with the Russian
Embassy? Certainly not to let the officials know that he was carrying
on a very extensive and lucrative business in the manufacture of
spurious Russian notes. I think it is rather more than possible that
he wrote--probably before he actually got your drawings--to say that
he could sell information of the highest importance, and that this
letter was a reply. Further, I think it quite possible that, when I
asked for him by his Russian name and spoke of 'a confidential letter,'
he at once concluded that _I_ had come from the Embassy in answer
to his letter. That would account for his addressing me in Russian
through the keyhole; and, of course, an official from the Russian
Embassy would be the very last person in the world whom he would like
to observe any indications of his little etching experiments. But
anyhow, be that as it may," Hewitt concluded, "your drawings are safe
now, and if once Mirsky is caught--and I think it likely, for a man
in his shirt-sleeves, with scarcely any start and, perhaps, no money
about him, hasn't a great chance to get away--if he is caught, I say,
he will probably get something handsome at St. Petersburg in the way
of imprisonment, or Siberia, or what-not; so that you will be amply
avenged."
"Yes, but I don't at all understand this business of the drawings even
now. How in the world were they taken out of the place, and how in the
world did you find it out?"
"Nothing could be simpler; and yet the plan was rather ingenious.
I'll tell you exactly how the thing revealed itself to me. From your
original description of the case, many people would consider that an
impossibility had been performed. Nobody had gone out and nobody had
come in, and yet the drawings had been taken away. But an impossibility
is an impossibility after all, and as drawings don't run away of
themselves, plainly somebody had taken them, unaccountable as it might
seem. Now, as they were in your inner office, the only people who could
have got at them beside yourself were your assistants, so that it was
pretty clear that one of them, at least, had something to do with the
business. You told me that Worsfold was an excellent and intelligent
draughtsman. Well, if such a man as that meditated treachery, he would
probably be able to carry away the design in his head--at any rate,
a little at a time--and would be under no necessity to run the risk
of stealing a set of the drawings. But Ritter, you remarked, was an
inferior sort of man, 'not particularly smart,' I think, were your
words--only a mechanical sort of tracer. _He_ would be unlikely to
be able to carry in his head the complicated details of such designs
as yours, and, being in a subordinate position, and continually
overlooked, he would find it impossible to make copies of the plans in
the office. So that, to begin with, I thought I saw the most probable
path to start on.
"When I looked round the rooms I pushed open the glass door of the
barrier and left the door to the inner office ajar, in order to be able
to see anything that _might_ happen in any part of the place, without
actually expecting any definite development. While we were talking, as
it happened, our friend Mirsky (or Hunter--as you please) came into the
outer office, and my attention was instantly called to him by the first
thing he did. Did you notice anything peculiar yourself?"
"No, really I can't say I did. He seemed to behave much as any
traveller or agent might."
"Well, what I noticed was the fact that as soon as he entered the place
he put his walking-stick into the umbrella stand, over there by the
door, close by where he stood; a most unusual thing for a casual caller
to do, before even knowing whether you were in. This made me watch
him closely. I perceived, with increased interest, that the stick was
exactly of the same kind and pattern as one already standing there;
also a curious thing. I kept my eyes carefully on those sticks, and
was all the more interested and edified to see, when he left, that he
took the _other_ stick--not the one he came with--from the stand, and
carried it away, leaving his own behind. I might have followed him, but
I decided that more could be learnt by staying--as, in fact, proved to
be the case. This, by-the-bye, is the stick he carried away with him.
I took the liberty of fetching it back from Westminster, because I
conceive it to be Ritter's property."
Hewitt produced the stick. It was an ordinary, thick Malacca cane, with
a buckhorn handle and a silver band. Hewitt bent it across his knee,
and laid it on the table.
"Yes," Dixon answered, "that is Ritter's stick. I think I have often
seen it in the stand. But what in the world----"
"One moment; I'll just fetch the stick Mirsky left behind." And Hewitt
stepped across the corridor.
He returned with another stick, apparently an exact facsimile of the
other, and placed it by the side of the other.
"When your assistants went into the inner room, I carried this stick
off for a minute or two. I knew it was not Worsfold's, because there
was an umbrella there with his initial on the handle. Look at this."
Martin Hewitt gave the handle a twist, and rapidly unscrewed it from
the top. Then it was seen that the stick was a mere tube of very thin
metal, painted to appear like a Malacca cane.
"It was plain at once that this was no Malacca cane--it wouldn't bend.
Inside it I found your tracings, rolled up tightly. You can get a
marvellous quantity of thin tracing-paper into a small compass by tight
rolling."
"And this--this was the way they were brought back!" the engineer
exclaimed. "I see that, clearly. But how did they get away? That's as
mysterious as ever."
[Illustration: "HEWITT PRODUCED THE STICK."]
"Not a bit of it. See here. Mirsky gets hold of Ritter, and they
agree to get your drawings and photograph them. Ritter is to let his
confederate have the drawings, and Mirsky is to bring them back as
soon as possible, so that they shan't be missed for a moment. Ritter
habitually carries this Malacca cane, and the cunning of Mirsky at
once suggests that this tube should be made in outward facsimile. This
morning, Mirsky keeps the actual stick and Ritter comes to the office
with the tube. He seizes the first opportunity--probably when you
were in this private room, and Worsfold was talking to you from the
corridor--to get at the tracings, roll them up tightly, and put them in
the tube, putting the tube back into the umbrella stand. At half-past
twelve, or whenever it was, Mirsky turns up for the first time with
the actual stick and exchanges them, just as he afterwards did when he
brought the drawings back."
"Yes, but Mirsky came half an hour after they were--oh, yes, I see.
What a fool I was! I was forgetting. Of course, when I first missed
the tracings they were in this walking-stick, safe enough, and I was
tearing my hair out within arm's reach of them!"
"Precisely. And Mirsky took them away before your very eyes. I expect
Ritter was in a rare funk when he found that the drawings were missed.
He calculated, no doubt, on your not wanting them for the hour or two
they would be out of the office."
"How lucky that it struck me to jot a pencil-note on one of them! I
might easily have made my note somewhere else, and then I should never
have known that they had been away."
"Yes, they didn't give you any too much time to miss them. Well, I
think the rest's pretty clear. I brought the tracings in here, screwed
up the sham stick and put it back. You identified the tracings and
found none missing, and then my course was pretty clear, though it
looked difficult. I knew you would be very naturally indignant with
Ritter, so, as I wanted to manage him myself, I told you nothing of
what he had actually done, for fear that, in your agitated state, you
might burst out with something that would spoil my game. To Ritter I
pretended to know nothing of the return of the drawings or _how_ they
had been stolen--the only things I did know with certainty. But I
_did_ pretend to know all about Mirsky--or Hunter--when, as a matter
of fact, I knew nothing at all, except that he probably went under
more than one name. That put Ritter into my hands completely. When he
found the game was up he began with a lying confession. Believing that
the tracings were still in the stick and that we knew nothing of their
return, he said that they had not been away, and that he would fetch
them--as I had expected he would. I let him go for them alone, and when
he returned, utterly broken up by the discovery that they were not
there, I had him altogether at my mercy. You see, if he had known that
the drawings were all the time behind your book-case, he might have
brazened it out, sworn that the drawings had been there all the time,
and we could have done nothing with him. We couldn't have sufficiently
frightened him by a threat of prosecution for theft, because there the
things were, in your possession, to his knowledge.
"As it was, he answered the helm capitally: gave us Mirsky's address on
the envelope, and wrote the letter that was to have got him out of the
way while I committed burglary, if that disgraceful expedient had not
been rendered unnecessary. On the whole, the case has gone very well."
"It has gone marvellously well, thanks to yourself. But what shall I do
with Ritter?"
"Here's his stick--knock him downstairs with it, if you like. I should
keep the tube, if I were you, as a memento. I don't suppose the
respectable Mirsky will ever call to ask for it. But I should certainly
kick Ritter out of doors--or out of window, if you like--without delay."
[Illustration: "KNOCK HIM DOWNSTAIRS."]
Mirsky was caught, and after two remands at the police-court was
extradited on the charge of forging Russian notes. It came out that he
had written to the Embassy, as Hewitt had surmised, stating that he had
certain valuable information to offer, and the letter which Hewitt had
seen delivered was an acknowledgment, and a request for more definite
particulars. This was what gave rise to the impression that Mirsky had
himself informed the Russian authorities of his forgeries. His real
intent was very different, but was never guessed.
"I wonder," Hewitt has once or twice observed, "whether, after all, it
would not have paid the Russian authorities better on the whole if I
had never investigated Mirsky's little note-factory. The Dixon torpedo
was worth a good many twenty-rouble notes."
_Illustrated Interviews._
XXXIV.--SIR FRANCIS AND LADY JEUNE.
[Illustration: ARLINGTON MANOR
_From a Photo by Elliott & Fry._]
It would be difficult indeed to single out a more pleasant method of
passing a couple of days than with Sir Francis Jeune, Lady Jeune,
and their children. It was in the early days of spring that I had
this privilege, when, for a brief time, Sir Francis was free from the
trials and tribulations of the law, and, together with his family, was
enjoying the rest afforded by a short sojourn at his charming house in
Berkshire. About a couple of miles from Newbury--rich in reminiscence
of the troublesome times associated with the Cromwellian _régime_--is
Arlington Manor. It is a substantially-built country mansion--built of
a peculiar species of Bath stone--and no matter from which of its four
sides you view the outlook, it is "as fair as fair can be." From one
side you can here and there catch sight of a streak of blue sky through
a forest of fir trees; from another is a grand stretch of meadows, from
which you may often hear the voice of young Francis Christian Seaforth
Jeune--Sir Francis's son, who had for his godmother the Princess
Christian, and is proud of the fact that he was entered for Harrow
before he was four days old--shouting out "Well hit!" at a particularly
good drive of the ball by the butler, who happens to be a capital
cricketer. Perhaps, however, the view from the veranda is the finest.
The lawn is immediately before you; a little series of valleys and
hills rise and fall until all is lost in the blue line of hills miles
away. It is an ideal spot, and one which must be peculiarly interesting
to Sir Francis, owing to its being in the centre of a piece of country
closely allied with a period of history in which he is so deeply read.
Around the house golf links have been recently laid out. Sir Francis
said that I should have been at Arlington and seen a match between
Sir Evelyn Wood, Mr. Lockwood, and himself. "The General was the best
player," he added, "or, perhaps, I should say, the least bad."
It was on this veranda--with the glorious scene before us--that I
met Sir Francis and Lady Jeune. Lady Jeune's two daughters--Miss
Madeline Stanley and Miss Dorothy Stanley--were enjoying their first
game of croquet of the year. Lady Jeune has been twice married, her
first husband being Mr. John Stanley, a brother of Lord Stanley of
Alderley. After a time the two young girls joined us. I am well aware
that this paper is to be devoted to Sir Francis and Lady Jeune, but
it is impossible to stay one's pen at this point from chronicling
an impression formed regarding two of the brightest of sisters.
It happened that during my stay at Newbury there was a gymnastic
display in the town given by some young women of the class connected
with the People's Palace--young women, doubtless, for the most part
who know what it is to work, and work hard, for their living. They
were entertained to tea at Arlington Manor. The anxiety of the
Misses Stanley to make them happy was intense--nothing was forced
about it, but all heart-born. I judged Lady Jeune's daughters from
the semi-whispered invitations I could not help hearing to many of
these young women to "_Be sure and come and see us in London, won't
you?_"--repeated in one case, I know, half-a-dozen times. It is to be
hoped that this expression will convey the full meaning with which it
struck me.
[Illustration: THE DOGS.
_From a Photo by Elliott & Fry._]
The interior of Arlington Manor is charmingly comfortable. Entering
from the veranda--you will probably be followed by one of the quartette
of dogs, and even "Randolph," the cat, who has the remarkable
feasting record of thirty chickens in a fortnight to be placed to his
credit!--you are in the billiard-room. Amongst the engravings of more
modern days are those after Sir Joshua Reynolds, Long, and Briton
Riviere; but the most noticeable is certainly a very fine set of
Hogarth's "Marriage à la Mode." Sir Francis Jeune is a great admirer
of Hogarth. Here, too, hangs his card of membership of the Athenæum
Club, forming a perfect collection of autographs of as many of the
most distinguished men of the day as could possibly get their names
on the card which was to "back" Sir Francis's candidature. A huge
volume here may be examined with interest. It contains no fewer than
seven hundred letters of congratulation which its owner received--and
faithfully answered every one--when he was appointed to the judicial
vacancy in the Probate, Divorce, and Admiralty Division occasioned by
the elevation of Sir James Hannen to the House of Lords. A smaller one
is treasured which holds similar letters when Sir Francis was made
President of the Division.
[Illustration: "RANDOLPH".
_From a Photo by Elliott & Fry._]