"Yes, of course, a spent match. She noticed it lying close by the
pincushion, but threw it away without mentioning the circumstance.
Still, it seemed rather curious to me that a match should be lit and
dropped, in each case, on the dressing-cover an inch from where the
article was taken. I mentioned it to Lloyd when I got back, and he
agreed that it seemed significant."
"Scarcely," said Hewitt, shaking his head. "Scarcely, so far, to be
called significant, although worth following up. Everybody uses matches
in the dark, you know."
"Well, at any rate, the coincidence appealed to me so far that it
struck me it might be worth while to describe the brooch to the police
in order that they could trace it if it had been pawned. They had tried
that, of course, over the bracelet, without any result, but I fancied
the shot might be worth making, and might possibly lead us on the track
of the more serious robbery."
"Quite so. It was the right thing to do. Well?"
"Well, they found it. A woman had pawned it in London--at a shop in
Chelsea. But that was some time before, and the pawnbroker had clean
forgotten all about the woman's appearance. The name and address she
gave were false. So that was the end of that business."
"Had any of your servants left you between the time the brooch was lost
and the date of the pawnticket?"
"No."
"Were all your servants at home on the day the brooch was pawned?"
"Oh, yes. I made that inquiry myself."
"Very good. What next?"
"Yesterday--and this is what made me send for you. My late wife's
sister came here last Tuesday, and we gave her the room from which Mrs.
Heath lost her bracelet. She had with her a very old-fashioned brooch,
containing a miniature of her father, and set, in front, with three
very fine brilliants and a few smaller stones. Here we are, though, at
the Croft; I'll tell you the rest indoors."
Hewitt laid his hand on the baronet's arm. "Don't pull up, Sir James,"
he said. "Drive a little further. I should like to have a general idea
of the whole case before we go in."
"Very good." Sir James Norris straightened the horse's head again and
went on. "Late yesterday afternoon, as my sister-in-law was changing
her dress, she left her room for a moment to speak to my daughter in
her room, almost adjoining. She was gone no more than three minutes,
or five at most, but on her return the brooch, which had been left on
the table, had gone. Now, the window was shut fast, and had not been
tampered with. Of course, the door was open, but so was my daughter's,
and anybody walking near must have been heard. But the strangest
circumstance, and one that almost makes me wonder whether I have been
awake to-day or not, was that there lay _a used match_ on the very
spot, as nearly as possible, where the brooch had been--and it was
broad daylight!"
Hewitt rubbed his nose and looked thoughtfully before him.
"Um--curious, certainly," he said. "Anything else?"
"Nothing more than you shall see for yourself. I have had the room
locked and watched till you could examine it. My sister-in-law had
heard of your name, and suggested that you should be called in; so, of
course, I did exactly as she wanted. That she should have lost that
brooch, of all things, in my house, is most unfortunate; you see,
there was some small difference about the thing between my late wife
and her sister when their mother died and left it. It's almost worse
than the Heath's bracelet business, and altogether I'm not pleased
with things, I can assure you. See what a position it is for me! Here
are three ladies in the space of one year, robbed one after another in
this mysterious fashion in my house, and I can't find the thief. It's
horrible! People will be afraid to come near the place. And I can do
nothing!"
"Ah, well--we'll see. Perhaps we had better turn back now. By-the-bye,
were you thinking of having any alterations or additions made to your
house?"
"No. What makes you ask?"
"I think you might at least consider the question of painting and
decorating, Sir James--or, say, putting up another coach-house,
or something, because I should like to be (to the servants) the
architect--or the builder, if you please--come to look round. You
haven't told any of them about this business?"
"Not a word. Nobody knows but my relatives and Lloyd. I took every
precaution myself, at once. As to your little disguise, be the
architect, by all means, and do as you please. If you can only find
this thief and put an end to this horrible state of affairs, you'll do
me the greatest service I've ever asked for--and as to your fee, I'll
gladly make it whatever is usual, and three hundred in addition."
Martin Hewitt bowed. "You're very generous, Sir James, and you may be
sure I'll do what I can. As a professional man, of course, a good fee
always stimulates my interest, although this case of yours certainly
seems interesting enough by itself."
"Most extraordinary! Don't you think so? Here are three persons, all
ladies, all in my house, two even in the same room, each successively
robbed of a piece of jewellery, each from a dressing-table, and a used
match left behind in every case. All in the most difficult--one would
say impossible--circumstances for a thief, and yet there is no clue!"
"Well, we won't say that just yet, Sir James; we must see. And we must
guard against any undue predisposition to consider the robberies in a
lump. Here we are at the lodge gate again. Is that your gardener--the
man who left the ladder by the lawn on the first occasion you spoke
of?" Mr. Hewitt nodded in the direction of a man who was clipping a box
border.
"Yes; will you ask him anything?"
"No, no: at any rate, not now. Remember the building alterations. I
think, if there is no objection, I will look first at the room that the
lady--Mrs.----?" Hewitt looked up inquiringly.
"My sister-in-law? Mrs. Cazenove. Oh, yes, you shall come to her room
at once."
"Thank you. And I think Mrs. Cazenove had better be there."
They alighted: and a boy from the lodge led the horse and dog-cart away.
Mrs. Cazenove was a thin and faded, but quick and energetic, lady of
middle age. She bent her head very slightly on learning Martin Hewitt's
name, and said: "I must thank you, Mr. Hewitt, for your very prompt
attention. I need scarcely say that any help you can afford in tracing
the thief who has my property--whoever it may be--will make me most
grateful. My room is quite ready for you to examine."
The room was on the second floor--the top floor at that part of
the building. Some slight confusion of small articles of dress was
observable in parts of the room.
"This, I take it," inquired Hewitt, "is exactly as it was at the time
the brooch was missed?"
"Precisely," Mrs. Cazenove answered. "I have used another room, and put
myself to some other inconveniences, to avoid any disturbance."
Hewitt stood before the dressing-table. "Then this is the used match,"
he observed, "exactly where it was found?"
"Yes."
"Where was the brooch?"
"I should say almost on the very same spot. Certainly no more than a
very few inches away."
[Illustration: "HEWITT STOOD BEFORE THE DRESSING TABLE."]
Hewitt examined the match closely. "It is burnt very little," he
remarked. "It would appear to have gone out at once. Could you hear it
struck?"
"I heard nothing whatever; absolutely nothing."
"If you will step into Miss Norris's room now for a moment," Hewitt
suggested, "we will try an experiment. Tell me if you hear matches
struck, and how many. Where is the match-stand?"
The match-stand proved to be empty, but matches were found in Miss
Norris's room, and the test was made. Each striking could be heard
distinctly, even with one of the doors pushed to.
"Both your own door and Miss Norris's were open, I understand; the
window shut and fastened inside as it is now, and nothing but the
brooch was disturbed?"
"Yes, that was so."
"Thank you, Mrs. Cazenove. I don't think I need trouble you any further
just at present. I think, Sir James," Hewitt added, turning to the
baronet, who was standing by the door--"I think we will see the other
room and take a walk outside the house, if you please. I suppose,
by-the-bye, that there is no getting at the matches left behind on the
first and second occasions?"
"No," Sir James answered. "Certainly not here. The Scotland Yard man
may have kept his."
The room that Mrs. Armitage had occupied presented no peculiar
feature. A few feet below the window the roof of the billiard-room was
visible, consisting largely of skylight. Hewitt glanced casually about
the walls, ascertained that the furniture and hangings had not been
materially changed since the second robbery, and expressed his desire
to see the windows from the outside. Before leaving the room, however,
he wished to know the names of any persons who were known to have been
about the house on the occasions of all three robberies.
"Just carry your mind back, Sir James," he said. "Begin with yourself,
for instance. Where were you at these times?"
"When Mrs. Heath lost her bracelet I was in Tagley Wood all the
afternoon. When Mrs. Armitage was robbed, I believe I was somewhere
about the place most of the time she was out. Yesterday I was down at
the farm." Sir James's face broadened. "I don't know whether you call
those suspicious movements?" he added, and laughed.
"Not at all; I only asked you so that, remembering your own movements,
you might the better recall those of the rest of the household. Was
anybody, to your knowledge--_anybody_, mind--in the house on all three
occasions?"
"Well, you know, it's quite impossible to answer for all the servants.
You'll only get that by direct questioning--I can't possibly remember
things of that sort. As to the family and visitors--why, you don't
suspect any of them, do you?"
"I don't suspect a soul, Sir James," Hewitt answered, beaming genially,
"not a soul. You see, I _can't_ suspect people till I know something
about where they were. It's quite possible there will be independent
evidence enough as it is, but you must help me if you can. The
visitors, now. Was there any visitor here each time--or even on the
first and last occasions only?"
"No--not one. And my own sister, perhaps you will be pleased to know,
was only there at the time of the first robbery."
"Just so. And your daughter, as I have gathered, was clearly absent
from the spot each time--indeed, was in company with the party robbed.
Your niece, now?"
"Why, hang it all, Mr. Hewitt, I can't talk of my niece as a suspected
criminal. The poor girl's under my protection, and I really can't
allow--"
Hewitt raised his hand and shook his head deprecatingly.
"My dear sir, haven't I said that I don't suspect a soul? _Do_ let me
know how the people were distributed, as nearly as possible. Let me
see. It was your niece, I think, who found that Mrs. Armitage's door
was locked--this door in fact--on the day she lost her brooch?"
"Yes, it was."
"Just so--at the time when Mrs. Armitage, herself, had forgotten
whether she locked it or not. And yesterday--was she out then?"
"No, I think not. Indeed, she goes out very little--her health is
usually bad. She was indoors, too, at the time of the Heath robbery,
since you ask. But come, now, I don't like this. It's ridiculous to
suppose that _she_ knows anything of it."
"I don't suppose it, as I have said. I am only asking for information.
That is all your resident family, I take it, and you know nothing of
anybody else's movements--except, perhaps, Mr. Lloyd's?"
"Lloyd? Well, you know yourself that he was out with the ladies when
the first robbery took place. As to the others, I don't remember.
Yesterday he was probably in his room, writing. I think that acquits
_him_, eh?" Sir James looked quizzically into the broad face of the
affable detective, who smiled and replied:--
"Oh, of course, nobody can be in two places at once, else what would
become of the _alibi_ as an institution? But as I have said, I am
only setting my facts in order. Now, you see, we get down to the
servants--unless some stranger is the party wanted. Shall we go outside
now?"
Lenton Croft was a large, desultory sort of house, nowhere more than
three floors high, and mostly only two. It had been added to bit by bit
till it zig-zagged about its site, as Sir James Norris expressed it,
"like a game of dominoes." Hewitt scrutinized its external features
carefully as they strolled round, and stopped some little while before
the windows of the two bedrooms he had just seen from the inside.
Presently they approached the stables and coach-house, where a groom
was washing the wheels of the dog-cart.
"Do you mind my smoking?" Hewitt asked Sir James. "Perhaps you will
take a cigar yourself--they are not so bad, I think. I will ask your
man for a light."
Sir James felt for his own match-box, but Hewitt had gone, and was
lighting his cigar with a match from a box handed him by the groom. A
smart little terrier was trotting about by the coach-house, and Hewitt
stooped to rub its head. Then he made some observation about the dog,
which enlisted the groom's interest, and was soon absorbed in a chat
with the man. Sir James, waiting a little way off, tapped the stones
rather impatiently with his foot, and presently moved away.
For full a quarter of an hour Hewitt chatted with the groom, and when
at last he came away and overtook Sir James, that gentleman was about
re-entering the house.
"I beg your pardon, Sir James," Hewitt said, "for leaving you in that
unceremonious fashion to talk to your groom, but a dog, Sir James--a
good dog--will draw me anywhere."
[Illustration: "HEWITT CHATTED WITH THE GROOM."]
"Oh," replied Sir James, shortly.
"There is one other thing," Hewitt went on, disregarding the other's
curtness, "that I should like to know: There are two windows directly
below that of the room occupied yesterday by Mrs. Cazenove--one on each
floor. What rooms do they light?"
"That on the ground floor is the morning-room; the other is Mr.
Lloyd's--my secretary. A sort of study or sitting-room."
"Now, you will see at once, Sir James," Hewitt pursued, with an affable
determination to win the baronet back to good humour, "you will see
at once that if a ladder had been used in Mrs. Heath's case, anybody
looking from either of these rooms would have seen it."
"Of course. The Scotland Yard man questioned everybody as to that,
but nobody seemed to have been in either of the rooms when the thing
occurred; at any rate, nobody saw anything."
"Still, I think I should like to look out of those windows myself; it
will, at least, give me an idea of what _was_ in view and what was
not, if anybody had been there."
Sir James Norris led the way to the morning-room. As they reached
the door, a young lady, carrying a book and walking very languidly,
came out. Hewitt stepped aside to let her pass, and afterwards said,
interrogatively: "Miss Norris--your daughter, Sir John?"
"No, my niece. Do you want to ask her anything? Dora, my dear," Sir
James added, following her in the corridor, "this is Mr. Hewitt, who is
investigating these wretched robberies for me. I think he would like to
hear if you remember anything happening at any of the three times."
The lady bowed slightly, and said in a plaintive drawl: "I, uncle?
Really, I don't remember anything; nothing at all."
"You found Mrs. Armitage's door locked, I believe," asked Hewitt, "when
you tried it, on the afternoon when she lost her brooch?"
"Oh, yes; I believe it was locked. Yes, it was."
"Had the key been left in?"
"The key? Oh, no! I think not; no."
"Do you remember anything out of the common happening--anything
whatever, no matter how trivial--on the day Mrs. Heath lost her
bracelet?"
"No, really I don't. I can't remember at all."
"Nor yesterday?"
"No, nothing. I don't remember anything."
"Thank you," said Hewitt, hastily; "thank you. Now the morning-room,
Sir James."
In the morning-room Hewitt stayed but a few seconds, doing little
more than casually glance out of the windows. In the room above he
took a little longer time. It was a comfortable room, but with rather
effeminate indications about its contents. Little pieces of draped
silk-work hung about the furniture, and Japanese silk fans decorated
the mantelpiece. Near the window was a cage containing a grey parrot,
and the writing-table was decorated with two vases of flowers.
"Lloyd makes himself pretty comfortable, eh?" Sir James observed. "But
it isn't likely anybody would be here while he was out, at the time
that bracelet went."
"No," replied Hewitt, meditatively. "No, I suppose not."
He stared thoughtfully out of the window, and then, still deep in
thought, rattled at the wires of the cage with a quill tooth-pick and
played a moment with the parrot. Then looking up at the window again,
he said: "That is Mr. Lloyd, isn't it, coming back in a fly?"
"Yes, I think so. Is there anything else you would care to see here?"
"No, thank you," Hewitt replied; "I don't think there is."
They went down to the smoking-room, and Sir James went away to speak to
his secretary. When he returned, Hewitt said, quietly, "I think, Sir
James--I _think_ that I shall be able to give you your thief presently."
"What! Have you a clue? Who do you think? I began to believe you were
hopelessly stumped."
"Well, yes. I have rather a good clue, although I can't tell you much
about it just yet. But it is so good a clue that I should like to
know now whether you are determined to prosecute, when you have the
criminal?"
"Why, bless me, of course," Sir James replied, with surprise. "It
doesn't rest with me, you know--the property belongs to my friends. And
even if _they_ were disposed to let the thing slide, I shouldn't allow
it--I couldn't, after they had been robbed in my house."
"Of course, of course. Then, if I can, I should like to send a message
to Twyford by somebody perfectly trustworthy--not a servant. Could
anybody go?"
"Well, there's Lloyd, although he's only just back from his journey.
But if it's important, he'll go."
"It is important. The fact is, we must have a policeman or two here
this evening, and I'd like Mr. Lloyd to fetch them without telling
anybody else."
Sir James rang, and, in response to his message, Mr. Lloyd appeared.
While Sir James gave his secretary his instructions, Hewitt strolled to
the door of the smoking-room, and intercepted the latter as he came out.
"I'm sorry to give you this trouble, Mr. Lloyd," he said, "but I must
stay here myself for a little, and somebody who can be trusted must
go. Will you just bring back a police-constable with you?--or rather
two--two would be better. That is all that is wanted. You won't let the
servants know, will you? Of course, there will be a female searcher at
the Twyford police-station? Ah--of course. Well, you needn't bring her,
you know. That sort of thing is done at the station." And chatting thus
confidentially, Martin Hewitt saw him off.
[Illustration: "I AM SORRY TO GIVE YOU THE TROUBLE, MR. LLOYD."]
When Hewitt returned to the smoking-room Sir James said, suddenly,
"Why, bless my soul, Mr. Hewitt, we haven't fed you! I'm awfully sorry.
We came in rather late for lunch, you know, and this business has
bothered me so, I clean forgot everything else. There's no dinner till
seven, so you'd better let me give you something now. I'm really sorry.
Come along."
"Thank you, Sir James," Hewitt replied; "I won't take much. A few
biscuits, perhaps, or something of that sort. And, by-the-bye, if you
don't mind, I rather think I should like to take it alone. The fact is,
I want to go over this case thoroughly by myself. Can you put me in a
room?"
"Any room you like. Where will you go? The dining-room's rather large,
but there's my study, that's pretty snug, or--"
"Perhaps I can go into Mr. Lloyd's room for half an hour or so--I don't
think he'll mind, and it's pretty comfortable."
"Certainly, if you'd like. I'll tell them to send you whatever they've
got."
"Thank you very much. Perhaps they'll also send me a lump of sugar and
a walnut--it's--it's just a little fad of mine."
"A--what? A lump of sugar and a walnut?" Sir James stopped for a
moment, with his hand on the bell-rope. "Oh, certainly, if you'd like
it; certainly," he added, and stared after this detective of curious
tastes as he left the room.
When the vehicle, bringing back the secretary and the policemen, drew
up on the drive, Martin Hewitt left the room on the first floor and
proceeded downstairs. On the landing he met Sir James Norris and Mrs.
Cazenove, who stared with astonishment on perceiving that the detective
carried in his hand the parrot-cage.
"I think our business is about brought to a head now," Hewitt remarked,
on the stairs. "Here are the police-officers from Twyford." The men
were standing in the hall with Mr. Lloyd, who, on catching sight of the
cage in Hewitt's hand, paled suddenly.
"This is the person who will be charged, I think," Hewitt pursued,
addressing the officers, and indicating Lloyd with his finger.
"What, Lloyd?" gasped Sir James, aghast. "No--not Lloyd--nonsense!"
"He doesn't seem to think it nonsense himself, does he?" Hewitt
placidly observed. Lloyd had sunk on a chair, and, grey of face, was
staring blindly at the man he had run against at the office door that
morning. His lips moved in spasms, but there was no sound. The wilted
flower fell from his button-hole to the floor, but he did not move.
"This is his accomplice," Hewitt went on, placing the parrot and cage
on the hall table, "though I doubt whether there will be any use in
charging _him_. Eh, Polly?"
The parrot put its head aside and chuckled. "Hullo, Polly!" it quietly
gurgled. "Come along!"
Sir James Norris was hopelessly bewildered. "Lloyd--Lloyd--" he said,
under his breath, "Lloyd--and that!"
[Illustration: "SIR JAMES NORRIS WAS HOPELESSLY BEWILDERED."]
"This was his little messenger, his useful Mercury," Hewitt explained,
tapping the cage complacently; "in fact, the actual lifter. Hold him
up."
The last remark referred to the wretched Lloyd, who had fallen forward
with something between a sob and a loud sigh. The policemen took him by
the arms and propped him in his chair.
* * * * *
"System?" said Hewitt, with a shrug of the shoulders an hour or two
after, in Sir James's study. "I can't say I have a system. I call it
nothing but common-sense and a sharp pair of eyes. Nobody using these
could help taking the right road in this case. I began at the match,
just as the Scotland Yard man did, but I had the advantage of taking a
line through three cases. To begin with, it was plain that that match,
being left there in daylight, in Mrs. Cazenove's room, could not have
been used to light the table-top, in the full glare of the window;
therefore it had been used for some other purpose--_what_ purpose I
could not, at the moment, guess. Habitual thieves, you know, often
have curious superstitions, and some will never take anything without
leaving something behind--a pebble or a piece of coal, or something
like that--in the premises they have been robbing. It seemed at first
extremely likely that this was a case of that kind. The match had
clearly been _brought in_--because when I asked for matches there were
none in the stand--not even an empty box; and the room had not been
disturbed. Also the match probably had not been struck there, nothing
having been heard, although, of course, a mistake in this matter was
just possible. This match then, it was fair to assume, had been lit
somewhere else and blown out immediately--I remarked at the time that
it was very little burnt. Plainly it could not have been treated thus
for nothing, and the only possible object would have been to prevent
it igniting accidentally. Following on this it became obvious that the
match was used, for whatever purpose, not _as_ a match, but merely as a
convenient splinter of wood.
"So far so good. But on examining the match very closely I observed--as
you can see for yourself--certain rather sharp indentations in the
wood. They are very small, you see, and scarcely visible, except upon
narrow inspection; but there they are, and their positions are regular.
See--there are two on each side, each opposite the corresponding mark
of the other pair. The match, in fact, would seem to have been gripped
in some fairly sharp instrument, holding it at two points above, and
two below--an instrument, as it may at once strike you, not unlike the
beak of a bird.
"Now, here was an idea. What living creature but a bird could possibly
have entered Mrs. Heath's window without a ladder--supposing no ladder
to have been used--or could have got into Mrs. Armitage's window
without lifting the sash higher than the eight or ten inches it was
already open? Plainly, nothing. Further, it is significant that only
_one_ article was stolen at a time, although others were about. A human
being could have carried any reasonable number, but a bird could
only take one at a time. But why should a bird carry a match in its
beak? Certainly it must have been trained to do that for a purpose,
and a little consideration made that purpose pretty clear. A noisy,
chattering bird would probably betray itself at once. Therefore it must
be trained to keep quiet both while going for and coming away with
its plunder. What readier or more probably effectual way than, while
teaching it to carry without dropping, to teach it also to keep quiet
while carrying? The one thing would practically cover the other.
"I thought at once, of course, of a jackdaw or a magpie--these birds'
thievish reputations made the guess natural. But the marks on the match
were much too wide apart to have been made by the beak of either.
I conjectured, therefore, that it must be a raven. So that when we
arrived near the coach-house I seized the opportunity of a little
chat with your groom on the subject of dogs and pets in general,
and ascertained that there was no tame raven in the place. I also,
incidentally, by getting a light from the coach-house box of matches,
ascertained that the match found was of the sort generally used about
the establishment--the large, thick, red-topped English match. But I
further found that Mr. Lloyd had a parrot which was a most intelligent
pet, and had been trained into comparative quietness--for a parrot.
Also, I learnt that more than once the groom had met Mr. Lloyd carrying
his parrot under his coat--it having, as its owner explained, learnt
the trick of opening its cage-door, and escaping.
"I said nothing, of course, to you of all this, because I had as yet
nothing but a train of argument and no results. I got to Lloyd's room
as soon as possible. My chief object in going there was achieved when I
played with the parrot, and induced it to bite a quill tooth-pick.
"When you left me in the smoking-room I compared the quill and the
match very carefully, and found that the marks corresponded exactly.
After this I felt very little doubt indeed. The fact of Lloyd having
met the ladies walking before dark on the day of the first robbery
proved nothing, because, since it was clear that the match had _not_
been used to procure a light, the robbery might as easily have taken
place in daylight as not--must have so taken place, in fact, if my
conjectures were right. That they were right I felt no doubt. There
could be no other explanation.
[Illustration: "EXPLAINING."]
"When Mrs. Heath left her window open and her door shut, anybody
climbing upon the open sash of Lloyd's high window could have put the
bird upon the sill above. The match placed in the bird's beak for the
purpose I have indicated and struck first, in case by accident it
should ignite by rubbing against something and startle the bird--this
match would, of course, be dropped just where the object to be removed
was taken up; as you know, in every case the match was found almost
upon the spot where the missing article had been left--scarcely a
likely triple coincidence, had the match been used by a human thief.
This would have been done as soon after the ladies had left as
possible, and there would then have been plenty of time for Lloyd to
hurry out and meet them before dark--especially plenty of time to meet
them _coming back_, as they must have been, since they were carrying
their ferns. The match was an article well chosen for its purpose, as
being a not altogether unlikely thing to find on a dressing-table, and,
if noticed, likely to lead to the wrong conclusions adopted by the
official detective.
"In Mrs. Armitage's case, the taking of an inferior brooch and the
leaving of a more valuable ring pointed clearly either to the operator
being a fool or unable to distinguish values, and certainly, from other
indications, the thief seemed no fool. The door was locked, and the
gasfitter, so to speak, on guard, and the window was only eight or
ten inches open and propped with a brush. A human thief entering the
window would have disturbed this arrangement, and would scarcely risk
discovery by attempting to replace it, especially a thief in so great a
hurry as to snatch the brooch up without unfastening the pin. The bird
could pass through the opening as it was, and _would have_ to tear the
pincushion to pull the brooch off--probably holding the cushion down
with its claw the while.
"Now, in yesterday's case we had an alteration of conditions. The
window was shut and fastened, but the door was open--but only left for
a few minutes, during which time no sound was heard either of coming or
going. Was it not possible, then, that the thief was _already_ in the
room, in hiding, while Mrs. Cazenove was there, and seized its first
opportunity on her temporary absence? The room is full of draperies,
hangings, and what-not, allowing of plenty of concealment for a bird,
and a bird could leave the place noiselessly and quickly. That the
whole scheme was strange mattered not at all. Robberies presenting such
unaccountable features must have been effected by strange means of one
sort or another. There was no improbability--consider how many hundreds
of examples of infinitely higher degrees of bird-training are exhibited
in the London streets every week for coppers.
"So that, on the whole, I felt pretty sure of my ground. But before
taking any definite steps, I resolved to see if Polly could not be
persuaded to exhibit his accomplishments to an indulgent stranger. For
that purpose I contrived to send Lloyd away again and have a quiet hour
alone with his bird. A piece of sugar, as everybody knows, is a good
parrot bribe; but a walnut, split in half, is a better--especially if
the bird be used to it; so I got you to furnish me with both. Polly
was shy at first, but I generally get along very well with pets, and
a little perseverance soon led to a complete private performance for
my benefit. Polly would take the match, mute as wax, jump on the
table, pick up the brightest thing he could see, in a great hurry,
leave the match behind, and scuttle away round the room; but at first
wouldn't give up the plunder to _me_. It was enough. I also took the
liberty, as you know, of a general look round, and discovered that
little collection of Brummagem rings and trinkets that you have just
seen--used in Polly's education, no doubt. When we sent Lloyd away it
struck me that he might as well be usefully employed as not, so I got
him to fetch the police--deluding him a little, I fear, by talking
about the servants and a female searcher. There will be no trouble
about evidence--he'll confess; of that I'm sure. I know the sort of
man. But I doubt if you'll get Mrs. Cazenove's brooch back. You see, he
has been to London to-day, and by this the swag is probably broken up."
Sir James listened to Hewitt's explanation with many expressions of
assent and some of surprise. When it was over he smoked a few whiffs
and then said: "But Mrs. Armitage's brooch was pawned; and by a woman."
"Exactly. I expect our friend Lloyd was rather disgusted at his small
luck--probably gave the brooch to some female connection in London, and
she realized on it. Such persons don't always trouble to give a correct
address."
The two smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then Hewitt continued:
"I don't expect our friend has had an easy job altogether with that
bird. His successes at most have only been three, and I suspect he had
many failures and not a few anxious moments that we know nothing of. I
should judge as much merely from what the groom told me of frequently
meeting Lloyd with his parrot. But the plan was not a bad one--not at
all. Even if the bird had been caught in the act, it would only have
been 'That mischievous parrot!' you see. And his master would only have
been looking for him."
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