THE BROKEN FIGURE
"Any particular object in that course?" David asked.
"There ought to be an object in everything that even an irrational man
says or does," Bell replied. "I have achieved some marvellous results by
following up a single sentence uttered by a patient. Besides, on the
evening in question you were particularly told to approach the house from
the sea front."
"Somebody might have been on the look-out near the Western Road
entrance," Steel suggested.
"Possibly. I have another theory.... Here we are. The figures over the
fanlights run from 187 upwards, gradually getting to 219 as you breast
the slope. At one o'clock in the morning every house would be in
darkness. Did you find that to be so?"
"I didn't notice a light anywhere till I reached 219."
"Good again. And you could only find 219 by the light over the door.
Naturally you were not interested in and would not have noticed any other
number. Well, here is 218, where I propose to enter, and for which
purpose I have the keys. Come along."
David followed wonderingly. The houses in Brunswick Square are somewhat
irregular in point of architecture, and Nos. 218 and 219 were the only
matched pair thereabouts. Signs were not wanting, as Bell pointed out,
that at one time the houses had been occupied as one residence. The two
entrance-halls were back to back, so to speak, and what had obviously
been a doorway leading from one to the other had been plastered up within
comparatively recent memory.
The grim and dusty desolation of an empty house seemed to be supplemented
here by a deeper desolation. Not that there was any dust on the ground
floor, which seemed a singular thing seeing that elsewhere the boards
were powdered with it, and festoons of brown cobwebs hung everywhere.
Bell smiled approvingly as David Steel pointed the fact out to him.
"Do you note another singular point?" the former asked.
"No," David said, thoughtfully; "I--stop! The two side-shutters in the
bay-windows are closed, and there is the same vivid crimson blind in the
centre window. And the self colour of the walls is exactly the same. The
faint discoloration by the fireplace is a perfect facsimile."
"In fact, _this_ is the room you were in the other night," Bell
said, quietly.
"Impossible!" Steel cried. "The blind may be an accident, so might the
fading of the distemper. But the furniture, the engravings, the fittings
generally--"
"Are all capable of an explanation, which we shall arrive at with
patience."
"Can we arrive at the number over the door with patience?"
"Exactly what I was coming to. I noticed an old pair of steps in the back
sitting-room. Would you mind placing them against the fanlight for me?"
David complied readily enough. He was growing credulous and interested in
spite of himself. At Bell's instigation he placed the steps before the
fanlight and mounted them. Over his head were the figures 218 in
elongated shape and formed in white porcelain.
"Now then," Bell said, slowly. "Take this pocket-knife, apply the blade
to the _right-hand_ lower half of the bottom of the 8--to half the small
O, in fact--and I shall be extremely surprised if the quarter section
doesn't come away from the glass of the fanlight, leaving the rest of the
figure intact. Very gently, please. I want you to convince yourself that
the piece comes away because it is broken, and not because the pressure
has cracked it. Now then."
The point of the knife was hardly under the edge of the porcelain before
the segment of the lower circle dropped into Steel's hand. He could feel
the edges of the cement sticking to his fingers. As yet the full force of
the discovery was not apparent to him.
"Go out into the road and look at the fanlight," Bell directed.
David complied eagerly. A sharp cry of surprise escaped him as he looked
up. The change was apparent. Instead of the figures 218 he could read now
the change to 219--a fairly indifferent 9, but one that would have passed
muster without criticism by ninety-nine people out of a hundred. With a
strong light behind the figures the clumsy 9 would never have been
noticed at all. The very simplicity and ingeniousness of the scheme was
its safeguard.
"I should like to have the address of the man who thought that out,"
David said, drily.
"Yes, I fancy that you are dealing with quite clever people," Bell
replied. "And now I have shown you how utterly you have been deceived
over the number we will go a little farther. For the present, the way in
which the furniture trick was worked must remain a mystery. But there has
been furniture here, or this room and the hall would not have been so
carefully swept and garnished whilst the rest of the house remains in so
dirty a condition. If my eyes don't deceive me I can see two fresh nails
driven into the archway leading to the back hall. On those nails hung the
curtain that prevented you seeing more than was necessary. Are you still
incredulous as to the house where you had your remarkable adventure?"
"I confess that my faith has been seriously shaken," David admitted. "But
about the furniture? And about my telephone call from Mr. Gates's town
house? And about my adventure taking place in the very next house to the
one taken by him at Brighton? And about Miss Gates's agitation when she
learnt my identity? Do you call them coincidences?"
"No, I don't," Bell said, promptly. "They are merely evidences of clever
folks taking advantage of an excellent strategic position. I said just
now that it was an important point that Mr. Gates had merely taken the
next door furnished. But we shall come to that side of the theory in due
course. Have you any other objection to urge?"
"One more, and I have finished for the present. When I came here the
other night--provided of course that I did come here--immediately upon my
entering the dining-room the place was brilliantly illuminated. Now,
directly the place was void the supply of electric current would be cut
off at the meter. So far as I can judge, some two or three units must
have been consumed during my visit. There could not be many less than ten
lights burning for an hour. Now, those units must show on the meter. Can
you read an electric meter?"
"My dear fellow, there is nothing easier."
"Then let us go down into the basement and settle the matter. There is
pretty sure to be a card on the meter made up to the day when the last
tenant went out. See, the supply is cut off now."
As Steel spoke he snapped down the hall switch and no result came. Down
in the basement by the area door stood the meter. Both switches were
turned off, but on Bell pressing them down Steel was enabled to light
the passage.
"There's the card," Bell exclaimed. "Made up to 25th June, 1895, since
when the house has been void. Just a minute whilst I read the meter. Yes,
that's right. According to this the card in your hand, provided that the
light has not been used since the index was taken, should read at 1521.
What do you make of the card?"
"1532," David cried. "Which means eleven units since the meter was last
taken. Or, if you like to put it from your point of view, eleven units
used the night that I came here. You are quite right, Bell. You have
practically convinced me that I have been inside the real 219 for the
first time to-day. And yet the more one probes the mystery the more
astounding does it become.... What do you propose to do next?"
"Find out the name of the last tenant or owner." Bell suggested.
"Discover what the two houses were used for when they were occupied by
one person. Also ascertain why on earth the owners are willing to let a
house this size and in this situation for a sum like £80 per annum. Let
us go and take the keys back to the agents."
Steel was nothing loth to find himself in the fresh air again. Some
progress had been made like the opening of a chess-match between masters,
and yet the more Steel thought of it the more muddled and bewildered did
he become. No complicated tangle in the way of a plot had ever been
anything like the skein this was.
"I'm like a child in your hands," he said. "I'm a blind man on the end of
a string; a man dazed with wine in a labyrinth. And if ever I help a
woman again--"
He paused as he caught sight of Ruth Gates's lovely face through the
window of No. 219. Her features were tinged with melancholy; there was a
look of deepest sympathy and feeling and compassion in her glorious
eyes. She slipped back as Steel bowed, and the rest of his speech was
lost in a sigh.