How Benjie Blunt came to get his name I never could discover—possibly
it was prompted by the law of contrariety, because Benjie was so
sharp. His real name had not the remotest resemblance to this, but as
he refused to answer to that, he was always put down in the prison
books as Benjamin Blunt.
Benjie’s vanity was much greater than his acquisitiveness. He liked
to boast of the feats he had done, hence the cases in which he was
mixed up generally showed a superlative degree of ingenuity and
cunning, however small the stake. I do not find, however, that
Benjie’s cleverness produced any marked diminution in the number of
his convictions—indeed, it was the grave length of that list which
prompted him to make such elaborate preparations in the following
case.
Close to the Meadows, and before that quarter was so much built
upon, there was a cottage occupied by an old army surgeon, whom I
may name Dr Temple, and his servant, Peggy Reid. This gentleman was
a bachelor, and somewhat eccentric, and, as he had spent the most of
his life in India, he was supposed to be very rich. Dr Temple was as
exact and punctual in his habits and engagements as if he had been
still in the army. Everything went on like clock-work in his snug
little home, and if a servant did not please him in that respect,
he discharged her on the spot. One of his habits was to spend every
Thursday evening at a friend’s house, leaving his own house at seven
o’clock, and returning at half-past ten. His house was full of Indian
curiosities and nicknacks, but most of them were of a kind which
could not have been readily turned into money. The cottage had a
little garden in front, railed in, and had also a space at one end,
in which stood a coal cellar, a wash-house, and an empty dog kennel.
A working joiner happened to be passing this cottage about nine
o’clock on a Thursday night, and, glancing up towards the front
door, was surprised not so much at seeing it standing half-open as
at noticing something like a human foot and the skirt of a dress
lying motionless on the lobby floor. There was a light in the lobby,
and the inner glass door was also ajar. The man stopped and stared,
wondering whether it was not some servant busy scrubbing the floor,
and lying on her side to reach some corner scarcely accessible. But
the foot did not move, and as the place was lonely and dark, the
man suspected something was wrong, looked round for a policeman
in vain, and then pushed open the gate and advanced towards the
strange object. He found Dr Temple’s servant, Peggy Reid, lying on
the lobby floor behind the outer door quite insensible. At first the
man thought she had been knocked down, and so stunned, but seeing no
traces of a blow, and finding that she breathed calmly and regularly,
he came to the conclusion that she was drunk, and vainly tried to
arouse her by shaking her and propping her up on a lobby chair.
As she gave but faint signs of awaking, he then tried to call the
assistance of the household by ringing the bell, and, getting no
response, concluded that the house was empty, and went in search of
a policeman. At the Middle Walk he was fortunate enough to catch the
glare of a policeman’s lantern, and soon had the man informed of the
strange discovery. They went back together to the cottage, and found
the servant girl still sitting in the lobby, and looking stupid and
confused.
“A man rang the bell and said the doctor sent him for his stick,”
she feebly explained in reply to the policeman’s questions. “Then he
shoved himself in and held something to my mouth, and everything grew
dark.”
“Chloroform,” said the policeman shortly. “The house has been robbed,
I’ll swear. Let’s look through it and see.”
With some assistance Peggy was able to get on her feet and lead them
through the house. A great deal of damage had been done; ornaments
and curiosities smashed and tossed down in sheer wantonness or anger,
but not much of value taken. Some silver ornaments and jewellery,
and an old-fashioned gold watch, were all that the servant could
say positively were gone; but it turned out afterwards that a
considerable sum of money in gold and bank notes had been taken
besides these valuables. An Indian casket of carved wood, ornamented
with ivory, was also missed on the day following. It was not worth
sixpence to any one but the owner, and why it had been taken was a
mystery to all.
While this discovery was being made, or possibly a short time
before, a curious arrest was being made in the High Street, which, as
everyone knows, is about seven minutes’ walk from the Meadows. Benjie
Blunt had made his appearance in the High Street, not far from the
Central Station, uproariously drunk and apparently reckless of all
consequences. He staggered about, shouting out sundry sounds which
were supposed to represent a song, he insulted everyone within his
reach, and, finally, in making a mad grasp at some of the tormenting
gamins clustered about him, he fell forward on his face, and was
so overcome that he could not get up again. A crowd cannot gather
in the High Street at any time without almost instantly attracting
our attention. The man on the beat was soon at Benjie’s side, and
on telling him to get up was rewarded with a kick on the shin bone.
Another man had to be summoned, and between them, with the greatest
difficulty, they managed to carry the limp and drooping figure
of Benjie into the station, by which time that worthy was quite
incapable of speech, and was locked in a cell to sober at leisure.
Benjie passed the night in a profound slumber, and was next morning
placed at the bar of the Police Court, and fined in five shillings,
or seven days. When had a professional thief five shillings to spare?
or the inclination to part with the sum, unless he had urgent and
profitable work awaiting him outside?
Benjie declared himself bankrupt, and made a pathetic appeal to the
Sheriff to be let off “just this once,” and was then hustled out and
taken to the cells, no more depressed than if he had been starting
for a week’s holidays. Indeed, from the manner in which he thrust his
tongue into his cheek, and bestowed on me an impudent wink as he was
led off, it struck me that Benjie was highly delighted with himself
or his oratorical display. I failed to see any cleverness in it; I
was to think differently later on.
I had been out at Dr Temple’s cottage not an hour after the
discovery; and as I found the servant perfectly recovered, and with
not a scratch to show as the result of the attack, I rashly concluded
that she herself was the thief, with or without an accomplice.
My idea was that the lying in the lobby with the door open and
apparently insensible was a mere feint to throw suspicion off herself
while her companion escaped with the booty. My only wonder was that
she had not been found bound and gagged as well, and it was that
omission which made me wonder if she had done the whole thing single
handed. With this thought uppermost I searched the whole cottage
and garden very carefully, expecting to find the plunder there
buried or hidden. The dog kennel already noticed stood on feet,
and was about four inches off the ground, and it seems strange to
me now that I did not have it moved or looked below. However, the
oversight—which I actually made—mattered little, for at that time
the plunder was not there. I merely mention the fact to show what
a narrow escape the girl made, for had the stolen things been got
there she would certainly have been arrested; and that they were not
there found was not through any planning or skill of the thief. That
which complicated the case to all concerned proved a blessing to the
servant girl.
Peggy Reid, when questioned by me, asserted her belief that she would
know the man again who had held the handkerchief over her mouth
and nostrils, and stated that she had noticed a man resembling him
hanging about the place, and passing and repassing some days before.
I had no faith in her ability to do so, for at that time I strongly
suspected herself, but I made a raid among “my bairns,” and picked up
two fellows, who were shown to her without success.
She was positive that neither of them was the man, and they were
liberated. If Benjie Blunt had been at liberty I might have thought
of him, but at that time he was demurely picking oakum in Calton
Jail to wile away the tedium of his sentence of seven days. He had
been carried into the Central Office, dead drunk, an hour before the
robbery was reported, and what could be more satisfactory to us?
Candidly, the thought of Benjie in connection with the singular and
daring robbery never once rose in my mind.
Failing with the two first arrests, I kept my eyes open for the
spending of the money which had been the chief part of the plunder.
A flutter of interest quivers through the whole thieving community
the moment a big haul is taken by any of their number. It will not
hide; you see it in their faces, in their manner, in their gorging
and drinking, and in a certain indescribable furtive uneasiness and
excitement which they show when visited and questioned.
The only one whom I found to be unusually flush of money was a man
named Pat Corkling, better known as “Pauley.” Pauley was more a
beggar and tramp than a thief, and had got his nickname by evading
hard labour during a sentence for vagrancy by pretending that he had
a “pauley,” or paralysed, right hand. Pauley, then, was spending
money freely, and yet always too drunk to go out begging. I
therefore removed him to the Central, and had him searched.
We found more money on him than he could account for, but none of it
could be identified, and Peggy Reid, on being shown Pauley, declared
most positively that he was not the man.
Pauley was therefore released, and went away triumphant, with the
money in his pocket, to resume his drinking and gorging.
At this stage of the affair there occurred a most singular and
unaccountable event. Benjie Blunt was set at liberty, having duly
served his term of seven days, and that very night the policeman
Bain, on the beat past Dr Temple’s cottage, was suddenly attacked
in a ferocious manner by a man who ran off the moment the assault
was made. Since the discovery of the robbery Bain had been ordered,
with Dr Temple’s permission, to enter the garden by the gate during
the night, and make the circuit of the cottage to see that all was
secure. He had done so on that occasion, and was scarcely out of the
garden when a powerful hand drove the hat over his eyes, while a
powerful foot administered a vicious kick to the small of his back.
While he was dropping to the ground in agony a voice growled out
something to the effect that he was to “take that you thief!” Bain
managed to spring his rattle; but when he scrambled to his feet again
he found himself alone, the nimble assailant having flown like the
wind. No arrest was made, though Bain had to get a substitute for the
rest of the night, and go home to bed.
Next day, as if to add to the complications, a note was handed into
the Office addressed to me, with twopence of deficient postage to
pay, and which ran thus—
“A blake Sheep. yul finde the rober of mr temples is thee Peg on the
bete. serche him an his howse an yul see. giv him 10 yers the vilin.”
The most of this precious epistle was written in a species of
half-text, which did not seem altogether unfamiliar to me. So
impressed was I with the idea that I went over to the prison and had
a look at the copy-books of most of those in the school or who had
been in it lately. I did not come on any resembling it, and it was
not till Benjie Blunt came up to me on the street a few days later
that the possible connection between him and the curious writing
flashed upon my mind.
“Now, I remember—Benjie used to write a hand something like that,”
was my thought when he addressed me, and I fully expected that
Benjie’s first words to me would have a reference to the policeman
Bain, a most sterling and tried man, in whom we had implicit
confidence.
Benjie took a long time to work round to the subject uppermost on his
mind, but at length he said—
“I know you’re always on the look-out for hints, and you’re so kind
and attentive when I’m in you’re hands that I couldn’t help coming to
you with what I’ve found out.”