“How dare you, sir? Who are you?”
“Her husband!” shouted the infuriated house-breaker; and at the same
moment there was the flash of a knife and an agonising cry from the
wounded woman, and a rush upon the assailant from all sides. I was
among the number, and Brettle recognised me with a quiet nod.
“I’m not going to struggle or bolt,” he quietly observed, as Pretty
Polly was lifted from the pavement and borne insensible into the
hotel, with the blood gushing from a deep wound in her breast. “I’m
satisfied now. I have paid her off. I’ve taken it out of her, and she
was the only woman I ever loved!”
Bob’s grief, however, seemed quiet and tame compared with that of
Polly’s second husband, upon whom the revelation came with a shock
which nearly proved fatal. Mr Harper quietly slipped away out of
Edinburgh without once asking to look on the face of the woman who
had deceived him. Brettle went to prison, of course, and Pretty
Polly, as soon as she could be moved, was sent to the Infirmary.
She lingered long, but did not die. In about six months she was
pronounced able to leave the hospital. She appeared as witness
against Brettle, and helped to fix a year’s imprisonment on him, and
then she drifted out to a life of hardship and degradation which
ended her before Brettle’s sentence had expired. Brettle heard the
news unmoved when he was liberated, and then disappeared. I have
never heard of him since.
M^cSWEENY AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.
The things were missed from one of the rooms in a house in George
Square not many hours after the sweeps had been there, and of
course suspicion at once fell upon these men. Who ever trusted a
chimney-sweep the length of his own nose? The blackness of their
faces is supposed to be nothing to that of their souls, and what was
the old and popular portrait of the devil but a chimney-sweep with a
tail tacked on? There were three articles taken—a gold bracelet, a
very valuable necklet and pendant, and one gold ear-ring.
The leaving behind of one of the ear-rings gave the robbery an odd
look, for the whole of the things had been taken from the drawer or
a dressing-table, and the ear-ring left was the first article which
caught the eye of the owner when she opened the drawer.
Either the thief had wanted only one ear-ring, or had been scared
in grasping at the plunder, and so left the odd trinket. The drawer
had been locked, but the key had been left in the lock, and must
have been made use of by the thief both to open and refasten that
receptacle. Mrs Nolten, the lady of the house, was the first to make
the discovery, and, not knowing that the sweeps had been in the
house, fancied that one of the servants might have taken the use of
the jewels.
A furious ring at the bell brought the two girls up in great
consternation, and then the truth was known. Neither of them had
been near the drawer of the dressing-table, and one of them, while
admitting that the sweeps had been there, declared that she had “kept
her eye on them” all the time, and so could scarcely conceive it
possible for them to be the thieves.
Mrs Nolten paid no heed to the remark, but wisely sent word to us in
all haste. When the report arrived it was about eleven o’clock in the
forenoon, and I was on the point of starting off to look after a much
more important case. However, as I had to go southwards, I decided to
take George Square on the way, and then let M^cSweeny do the rest.
We soon got to the house, and were shown into the dressing-room from
which the articles had vanished.
The two servants were brought up, and from one of them I learned that
the sweeps had been simply a man and a boy. They had both been in the
room for a little, and after the man had helped to lift out the grate
and fasten up a blanket in the fire-place, he had gone up on the
roof to complete the work, leaving the boy in the room alone. They
believed that the boy was the sweep’s own son. I examined the carpet
in front of the dressing-table. It showed no marks of sooty feet. I
then looked at the drawer in which the articles had been secured, and
finally took the key from the lock and smelt it. There was a distinct
smell of soot about it, but then the whole room had a flavour of the
kind just then, and the smell on the key might mean nothing. After
taking down a minute description of the articles missing, and getting
the sweep’s address, we left the house, and I directed M^cSweeny to
go to the chimney-sweep and see what he could make of the case. We
then parted, with the understanding that I also was to call at the
sweep’s on my return. The man’s name was Sandy Brimely, and his place
only a couple of streets from the spot.
It was a dark dingy hole below the level of the street, and consisted
of three rooms or cellars, lighted through gratings on the pavement.
One place was used as a kitchen and sleeping-place, another smaller
place was also used as a bedroom, and the third hole was used as a
store-room for soot. This third place was in reality part of the
first, but had been divided off by the wooden partition which kept
the soot from sliding all over their living room.
Sandy was standing at the head of the stair leading down to this
sooty abode when M^cSweeny arrived. His work was generally over by
that time, except when a godsend came in shape of a chimney afire,
and Sandy leant against the wall enjoying his pipe as peacefully
as if there had been no such beings as detectives in the world. He
was a sly, oily tongued fellow, but so far as I know had never been
convicted of any worse crime than beating his wife, or occasionally
taking more whisky than he could carry unassisted.
After a little preliminary blarney on both sides, during which it
appeared that Sandy knew both M^cSweeny’s face and his profession, my
chum considerably startled him by saying abruptly—
“You were at Mrs Nolten’s, in George Square, this morning?”
The sweep took the pipe from his mouth, with his pleased look
effectually banished. If he had not been so sooty he might have been
said to turn pale, so constrained and almost scared did he become.
“Let me see. Yes—yes, I was there,” he awkwardly answered. “I was
there doing two vents.”
“Did you take anything away wid ye?” said M^cSweeny, pointedly.
He expected the man, if guilty, to show signs of concern or
confusion; but, if anything, the sweep looked brighter after the
question.
“Away with me?” he echoed, to gain time for the answer. “Of course I
did. I took the soot.”
“Nothing else?” suspiciously pursued M^cSweeny.
“Nothing else, sir, as I’m a living man,” energetically returned
Sandy. “I hope you don’t think I would touch an article belonging to
any one else?”
The question was a delicate one, and M^cSweeny did not attempt an
answer, further than to state that some things had been missed, and
that he was there in his official capacity to investigate the case,
and try to find the articles missing.
Sandy allowed him to talk on, drinking it all in and becoming
brighter and more beaming at every word.
“I hope you’ll search every hole and corner in my place, sir,” he
fervently exclaimed, when M^cSweeny had done. “I want my character
cleared, and my honesty established. What,” he added grandly, “what
is dearer to a poor man than his good name? and what would become of
my business if folks took me for a thief? I insist on you searching
my place—never mind about a warrant, or anything else—my honour is at
stake, and I must have it done at once.”
He led the way downstairs to his abode, in which M^cSweeny found
quite a crowd of small sooty children scrambling about the earthen
floor in noisy glee. These were all sent outside, and then Sandy
explained to his wife with much warmth the absurd suspicion which had
been raised against his character.
“I see it all now! I see it all now!” he suddenly exclaimed, smiting
his sooty brow with tragic force. “Could anybody believe they would
be so cunning?”
M^cSweeny hinted that an explanation would be acceptable.
“Why, don’t you see, sir—the servants—the servants; they’re at the
bottom of this. They’ve taken the chance while we were there to steal
the things, knowing the blame would fall on me. You’ve no idea,” he
continued, waxing pathetic, “what sweeps have to put up with. There’s
scarcely a house we go into that we’re not watched like glaziers on
tramp. You can see it in their eyes. It’s hard to be looked at like a
thief when you’re doing your best to earn an honest living.”
“Are you quite sure now that the boy you had with you mightn’t help
himself if he got a dacent chance?” suggested M^cSweeny, by way of
appearing to sympathise with the sweep.
“Him? Why, he’s my own son!” exclaimed the sweep, as if that quite
settled the matter. “But he’s just out in the square there playing at
the bools. I’ll send for him, and you can question him yourself.”
This was done, and the sooty apprentice appeared, and denied all
knowledge of the missing articles.
M^cSweeny, on the invitation of the father, somewhat gingerly
searched the sooty clothes of the boy, but found nothing. He then
performed the same office upon the father, with a like result. The
wife also turned out her pockets for inspection, and then M^cSweeny
settled himself to the not very agreeable task of searching the
house. The furniture was poor and scanty, and the floor an earthen
one, so there was no great difficulty in the task. But there was soot
everywhere. It was on the floor, on the shelves, in the very beds,
and so pervaded the whole atmosphere of the house that M^cSweeny had
soon drawn such a quantity into his nostrils that he would willingly
have paid half-a-crown down for the pleasure of sneezing his own head
off. He went gaping, and blinking, and sputtering over the place till
he had searched every part but the soot cellar. Before that he paused
ruefully. I firmly believe he would have shirked searching that
altogether, and that the resolve was showing itself in his face, when
the cunning sweep affected to make a suspicious movement or two with
his hands near the partition, as if in the act of dropping something
into the soot.
“What’s that you’re after now?” cried M^cSweeny, starting round
sharply and dragging forth the sweep’s hand.
“Nothing—oh, nothing, sir,” was the glib reply; “I was only feeling
how high the soot is.”
M^cSweeny suspiciously lifted a candle, held it over the partition
and peered down into the soot-bin at the spot, but could see nothing
to indicate that any article had been dropped. This partition was
about two feet and a half high and immediately behind it the soot was
fully a foot deep, sloping up thence to the back wall to a height of
about three feet. Against that wall several sacks of soot were piled,
and resting on one of these sacks was the end of a spar of wood which
reached across the soot to the wooden partition, upon which the other
end rested. This plank was evidently used as a standing-place from
which they could conveniently empty their soot-bag after a morning’s
work. M^cSweeny thought it possible that there might be a hide of
some kind behind these soot bags, and, candle in hand, clambered up
on the partition and thence on to the spar bridging the soot. As he
stepped across the frail bridge he had to turn his back for a moment
to the innocent-looking sweep, and knew no more until he had dived
down nose foremost into the sea of soot.
He always declared that the sweep had shoved the end of the plank
from the partition; but when he scrambled to his feet among the
soot, sputtering, gasping, and sneezing enough to rend himself,
there was Sandy standing gravely by him with a look of earnest and
sorrowing condolence on his grimy face. The wife went into fits
of laughter over M^cSweeny’s appearance as he stood in the soot,
with his face and beard thickly coated with the soft black, and
only his well-rubbed eyelids beginning to show white through the
sable covering, but she was solemnly rebuked and sworn at by her
demure-faced husband.
“Eh, sir, to think that the plank should have slippit just when it
wasna wanted to slip,” cried Sandy, handing M^cSweeny a sooty rag
with which to clean his face and clothes; “but it’ll dae ye nae herm,
sir, nae herm. Soot’s a healthy thing, sir—healthier than clean
water.”
“You—you—ah—ah——choof!—you did that!” cried M^cSweeny, as soon as he
could speak, ferociously fixing Sandy with his eye. “You’ll suffer
for—ah—ah——choo—oof! Begorra, I’ve a good moind to stick your head in
it, and make you swallow a bag of it before I let you out.”
“Me, sir!” cried Sandy, in pious horror. “May I never soop another
lum if I ever thought o’ sic a thing. See, I’ll gie ye a brush doon,
sir. It’s a kind o’ a pity ye had thae licht-coloured troosers on,
but they’ll clean at the dyer’s, and never look a whit the waur.”
“Don’t thrubble yourself to brush me, for I’m not done wid the hole
yet,” savagely responded M^cSweeny; “but for this I’d have let you
off aisy, but now, sweet bad luck to you! I’m as black as I can be,
and I’ll see to the bottom of this before I stir.”
M^cSweeny at the same moment seized a big shovel which he found in
one corner of the soot-bin, and deliberately began to spade out the
soot into the middle of the kitchen floor, carefully examining every
shovelful before he pitched it over the partition. While he was thus
engaged bending over a spadeful of the soot, Sandy managed to make
a sign to his wife, who stooped to the floor, picked something up,
and threw it over into the heap of soot rising in the middle of her
kitchen.
M^cSweeny was just conscious of some swift movement having taken
place, but saw neither the movement nor the direction of the pitch.
“What divil’s game are you two up to now?” he suspiciously growled,
looking from one to the other. “I’ll have to take yez both. You
throw’d something just now—what was it?”
The sweep and his wife raised their hands as if horrified at the
accusation, and solemnly declared that M^cSweeny’s imagination had
deceived him; that they had nothing to throw, and they would as soon
attempt to fly in the air as to try to deceive such a world-renowned
and keen-sighted detective as he. M^cSweeny, still suspicious, came
out of the soot-bin and searched about for a little, but found
nothing; and then, after a deal of snorting and swearing, went back
to his work, and soon had all the loose soot out in the kitchen.
There remained then only the sacks at the back to be removed, and
M^cSweeny was diligently setting his brawny arms and shoulders to
them when I descended the stair and stood before them. I stood
transfixed with astonishment at the strange scene, till a familiar
grin from the demon of darkness at work in the soot-bin made me look
at him more closely, and then I faintly recognised my chum.
“Good heavens! what does all this mean?” I exclaimed, after a hearty
laugh at M^cSweeny’s solemn face and the eloquent burst of abuse
which he heaped upon the sweep and his wife.
“It means,” he responded, making a virtue of a necessity, “that I’m
not afraid to do my duty properly, even though I do get a little
black by it, and spoil a good suit of clothes into the bargain.
Jamie, avick, I’ve found nothing, but we may take them both on
suspicion, for a pair of bigger blackguards never walked the streets
unhung.”
It seemed to me that had the sweep been an innocent and honest man,
he would have resented this language hotly. He did not. He was all
smoothness and politeness still, and officiously offered to help me
in any way. What I liked worse was to observe that he was also all
cheerfulness. There was even a twinkle of gloating and delight in
the corners of his demurely drawn eyes over M^cSweeny’s grinning
and discomfiture, or possibly over the consciousness that he was
perfectly safe. Now, I had never believed that we should find the
missing articles in that sooty den, and had hinted as much to
M^cSweeny. Supposing the sweep to have nerve and effrontery enough to
commit such a robbery, he would have been an arrant fool to have kept
the stolen trinkets about his house. After a look round the place
myself, and a short conversation in an undertone with M^cSweeny, I
decided that we might go, and trust to tracing the missing articles
elsewhere. But there was the sweep’s kitchen in a dreadful state of
confusion, with a great pile of soot filling the centre of the floor;
it would never do to leave the poor man’s house in that state, and I
promptly said so.
“Oh, that’s naething, sir—I’ll put back the soot mysel’,” smoothly
and graciously answered the sweep. “Dinna disturb yoursel’, sir; I’ll
see ye up that stair, for it’s very dark and narrow. This way, sir;
this way.”
He quickly made for the stair, but I paused before following, and
exchanged a look of inquiry with M^cSweeny. The wife, squatted by the
fire with a pipe in her mouth, watched us furtively out of the corner
of her eye. That sly, cautious glance decided me. The sweep had shown
a trifle too much alacrity in wishing to bid us good-bye and see us
out. I stood still and conversed in a low tone with M^cSweeny. The
sweep looked back from the doorway somewhat anxiously.
“We’re not quite ready yet,” I quietly said; “we must put things
as we got them.” Then I added with apparent coolness to M^cSweeny,
“Shovel it back _carefully_.”
The face of the sweep, sooty though it was, showed a visible and
concerned change as I spoke, and I felt that I had scored a point.
“I’ll help you, sir; I’ve another shovel here,” he cried with
alacrity after the first stagger, pouncing on a shovel and
approaching the soot heap.
“Thank you—no,” I coldly and sternly returned, pointing to a seat by
the fire; “sit there till I tell you to rise.”
He sat down, or rather flopped down, with an attempt at a gracious
grin, and, taking the pipe from his wife, began puffing fiercely,
watching us anxiously all the while. M^cSweeny slowly and
deliberately shovelled up the soot in small quantities, according
to my directions, narrowly inspecting it as it was returned to the
bin, and before the half of the soot had been so lifted he paused to
inspect a soot-covered object which had got into one of these small
shovelfuls. I was at his side in a moment; and as the glitter of
metal caught my eye I glanced towards the sweep and saw that he was
painfully anxious to look indifferent. The object, when cleared of
soot, proved to be a small handle of gilt brass, fastened to a flat
piece of ivory, on which was some neat carving. The four eyes at the
fireside were goggling, like distended telescopes, at us as we stood
clearing the strange object of soot.
“What’s this?” I sharply demanded of the sweep.
“That, sir?” and he took a stride or two forward to look at the
fragment. “I’m sure I dinna ken; it’s a thing ane o’ the bairns found
oot on the street and brought in to play wi’.”
Sandy’s face said “lie” all over in spite of the soot as he made
the hurried answer, and I said nothing. Every thief has “found”
these things, or had them given him, or innocently brought into his
house by some third person not conveniently at hand. After a close
inspection of the fragment I was inclined to think that it had formed
part of the lid of an ivory box or casket. No such article was in our
list so far as I could remember; but the expression of the sweep’s
face and his general manner induced me to say that I would take the
fragment with me.
“Certainly, sir, certainly; it’s of nae value to me,” cried Sandy
with forced alacrity. “Will I wrap it in a bit paper for ye?”
I declined the officious offer, put the fragment in my pocket, and
shortly after took leave with M^cSweeny, who made a dive at once
for the baths in Nicolson Square. A wash in water and a brush at
the fragment seemed to confirm my suspicion. The ivory appeared to
be fine, and was prettily carved, and it seemed to have been rudely
smashed. I took the piece to a dealer in such articles, and he not
only confirmed me in my suspicion, but showed me a complete casket
of the same style of workmanship. It was a small thing, about six
inches long by four broad, and might be used, the dealer said, for
holding either jewels or money. They were very expensive, and but
few were sold. This last bit of information I found to be correct,
for after going over all the dealers in such articles in Edinburgh I
could not find one who had sold a casket answering the description of
the fragment I had found. I wished to find the owner for a particular
reason. In examining the ivory one day it struck me that it had a
smoked appearance—a kind of dingy hue which could never have been
imparted by simply lying among soot. How could it have got that
tinge? Not by being thrown into the fire, for there was not a burn
on the whole fragment. Could Sandy have hung it up his own chimney
like a red herring or a ham to give it that colour, or had it been
so tinged when it came into his possession? The chimney in Sandy’s
house had been the place which we searched most rigorously, so I was
tolerably certain that he had no other interesting herrings there
in pickle. I thought the owner of the bit of ivory and brass might
help me to an answer, and at length decided to advertise for him.
“An Ivory Casket, Carved,” was notified in the newspapers as having
been found, and the owner was requested to call without delay upon
me. The day that this advertisement appeared, Sandy called at Mrs
Nolten’s house in George Square, and asked permission to go up on the
roof to get a rope which he believed he had left there on his last
visit. The request was put before the lady of the house, and promptly
refused. Sandy then went to the next house and made the same request,
and received as prompt a refusal. After the second appearance of the
advertisement, a gentleman named Dundas called, and requested to see
the “Ivory Casket.” There was a strange reserve about him, which I
only understood when in confidence he imparted to me the suspicion
that his own son had been the robber, at the same time emphatically
stating that he was firmly resolved not to give in any charge against
the runaway. On being shown the fragment, he identified it as part
of the lid of an ivory casket stolen from his house, and containing
at that time nearly £10 in gold and silver. The casket had not
been missed till after the flight of his son, who had left a good
situation and gone to London with the craze strong upon him to be an
actor. I found, however, that Mr Dundas had a distinct recollection
of employing Sandy to sweep his chimneys about that time, and as six
months had since elapsed, Sandy had been there on the same errand but
a month or two ago. On calling the gentleman’s attention to the smoky
appearance of the ivory, he declared that it had not been so tinged
when in his possession, and spontaneously remarked—
“It must have been hanging in some chimney.”
In a chimney certainly, but what chimney? whose chimney? I revolved
the matter in my mind, and at length concluded that Sandy would never
have been foolhardy enough to conceal anything in his own chimney.
And yet there was pretty palpable evidence that the stolen article
had been in _a_ chimney.
After half a day’s cogitation, an idea struck me which gave such a
feasible explanation of the thing that my only wonder is that it did
not occur to me earlier. Sandy, if he wanted a chimney as a hide,
was not limited in his choice to one or twenty. He visited some at
regular intervals, and was in these cases the only man employed. What
was to hinder him from using them boldly as establishments of his
own? depots for goods which he could not conveniently store at home?
I began to wonder how I could get hold of a list of these houses that
I might inspect the chimneys. In sweeping a chimney it was often
necessary for Sandy to lift out the grate, when it was what is known
as a “Register,” and it seemed to me that in doing so he could easily
make use of the space behind as a hide when the grate was put back;
but in making this guess it will be found that I gave Sandy credit
for less ingenuity than he possessed. While Mr Dundas was diligently
hunting for the address of his runaway son, that he might fairly ask
him if he had been the thief of the casket and its contents, I was
ferreting out the most prominent of Sandy’s customers. In making
the round of these it is singular, but true, that I never thought
of calling at Mrs Nolten’s, and when I did find myself there, it
was more by accident than from choice. Being on the spot one day, I
thought I would go in and have the register grate lifted out; but
when this had been done in presence of the lady and myself, and
nothing found, Mrs Nolten recalled the recent visit of Sandy, and
detailed to me the circumstances. I immediately conceived a strong
desire to go up on the roof and have a look for that “rope which he
thought he had left.” I did not look about the slates or rhone pipes,
but went straight to the chimneys, though I confess I was at a loss
to understand how anything could be safely concealed in them. After
going over all the chimney-cans, I came to one inside which, just at
the bottom where the can was embedded in mortar to secure it to the
stones, I saw sticking a common three-inch nail.
It was all but hidden with soot, but enough was left bare to show
that it had attached to it a bit of twine, which hung down inside
the chimney proper. I grasped at the nail, easily pulled it out, and
drew up with it the bit of twine. Something dangled at the end of the
twine, which proved to be a paper parcel not very neatly tied up. I
felt the contents of the parcel through the paper, and smiled out
broadly.
“What a dunce I was not to think of this sooner!” was my comment upon
myself.
I distinctly felt the shape of a bracelet through the paper, and did
not trouble to open the parcel till I should get down into the house.
I went down, and Mrs Nolten, seeing me smile and the parcel in my
hand attached to the sooty string, instantly grasped at the truth.
“You’ve found them in my own chimney?”
A woman’s instincts seldom mislead her. The lady was right. I opened
the paper parcel, and there, snugly reposing within, and not a whit
the worse of the smoking, were the bracelet, the necklet, and the
odd gold ear-ring. I left the house at once, taking the interesting
parcel with me, and in a minute or two stood before Sandy in his own
home.
“It’s a fine day, sir,” he graciously began.
“It is—a very fine day,” I returned, with emphasis. “Do you remember
that bit of ivory, Sandy, with the brass handle attached, which we
found here?”
Sandy found his memory conveniently defective.
“I had quite forgot aboot it, sir,” he said awkwardly, when I had
refreshed his powers a little.
“Well, I’ve discovered the gentleman who owns it, and strangely
enough he declares that _you_ were in his house sweeping some
chimneys the day before it went amissing.”
Sandy’s sooty face was a curious study, but he wisely made no audible
reply.
“Don’t say anything unless you like, but did you ever see this parcel
before?” I gently pursued, as I brought out the parcel and showed
him its contents. “Nothing to say?—very good. Just put on your coat
and cap and we’ll go, then. I’m only sorry,” I added, as I put a
handcuff on his wrist, and retained the other end in my hand, “that
I haven’t a pair of these with a longer chain between the bracelets,
for I never come close to you, Sandy, without sneezing for half a day
after.”
Sandy grinned a feeble and ghastly assent, and then went with me
without a word. We could easily have proved both robberies against
him, but he decided to make the best of his position by pleading
guilty, and so got off with three months imprisonment.