THE DEDUCTIONS OF A DETECTIVE.
Both Constance and Dr. Heath fancy that they comprehend the situation
almost instantaneously. The stranger's movements have been so cat-like,
his voice so carefully modulated, that Aunt Honor reads on, never
dreaming that an addition has been made to the party. Dr. Heath is the
first to speak.
"Upon my word," he says, with a touch of coldness in his tone; "this is
quite dramatic."
"It's a very good tableaux," admits the new comer, "but dramatic as the
present day drama goes? No, it's too naturally brought about, as you
will admit, when I explain my presence here. Your mention of my name,
while I lay sprawled across the great branch, within easy hearing, was
rather sensational, to me, but, of course you can explain that."
By this time Constance has recovered herself, and rises to the occasion;
in fact, she rather enjoys the situation; this is one of the emergencies
wherein she is quite at home. Without stopping for commonplace remarks,
or expressions of surprise, she goes straight to the point.
"How we came to be discussing you, you must understand, if you are
really Mr. Bathurst, and--have been very long in that tree."
"I have been 'very long' in that tree, I feel it," ruefully. "And I _am_
Neil Bathurst, detective; never was anybody else, and by the by, here is
this doctor; I heard him giving me a capital 'recommend;' now bid him
step up and identify me," and he laughs as if he had uttered a capital
joke.
Doctor Heath laughs now, as he comes closer and scrutinizes him by the
light from the drawing room.
"Oh, I recognize you by your voice, which you have not attempted to
disguise, and by your--a--assurance."
"I thought so!" rubbing his hands with a satisfied air.
"But that physiognomy, I never saw before."
The detective laughs.
"No, this is one of my business faces, and you, sir, are one of the few
who have known me simply as a man, without inference to my occupation; a
man like me may be expected to turn up anywhere, but you, sir, are the
last man I expected to see in this place."
"Nevertheless, I have been an inhabitant of W---- for a year; but enough
of me for the present. Mr. Bathurst, this lady is Miss Wardour, in whose
service you have been retained."
Miss Wardour extends a gracious, welcoming hand.
"Mr. Bathurst has heard me express my desire to know him," she says,
with a little ripple of laughter, "so no more need be said on the
subject. Mr. Bathurst you came as opportunely as a fairy godmother; and
now let us go in and take my aunt into our counsels."
She lifts the lace curtains and passes in; as she goes, Dr. Heath lays a
detaining hand on the detective's arm.
"Mr. Bathurst," he whispers; "in W---- I am Dr. Heath, from nowhere."
"I comprehend," significantly.
"Thank you;" then they too pass through the window, and the detective
goes through the ordeal of presentation to Aunt Honor.
Mrs. Aliston, being a thorough woman, who knows her perquisites, gets
through with the necessary amount of astonishment, ejaculations,
questionings, and expressions of delight; all things are overcome by
time, even a woman's volubility. And during the flow of her discourse
the detective is communing thus with his "inner consciousness:"
"So we have been retained by this handsome young lady? Well, that's
intelligence! and what does the old lady mean by supposing that Mr.
Lamotte has told me this and that? Who the deuce is Lamotte? Why the
deuce don't somebody ask me how I came to be perched in that tree? Do
they think it's the proper thing for detectives to tumble in among them
out of the trees and the skies? After all, it is like a drama, for I'll
be blessed if I see any sense in it all."
"I see you are all more or less attracted by my personal appearance," he
says, after Aunt Honor has given up the floor. "Now that I think of it,
it's _not_ just the thing for a drawing room."
Mr. Neil Bathurst, or his present presentment, is a medium sized man,
attired in garments that have once been elegant, but are now frayed,
threadbare, travel worn; his feet are encased in boots that have once
been jaunty; his hat is as rakish as it is battered; his face wears that
dull reddish hue, common to fair complexions that have been long exposed
to sun and wind; his hair and beard, somewhat matted, somewhat
disordered, may have borne some tinge of auburn or yellow once, but they
too, have, unmistakeably, battled with the sun, and have come out a
light hay color. As Constance looks at him, she, mentally, confesses
that he _is_ certainly the oddest figure she has ever entertained in her
drawing room.
"I have been wondering just what grade of humanity you are supposing
yourself to represent just now," says Doctor Heath, eyeing him
quizzically.
"What!" with mock humility, "am I thus a failure? Miss Wardour, look at
me well; do you not recognize my social rank?"
Constance surveys him afresh, with critical eye.
"I think," she says, "I recognize the gentleman tramp; one of the sort
who asks to wash his face before eating, and to chop your wood after."
"Right!" says the detective. "My self-respect returns; I am _not_ a
bungler. In the morning I shall be on the ground, to wash my face, and
chop your wood; which reminds me, your servants, they must not see me
here. I must depart as I came, and soon."
"And your search," asks Constance, "when will that begin?"
"My search?" hesitating oddly. "Oh, that has already commenced."
"What a curious thing it is that Mr. Lamotte should have secured you, of
all men," breaks in Aunt Honor. "I did not think it possible Mr.
Lamotte--"
"Pardon me, all of you," breaks in the gentleman tramp. "Something must
be set right; I will come to the point at once. Who _is_ Mr. Lamotte?
_What_ is Mr. Lamotte? I have never seen him; never heard of him."
"What!" from Constance.
"Oh!" from Mrs. Aliston.
"But--" from Doctor Heath.
"Let me finish," he interpolates. "Let me tell you just how I happened
to drop down among you to-night. Recently we have had in the city
several robberies similar to this of yours, Miss Wardour, as I
understand it. Several times we have had a trace or clue, and have hoped
to find the robbers, but so far have been baffled. We must necessarily
have many ways of gathering up information, and I have some methods of
my own. This is one of them. I have access to the offices of our daily
papers. I have a friend or tool in each. When a special telegram, in the
line of criminal intelligence, comes to one of these papers, I am in
possession of its contents before it has reached the compositor's hands.
This morning a 'special' arrived at the office of the _Evening
Bulletin_. I have not with me a copy. It ran:
MONSTER DIAMOND ROBBERY.
[Special dispatch to the Evening Bulletin.]
Intelligence has this moment been received, that Wardour Place has
been burglarized; and the splendid Wardour diamonds, valued at more
than one hundred thousand dollars, stolen, besides money and papers
of value. No particulars as yet.
"This is what brought me here. I came to see if this burglary was the
handiwork of the thieves I have been trying to catch. I came solely on
my own responsibility, not intending to make myself known to the inmates
of this house, but to ferret out things quietly and go my way. While
lurking in that tree I was surprised to hear myself made the subject of
conversation; and then, impulse led me to respond to this lady's
expressed desire to see me, and--I presented myself."
All sit silent, all are astonished, and inclined to think this odd
complication out quietly.
Constance is the first to see the absurdity of the situation, and she
breaks into a peal of laughter, in which she is presently joined by the
others. Finally, she regains her composure and says:
"And so after all you are not our detective. Well, that shall not
prevent us from appropriating your services. And you want to identify
these robbers if possible? We are all at your disposal--tell us how we
can help you most."
"You came with scant information," says Doctor Heath, "and you can't
have been here long, but I'll wager you have picked up something."
"As to that," replies the detective, smiling slightly, "I left the city
by the early afternoon express, before your Mr. Lamotte had arrived,
you see. Twelve miles from W---- I left the train and boarded a freight;
about three miles out I abandoned the freight, quite unceremoniously,
while she was pulling up a heavy grade, and tramped into town. I lounged
about, confining myself to the more obscure streets until I had got the
story of the robbery, with full particulars, as far as the gossips knew
it. Toward sundown I started in this direction. Stopping on the way, I
begged a drink of water and a slice of bread, of an old woman, in a
little brown house. She thought me a very well behaved tramp, and
inquired after my private history and the condition of my soul."
Constance laughs.
"That is old Mrs. Malloy," she says. "She's very pious and very full of
gossip."
"Precisely!" replies the detective, wickedly; "she told me how many
lovers you had, Miss Wardour; and how many dresses; and just the color
of your eyes, and hair; she told me all about the robbery, and a great
many more things that were not quite to the point."
"Of course," assents Miss Wardour, not at all abashed. "Mrs. Malloy is
an oracle."
"As soon as I could make my escape from her, I came nearer Wardour
Place, and made a circuitous survey. Still later, I came upon your
gardener, sitting, ruminating, upon a stone fence, in the rear of the
premises. I found him inclined to be communicative, in fact, he seemed
rather desirous to air his notions, and he has some peculiar ones,
concerning this robbery. I gave him a drink out of my black bottle, and
he grew quite eloquent."
"Oh, dear," interrupts Constance once more. "Then, no doubt, he has
pruned away half the garden shrubs. Old Jerry always _is_ seized with a
desire to prune things, the moment he has taken a drink."
"It was getting too dark for pruning, Miss Wardour, and he went to his
supper. Then, I approached the kitchen cautiously, found a comfortable
lurking place, close to an open window, and listened to the table talk
of the servants. From them I learned the bearings of the library, and
so, while you were at dinner, I entered, without difficulty, and have
explored that room to my entire satisfaction."
Amazement sits on the face of all three listeners.
"Well!" ejaculates Dr. Heath, "You are a modest tramp! What did you do
next?"
"Next I prowled 'round and round the house,' examining all the windows,
and drawing some conclusions; and then, having seen you, Doctor Heath,
through the drawing-room windows, I established myself in yonder tree to
wait until you should go home, and to waylay you."
"Much obliged, I'm sure," says the Doctor, gratefully. "What demoniac
design had you on my defenseless self?"
"Several; to appeal to your hospitality; to renew an acquaintance, which
in the beginning did me honor; and to quiz you unmercifully."
"Then I forgive you," grandiloquently. "And my doors are open to you,
and my hand is extended, and the secrets of my bosom are laid bare. But
Miss Wardour has something to say; I see it trembling on her lips."
"Right," smiles Constance. "I was about to ask if Mr. Bathurst, having
effected his object thus far independently, will be satisfied to inspect
my dressing room, the real scene of action, in the ordinary manner and
without any obstacles in the way."
"Perfectly," says the detective, dropping his tone of badinage and
becoming alert and business like at once. "And the sooner the better. I
am anxious to complete my deductions, for my time is limited, and I must
wait for daylight to overlook the grounds more closely than I could
venture to do to-day."
"We are all anxious for your opinion, and so, will you take one of those
lamps and my keys, or will you have an escort?"
"I wish you to point out to me the exact position of everything this
morning, Miss Wardour. I think we may all go up."
So they all ascended to the disordered dressing room, and the detective
seats himself, deliberately, upon the first unoccupied chair, and begins
to look slowly about him. It is not a long survey, and then the safe is
examined. Here he looks at Constance.
"This has not been done without noise; not loud enough to be heard
across the hall, perhaps, but enough to be heard by a light sleeper, or,
indeed, any one who did not sleep too soundly and with muffled ears,
say, in that room," pointing through the curtained arch which divided
the dressing from the sleeping room.
"Did you sleep there, Miss Wardour?"
Constance nods, then goes through the arch and returns with a little
phial of chloroform, and a fragment of cambric in her hand.
She places them before him, telling him quietly how they were found
before her that morning.
The detective takes them, turns them over in his hand, and examines them
closely.
"Ah!" he exclaims, drawing out the fancifully carved stopper, "this
phial is one of a set."
[Illustration: "Ah! this phial is one of a set."]
Doctor Heath nods. "So I thought," he says, glancing at Constance.
Once more, and in silence, the detective examines the safe, then he goes
quietly about the room not overturning or handling, simply observing
closely; then he says:
"Now, I think I am done here. We will go down, if you please, and I will
give you the benefit of my conjectures." He puts the bottle and the
piece of linen in his pocket, and turns from the room. Instinctively he
takes the lead, instinctively they follow, naturally according him the
leadership.
When they are once more seated, he turns to Constance.
"They gave you a very light dose of chloroform, Miss Wardour."
"Very light," she replies; "and that was most fortunate for me."
"How fortunate?"
"Allow me to explain," interrupts Doctor Heath. "Miss Wardour possesses
one of those peculiar constitutions upon which all opiates act with
disastrous effect. It is fortunate that a cautious hand,--I was about to
say a skilled hand,--administered the drug. I could swear that not the
half of an ordinary dose was given her, for a full dose would have
prostrated her for days; and the quantity it would require to make you
or me sleep soundly for half the night, would kill her outright."
"Ah!" says the detective, softly, to himself. "Ah-h-h!"
"Now I wonder;" it is Mrs. Aliston who speaks. "I _wonder_ how in the
world you knew that they had given my niece only a small dose."
"Very easily, madame. The phial is very small, and it is now over
two-thirds full."
"That, indeed!" murmurs Mrs. Aliston, feeling somehow extinguished,
while the others smile at his simple explanation.
"And now," says the detective, "for my deductions. First, then, the
robbers did not enter these grounds last night for the first time. They
did not enter the library at random, or because that window could be
easily forced. They, whoever they were, knew their grounds, not only
from without, but from within. The disturbance in the library is only a
ruse,--the robbers wanted nothing, knew they should find nothing, there.
They were not amateurs; yet, somehow, in this case, they bungled
somewhat in their work. Before they approached this house, every thing
was planned, and all was done as planned. They were systematic,
therefore successful; and yet--they bungled. They came by the
river,--came in a boat, with oars muffled; they came by the footpath
over the river slope, and entered your garden by leaping the fence just
below the gate, which was locked. Then they followed the footpaths
through the shrubbery, and straight to that library window. They came
there because they knew it to be the library window, and they wished to
cross the library because they knew that from the door of that room they
stepped at once upon the stairs, thus having the nearest, easiest and
safest route to Miss Wardour's rooms. Either they found her door
unlocked, or they were prepared with skeleton keys. Was the door locked,
Miss Wardour?"
"It was locked."
"It was locked. They then used a skeleton key, entered, and knowing just
the proportion of chloroform Miss Wardour could bear, they administered
it carefully, secured the booty without further trouble, and made their
escape without detection."
No remarks from his listeners. They sit amazed, incredulous, admiring,
yet speechless.
"Now, I see I had better prove my statements," goes on Mr. Bathurst,
looking from one to another with a smile of easy superiority. "Miss
Wardour is beginning to think that I _do_ belong to the godmother
species, and yet, it's all very simple."
"No doubt," retorts Doctor Heath, drily; "yet we are willing to endure
your simple explanation."
"I say the robbers came by the river," continues the detective. "Before
sundown I sauntered along the river bank; to-morrow I can show you
traces, indistinct but sufficient, to prove that a boat has been drawn
out of the water, and overturned upon the grass; keel, prow and
oar-locks have left their traces. There is also the print of a clubbed
and muffled oar, above the water mark, where an impatient hand has
pushed off the boat. Here is blunder number one. All these traces might
have been avoided or obliterated."
He pauses a moment, but his listeners sit, a very respectful audience,
and are inclined neither to question or argue. So he continues:
"I said that the robbers entered purposely at that particular window,
and because they were familiar with the interior of the house. Now I
have examined all of the windows of this floor, and I find that a person
unfamiliar with the inside of the building, and not aware which of the
upper rooms were occupied, would have chosen differently. The
dining-room windows, from without, would seem much more inviting; still
more, the drawing-room windows. Naturally, our burglars would select a
window which was tolerably easy of access, and where they knew there was
the least chance of being overheard and observed from above. Now, the
dining-room windows are close to the ground, and the awnings cut off all
chance for observation from above; but--they knew that Miss Wardour's
coachman sleeps in a small room just in the rear of the dining-room."
This was too much for Mrs. Aliston.
"Now, how _did_ you find that out?" she asks, with staring eyes.
"From my friend, the gardener," he replies. "Oh, I am quite familiar
with things about here. The very best place for a burglar to operate
would be these windows," motioning toward the front of the drawing room;
"he could stand in comfort on the lower balcony, screened by the upper,
and cut away at shutters and panes; but, our burglars knew that Miss
Wardour's rooms were directly above, and that Miss Wardour is a light
sleeper. Now, the very place that would be shunned by an unfamiliar
robber, is this very library window; it is higher than the others, has a
little thicket of shrubs just beneath it, and is overlooked from above,
being near an angle, by six windows. But our burglars knew that not one
of those rooms to which the six windows belong, are occupied; and that
the servants all sleep on the opposite side of the house. Now, then, I
say that the robbers knew Miss Wardour's sensitiveness to the effects of
chloroform; how else can we account for the fact of their giving just
enough to cause her to sleep, and not enough to cause any unpleasant
after effects. We can call it a coincidence, but it is one not likely to
happen; Doctor Heath knows that."
"True," responds Doctor Heath; "in a matter of this sort one would
hardly be likely to make so fortunate a blunder, or guess."
The detective pauses a moment, and then concludes: "My reasons for
saying that the robbers entered the garden by leaping the low fence just
below the gate, are, first, that gate creaks loudly when opened or shut,
and they knew this, and therefore avoided it; and, second, one of them,
the heavier of the two, came over with sufficient force to leave the
imprint of his right boot heel in the ground. It was the right heel,
because the deepest side of the indentation is to the right, and he
would naturally strike the ground with the weight resting on the outside
of the foot; and here, my friends, as the lawyers have it, I rest my
case."
"And a very clear case it looks," says Doctor Heath.
"How easily and naturally you come at these things," exclaims Constance,
in admiration. "It is a, b, c, to you, but it's awful Greek to the rest
of us. I begin to think detectives are born, not made."
"You think right, Miss Wardour," replies Bathurst. "It is the made
detectives who spoil and disgrace our profession."
"But," says Constance, with a look of anxiety upon her face; "I am sorry
to have it proved that this thing was done by some of our people. I am
reluctant to institute a search that may implicate some poor man whose
wife and children may live in our very town."
The detective laughs softly.
"There it is," he exclaims. "An amateur must always judge by what
appears uppermost. We detectives, as a rule, always distrust the most
plausible theory. Now look, a skilled burglar is a man of many
resources; a burglar studies his business as I study mine. You have no
idea how much misapplied talent goes roaming about of nights with a
jimmy and a dark lantern. Now let us suppose this case. A professional
burglar in the course of his wanderings, hears, as would be quite
natural, of the immense value of the Wardour diamonds, and he desires to
possess them. Now it's a great prize, and he goes to work with his
utmost care. He has confederates; they come, one or all, and manage to
gain the necessary information; they may come as tramps, pedlars, what
not; a talkative servant, a gossiping neighbor, like Mrs. Malloy, or
fragments of information picked up here and there may help them to get
the 'lay of the land;' they may even have entered the house, probably
have, and it may have been last month, or last year; our burglar
nourishes his job and studies it carefully. Finally he is ready; he
strikes; he succeeds. I do not say this is the case, understand; I
simply put it as a thing possible; and quite as probable as that the
thieves are here in W----."
Constance muses; she is thinking of various other depredations committed
in and about W----; and, as once before she recounted them to Doctor
Heath, she enumerates them now, and closes by saying:
"Your burglars keep a sharp eye on us, at all events, Mr. Bathurst."
"Naturally," assents the detective; "W---- is a capital field for that
sort of chap. It's a little mine of itself, and will always receive due
attention from the law breakers. By the by, Miss Wardour, these facts
you mention are worth noting; after considering, I think I will remain
in W---- during to-morrow. I want to explore about the river, and about
this place, a little more. If I may see you to-morrow I would like your
version of these other older robberies. I keep a record of every crime
reported, and, no doubt, have each of these upon my register, but not as
I would receive them from you. I do not wish to be seen or known, as
acting in this matter; your friend will be here to-morrow, or Monday,
and the officer he has chosen should be on the ground before to-morrow
morning. No doubt he will be all that you wish for, and my duties will
call me elsewhere very soon."
Then they all rise, and standing in a group begin talking. They so much
regret that they can not retain his services, and they are very grateful
to him for so much light as he has thrown upon the subject of the
robbery.
"But wait," he says, "you are to bear in mind that you _have_ no light;
you are in total darkness and ignorance; to-morrow you will have a new
officer, he may evolve a totally different theory. Then discard mine, or
not, as you think fit; in any case, let it be kept exclusively to your
three selves, for I am very likely to make a second appearance here. I
think that these burglars of yours are the chaps I am wanting. And, Miss
Wardour, this reminds me," drawing from his pocket the chloroform vial
wrapped in its accompanying linen bit, "may I keep this until morning? I
will return it to you by Doctor Heath, and, if your officer is not too
much in the way, will try and see you in person, if you will kindly give
me what facts you can recall concerning those robberies."
Constance expresses a hope that the officer will not be in the way, and
after they have talked a little more, the detective repeating his
cautions, Constance repeating her regret that he is not to take the
case, as _her_ case; and Mrs. Aliston repeating everything that comes
into her head, they separate, and the two men, looking so oddly unlike,
go out into the night.
Mrs. Aliston is ready to talk, but Constance is in no mood to listen.
She cuts short her aunt's elocution, and goes with listless weariness to
her own apartments.
Since the appearance of the detective, a shade of perplexity rested on
her face, and over and again her thoughts have repeated the question
which now falls from her lips.
"What does it mean? I am not mistaken; he said, 'here, I am Doctor Heath
from nowhere.' I begin to think that life is a mystery."
For Miss Wardour, hesitating a moment as she passed in from the balcony,
had caught the words uttered for the ears of the detective only.