A LITTLE CHESS PROBLEM
As soon as the two men were separated in this way, I realized that
Burroughs had made a mistake in tactics. We ought to have stayed
together. As it was, I did not know which of the two he meant to tackle.
It turned out that he was in the same uncertainty about me; but he
saw that the man who had crossed the room was going to switch on the
electric light, and to prevent this he sprang on him and shouted to me
to seize the other fellow.
I might as well have tried to seize a stroke of lightning. Before my
companion had half finished his sentence, the man was out of the room
and over the balcony railing, and it would have been sheer folly to
attempt any pursuit.
Meanwhile, Burroughs, who was as strong as a bullock, had collared his
man, holding his hands behind him in a grip of iron.
I closed the jalousies and fastened them, and then shut the window and
fastened that, and then switched up the light.
I recognized the prisoner immediately. It was Henriques--the brute who
had been going to strike Inez that night in the Rua Catania.
“Run your hands over him and draw his teeth,” said my friend.
He had both a revolver and a knife, and I took these from him and then
turned out his pockets. Among the miscellaneous contents I found, to
my intense surprise, an envelope addressed to Vasco, the name being
given in full.
I was careful not to show my keen interest at this, and something like
a flash of intuition warned me that I must learn the contents of the
letter without Henriques knowing that I had read it. As the envelope
was fastened, this was a little difficult. “These things may be wanted
by the police and may or may not be important,” I said to Burroughs.
Then I fetched a sheet of paper from my desk, wrapped up the envelope
and the small things and sealed the packet, placing the revolver and
knife by them. I did it very deliberately so that Henriques should see,
and then I said to him: “I don’t mean to give you a chance to deny that
these thing were found on you.”
“Shall I send for the police?” asked Burroughs, who was considerably
perplexed by what I had done.
“That depends upon this scoundrel. You needn’t hold him. He can’t do
any harm. But don’t let him get near these toys of his,” and I pointed
to his weapons. I had my plan by that time. I meant to trick him, and
it was part of my plan that he should believe that the packet was not
out of his sight the whole time.
“Now, if you make a clean breast of things, I shall let you go,” I
said, turning to the man. “What’s your name?”
“Garcia Rosada.” He lied so promptly that I saw he had been carefully
making up his tale.
I was on the point of telling him I knew his name, when it occurred
to me that it would be better to affect to believe him. “Who sent you
here?”
“No one.”
“Why did you come then?”
He hung his head for a moment as if in shame and then muttered: “I’ve
never been a thief before, and if you’ll let me go, Excellency, I vow
to the Holy Virgin I’ll never be one again. Have mercy on me. I’ve a
wife and five children and this will--will kill them.” He was an artful
scoundrel, and the break in his voice was quite cleverly done.
I put a few more questions, and he improved on the tale, saying that
his companion was name Ferraz, and having heard that I was a very rich
man, had tempted him to try and rob me.
Burroughs’ face, when he saw that I appeared to believe the yarn, was
quite an amusing study. He was divided between doubt whether I was
really gulled, and curiosity as to my object, if I was not.
“I’ll write that down while it’s fresh in my memory. If I find your
story true, I won’t punish you, Rosada,” I said and turned away to my
writing table. I made a pretence of writing, repeating the words aloud
and turning now and then to put a question about some detail.
But what I really did was to make up a dummy packet the exact
counterfeit of that on the table.
As soon as it was ready I crossed again to Henriques. “There’s one
thing you haven’t explained,” I said, picking up the revolver. “Why did
you bring this and the knife with you?”
He had his tale ready, good enough for such a fool as he deemed me.
“They are not mine at all, Excellency. They belong to Ferraz--the man
who got me into this.”
I put a question or two; and then as if in doubt I turned to replace
the revolver and stood for a moment in such a position that he could
not see me exchange the packets.
“You don’t believe that, do you?” exclaimed Burroughs, with a scoff.
“I don’t know quite what to believe yet,” I replied. “I’ll think it
over;” and I returned to my desk, and while keeping up the farce of
writing and asking occasional questions, I opened the packet and took
out the letter to Vasco.
It was very insecurely fastened, fortunately, so that I could open it
without showing any signs that it had been tampered with. As I read
it, I found it was from Dagara, and could scarcely restrain a laugh of
chagrin at the elaborate means I had taken to discover a mare’s nest.
It ran as follows:--
“LISBON CHESS CLUB.
438, RUA DA GLORIA.
“DEAR LIEUTENANT DE LINTO,--
“I was sorry you could not be at the Club last night. We had a most
interesting series of problems set by M. Polski, the Polish champion.
There were ten of them and the fifth and sixth will interest
you--both forced mates in seven moves. I hope that all our playing
members will find or make an opportunity of studying them very
thoroughly. I shall have them printed, of course, and am writing in
this strain to all the members who were not present.
“I am so anxious to see the general average of play improved before
we meet the Sanatarem Club.
“Yours sincerely,
“MANOEL DAGARA.”
Feeling very much like a man who has most ridiculously hoaxed himself,
I refolded the letter, put it back carefully into the envelope, and was
about to fasten it when a thought struck me.
Vasco a chess player! The most unlikely man in all Christendom to have
that profoundly staid disease. And why should this Henriques be chosen
to carry such a letter and have it on him in the dead of night when he
had come on such a grim mission as had brought him here?
Then a reason suggested itself. He must have had instructions to
deliver it in person to Vasco; and as the latter had been on the
_Stella_ from the previous night, the note could not be delivered. The
man in such a case, being afraid to leave it about, might well prefer
to have it on him.
This meant that it was of much more importance than its contents
suggested; and my thoughts flew to the cipher.
I was glad now that I had taken all the trouble and I took some more.
I made an exact copy of the letter, laying a sheet of very thin paper
over it and using the utmost pains to space every word and letter
exactly as it was written.
Then I fastened it up and made up another packet and returned to
Burroughs.
“I am still undecided what to do,” I said to him. “If this man’s tale
is true, I shan’t punish him. But he must stop here for the present, of
course. Have him locked in a room and let a couple of men be with him.”
Then I made another exchange of the packets and said to Henriques. “You
can’t have your weapons, but you can keep this.” And I gave it him.
Burroughs took him out of the room and was back again in a minute or
two, his face one staring note of interrogation.
“What the devil does it all mean?” he cried.
“He’s an honest fellow that, Jack. He’s been led into trouble by evil
companions and----”
“Oh, rats!” he broke in. “What were you writing there? You had me
guessing all the time?”
“I was only writing this;” and I showed him the copy of the letter.
He read it and scratched his head. “What is it? A prize puzzle?”
“It’s a copy of the letter I took from our friend’s pocket.”
“But you wrapped it up in the parcel.”
“You wouldn’t have me rob a gentleman of his belongings?”
“But the blessed thing was on the table all the time.”
“Do you mean this?” and I produced the dummy.
“It’s on me,” he said with a laugh. He was very American at times in
his idioms.
“I’m either a big stupid ass and have taken a lot of trouble for
nothing, or I’ve made a useful discovery. I shall soon know which,” I
said explaining how I had changed the packets.
Then I fetched the cipher key which I had hidden in another room and
returned to find him puffing at his pipe and puzzling over the copy of
the letter.
I told him then about the discovery of the cipher, and laid the key
over the lines getting more nonsense words from the first two or three.
Then I read the letter again and a thought struck me.
Dagara spoke of ten problems. There were ten lines in the letter.
“The fifth and sixth will interest you,” ran the phrase.
I laid the punctured slip over these in turn. The fifth gave me this
result. I will put the indicated letters in capitals.
“I hoPe that All our Playing mEmbeRS will find oR make.”
“P A P E R S R,” was shown up.
I laid the same row of holes over the next line, with no results that
were intelligible. The second row was no more fruitful, but the third
gave this result.
“an EArly opportunity of stuDying them thoroughlY.”
Put together the two lines of indicated letters read--
“PAPERS READY”--easy enough for Macaulay’s schoolboy to understand.
“Papers Ready.”
“I’m not a stupid ass after all,” I exclaimed, triumphantly. “Now we
want our considering caps. This means that some important information
which the writer of this letter has obtained is waiting to be
delivered, and what we have to do is to get hold of them.”
“It’s not in my line,” said Burroughs.
“I’m going to sleep over it. We’re not likely to have any more callers,
so I shall go to bed;” and to bed I went, leaving him on watch, as he
declared he should sit up till daylight.
In the morning I decided what to do. It was clear that the papers were
too important to be trusted by Dagara to any one but a duly selected
messenger. The care with which the message was sent to Vasco that they
were ready, suggested that he was not that messenger. Why then should
he be told about them? Probably he had to send the messenger for them.
I thought it over carefully, revolving all I knew, and by the process
of exclusion decided it was Miralda. It must be some one whom Vasco
could see at any time, the moment the message reached him. Even with
Inez, of whom I thought first, this was not practicable. It might be
some fellow-officer; but no one of them would be so invariably within
immediate touch as Miralda.
Moreover, it was just the thing for which she could be used to the best
advantage. Dagara was married I knew, and thus she would only have to
pay an informal visit to the wife for him to meet her and hand over any
papers. Then I recalled that Inez had been one of the first to see that
forged letter of mine which Dagara had given up, and the conclusion was
easy that when Miralda obtained anything, she handed it on to Inez for
the latter to give to Barosa.
The inference was strong enough for me to risk acting upon it. I could
not, of course, be certain that Miralda went to Dagara’s house for any
communications, while that I should go there was out of the question. I
decided therefore to try my hand at a cipher message in Miralda’s name
telling Dagara to bring the papers to a spot where I could meet him,
and then take him to the only safe place for such an interview as ours
would be--on the _Stella_.
I must contrive to get him there secretly. I remembered a very
little-used landing-stage on the east of the city round the point,
where I could have my launch ready, and I soon saw a way of getting
Dagara to that spot.
The message I sent in cipher was as follows:
“Usual place unsafe. M. waiting now in the Praca da Figueira for
papers.”
I wrapped this up in a long letter answering his about the chess
problems, addressed it to Dagara at Volheno’s and sent Bryant to leave
it at the office.
I had meanwhile bundled Burroughs off to bring the launch to the
landing-stage, and I timed the delivery of the letter to reach Dagara
just about his dinner interval.
If the scheme failed, I resolved as an alternative to find out where he
lived and risk a visit to his house to frighten the papers out of him.
I had a carriage in readiness as I intended to drive him in it to the
landing-stage; and I was not a little excited as I started for the
Praca da Figueira--a quiet little square close to my flat.
I left the carriage out of sight and as I turned the corner leisurely I
felt a little thrill of satisfaction to see that he was there before me.
I had worked out my chess problem successfully and saw my way to mate
in less than his seven moves.
He was walking slowly with his back toward me, and I quickened up my
pace so that I was close to him when he heard my footsteps, turned and
saw me.