10 - A Greek Gift. As A Thief In The Night by R. Austin Freeman.

10 - A Greek Gift. As A Thief In The Night by R. Austin Freeman.  
As one of the many stories written by R. Austin Freeman this book includes the most interesting character of Dr. Thorndyke. He commands the skills of a doctor, a lawyer and an investigator all rolled up into one remarkable man. In this case he must solve a murder mystery perpetrated by a most unusual criminal. There is also love and intrigue at play involving the other main characters

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of As a Thief in the Night by R.
Austin Freeman. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain,
a great gift. The incidents of my life while I
was following the Southeastern Circuit are no part of this history,
and I refer to this period merely by way of
marking the passage of time. Indeed, it was a separateness,

(00:24):
its detachment from the other and more personal aspects of
my life, that specially commended it to me. In the
cheerful surroundings of the bar Mess, I could forget the
terrible experiences of the last few weeks, and even in
the grimmer and more suggestive atmosphere of the courts, the
close attention that the proceedings demanded kept my mind in
a state of wholesome preoccupation. Quite a considerable amount of

(00:48):
work came my way, and though most of the briefts
were small, so small often that I felt some compunction
in taking them from the more needy juniors. Yet it
was all experience, and what was more important, and just now,
it was occupation that kept my mind employed. That was
the great thing, to keep my mind busy with matters
that were not my personal concern, and the intensity of

(01:11):
my yearning for distraction was the measure of the extent
to which my waking thoughts tended to be pervaded by
the sinister surroundings of Harold Monkhouse's death. That dreadful event
and the mystery that encompassed it, had shaken me more
than I had at first realized, Nor need this be
a matter for surprise. Harold Monkhouse had apparently been murdered,

(01:32):
at any rate, that was the accepted view, and who
was the murderer? Evade the answer as I would, The
fact remained that the finger of suspicion pointed at my
own intimate friends, nay even at me. It is no wonder,
then that the mystery haunted me. Murder has an ominous
sound to any ears, but to a lawyer practicing in
criminal courts, the word has connotations to which his daily

(01:55):
experiences impart a particularly hideous vividness and realism. Once I
remember that, sitting in court, listening to the evidence in
a trial from murder, as my glanced straight to the
dock where the prisoners stood, watched and guarded like a
captured wild beast, the thought suddenly flashed on me that
it was actually possible, and to the police actually probable

(02:17):
that thus might yet stand Wallingford or Madeleine, or even
Barbara or myself. It would have been possible for me
to run home from time to time at week ends,
but I did not. There was nothing to call for
my presence in London, and it was better to stick
close to my work. Still, I was not quite cut
off from my friends, for Barbara wrote regularly, and I

(02:38):
had an occasional letter from Madeleine. As to Thorndyke, he
was too busy to write unnecessary letters, and his peculiar
circumstances made a secretary impossible, so that I had from
him no more than one or two brief notes reporting
the absence of any new developments. Nor had Barbara much
to tell, excepting that she had decided to let her

(02:58):
sell the house in Hilboro's Square and take up her
residence in a flat. The decision did not surprise me.
I should certainly have done the same in her place,
and I was only faintly surprised when I learned that
she proposed to live alone, and that Madeleine had taken
a small flat near the school. The two women had
always been on excellent terms, but they were not specially

(03:19):
devoted to one another, and Barbara would now probably pursue
her own special interests. Of Wallingford. I learned only that,
on the strength of his legacy, he had taken a
set of rooms in the neighborhood of Jermyn Street, and
that his nerves did not seem to have benefited by
the change. Such was the position of affairs. When the
automus sizes came to an end and I returned home,

(03:42):
I remember the occasion very vividly, as I have good
reason to do. Indeed, I had better reason than I
knew at the time. It was a cold, dark, foggy evening,
though not densely foggy, and my taxicab was compelled to
crawl at an almost funereal pace, to the exasperation of
the driver through the murky streets, though the traffic was

(04:02):
now beginning to thin out. We approached the Temple from
the east and eventually entered by the Tudor Street gate,
whence we crept tentatively across King's Bench Walk to the
end of Crown Office Row. As we passed Thorndyke's chambers,
I looked up and had a momentary glimpse of lighted
windows glimmering through the fog. Then they faded away, and

(04:22):
I looked out on the other side, where the great
shadowy mass of paper buildings loomed above us. A man
was standing at the end of the narrow pastures that
leads the fig Tree Court, a Tallish man wearing a
preposterous wide brim hat and a long overcoat, with his
collar turned up above his ears. I glanced at him
incuriously as we approached, but had no opportunity to inspect

(04:44):
him more closely if I had wished, which I did not,
for as the cab stopped, he turned abruptly and walked
away up the passage. The suddenness of his retirement struck
me as a little odd, and having alighted from the cab,
I stood for a moment or two watching his receding figure,
but he soon disappeared in the foggy darkness, and I
saw him no more. By the time that I had

(05:06):
paid my fare and carried my portmanteau to fig Tree Court,
he had probably passed out into Middle Temple Lane. When
I had let myself into my chambers, switched on the
light and shut the door. I looked round my little
domain with somewhat mixed feelings. It was very silent and solitary.
After the jovial bar mess and the bright, frequented rooms

(05:27):
of the hotels, or the excellent lodgings which I had
just left, these chambers struck me as just a shade desolate.
But yet there were compensations. A sense of peace and
quiet pervaded the place, and all around where my household gods,
my familiar and beloved pictures, the little friendly cabinet, busts
and statuettes, and above all the goodly fellowship of books.

(05:51):
And at this moment my glance fell on the long
range of my diaries, and I noticed that one of
the series was absent. Not that there was anything remarkable
in that, since I had given Thorndyke express permission to
take them away to read. What did surprise me a
little was the date of the missing volume. It was
that of the year before Stella's death. As I noted this,

(06:12):
I was conscious of a faint sense of annoyance. I had,
it is true, given him the free use of the diary,
but only for purposes of reference. I had hardly bargained
for his perusal of the whole series for his entertainment. However,
it was of no consequence the diary enshrine no secrets.
If I had an away emulated Pepys in respect of fullness,

(06:35):
I had taken warning from his indiscretions, Nor in fact
was I quite so rich in the material of indiscreet
records as the vivacious Samuel. I unpacked my portmanteau. The
heavier impedimenta were coming on by rail, let the gas
fire in my bedroom, boil the kettle of water, partly
for a comfortable wash and partly to fill a hot

(06:56):
water bottle wherewith to warm the probably damp bed, and then,
still feeling a little like a cat in a strange house,
decided to walk along to Thorndyke's chambers and hear the news,
if there was any. The fog had grown appreciably denser
when I turned out of my entry, and, crossing the
little quadrangle, strode quickly along the narrow passage that leads

(07:17):
to the terrace in King's bench Walk. I was approaching
the end of the passage when there came suddenly into
view a shadowy figure which I recognized at once as
that of the man whom I had seen when I arrived.
But again I had no opportunity for a close inspection,
for he had already heard my footsteps, and he now
started to walk away rapidly in the direction of miter Court.

(07:39):
For a moment I was disposed to follow him, and
did in fact make a few quick steps toward him,
which seemed to cause him to mend his pace. But
it was not directly my business to deal with loiterers,
and I could have done nothing even if I had
overtaken him. Accordingly, I changed my direction, and, crossing King's bench,
walk bore down on Thorndyke's entry. As I approached the house,

(08:02):
I was a little disconcerted to observe that there were
now no lights in his chambers, though the windows above
were lighted. I ran up the stairs, and, finding the
oak closed, pressed the electric bell, which I could hear
ringing on the floor above. Almost immediately, footsteps became audible
descending the stairs, and were followed by the appearance of
a small gentleman, whom I recognized as Thorndyke's assistant artificer

(08:25):
or familiar spirit, mister Polton. He recognized me at the
same moment, and greeted me with a smile that seemed
to break out of the corners of his eyes and
spread into a network of wrinkles over every part of
his face, a sort of compound smile, inasmuch as every
wrinkle seemed to have a smile of its own. I hope,
mister Polton, said I that I haven't missed the doctor. No, sir,

(08:49):
he replied, he is up in the laboratory. We are
just about to make a little experiment. Well I am
in no hurry, don't disturb him. I will wait until
he is at liberty unless, sir, he suggested, you would
like to come up, perhaps you would like to see
the experiment. I closed with the offer gladly. I had
never seen Thorndyke's laboratory and had often been somewhat mystified

(09:12):
as to what he did in it. Accordingly, I followed
mister Polton up the stairs, at the top of which
I found Thorndyke waiting. I thought it was your voice, Mayfield, said,
he shaking my hand. You were just in time to
see us locate a mare's nest. Come in and lend
a hand. He led me into a large room around
which I glanced curiously and not without surprise. One side

(09:35):
was occupied by a huge copying camera, the other by
a joiner's bench. A powerful back geared lade stood against
one window, a jeweler's bench against the other, and the
walls were covered with shells and tul racks filled with
all sorts of strange implements. From this room we passed
into another, which I recognized as a chemical laboratory, although

(09:57):
most of the apparatus in it was totally unfamiliar to me.
I had no idea, said I that the practice of
medical jurisprudence involves such an outfit as this. What do
you do with it? All? The place is like a factory.
It is a factory, he replied, with a smile, a
place where the raw material of scientific evidence is worked

(10:17):
up into the finished products suitable for use in courts
of law. I don't know that that conveys much to me,
said I, But you are going to perform some sort
of experiment. Perhaps that will enlighten me. Probably it will
to some extent, he replied, though it is only a
simple affair. We have a parcel here which came by
post this evening, and we are going to see what

(10:39):
is in it before we open it. The devil, you
are exclaimed, How in the name of fortune are you
going to do that? We shall examine it by means
of the X rays, But why why not open it
and find out what is in it in a reasonable way?
Thorndyke chuckled softly. We have had our little experience as Mayfield,

(10:59):
and we have grown wary. We don't open strange parcels nowadays.
Until we are sure that we are not dealing with
a Greek gift of some sort. That is what we
are going to ascertain now. In respect of this, He
picked up from the bench a parcel about the size
of an ordinary cigar box and held it out for
my inspection. The overwhelming probabilities are, he continued, that this

(11:22):
is a perfectly innocent package, But we don't know. I
am not expecting any such parcel, And there are certain
peculiarities about this one that attracts one's attention. You notice
that the entire address is in rough Roman capitals what
are commonly called block letters. That is probably for the
sake of distinctness, but it might possibly be done to

(11:44):
avoid a recognizable handwriting or a possibly traceable typewriter. Then
you notice that it is addressed to doctor Thorndyke and
conspicuously endorsed personal. Now that is really a little odd.
One understands the object of marking a letter personal to
guard against its being opened and read by the wrong person.

(12:06):
But what does it matter who opens a parcel? I
can't imagine why it should matter, I admitted, without much conviction.
But I don't see anything in the unnecessary addition that
need excite suspicion. Do you? Perhaps not? But you observe
that the sender was apparently anxious that the parcels should
be opened by a particular person. I shrugged my shoulders.

(12:29):
The whole proceeding, in the reasons given for it struck
me as verging on farce. Do you go through these
formalities with every parcel that you receive? I asked no.
He replied, only with those that are unexpected or offer
no evidence as to their origin. But we are pretty careful,
as I said, just now, we have had our experiences.

(12:50):
One of them was a box which, on being opened,
discharged volumes of poisonous gas. The deuce, I exclaimed, rather
startled out of my skepticism, and really the parcel with
a new born respect not unmixed with apprehension, then this
thing may actually be an infernal machine confound at all Thorndyke,
supposing it should have a clockwork detonator ticking away while

(13:13):
we are talking, hadn't you better get on with the
X rays, he chuckled at my sudden change of attitude.
It is all right, Mayfield, there is no clockwork. I
tried it with the microphone as soon as it arrived.
We always do that, and of course it is one
thousand to one that it is just an innocent parcel.
But we will just make sure and then I shall

(13:33):
be at liberty for a chat with you. He led
the way to a staircase leading to the floor above,
where I was introduced to a large, bare room surrounded
by long benches or tables occupied by various uncanny looking apparatus.
As soon as we entered, he placed the parcel on
a raised stand while Polton turned a switch connected with
a great coil, the immediate result of which was a peculiar,

(13:57):
high pitched humming sound, as if a gigantic mosquito had
got into the room. At the same moment, a glass
globe that was supported on an arm behind the parcel
became filled with green light and displayed a bright red
spot in its interior. This is a necromatic sort of business,
Thorndyke said, I only you and mister Polton aren't trusted

(14:17):
for the part. You ought to have tall pointed caps
and gowns covered with cabalistic signs. What is that queer
humming noise? That is the interrupter, he replied. The green
bulb as the crook's tube, and the little red hot
disk inside is the anti cathode. I will tell you
about them presently. That framed plate that Polton has is

(14:38):
the fluorescent screen. It intercepts the X rays and makes
them visible. You shall see when Polton has finished his inspection.
I watched Polton, who had taken the opportunity to get
the first innings, holding the screen between his face and
the parcel. After a few moments suspection, he turned the
parcel over on its side and once more raised the screen,

(14:58):
gazing at it within a expression of the most intense interest. Suddenly,
he turned to Thorndyke with a smile of perfectly incredible
wrinkliness and without a word, handed him the screen, which
he held up for a few seconds and then silently
passed to me. I had never used a fluorescent screen before,
and I must confess that I found the experience most uncanny.

(15:21):
As I raised it before the parcel, behind which was
the glowing green bulb, the parcel became invisible, but in
its place appeared the shadow of a pistol, the muzzle
of which seemed to be inserted into a jar. There
were some other smaller shadows of which I could make nothing,
but which seemed to be floating in the air. Better
not look too long, Mayfield said, thorndyke x rays are

(15:43):
unwholesome things. We will take a photograph and then we
can study the details at our leisure. Though it is
all pretty obvious, it isn't to me, said I. There
is a pistol in what looks like a jar. Do
you take it that they are parts of an infernal machine?
I suppose, he replied, we must dignify it with that name.
What do you say, Polton, I should call it a

(16:06):
booby trap, sir, was the reply. What you might expect
from a mischievous boy of ten, rather backward for his age,
Thorndyke laughed. Listen to the artificer, said he, and observe
how his mechanical soul is offended by an inefficient and
unmechanical attempt to blow us all up. But we won't
take the inefficiency too much for granted. Let us have

(16:27):
a photograph and then we can get to work with safety.
It seemed that this part also of the procedure was
already provided for, in the form of a large black envelope,
which Polton produced from a jour and began forthwith to
adjust in contact with the parcel. In fact, the appearance
of preparedness was so striking that I remarked, this looks
like part of a regular routine. It must take up

(16:49):
a lot of your time. As a matter of factor, replied,
we don't often have to do this. I don't receive
many parcels, and of those that are delivered, the immense
majority come from known sources and are accompanied by letters
of advice. It is only the strange and questionable packages
that we examined with the X rays. Of course, this

(17:09):
one was suspect at a glance, with that disguised handwriting
and the special direction as to who should open it. Yes,
I see that now, but it must be rather uncomfortable
to live in constant expectation of having bombs or poison
gas handed in by the postman. It isn't as bad
as that, said he The thing has happened only three
or four times in the whole of my experience. The

(17:31):
first gift of the kind was a poisoned cigar, which
I fortunately detected, and which served as a very useful warning.
Since then I have kept my weather eye lid lifting,
as the mariners express it. But don't you find it
rather wearing to be constantly on the lookout for some
murderous attack? Not at all, he answered with a laugh,

(17:51):
and rather adds to the zest of life. Besides, you see, Mayfield,
that on the rare occasions when these trifles come my way,
they are so extremely healthful, healthful, I repeated, in the
Lord's name. How in a number of ways consider my position,
they feel. I am not like an Italian or Russian

(18:12):
politician who may have scores of murderous enemies. I am
a lawyer and an investigator of crime. Whoever wants to
get rid of me has something to fear from me.
But at any given time there will not be more
than one or two of such persons. Consequently, when I
receive a gift such as the present one, it conveys
to me certain items of information. Thus, it informs me

(18:35):
that some one is becoming alarmed by some proceedings on
my part. That is a very valuable piece of information,
for it tells me that somewhat of my inquiries is
at least proceeding along the right lines. It is virtually
an admission that I have made, or am in the
way of making a point. A little consideration of the
cases that I have in hand will probably suggest the

(18:56):
identity of the sender. But on this question the thing itself,
for will in most cases yield quite useful information, as
well as telling us a good deal about the personality
of the sender. Take the present case. You heard Polton's
contemptuous observations on the crudity of the device. Evidently the
person who sent this is not an engineer or mechanician

(19:17):
of any kind. There is an obvious ignorance of mechanism.
And yet there is a certain simple ingenuity. The thing is,
in fact, as Poulson said, on the level of a
schoolboy's booby trap. You must see that if we had
in view two or more possible senders, these facts might
enable us to exclude one and select another. But here

(19:38):
is Polton with the photograph. Now we can consider the
mechanism at our leisure. As he spoke, Polton deposited on
the bench a large porcelain dish or tray, in which
was a very outlooking photograph. For the whole of it
was jet black, accepting the pistol, the jar, the hinges
and a small elongated spot, which all stood out in

(19:58):
clear white silhouette. Why, I exclaimed as I stooped over it,
that is a muzzle loading pistol, yes, Thorndyke agreed, and
a pocket pistol. As you can tell by the absence
of a trigger guard, the trigger is probably hinged and
folds forward into a recess. I dare say you know
the kind of thing. They were usually rather pretty little weapons,

(20:21):
and useful too, for you could carry one easily in
your waistcoat pocket. They had octagon barrels which screwed off
for loading, and the butts were often quite handsomely ornamented
with silver mounts. They were usually sent out by the
gunsmith's and little Baize lying mahogany cases with compartments for
a little powder flask and a supply of bullets. I

(20:43):
wonder why he used a muzzle loader, said I, Probably
because he had it. It answers the purpose as well
as a modern weapon, and as it was probably made
more than a hundred years ago, it would be useless
to go round the trade. Inquiring as to recent purchases, yes,
it was safer to use an old pistol than to
buy a new one and leave possible tracks. But how

(21:06):
does the thing work? I can see that the hammer
is at full cock and there is a cap on
the nipple. But what fires the pistol? Apparently a piece
of string which hasn't come out in the photograph except
faintly just above that small mark. String is not dense
enough to throw a shadow at the full exposure, but
you see about an inch behind the trigger an elongated

(21:27):
shadow that is probably a screw. I seen endways. The
string is tied to the trigger, pass through the screw eye,
and fastened to the lid of the box. I don't
see how there is no metal fastening, and you see
that the lid is not screwed or nailed down. As
to how it works. You open the lid firmly. That
pulls the string tight. That pulls back the trigger and

(21:49):
fires the pistol into the jar, which is presumably full
of some explosive. The jar explodes, and up goes the donkey.
There is a noble simplicity about the whole thing. How
do you propose to open it? Poulton, I think, sir,
replied the latter. We had better get the paper off
and have a look at the box. Very well, said Thorndyke.

(22:09):
But don't take anything for granted. Make sure that the
paper isn't part of the joke. I watched Polton with interest,
and far from impersonal interest, wishing only that I could
have observed him from a somewhat greater distance. But for
all his contempt for the booby trap, he took no
unnecessary risks. First, with a pair of scissors, he cut

(22:30):
out a piece at the back and enlarged the opening
so that he could peer in and inspect the top
of the lid. When he had made sure that there
were no pitfalls, he ran the scissors round the top
and exposed the box, which he carefully lifted out of
the remainder of the wrapping and laid down tenderly on
the bench. It was a cigar box of the flat
type and presented nothing remarkable. Accepting that the lid, instead

(22:53):
of being nailed or pin down, was secured by a
number of strips of stout adheso paper and bore near
the middle a large spot of ceiling wax, that paper
binding is quite a happy thought, remarked Thorndyke. Though it
was probably put on because our friend was afraid to
knock in nails, but it would be quite effective. An
impatient man would cut through the front strips and then

(23:15):
wrench the lid open. I think that blob of sealing
wax answers our question about the fastening of the string.
The end of it was probably drawn through a bradle
hole in the lid and fixed with ceiling wax. But
it must have been an anxious business drawing it just
tight enough and not too tight. I suggest Polton that
an inch and a half center bit hole just below

(23:36):
and to the right of the ceiling wax would enable
us to cut the string, but you had better try
it with the photograph first. Poulton picked the wet photograph
out of the dish and carefully laid it on the
lid of the box, adjusting us so that the shadows
of the hinges were opposite the actual hinges. Then, with
a marking all he pricked through the shadow of the
screw eye, and again about two inches to the right

(23:58):
and below it. You are quite right, sir, said he
as he removed the photograph and inspected the lid of
the box. The middle of the wax is exactly over
the screw eye. I'll just get the center bit. He
bustled the way down the stairs and returned in less
than a minute with a brace and a large center bit,
the point of which he inserted into the second doll hole. Then,

(24:19):
as Thorndyke grasped the box and I stepped back a
pace or two, he turned the brace lightly and steadily,
stopping now and again to clear away the chips and
examine the deepening hole. A dozen turns carried the bit
through the thin lid, and the remaining disk of wood
was driven into the interior of the box. As soon
as the hole was clear, he cautiously inserted a dentist

(24:40):
mirror which he had brought up in his pocket, and
with its aid, examined the inside of the lid. I
can see the string, sir, he reported, a bit of
common white twine, and it looks quite slack. I could
reach it easily with a small pair of scissors. He
handed the mirror to Thorndyke, who, having confirmed his observation,
produced a pair of surgical scissors from his pocket. These

(25:04):
Polton cautiously inserted into the opening, and as he closed
them there was an audible snip. Then he slowly withdrew
them and again inserted the mirror. It's all right, said
he The string is cut clean through. I think we
can open the lid. Now With a sharp pen knife,
he cut through the paper binding strips, and then, grasping
the front of the lid, continued, now for it. Perhaps

(25:27):
you two gentlemen had better stand a bit farther back
in case of accidents. I thought the suggestion an excellent one,
but as Thorndyke made no move, I had not the
moral courage to adopt it. Nevertheless, I watched Polton's proceedings
with my heart in my mouth. Very slowly and gently
did that cunning artificer raise the lid until it had

(25:47):
opened some two inches. When he stooped and peered in. Then,
with the cheerful announcement that it was all clear, he
boldly turned it right back. Of course, the photograph had
shown us in general what to expect, but there were
search and details that had not been represented. For instance,
both the pistol and the jar were securely wedged between

(26:07):
pieces of cork, sections of wine bottle corks apparently glued
to the bottom of the box. How is it, I asked,
that those corks did not appear in the photograph. I
think there is a faint indication of them. Thorndyke replied,
but Pulton gave a rather full exposure. If you want
to show bodies of such low density as cork's, you

(26:28):
have to give a specially short exposure and cut short
the development too. But I expect Polton saw them when
he was developing the picture, didn't you, Poulton, Yes, the
letter replied. They were quite distinct at one time, But
then I developed up to get the pistol out clear.
While these explanations were being given, Polton proceeded methodically to

(26:48):
draw the teeth of the infernal apparatus. First, he cut
a little wedge of cork, which he pushed in between
the threatening hammer and the nipple, and having thus fixed
the former, he quietly moved the percussion cap from the ladder,
on which I drew a deep breath of relief. He
next wrenched away one of the corks, and was then
able to withdraw the pistol from the jar and lift

(27:10):
it out of the box. I took it from him
and examined it curiously, not a little interested to note
how completely it corresponded with Thorndyke's description. It had a
blued octagon barrel, a folding trigger which fits snugly into
a recess, a richly engraved lock plate, and an ebony
butt decorated with numbers of tiny silver studs, and a

(27:31):
little laws and shaped scutching plate on which a monogram
had been engraved in minute letters, which however, had been
so thoroughly scraped out, that I was unable to make
out or even to guess what the letters had been.
My investigations were cut short by Thorndyke, who, having slipped
on a pair of rubber gloves, now took the pistol
from me, remarking, you haven't touched the barrel, I think,

(27:53):
Mayfield no, I answered, But why do you ask? Because
we shall go over it and the jar for finger prints.
Not that they will be much use for tracing the
center of this present, but they will be valuable corroboration
if we catch him by other means, For whoever sent
this certainly had a guilty conscience. With this, he delicately

(28:14):
lifted out the jar, a small, dark brown stoneware vessel,
such as is used as a container for the choicer
kinds of condiments, and inverted it over a sheet of paper,
upon which its contents some two or three tablespoonfuls of
black powder descended and formed the small heap. Not a
very formidable charge, Thorndyke remarked, looking at it with a smile. Formidable,

(28:37):
repeated Poulton. Why it wouldn't have heard a fly common
black powder, such as old women used to blow out
the copper flues. He must be in innocent, this fellow,
if it is a he, he added reflectively. Poulton's provisal
suddenly recalled to my mind the man whom I had
seen looking at the corner of fig Tree Court. It
was hardly possible to avoid connecting him with the misty

(29:00):
dre he is parcel. As Thorndyke agreed. When I had
described the incident, yes, exclaimed Pulton. Of course he was
waiting to hear the explosion. It is a pity you
didn't mention it sooner, sir. But he may be waiting
there still. Hadn't I better run across and see? And
suppose he is there still, said Thorndyke, What would you

(29:20):
propose to do? I should just pop up to the
lodge and tell the porter to bring a policeman down.
Why we should have him red handed? Thorndyke regarded his
henchman with an indulgent smile. Your handicraft, Pulton said, he
is better than your law. You can't arrest a man
without a warrant unless he is doing something unlawful. This

(29:40):
man was simply standing at the corner of fig Tree Court,
but protested Poulton. Isn't it unlawful to send infernal machines
by parcel posts? Undoubtedly it is, Thorndyke admitted, But we
haven't had a particle of evidence that this man has
any connection with the parcel or with us. He may
have been waiting there to meet a friend. He may,

(30:02):
of course, said I. But seeing that he ran off
like a lamp lighter. On both the occasions when I
appeared on the scene, I should suspect that he was
there for no good, and I strongly suspect him of
having some connection with this precious parcel. So do I
said Thorndyke. As a matter of fact, I have once
or twice lately met a man answering to your description

(30:24):
loitering about King's bench walk in the evening. But I
think it much better not to appear to notice him.
Let himself think himself unobserved, and presently he will do
something definite that will enable us to take action. And
remember that the more thoroughly he commits himself, the more
valuable his conduct will be as indirect evidence on certain

(30:44):
other matters. I was amused at the way in which
Thorndyke sank all considerations of personal safety in the single
purpose of pursuing his investigations to a successful issue. He
was the typical enthusiast. The possibility that this unknown person
might sho ued at him from some ambush he would,
I suspected, have welcomed as offering the chance to seize

(31:05):
the aggressor and compel him to disclose his motives. Also
I had a shrewd suspicion that he knew or guessed
who the man was, and was anxious to avoid alarming him. Well,
he said, when he had replaced the pistol and the
empty jar in the box and closed the ladder, I
think we have finished for the present. The further examination
of these interesting trifles can be postponed until tomorrow. Shall

(31:28):
we go downstairs and talk over the news? It is
getting rather late, said I. But there is time for
a little chat. Though as to news, they will have
to come from you, for I have nothing to tell.
We went down to the sitting room, where when we
had locked up the box, we took each an arm
chair and filled our pipes. So you have no news
of any kind, said he, No, excepting that the Hilborough

(31:53):
Square household has been broken up and the inmates scattered
into various flats. Then the house is now empty, said he,
with an appearance of some interest. Yes, and likely to
remain so with this gruesome story attached to it. I
suppose I shall have to make a survey of the premises,
with a view to having them put in repair. When

(32:13):
you do, said he, I should like to go with
you and look over the house, but it is all dismantled.
Everything has been cleared out. You will find nothing there
but empty rooms and a litter of discarded rubbish. Never mind,
said he, I have occasionally picked up some quite useful
information from empty rooms and discarded rubbish. Do you know

(32:34):
if the police have examined the house? I believe not.
In any rate, nothing has been said to me to
that effect. So much the better, said he. Can we
fix a time for our visit. It can't be tomorrow,
said I, because I must see Barbara and get the
keys if she has them. Would the day after tomorrow?
Do after lunch perfectly, he replied, come to lunch with me,

(32:58):
And by the way, Mayfield, it would be best not
to mention to any one that I am coming with you,
and I wouldn't say anything about this parcel. I looked
at him with sudden suspicion, recalling Wallingford's observations on the
subject of mares nests. But my dear Thorndyke, I exclaimed,
you don't surely associate that parcel with any of the

(33:18):
inmates of that house. I don't associate it with any
particular person here, replied I know only what you know
that it was sent by some one to whom my
existence is for some reason undesirable, and whose personality is
to some extent indicated by the peculiarities of the thing itself.
What peculiarities do you mean, well, he replied, there is

(33:41):
a nature and purpose of the thing. It is an
appliance for killing a human being. That purpose implies either
a very strong motive or a very light estimate of
the value of human life. Then, as we have said,
the sender is fairly ingenious, but yet quite unmechanical, and
apparently unprovided with the common tools which ordinary men possess
and are more or less able to use. You notice

(34:05):
that the combination of ingenuity with non possession of tools
is a rather unusual one. How do you infer that
the sender possessed no tools from the fact that none
were used, and that such materials were employed as required
no tools, though these were not the most suitable materials.
For instance, common twine was used to pull the trigger,

(34:26):
though it is a bad material by reason of its
tendency to stretch, but it can be cut with a
knife or a pair of scissors, whereas wire, which was
the really suitable material, requires cutting players to divide it again,
there were the corks. They were really not very safe,
for their weakness and their resiliency might have led to
disaster in the event of a specially heavy jerkin transit.

(34:50):
A man who possessed no more than a common keyhole
saw or a hand saw on a chisel or two
would have roughly shaped up one or two blocks of
wood to fit the pistol in jar, which would have
made the thing perfectly secure. If he had possessed the
glue pot, he would not have used secotine. But everyone
has waist corks, and they can be trimmed to shape

(35:10):
with an ordinary dinner knife, and secotine can be bought
at any stationers. But to return to what we were saying,
I had no special precautions in my mind. I suggested
that we should keep our own council, merely on the
general principle that it is always best to keep one's
own counsel. One may make a confidence to an entirely
suitable person, but who can say that that person may not,

(35:33):
in his or her turn, make a confidence. If we
keep our knowledge strictly to ourselves, we know exactly how
we stand, and that if there has been any leakage.
It had been from some other source. But I need
not platitudize to an experienced and learned council. I grinned
appreciably of the neat finish for experienced counsel, as I

(35:54):
certainly was not. I was at least able to realize
with secret approval, how adroitly Thorndyke had eluded my leading question,
and at that I left it inquiring. In my turn,
I suppose nothing of interest has transpired since I had
been away very little. There was one item of news,
but that can hardly be said to have transpired unless

(36:15):
you can associate the process of transpiration with a suction pump.
Superintendent Miller took my advice and applied the sectorial method
to Wallingford, with results of which he possibly exaggerates the importance.
He tells me this is, of course, in the strictest confidence, that,
under pressure, Wallingford made a clean breast of the cocaine
and morphine business. He admitted that he had obtained those

(36:39):
drugs fraudulently by forging an order in Dimmesdale's name, written
on Dimsdale's headed notepaper to the wholesale druggist to deliver
to Bearer the drugs mentioned he had possessed himself of
the notepaper at the time when he was working at
the account books in Dimsdale's surgery. But how was it
that Dimsdale did not notice what had happened when the

(36:59):
accounts were in. No accounts were ever sent in. The
druggists whom Wallingford patronized were not those with whom Dimsdale
had an account. The order stated in every case that
Bearer would pay cash. Quite an ingenious little plan of Wallingford's.
I remarked, it is more than I should have given
him credit for. And you say that Miller attaches undue

(37:21):
importance to this discovery. I am not surprised at that,
But why do you think he exaggerates its importance? Thorndyke
regarded me with a quizzical smile because he answered Miller's
previous experiences had been repeated. There has been another discovery.
It has transpired that Miss Norris also had dealings with
a wholesale druggist. But in her case there was no

(37:43):
fraud or irregularity. The druggist with whom she dealt was
the one who used to supply her father with materia
medica and to whom she was well known. Then in
that case I suppose she had an account with him. No,
she did not. She also paid cash. Her purchase as
were only occasional and on quite a small scale, too
small to justifying account. Has she made any statement as

(38:07):
to what she wanted the drugs for. She denies that
she ever purchased drugs in the usual sense, that is,
substances having medicinal properties. Her purchases were, according to her statement,
confined to such pharmaceutical and chemical materials as were required
for purposes of instruction in her classes, which is perfectly plausible, for,

(38:28):
as you know, academic cookery is a rather different thing
from the cookery of the kitchen. Yes, I know that
she had some materials in her cupboard that I shouldn't
have associated with cookery, and I should accept her statement
without hesitation. In fact, the discovery seems to me to
be of no significance at all. Probably you are right,
said he. But the point is that in a legal sense,

(38:51):
it confuses the issues hopelessly. In her case, as in Wallingford's,
materials have been purchased from a druggist and as no
record of those purchases has been killed, it is impossible
to say what those materials were. Probably they were harmless,
but it cannot be proved that they were. The effect
is that the evidential value of Wallingford's admission is discounted

(39:12):
by the fact that there was another person who was
known to have purchased materials, some of which may have
been poisons. Yes, said I, that is obvious enough. But
doesn't it strike you, Thorndyke, that all this is just
a lot of futile logic choppings, such as you might
hear it at debating club. I can't take it seriously.
You don't imagine that either of these two persons murdered

(39:34):
Harold Munkhouse, do you? I certainly don't, and I can't
believe Miller does. It doesn't matter very much what he believes,
or for that matter, what any of us believe he discovers.
Who proves. Up to the present, none of us has
proved anything, And my impression is that Miller is becoming
a little discouraged. He is a genius in following up clues,

(39:56):
but where there are no clues to follow up, the
best of detectives is rather stranded by the way, said
I did you pick up anything from my diary that
threw any light on the mystery? Very little, he replied,
In fact, nothing that gets us any farther. I was
able to confirm our belief that bunk House's attacks of
severe illness coincided with his wife's absence from home. But

(40:19):
that doesn't help us much. It merely indicates, as we
have already observed, that the poisoner was so placed that
his or her activities could not be carried on when
the wife is at home. But I must compliment you
on your diary, Mayfield. It is quite a fascinating work,
so much so that I have been tempted to encroach
a little on your kindness. The narrative of the last

(40:40):
three years was so interesting that it lured me on
to the antecedents that led up to them. It reads
like a novel. How much of it have you read?
I asked, my faint resentment, completely extinguished by his appreciation.
Six volumes, he replied, including the one that I have
just borrowed. I began by reading the last three years
for the purposes of our inquiry, and then I ventured

(41:03):
to go back another three years for the interest of
tracing the more remote causation of recent events. I hope
I have not presumed too much on the liberty that
you were kind enough to give me. Not at all,
I replied heartily. I am only surprised that a man
as much occupied as you are should have been willing
to waste your time on the reading of what is,
after all, but a trivial and diffuse autobiography. I have

(41:27):
not wasted my time, Mayfield said he. If it is
true that the proper study of mankind is men, how
much more true is it of that variety of mankind
that wears the wig and gown and pleads in court.
It seems to me that to lawyers like ourselves, whose
professional lives are largely occupied with the study of motives
of human actions, and with the actions themselves viewed in

(41:48):
the light of their antecedents and their consequences, nothing can
be more instructive than a full consecutive diary, in which,
over a period of years, events may be watched, growing
out of those that went before, and in their turn
developing the consequences and elucidating the motives of the actors.
Such a diary is a synopsis of human life. I

(42:09):
laughed as I rose to depart. It seems, said I,
that I wrought better than I knew. In fact, I
am disposed like Pendennis to regard myself with respectful astonishment.
But perhaps I had better not be too puffed up.
It may be that I am, after all, no more
than a sort of literary Strasbourg Goose, an unconscious provider
of the food of the gods. Thorndyke laughed in his turn,

(42:32):
and escorted me down the stairs to the entry, where
we stood for a few moments looking out into the fog.
It seems thicker than ever, said he. However, you can't
miss your way, but keep a lookout as you go
in case our friend is still waiting at the corner.
Good Night. I returned his farewell, and plunged into the fog,
stirring for the corner of the library, and was so

(42:55):
fortunate as to strike the wall within a few yards
of it. From thence I felt my way without difficulty
to the terrace, where I halted for a moment to
look about and listen. And as there was no sign
visible or audible of any loiterer at the corner, I
groped my way into the passage and so home to
my chambers without meeting a single human creature. End of

(43:16):
Chapter ten.