August 23, 2025 • 26 mins
13 - Rupert Makes Some Discoveries. 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
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
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter thirteen of As a Thief in the Night by R.
Austin Freeman. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Rupert makes some discoveries by a sort of tacit understanding.
Thorndyke and I parted in the vicinity of South Kensington Station,
to which he had made a bee line on leaving
(00:21):
the square. As he had made no suggestion that I
should go back with him, I inferred that he had
planned the busy evening examining and testing the odds and
ends that he had picked up in the empty house,
while I had suddenly conceived the idea that I might
as well take the opportunity of calling on Madeleine, who
might feel neglected if I failed to put in an
appearance within a reasonable time. After my return to town.
(00:44):
Our searches had taken up most of the afternoon, and
it was getting on for the hour at which Madelein
usually left the school, and as the latter was less
than a half hour's walk from the station, I could
reach it in good time without hurrying. As I walked
at an easy pace through the busily populated streets. I
turned over the events of the afternoon with rather mixed feelings.
(01:06):
In spite of my great confidence in Thorndike, I was
sensible of a chill of disappointment and respect alike of
his words and his deeds. In this rather farcical grubbing
about in the dismantled house, there was a faint suggestion
of Charlatanism, of the vulgar, melodramatic sleuth nosing out a trail.
Well as to his hair splitting objections to a piece
(01:27):
of straightforward evidence. They seemed to me to be of
the kind at which the usual hard headed judge would
shake his hard head while grudgingly allowing them as technically admissible.
But whither was Thorndyke drifting. Evidently he had turned a
dubious eye on Wallingford, and that egregious ass seemed to
be doing all that he could to attract further notice.
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But today I had seemed to detect a note of
suspicion in regard to Mavelin, and even making allowance for
the fact that he had not my knowledge of her gentle,
gracious personnelity, I could not but feel a little resentful.
Once more, Wallingford's remarks concerning a possible mare's nest and
a public scandal recurred to me, and not for the
first time. I was aware of faint misgivings as to
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my wisdom, and having set Thorndyke to stir up these
troubled waters, he had indeed given me fair warning, and
I was half inclined to regret that I had not
allowed myself to be warned off. Of course, Thorndyke was
much too old a hand to launch a half prepared
prosecution into the air. But still I could not but
ask myself uneasily whither his over acute inferences were leading him.
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These reflections brought me to the gate of the school,
where I learned from the porter that Madeleine had not
yet left, and accordingly sent up my card. In less
than a minute, she appeared, dressed in her out of
door clothes and wreathed in smiles, looking I thought, very charming.
How nice have you, rupert, she exclaimed, to come and
take me home. I was wondering how soon you would
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come to see my little spinsk or lair. It is
only a few minutes walk from here. But I am
sorry I didn't know you were coming, for I have
arranged to make a call, a business call, and I
am doing about ten minutes. Isn't it a nuisance? How
long will you have to stay? Oh? A quarter of
an hour at least, perhaps a little more. Very well,
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I will wait outside for you and do sentry. Go, No,
you won't. I shall let you into my flat. I
should have to pass it, and you can have a
wash and brush up, and then you can prowl about
and see how you like my little mansion. I haven't
quite settled down at it yet, but you must overlook
that by the time you have inspected everything, I shall
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be back, and then we can consider whether we will
have a late tea or an early supper. This is
the way she led me into a quiet by street,
one side of which was occupied by a range of tall,
rather forbidding buildings, whose barrack like aspect was to some
extent mitigated by signs of civilized humanity in the taste
fully curtained windows Madelein's residence was on the second floor,
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and when she had let me in by the diminutive
outer door and switched on the light, she turned back
to the staircase with a wave of her hand. I
will be back as soon as I can, she said. Meanwhile,
go in and make yourself at home. I stood at
the door and watched her trip lightly down the stairs
until she disappeared round the angle, when I shut the door,
and proceeded to follow her injunctions to the letter by
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taking possession of the bathroom, in which I was gratified
to find a constant supply of hot water. When I
had refreshed myself by a wash, I went forth and
made a leisurely survey of the little flat. It was
all very characteristic of Madeline, the professional exponent of domestic economy,
in its orderly arrangement and its evidences of considered convenience.
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The tiny kitchen reminded me of a chemical laboratory or
a doctor's dispensary, with its labeled jars of the cook's
material set out in ordered rows on their shelves, and
the two two little mortars, one of wedgewood ware and
the other of glass. I grinned as my eye lighted
on this ladder, and I thought of the fragments carefully
collected by Thorndyke and solemnly transported to the temple for examination.
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Here if he could have seen it was evidence that
proved the ownership of that other mortar, and at the
same time demolished the significance of that discovery. I ventured
to inspect the bedroom. In a very trim, pleasant little
room it was. But the feature which principally attracted my
attention was an arrangement for switching the electric light off
and on from the bed, an arrangement suspiciously correlated to
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a small set of bookshelves, also within easy reach of
the bed. What interested me in it was what Thorndyke
would have called its unmechanical ingenuity, for it consisted of
no more than a couple of lengths of stout string,
of each of which one end was tied to the
light switch, and the other end led by a pair
of screw eyes to the head of the bed. No doubt,
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the simple device worked well enough in spite of the
friction at each screw eye, but a man of less
intelligence than Madeleine would probably have used levers or bell cranks,
or at least pulleys to diminish the friction in changing
the direction of the poll. There was a second bedroom
at present, unoccupied and only partially furnished, and serving apparently
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as a receptacle for such of Madeleine's possessions, as had
not yet had a permanent place assigned to them. Here
were one or two chairs, some piles of books, a
number of pictures, and several polished wood boxes in cases
of various sizes, evidently the residue of the goods and
chattels that Madeline had brought from her home and stores
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somewhere while she was living at Hilborough Square. I ran
my eye along the range of boxes which were set
out on the top of a chest of drawers. One
was an old fashioned tea caddy, another and obvious folding
desk of the same period, while the third, which I opened,
turned out to be a work box of mid Victorian age.
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We saught it was a little flat Rosewick case, which
looked like a small case of mathematical instruments. Observing that
the key was in the lock, I turned it and
lifted the lid, not with any conscious curiosity as to
what was inside it, but in the mere idleness of
a man who has nothing in particular to do. But
the instant that the lid was up, my attention awoke
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with a bound, and I stood with dropping joss, staring
at the interior in utter consternation. There could not be
an instant's doubt as to what this case was, for
its green baize lined interior showed a shaped recess of
the exact form of a pocket pistol. And if that
were not enough, there in its own compartment was a
little copper powder flask, and in another compartment about a
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dozen globular bullets. I snapped down the lid and turned
the key and walked guiltily out of the room. My
interest in Madeleine's flat was dead. I could think of
nothing but this amazing discovery. And the more I thought,
the more overpowering did it be come. The pistol that
fitted that case was the exact counterpart of the pistol
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that I had seen in Thorndyke's laboratory, and the case
itself corresponded exactly to his description of the case from
which that pistol had probably been taken. It was astounding,
and it was profoundly disturbing, for it admitted of no
explanation that I could bring myself to accept other than
that of a coincidence. And coincidences are unsatisfactory things, and
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you can't do with too many of them at once.
Yet on reflection. This was the view that I adopted. Indeed,
there was no thinkable alternative. And really, when I came
to turn the matter over, it was not quite so
extraordinary as it had seemed at first glance. For what,
after all, was this pistol with its case? It was
not a unique thing. It was not even a rare thing.
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Thorndyke had spoken of these pistols and cases as comparatively
common things with which he expected me to be familiar.
Thousands of them must have been made in their time,
and since they were far from perishable, thousands of them
must still exist. The singularity of the coincidence was not
in the facts. It was the product of my own
state of mind. Thus I sought none too successfully to
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rid myself of the effects of the shock that I
had received on raising the lid of the case. And
I was still moodily gazing out of the sitting room
window and arguing away my perturbation when I heard the
outer door shut, and a moment later Madeleine looked into
the room. I haven't been away so very long, have I?
She said cheerily. Now I will slip off my coat
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and hat and we will consider what sort of meal
we will have, or perhaps you will consider the question
while I am gone with this. She flitted away, and
my thoughts, passing by the problem submitted, involuntarily reverted to
the little rosewood case in the spare room. But her
absence was of a brevity, suggesting the performance of the
professional quick change artist. In a minute or two, I
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heard her approach and open the door. I turned to
receive a real knockout blow. I was so astonished and
dismayed that I suppose I must have stood staring like
a fool, for she asked, in a rather disconcerted tone,
what is the matter, Rupert, Why are you looking at
my jumper like that? Don't you like it? Yes? I stammered,
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of course I do, most certainly, very charming, very uh becoming.
I like it exceedingly. I don't believe you do, she said, doubtfully.
You look so surprised when I first came in. You
don't think the color too startling? Do you? Women wear
brighter colors than they used to? You know? And I
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do think this particular shade of green is rather nice,
and it is rather unusual too, it is, I agreed,
recovering myself by an effort quite distinctive, And then, noting
that I had unconsciously adopted Thorndyke's own expression, I added hastily,
and I shouldn't describe it as startling at all. It
is imperfectly good taste. I am glad you think that,
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she said, for you certainly did look rather startled at first,
and I had some slight misgivings about it myself. When
I had finished it, it looked more brilliant in color
as a garment than it did in the form of
mere skeins. You made it yourself, then, yes, But I
don't think I would ever knit another. It took me
months to do, and I could have bought one for
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very little more than the cost of the wool, though
of course I shouldn't have been able to select the
exact tint that I wanted. But what about our meal?
Shall we call it tea or supper? She could have
called it breakfast, for all I cared so completely. Had
this final shock extinguished my interest in food? But I
had to make some response to her eager hospitality. Let
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us put the difference or strike and average, I replied,
we will call it a swarry tea and unusual trimmings
very well, said she. Then you shall come to the
kitchen and help. I will show you the raw material
to the feast, and you shall dictate the bill of fare.
We accordingly adjourned to the kitchen, where she felt to
work on the preparations with the unhurried quickness that is
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characteristic of genuine efficiency, babbling pleasantly and pausing now and
then to ask my advice, which was usually foolish and
had to be blandly rejected, and treating the whole business
with a sort of playful seriousness that was very delightful.
And all the time I looked on in a state
of mental chaos and bewilderment for which I could find
no words. There she was, my friend, Madeline, sweet, gentle, feminine,
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the very type of gracious womanhood, and the more sweet
and gracious by reason of these homely surroundings. For it
is an appalling reflection in these days of lady professors
and women legislators, that to masculine eyes, a woman never
looked so dignified, so worshipful, so entirely desirable as when
she is occupied in the traditional activities that millenniums of
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human experience have associated with her sex. To me, Madeline
flitting about the immaculate little kitchen, neat handed, perfect in
the knowledge of her homely craft, smiling, dainty, fragile, with
her gracefully flowing hair, and the little apron that she
had slipped on as a sort of ceremonial garment was
a veritable epitome of feminine charm. And yet but a
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few feet away was a rosewood case that had once
held a pistol, and even now in Thorndyke's lock cabinet.
But my mind staggered under the effort of thought and
refused the attempt to combine and colate a set of
images so discordant. You are very quiet, rupert, she said, presently,
pausing to look at me. What is it. I hope
you haven't any special worries. We all have our little worries, Madeline,
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I replied vaguely, Yes, indeed, said she still regarding me thoughtfully.
And for the first time I noticed that she seemed
to have aged a little since I had last seen her,
and that her face in repose showed traces of strain
and anxiety. We all have our troubles, and we all
tried to put them on you. How did you think
Barbara was looking extraordinarily well? I was agreeably surprised. Yes,
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she is wonderful. I am full of admiration of the
way she has put away everything connected with that dreadful affair.
I couldn't have done it if I had been in
her place, I couldn't have let things rest. I should
have wanted to know. I have no doubt that she does.
We all want to know. But she can do no
more than the rest of us. Do you ever see
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Wallingford now? Oh, dear? Yes, he was inclined to be
rather too attentive at first, but Barbara gave him a
hint that spinsters who live alone don't want too many
visits from their male friends, so now he usually comes
with her. I must bear Barbara's words of wisdom and mind,
said I. Indeed, you won't, she exclaimed, don't be ridiculous, rupert.
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You know her hint doesn't apply to you. And I
shouldn't have troubled about the proprieties and Tony's case if
I had really wanted him. But I didn't, though I
am awfully sorry for him. Yes, he seems to be
in a bad way, mentally poor, devil. Of course you
have heard about his delusions, if they really are delusions,
but I am not at all sure that they are.
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Now help me to carry these things into the sitting room,
and then I will do the omelet and bring it in.
I obediently took up the train and followed her into
the sitting room, where I completed the arrangement of the table,
while she returned to the kitchen to perform the crowning
culinary feat. In a minute or two, she came in
with the product under a heated cover, and we took
our seats at the table you were speaking of. Wallingford said,
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I apparently you know more about him than I do.
It seemed to me that he was stark mad. He
is queer enough, I must admit. Don't let your omlet
get cold. But I think you and Barbara are mistaken
about his delusions. I suspect that somebody is really keeping
him under observation, and if that is so, one can
easily understand why his nerves are so upset. Yes, indeed,
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but when you say you suspect that we are mistaken,
what does that mean? Is it just a pious opinion,
or have you something to go upon. Oh, I shouldn't
offer a mere pious opinion to a learned counsel. She
replied with a smile. I have something to go upon,
and I will tell you about it, though I expect
you will think I am stark mad too. The fact
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is that I have been under observation to nonsense, Madeline,
I exclaimed. The thing is absurd. You have let Wallingford
infect you there, She retorted, what did I say? You
think I am qualifying for an asylum now? But I
am not absurd as the thing seems, and I quite
agree with you on that point. It is an actual fact.
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I haven't the slightest doubt about it. Well, I said,
I am open to conviction, but let us have your
actual facts. How long do you think it has been
going on? That? I can't say, and I don't think
it is going on now at all. At any rate,
I have seen no signs of any watcher for more
than a week, and I keep a pretty sharp lookout.
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The way I first became aware of it was this.
I happened one day at lunch time to be looking
out of this window through the chink and the curtains,
when I saw a man passing along slowly on the
other side of the street and glance up, as it
seemed at this window. I didn't notice him particularly, but
still I did look at him when he glanced up,
and of course his face was indirectly towards me. Now
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it happened that a few minutes afterwards, I looked out again,
and then I saw what look like the same man
pass along again, at the same slow pace and in
the same direction. And again he looked up at the window,
though he couldn't have seen me because I was hidden
by the curtain. But this time I looked at him
very closely and made careful mental notes of his clothing,
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his hat, and his features, because you see, I remembered
what Tony had said, and I hadn't forgotten the way
I was treated at the inquest, or the way in
which the detective man had turned over my cupboard when
he came to search the house. So I looked this
man over very carefully, indeed, so that I should recognize
him without any doubt if I should see him again. Well,
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before I went out after lunch, I had a good
look out of the window, but I couldn't see anything
of him, nor did I see him on my way
to the school, though I stopped once or twice and
looked back. When I got to the school, I stopped
at the gate and looked along the street both ways,
but still there was no sign of him. Then I
ran up to a classroom window, from which I could
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see up and down the street, and presently I saw
him coming along slowly on the school side, and I
was able to check him off point by point. And
though he didn't look up this time, I could see
his face and check that off too. There was no
doubt whatever that it was the same man. When I
came out of school that afternoon, I looked round but
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could not see him. So I walked away quickly in
the direction that I usually take when going home, but
suddenly turned a corner and slipped into a shop. I
stayed there a few minutes, buying some things. Then I
came out, and, seeing no one, slipped round the corner
and took my usual way home, but kept carefully behind
a man and a woman who were going the same way.
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I hadn't gone very far before I saw my man
standing before a shop window, but evidently, looking up and
down the street, I was quite close to him before
he saw me, and of course I did not appear
to notice him. But I hurried home without looking round,
and ran straight up to this window to watch for him.
And sure enough, in about a couple of minutes I
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saw him come down the street and walk slowly past.
And did you see him again after that? Yes? I
saw him twice more That same day. I went out
for a walk in the evening on purpose to give
him a lead, and I saw him from time to
time every day for about ten days. Then I missed him,
and I haven't seen a sign of him for more
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than a week. I suppose he found me two monotonous
and gave me up. It is very extraordinary, I said,
convinced against my will by her very circumstantial description. What
possible object could any one have in keeping a watch
on you? That is what I have wondered, said she.
But I suppose the police have to do something for
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their pay. But this doesn't quite look like a police proceeding.
There is something rather feeble and amateurish about the affair.
With all due respect to your powers of observation, Madeline,
I don't think a Scotland yard man would have let
himself be spotted quite so easily. But who else could
it be? She objected, and then after a pause, she added,
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with a mischievous smile, unless I should be your friend,
doctor Thorndyke, that would really be a quaint situation if
I should, after all be indebted to you, Rupert for
these polite attentions. I brushed this suggestion aside hastily, but
with no conviction, and once more I recalled Wallingford's observations
on Mayre's nests. Obviously, this clumsy booby was not a
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professional detective, and if not, what could he be but
some highered agent to Thorndyke's. It was one more perplexity,
and added to those with which my mind was already charged,
it reduced me to moody silence, which must have made
me the very reverse of an exhilarating companion. Indeed, when
Madeline had rallied me once or twice on my gloomy preoccupation,
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I felt that the position was becoming untenable. I wanted
to be alone and think things out. But as it
would have been hardly decent to break up our little
party and take my departure, I determined, if possible to
escape from this oppressive tete a tete. Fortunately, I remembered
that a famous Penis was giving a course of recitals
at a hall with an easy walking distance, and ventured
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to suggest that we might go and hear him. I
would rather stay here and gossip with you, she replied,
But as you don't seem to be in a gossiping humor,
perhaps the music might be rather nice. Yes, let us go.
I don't often hear any good music nowadays. Accordingly we went,
and on the way to the hall, Maddelin gave me
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a few further details of her experience as with her follower,
and I was not a little impressed by her wariness
and the ingenuity with which he had lured that guileless
sleuth into exposed and well lighted situations. By the way,
said I, what was the fellow like? Give me a
few particulars of his appearance in case I should happen
to run across him. Good heavens rupert, she exclaimed, laughing mischievously.
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You don't suppose he will take to haunting you, do you?
That would really be the last straw, especially if he
should happen to be employed by doctor Thorndyke. It would
I admitted with a faint grin bough. Thorndyke is extremely thorough,
and he plumes himself on keeping an open mind. At
any rate, let us have a few details. There was
nothing particularly startling about him. He was a medium sized man,
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rather fairer, with the longest, sharp, turned up nose, and
a sandy mustache, rather bigger than men usually have nowadays.
He was dressed in a blue serge suit without an overcoat,
and he wore a brown soft felt hat, a turned
down collar, and a dark green necktie with white spots.
He had no gloves, but he carried a walking stick,
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a thick ash yellow king with a crooked handle. Not
very distinctive, I remarked, disparagingly. Don't you think so? Said she?
I thought he was rather easy to recognize, with that
brown hat and the blue suit, and the big mustache
and pointed nose. Of course, if he had worn a
scarlet hat and emerald green trousers and carried a brass
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by or shovel instead of a walking stick, he would
have been still easier to recognize. But you mustn't expect
too much, even from a detective. I looked, with dim
surprise into her smiling face, and was more bewildered than ever.
If she were haunted by any gnawing anxieties, she had
a wonderful way of throwing them off. Nothing could be
less suggestive of a guilty conscience than this quiet, gayety
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and placid humor. However, there was no opportunity for moralizing,
for her little retort had brought us to the door
the hall, and we had barely time to find desirable
seats before the principal musician took his place at the instrument.
It was a delightful entertainment, and if the music did
not soothe my savage breast into complete forgetfulness, it occupied
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my attention sufficiently to hinder consecutive thought on any other subject. Indeed,
it was not until I had said good night to
Madeline outside her flat and turned my face towards the
neighboring station that I was able to attempt a connected
review of their recent startling discoveries. What could they possibly mean?
The pistol alone could have been argued away as a
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curious coincidence, and the same might have been possible even
in the case of the wool. But the two together,
the long arm of coincidence was not long enough for that.
The wisp of wool that we had found in the
empty house was certainly admittedly Madeline's. But that wisp matched
identically the ball of wool from the pistol, And here
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was a missing pistol which was certainly the exact counterpart
of that which had contained the wool plug. The facts
could not be disputed. Was it possible to escape from
the inferences which they yielded? The infernal machine, feeble as
it was, gave evidence of a diabolical intention, an intention
that my mind utterly refused to associate with Madeline. And
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yet even in the moment of rejection, my memory suddenly
recalled the arrangement connected with the electric lights which in
Madeleine's bedroom. Its mechanism was practically identical with that of
the infernal machine, and the materials used, string and screw
eyes were actually the same. It seemed impossible to escape
from this proof piled on proof. But if the machine
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itself declared an abominable intention, what of that which lay
behind the machine? The sending of that abomination was not
an isolated or independent act. It was related to some
antecedent act, as Thorndyke it implied, whoever sent it had
a guilty conscience, but guilty of way. As I asked
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myself this question and the horrid, inevitable answer framed itself
in my mind, I turned automatically from Middle Temple Lane
and passed into the deep shadow of the arch that
gives entrance to Elmcourt. End of Chapter thirteen.
Chapter thirteen of As a Thief in the Night by R.
Austin Freeman. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Rupert makes some discoveries by a sort of tacit understanding.
Thorndyke and I parted in the vicinity of South Kensington Station,
to which he had made a bee line on leaving
(00:21):
the square. As he had made no suggestion that I
should go back with him, I inferred that he had
planned the busy evening examining and testing the odds and
ends that he had picked up in the empty house,
while I had suddenly conceived the idea that I might
as well take the opportunity of calling on Madeleine, who
might feel neglected if I failed to put in an
appearance within a reasonable time. After my return to town.
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Our searches had taken up most of the afternoon, and
it was getting on for the hour at which Madelein
usually left the school, and as the latter was less
than a half hour's walk from the station, I could
reach it in good time without hurrying. As I walked
at an easy pace through the busily populated streets. I
turned over the events of the afternoon with rather mixed feelings.
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In spite of my great confidence in Thorndike, I was
sensible of a chill of disappointment and respect alike of
his words and his deeds. In this rather farcical grubbing
about in the dismantled house, there was a faint suggestion
of Charlatanism, of the vulgar, melodramatic sleuth nosing out a trail.
Well as to his hair splitting objections to a piece
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of straightforward evidence. They seemed to me to be of
the kind at which the usual hard headed judge would
shake his hard head while grudgingly allowing them as technically admissible.
But whither was Thorndyke drifting. Evidently he had turned a
dubious eye on Wallingford, and that egregious ass seemed to
be doing all that he could to attract further notice.
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But today I had seemed to detect a note of
suspicion in regard to Mavelin, and even making allowance for
the fact that he had not my knowledge of her gentle,
gracious personnelity, I could not but feel a little resentful.
Once more, Wallingford's remarks concerning a possible mare's nest and
a public scandal recurred to me, and not for the
first time. I was aware of faint misgivings as to
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my wisdom, and having set Thorndyke to stir up these
troubled waters, he had indeed given me fair warning, and
I was half inclined to regret that I had not
allowed myself to be warned off. Of course, Thorndyke was
much too old a hand to launch a half prepared
prosecution into the air. But still I could not but
ask myself uneasily whither his over acute inferences were leading him.
(02:36):
These reflections brought me to the gate of the school,
where I learned from the porter that Madeleine had not
yet left, and accordingly sent up my card. In less
than a minute, she appeared, dressed in her out of
door clothes and wreathed in smiles, looking I thought, very charming.
How nice have you, rupert, she exclaimed, to come and
take me home. I was wondering how soon you would
(02:58):
come to see my little spinsk or lair. It is
only a few minutes walk from here. But I am
sorry I didn't know you were coming, for I have
arranged to make a call, a business call, and I
am doing about ten minutes. Isn't it a nuisance? How
long will you have to stay? Oh? A quarter of
an hour at least, perhaps a little more. Very well,
(03:20):
I will wait outside for you and do sentry. Go, No,
you won't. I shall let you into my flat. I
should have to pass it, and you can have a
wash and brush up, and then you can prowl about
and see how you like my little mansion. I haven't
quite settled down at it yet, but you must overlook
that by the time you have inspected everything, I shall
(03:41):
be back, and then we can consider whether we will
have a late tea or an early supper. This is
the way she led me into a quiet by street,
one side of which was occupied by a range of tall,
rather forbidding buildings, whose barrack like aspect was to some
extent mitigated by signs of civilized humanity in the taste
fully curtained windows Madelein's residence was on the second floor,
(04:04):
and when she had let me in by the diminutive
outer door and switched on the light, she turned back
to the staircase with a wave of her hand. I
will be back as soon as I can, she said. Meanwhile,
go in and make yourself at home. I stood at
the door and watched her trip lightly down the stairs
until she disappeared round the angle, when I shut the door,
and proceeded to follow her injunctions to the letter by
(04:27):
taking possession of the bathroom, in which I was gratified
to find a constant supply of hot water. When I
had refreshed myself by a wash, I went forth and
made a leisurely survey of the little flat. It was
all very characteristic of Madeline, the professional exponent of domestic economy,
in its orderly arrangement and its evidences of considered convenience.
(04:50):
The tiny kitchen reminded me of a chemical laboratory or
a doctor's dispensary, with its labeled jars of the cook's
material set out in ordered rows on their shelves, and
the two two little mortars, one of wedgewood ware and
the other of glass. I grinned as my eye lighted
on this ladder, and I thought of the fragments carefully
collected by Thorndyke and solemnly transported to the temple for examination.
(05:14):
Here if he could have seen it was evidence that
proved the ownership of that other mortar, and at the
same time demolished the significance of that discovery. I ventured
to inspect the bedroom. In a very trim, pleasant little
room it was. But the feature which principally attracted my
attention was an arrangement for switching the electric light off
and on from the bed, an arrangement suspiciously correlated to
(05:36):
a small set of bookshelves, also within easy reach of
the bed. What interested me in it was what Thorndyke
would have called its unmechanical ingenuity, for it consisted of
no more than a couple of lengths of stout string,
of each of which one end was tied to the
light switch, and the other end led by a pair
of screw eyes to the head of the bed. No doubt,
(05:58):
the simple device worked well enough in spite of the
friction at each screw eye, but a man of less
intelligence than Madeleine would probably have used levers or bell cranks,
or at least pulleys to diminish the friction in changing
the direction of the poll. There was a second bedroom
at present, unoccupied and only partially furnished, and serving apparently
(06:19):
as a receptacle for such of Madeleine's possessions, as had
not yet had a permanent place assigned to them. Here
were one or two chairs, some piles of books, a
number of pictures, and several polished wood boxes in cases
of various sizes, evidently the residue of the goods and
chattels that Madeline had brought from her home and stores
(06:39):
somewhere while she was living at Hilborough Square. I ran
my eye along the range of boxes which were set
out on the top of a chest of drawers. One
was an old fashioned tea caddy, another and obvious folding
desk of the same period, while the third, which I opened,
turned out to be a work box of mid Victorian age.
(07:00):
We saught it was a little flat Rosewick case, which
looked like a small case of mathematical instruments. Observing that
the key was in the lock, I turned it and
lifted the lid, not with any conscious curiosity as to
what was inside it, but in the mere idleness of
a man who has nothing in particular to do. But
the instant that the lid was up, my attention awoke
(07:20):
with a bound, and I stood with dropping joss, staring
at the interior in utter consternation. There could not be
an instant's doubt as to what this case was, for
its green baize lined interior showed a shaped recess of
the exact form of a pocket pistol. And if that
were not enough, there in its own compartment was a
little copper powder flask, and in another compartment about a
(07:43):
dozen globular bullets. I snapped down the lid and turned
the key and walked guiltily out of the room. My
interest in Madeleine's flat was dead. I could think of
nothing but this amazing discovery. And the more I thought,
the more overpowering did it be come. The pistol that
fitted that case was the exact counterpart of the pistol
(08:05):
that I had seen in Thorndyke's laboratory, and the case
itself corresponded exactly to his description of the case from
which that pistol had probably been taken. It was astounding,
and it was profoundly disturbing, for it admitted of no
explanation that I could bring myself to accept other than
that of a coincidence. And coincidences are unsatisfactory things, and
(08:28):
you can't do with too many of them at once.
Yet on reflection. This was the view that I adopted. Indeed,
there was no thinkable alternative. And really, when I came
to turn the matter over, it was not quite so
extraordinary as it had seemed at first glance. For what,
after all, was this pistol with its case? It was
not a unique thing. It was not even a rare thing.
(08:51):
Thorndyke had spoken of these pistols and cases as comparatively
common things with which he expected me to be familiar.
Thousands of them must have been made in their time,
and since they were far from perishable, thousands of them
must still exist. The singularity of the coincidence was not
in the facts. It was the product of my own
state of mind. Thus I sought none too successfully to
(09:15):
rid myself of the effects of the shock that I
had received on raising the lid of the case. And
I was still moodily gazing out of the sitting room
window and arguing away my perturbation when I heard the
outer door shut, and a moment later Madeleine looked into
the room. I haven't been away so very long, have I?
She said cheerily. Now I will slip off my coat
(09:35):
and hat and we will consider what sort of meal
we will have, or perhaps you will consider the question
while I am gone with this. She flitted away, and
my thoughts, passing by the problem submitted, involuntarily reverted to
the little rosewood case in the spare room. But her
absence was of a brevity, suggesting the performance of the
professional quick change artist. In a minute or two, I
(09:58):
heard her approach and open the door. I turned to
receive a real knockout blow. I was so astonished and
dismayed that I suppose I must have stood staring like
a fool, for she asked, in a rather disconcerted tone,
what is the matter, Rupert, Why are you looking at
my jumper like that? Don't you like it? Yes? I stammered,
(10:19):
of course I do, most certainly, very charming, very uh becoming.
I like it exceedingly. I don't believe you do, she said, doubtfully.
You look so surprised when I first came in. You
don't think the color too startling? Do you? Women wear
brighter colors than they used to? You know? And I
(10:39):
do think this particular shade of green is rather nice,
and it is rather unusual too, it is, I agreed,
recovering myself by an effort quite distinctive, And then, noting
that I had unconsciously adopted Thorndyke's own expression, I added hastily,
and I shouldn't describe it as startling at all. It
is imperfectly good taste. I am glad you think that,
(11:03):
she said, for you certainly did look rather startled at first,
and I had some slight misgivings about it myself. When
I had finished it, it looked more brilliant in color
as a garment than it did in the form of
mere skeins. You made it yourself, then, yes, But I
don't think I would ever knit another. It took me
months to do, and I could have bought one for
(11:24):
very little more than the cost of the wool, though
of course I shouldn't have been able to select the
exact tint that I wanted. But what about our meal?
Shall we call it tea or supper? She could have
called it breakfast, for all I cared so completely. Had
this final shock extinguished my interest in food? But I
had to make some response to her eager hospitality. Let
(11:46):
us put the difference or strike and average, I replied,
we will call it a swarry tea and unusual trimmings
very well, said she. Then you shall come to the
kitchen and help. I will show you the raw material
to the feast, and you shall dictate the bill of fare.
We accordingly adjourned to the kitchen, where she felt to
work on the preparations with the unhurried quickness that is
(12:08):
characteristic of genuine efficiency, babbling pleasantly and pausing now and
then to ask my advice, which was usually foolish and
had to be blandly rejected, and treating the whole business
with a sort of playful seriousness that was very delightful.
And all the time I looked on in a state
of mental chaos and bewilderment for which I could find
no words. There she was, my friend, Madeline, sweet, gentle, feminine,
(12:33):
the very type of gracious womanhood, and the more sweet
and gracious by reason of these homely surroundings. For it
is an appalling reflection in these days of lady professors
and women legislators, that to masculine eyes, a woman never
looked so dignified, so worshipful, so entirely desirable as when
she is occupied in the traditional activities that millenniums of
(12:56):
human experience have associated with her sex. To me, Madeline
flitting about the immaculate little kitchen, neat handed, perfect in
the knowledge of her homely craft, smiling, dainty, fragile, with
her gracefully flowing hair, and the little apron that she
had slipped on as a sort of ceremonial garment was
a veritable epitome of feminine charm. And yet but a
(13:19):
few feet away was a rosewood case that had once
held a pistol, and even now in Thorndyke's lock cabinet.
But my mind staggered under the effort of thought and
refused the attempt to combine and colate a set of
images so discordant. You are very quiet, rupert, she said, presently,
pausing to look at me. What is it. I hope
you haven't any special worries. We all have our little worries, Madeline,
(13:44):
I replied vaguely, Yes, indeed, said she still regarding me thoughtfully.
And for the first time I noticed that she seemed
to have aged a little since I had last seen her,
and that her face in repose showed traces of strain
and anxiety. We all have our troubles, and we all
tried to put them on you. How did you think
Barbara was looking extraordinarily well? I was agreeably surprised. Yes,
(14:10):
she is wonderful. I am full of admiration of the
way she has put away everything connected with that dreadful affair.
I couldn't have done it if I had been in
her place, I couldn't have let things rest. I should
have wanted to know. I have no doubt that she does.
We all want to know. But she can do no
more than the rest of us. Do you ever see
(14:32):
Wallingford now? Oh, dear? Yes, he was inclined to be
rather too attentive at first, but Barbara gave him a
hint that spinsters who live alone don't want too many
visits from their male friends, so now he usually comes
with her. I must bear Barbara's words of wisdom and mind,
said I. Indeed, you won't, she exclaimed, don't be ridiculous, rupert.
(14:55):
You know her hint doesn't apply to you. And I
shouldn't have troubled about the proprieties and Tony's case if
I had really wanted him. But I didn't, though I
am awfully sorry for him. Yes, he seems to be
in a bad way, mentally poor, devil. Of course you
have heard about his delusions, if they really are delusions,
but I am not at all sure that they are.
(15:15):
Now help me to carry these things into the sitting room,
and then I will do the omelet and bring it in.
I obediently took up the train and followed her into
the sitting room, where I completed the arrangement of the table,
while she returned to the kitchen to perform the crowning
culinary feat. In a minute or two, she came in
with the product under a heated cover, and we took
our seats at the table you were speaking of. Wallingford said,
(15:39):
I apparently you know more about him than I do.
It seemed to me that he was stark mad. He
is queer enough, I must admit. Don't let your omlet
get cold. But I think you and Barbara are mistaken
about his delusions. I suspect that somebody is really keeping
him under observation, and if that is so, one can
easily understand why his nerves are so upset. Yes, indeed,
(16:03):
but when you say you suspect that we are mistaken,
what does that mean? Is it just a pious opinion,
or have you something to go upon. Oh, I shouldn't
offer a mere pious opinion to a learned counsel. She
replied with a smile. I have something to go upon,
and I will tell you about it, though I expect
you will think I am stark mad too. The fact
(16:23):
is that I have been under observation to nonsense, Madeline,
I exclaimed. The thing is absurd. You have let Wallingford
infect you there, She retorted, what did I say? You
think I am qualifying for an asylum now? But I
am not absurd as the thing seems, and I quite
agree with you on that point. It is an actual fact.
(16:45):
I haven't the slightest doubt about it. Well, I said,
I am open to conviction, but let us have your
actual facts. How long do you think it has been
going on? That? I can't say, and I don't think
it is going on now at all. At any rate,
I have seen no signs of any watcher for more
than a week, and I keep a pretty sharp lookout.
(17:06):
The way I first became aware of it was this.
I happened one day at lunch time to be looking
out of this window through the chink and the curtains,
when I saw a man passing along slowly on the
other side of the street and glance up, as it
seemed at this window. I didn't notice him particularly, but
still I did look at him when he glanced up,
and of course his face was indirectly towards me. Now
(17:28):
it happened that a few minutes afterwards, I looked out again,
and then I saw what look like the same man
pass along again, at the same slow pace and in
the same direction. And again he looked up at the window,
though he couldn't have seen me because I was hidden
by the curtain. But this time I looked at him
very closely and made careful mental notes of his clothing,
(17:49):
his hat, and his features, because you see, I remembered
what Tony had said, and I hadn't forgotten the way
I was treated at the inquest, or the way in
which the detective man had turned over my cupboard when
he came to search the house. So I looked this
man over very carefully, indeed, so that I should recognize
him without any doubt if I should see him again. Well,
(18:10):
before I went out after lunch, I had a good
look out of the window, but I couldn't see anything
of him, nor did I see him on my way
to the school, though I stopped once or twice and
looked back. When I got to the school, I stopped
at the gate and looked along the street both ways,
but still there was no sign of him. Then I
ran up to a classroom window, from which I could
(18:30):
see up and down the street, and presently I saw
him coming along slowly on the school side, and I
was able to check him off point by point. And
though he didn't look up this time, I could see
his face and check that off too. There was no
doubt whatever that it was the same man. When I
came out of school that afternoon, I looked round but
(18:50):
could not see him. So I walked away quickly in
the direction that I usually take when going home, but
suddenly turned a corner and slipped into a shop. I
stayed there a few minutes, buying some things. Then I
came out, and, seeing no one, slipped round the corner
and took my usual way home, but kept carefully behind
a man and a woman who were going the same way.
(19:12):
I hadn't gone very far before I saw my man
standing before a shop window, but evidently, looking up and
down the street, I was quite close to him before
he saw me, and of course I did not appear
to notice him. But I hurried home without looking round,
and ran straight up to this window to watch for him.
And sure enough, in about a couple of minutes I
(19:32):
saw him come down the street and walk slowly past.
And did you see him again after that? Yes? I
saw him twice more That same day. I went out
for a walk in the evening on purpose to give
him a lead, and I saw him from time to
time every day for about ten days. Then I missed him,
and I haven't seen a sign of him for more
(19:52):
than a week. I suppose he found me two monotonous
and gave me up. It is very extraordinary, I said,
convinced against my will by her very circumstantial description. What
possible object could any one have in keeping a watch
on you? That is what I have wondered, said she.
But I suppose the police have to do something for
(20:13):
their pay. But this doesn't quite look like a police proceeding.
There is something rather feeble and amateurish about the affair.
With all due respect to your powers of observation, Madeline,
I don't think a Scotland yard man would have let
himself be spotted quite so easily. But who else could
it be? She objected, and then after a pause, she added,
(20:33):
with a mischievous smile, unless I should be your friend,
doctor Thorndyke, that would really be a quaint situation if
I should, after all be indebted to you, Rupert for
these polite attentions. I brushed this suggestion aside hastily, but
with no conviction, and once more I recalled Wallingford's observations
on Mayre's nests. Obviously, this clumsy booby was not a
(20:55):
professional detective, and if not, what could he be but
some highered agent to Thorndyke's. It was one more perplexity,
and added to those with which my mind was already charged,
it reduced me to moody silence, which must have made
me the very reverse of an exhilarating companion. Indeed, when
Madeline had rallied me once or twice on my gloomy preoccupation,
(21:18):
I felt that the position was becoming untenable. I wanted
to be alone and think things out. But as it
would have been hardly decent to break up our little
party and take my departure, I determined, if possible to
escape from this oppressive tete a tete. Fortunately, I remembered
that a famous Penis was giving a course of recitals
at a hall with an easy walking distance, and ventured
(21:40):
to suggest that we might go and hear him. I
would rather stay here and gossip with you, she replied,
But as you don't seem to be in a gossiping humor,
perhaps the music might be rather nice. Yes, let us go.
I don't often hear any good music nowadays. Accordingly we went,
and on the way to the hall, Maddelin gave me
(22:00):
a few further details of her experience as with her follower,
and I was not a little impressed by her wariness
and the ingenuity with which he had lured that guileless
sleuth into exposed and well lighted situations. By the way,
said I, what was the fellow like? Give me a
few particulars of his appearance in case I should happen
to run across him. Good heavens rupert, she exclaimed, laughing mischievously.
(22:25):
You don't suppose he will take to haunting you, do you?
That would really be the last straw, especially if he
should happen to be employed by doctor Thorndyke. It would
I admitted with a faint grin bough. Thorndyke is extremely thorough,
and he plumes himself on keeping an open mind. At
any rate, let us have a few details. There was
nothing particularly startling about him. He was a medium sized man,
(22:49):
rather fairer, with the longest, sharp, turned up nose, and
a sandy mustache, rather bigger than men usually have nowadays.
He was dressed in a blue serge suit without an overcoat,
and he wore a brown soft felt hat, a turned
down collar, and a dark green necktie with white spots.
He had no gloves, but he carried a walking stick,
(23:10):
a thick ash yellow king with a crooked handle. Not
very distinctive, I remarked, disparagingly. Don't you think so? Said she?
I thought he was rather easy to recognize, with that
brown hat and the blue suit, and the big mustache
and pointed nose. Of course, if he had worn a
scarlet hat and emerald green trousers and carried a brass
(23:30):
by or shovel instead of a walking stick, he would
have been still easier to recognize. But you mustn't expect
too much, even from a detective. I looked, with dim
surprise into her smiling face, and was more bewildered than ever.
If she were haunted by any gnawing anxieties, she had
a wonderful way of throwing them off. Nothing could be
less suggestive of a guilty conscience than this quiet, gayety
(23:53):
and placid humor. However, there was no opportunity for moralizing,
for her little retort had brought us to the door
the hall, and we had barely time to find desirable
seats before the principal musician took his place at the instrument.
It was a delightful entertainment, and if the music did
not soothe my savage breast into complete forgetfulness, it occupied
(24:14):
my attention sufficiently to hinder consecutive thought on any other subject. Indeed,
it was not until I had said good night to
Madeline outside her flat and turned my face towards the
neighboring station that I was able to attempt a connected
review of their recent startling discoveries. What could they possibly mean?
The pistol alone could have been argued away as a
(24:35):
curious coincidence, and the same might have been possible even
in the case of the wool. But the two together,
the long arm of coincidence was not long enough for that.
The wisp of wool that we had found in the
empty house was certainly admittedly Madeline's. But that wisp matched
identically the ball of wool from the pistol, And here
(24:56):
was a missing pistol which was certainly the exact counterpart
of that which had contained the wool plug. The facts
could not be disputed. Was it possible to escape from
the inferences which they yielded? The infernal machine, feeble as
it was, gave evidence of a diabolical intention, an intention
that my mind utterly refused to associate with Madeline. And
(25:19):
yet even in the moment of rejection, my memory suddenly
recalled the arrangement connected with the electric lights which in
Madeleine's bedroom. Its mechanism was practically identical with that of
the infernal machine, and the materials used, string and screw
eyes were actually the same. It seemed impossible to escape
from this proof piled on proof. But if the machine
(25:41):
itself declared an abominable intention, what of that which lay
behind the machine? The sending of that abomination was not
an isolated or independent act. It was related to some
antecedent act, as Thorndyke it implied, whoever sent it had
a guilty conscience, but guilty of way. As I asked
(26:02):
myself this question and the horrid, inevitable answer framed itself
in my mind, I turned automatically from Middle Temple Lane
and passed into the deep shadow of the arch that
gives entrance to Elmcourt. End of Chapter thirteen.
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