15 - A Pursuit And A Discovery. As A Thief In The Night by R. Austin Freeman.

15 - A Pursuit And A Discovery. 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 fifteen of As a Thief in the Night by R.
Austin Freeman. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
A pursuit and a discovery. More than a week had
passed since that eventful evening, how eventful I did not
then realize when I had delivered my simple treasures into

(00:20):
Thorndyke's hands. But I was not uneasy, for within twenty
four hours I had found in my letter box the
promised note assuring me that the preliminary operations had been
safely carried through and that nothing had been damaged. Nor
was I impatient. I realized that Polton had other work
than mine on hand, than that there was a good
deal to do. Moreover, a little rush of business that

(00:43):
kept me employed and helped me to follow Thorndyke Council
and forget as well as I could the shadow of
mystery and peril that hung over my friends and by implication,
over me. But on the evening of which I am
now speaking, I was free. I had cleared off the
last of the day's work, and after dining reposefully at
my club, found myself with an hour or two to

(01:05):
spare before bedtime, and it occurred to me to look
in on Thorndike, to smoke a friendly pipe and perchance
to get a glimpse of the works in progress. I
entered the temple from the west, and threading my way
through the familiar labyrinth, crossed Tanfield Court, and, passing down
the narrow alley at its eastern side, came out into
King's Bench Walk. I crossed the walk at once and

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was sauntering down the pavement towards Thorndike's house when I
noticed a large closed car drawn up at its entry,
and standing on the pavement by the car the tall man,
whom I recognized by the lamplight as mister Superintendent Miller.
Now I did not much want to meet the Superintendent,
and in any case, it was pretty clear to me

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that my visit to Thorndyke was not very opportune. The
presence of Miller suggested business, and the size of the
car suggested other visitors. Accordingly, I slowed down and was
about to turn back when my eye caught another phenomenon.
In the entry next to Thorndykes, A man was standing
well back in the shadow, but not so far that

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he could not get a view of the car, on
which he was quite obviously keeping a watchful eye. Indeed,
he was so preoccupied with his observation of it that
he had not noticed my approach, his back being turned
towards me. Naturally, the watchful attitude and the object of
his watchfulness aroused my suspicions as to his identity. But

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a movement backward on his part, which brought him within
range of the entry lamp, settled the matter. He was
Anthony Wallingford. I turned to walk quietly back a few paces.
What was this idiot doing here within a few yards
of Thorndyke's threshold. Was he merely spying fatuously and without purpose?
Or was it possible that he might be up to

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some kind of mischief? As I framed the question, my
steps brought me opposite another entry. The walk was in
darkness save for the few lands, and the place was
praedly deserted. After a moment's reflection, I stepped into the
entry and decided, thence to keep a watch upon the watcher.
I had not long to wait, hardly had I taken
up my rather undignified position, when three men emerged from

(03:14):
the house and walked slowly to the car. By the
light of the lamp above Thorndyke's entry, I could see
them quite plainly, and I recognized them all. One was
Thorndyke himself, another was doctor Jervis Thorndyke's colleague, now in
the employ of the Home Office, and the third was
doctor Barnwell, well known to me as the analyst and

(03:34):
toxicologist to the Home Office. All three carried substantial bags,
and doctor Barnwell was encumbered with a large case, like
an outsized suit case, suggestive of chemical apparatus. While they
were depositing themselves and their impedimenta in the car, Superintendent
Miller gave directions to the driver. He spoke in clear

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audible tones. But though I have to confess I listened intently,
I caught only the question do you know the way?
The words which proceeded and followed it were just audible,
but not intelligible to me. It appeared, however, that they
were intelligible to Wallingford, for as soon as they were spoken,
and while the Superintendent still held the open door of

(04:16):
the car, he stepped forth from his lurking place and
walked boldly and rapidly across the narrow passage by which
I had come. Realizing instantly what his intention was, I
came out of the entry and started in pursuit. As
I reached the entrance to the passage, my ear caught
the already faint sound of his receding footsteps, by which
I learned that he was running swiftly and as silently

(04:39):
as he could. Since I did not intend to lose him,
I had no choice but to follow his example, and
I raced across Panfield Court, past the cloisters, and round
by the church, as if the devil were after me
instead of before. Half way up in her temple laying,
he slowed down to a walk, very wisely, for otherwise
the night porter would certainly have stopped him, and was

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duly led out into Fleet Street, whither I followed him.
At a short interval. When I stepped out of the gate,
I saw him some little distance away to the west,
giving directions to the driver of a taxi. I looked
round desperately, and to my intense relief, perceived an apparently
empty taxi approaching from the east. I walked quickly towards it,

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signaling as I went, and the driver at once drew
into the curb and stopped. I approached him and, leaning forward, said,
in a low voice, though there was no one within earshot,
there is a taxi just in front. It will probably
follow a big car which is coming up Middle Temple Lane.
I want you to keep that taxi in sight wherever
it may go. Do you understand. The man broke into

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a cynical grin the nearest approach to geniality of which
a taxi driver is capable, and replied that he understood.
And as at this moment the nose of the car
appeared coming through the arched entrance gate of Middle Temple Lane.
I sprang into the taxi and shut the door from
the off side window, but keeping well back out of sight,
I saw the car creep across Fleet Street, turn eastward,

(06:08):
and then sweep round into Chancery Lane. Almost immediately, Wallingford's
taxi moved off and followed, and then after a short interval,
my own vehicle started and, crossing directly to Chancery Lane,
went a head in the wake of the others. It
was an absurd affair. Now that the pursuit was started
and its conduct delegated for the time to the driver,

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I leaned back in the shadow, and was disposed to
grin a little sheepishly at my own proceedings. I had
embarked on them in obedience to a sudden impulse, without reflection,
for which indeed there had been no time. But was
there anything to justify me in keeping this watch in Wallingford?
I debated the question at some length, and finally decided
that although he was probably only playing the fool, still

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it was proper that I should see what he was
really up to. Thorndyke was my friend, and it was
only right that I should stand between him in any
possible danger. Well as he was able to take care
of himself, he could not be always on his guard,
and I could not forget the infernal machine. Some one
at least had the will to do him an injury.

(07:15):
But what about the brown hatted man? Why had he
not joined in this novel sport? Or had he? I
put my head out of the window and looked across
the street in our rear, but there was no sign
of any pursuing taxi. The ridiculous procession was limited to
three vehicles, which was just as well, since we did
not want the police cyclist bringing up the rear from

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my own proceedings, my thoughts turned to those of Thorndyke
and his companions, though they were no affair of mine,
nor of Wallingford's either for that matter. Apparently the three
men were going somewhere to make a post mortem examination.
The presence of doctor Barnwell suggested an analysis in addition,
and the presence of Miller hinted a criminal case of
sound kind. But it was not my case or Wallingford's.

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For both of us, the analysts had already done his worst.
While I reflected, I kept an eye on the passing landmarks,
checking our route and idly trying to forecast our destination.
From Chancery Lane, we crossed Holborn and entered Gray's Inn Road,
at the bottom of which we swept round by King's
Cross into Pancras Road. At the end of this we

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turned up Great College Street, crossed Camden Road, and presently
passed along the Kentish Town Road. So far I had
noted our progress with no more than a languid interest.
It did not matter to me whither we were going.
But when at the bull and Gate we swept round
into Highgate Road, my attention awoke, and when The taxi

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turned sharply at the Duke of Saint Albans and entered
Swain's lane. I sat up with a start. In a
moment of sudden enlightenment. I realized what our destination must be,
and the realization came upon me with the effect of
a palpable blow. This lane, with its ps zip at
his ascent at the upper end, was no ordinary thoroughfare.

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It was little more than an approach to the great Cemetery,
whose crowded areas extended on either side of it. Its
traffic was almost completely limited to the mournful processions that
crept up to the wide gates by the mortuary chapel. Indeed,
on the very last occasion when I had ridden up
this lane, my conveyance had been the morning carriage which
followed poor little Stella to her last home. Before I

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had recovered from the shock of this discovery sufficiently to
consider what it might mean, the taxi came to a
sudden halt. I stepped out, and, looking up the lane,
made out the shadowy form of Wallingford's vehicle, already backing
and maneuvering to turn round. Bloke in front has got out.
My driver announced in a hoarse whisper, and as he

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spoke I caught sight of Wallingford, or at least of
a human figure lurking in the shadow of the trees
by the railings on the right hand side of the road.
I paid off my driver, who thereupon backed on to
the footway, turned and retired down the hill, and, having
waited for the other taxi to pass down, began slowly
to ascend the lane, keeping in the shadow of the trees.

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Now that the two taxis were gone, Wallingford and I
had the lane to ourselves, excepting where in the distance
ahead the reflected light from the head lamps of the
car made a dim halo, and the shape of the
Gothic chapel loomed indistinctly against the murky sky. I could
see him quite plainly, and no doubt he was aware
of my presence. At any rate, I did not propose

(10:34):
to attempt any concealment so far as he was concerned.
His movements had ceased to be of any interest to me.
My entire concern was with the party ahead, and with
the question as to what Thorndyke was doing at this
time of night in Highgate cemetery. The burial ground is divided,
as I have said, into two parts, which lie on

(10:54):
either side of the lane, the old cemetery with its
great gates in the large mortuary chapel on the left,
or west side in the newer part on the right.
To Which of these two parts was Thorndyke bound. That
was the question that I had to settle. I continued
to advance up the lane, keeping in the shadow, though
it was a dark night and the precaution was hardly necessary.

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Presently I overtook Wallingford in passing without either concealment or
recognition on either side. I could now clearly make out
the gable and pinnacles of the chapel, and saw the
car turn in the wide sweep and then extinguish its
head lights. Presently from the gatehouse there emerged a party
of men, of whom some carried lanterns, by the light

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of which I could recognize Thorndyke and as three companions.
And I noted that they appeared to have left their cases,
either in the car or elsewhere, for they now carried nothing.
They lingered for a minute or two at the wicket
by the great gates, then accompanied by a man whom
I took to be the gate keeper. They crossed the
road to the gate of the Eastern Cemetery, and were

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at once followed by another party of men, who trundled
two wheelbarrows loaded with some bulky objects, the nature of
which I could not make out. I watched them with
growing anxiety and suspicion as they passed in at the gate,
And when they had all entered and moved away along
the main path, I came forth from the shadow and
began to walk quickly up the lane. The Eastern Cemetery

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adjoins water Low Park, from which it is separated by
a low wall surmounted by tall railings, and this was
my objective. The park was now, of course close for
the night, locked up and deserted so much the better
locks and bars were no hindrance to me. I knew
the neighborhood of old. Every foot of the lane was
familiar to me, though the houses that had grown up

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at the lower end had changed its aspect from that
which I remembered when as a boy I rambled through
its leafy shades. On I strode past the great gates
on the left, and the waiting car within which I
could see the driver dozing past the white gatehouse. On
the right up the steep hill till I came to
the place where a tall oak fence and closes the

(13:03):
park from the lane. Here I halted and took off
my overcoat, for the six foot fence is guarded at
the top by a row of vicious hooks. Laying the
folded overcoat across the top of the fence, I sprang up,
sought for a moment astride, and then dropped down into
the enclosure. I now stood in a sort of dry
ditch between the fence and a steep bank covered with bushes,

(13:25):
which rose to the level of the park. I had
just taken down my overcoat and was putting it on
before climbing the bank, when its place was taken by
another overcoat cast over from without. Then a pair of
hands appeared, followed by the clatter of feet against the fence,
and the next moment I saw Wallingford as stride of
the top and looking down at me. I still affected

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to be unaware of him, and turning away, began to
scramble up the bank at the sum out of which
I pushed my way through the bushes and stepping over
a three foot fence, came out upon a by path
overshadowed by trees. Pausing for a moment to get my
bearings and to mark out a route by which I
could cross the park without coming into the open where
I might be seen by some watchful keeper, I started

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off toward a belt of trees, just as Wallingford stepped
over the door fence and came out upon the path
behind me. The position was becoming absurd. Though I was
too agitated to appreciate his humor, I could not protest
against his following me, seeing that I had come in
the first place to spy upon him, and was now,
like himself, engaged in spying upon Thorndyke. However, he soon

(14:33):
solved the difficulty by quickening his pace and overtaking me.
When he asked, in a quite matter of fact tone,
what is Thorndyke up to Mayfield? That is what I
want to find out, I replied, he is not acting
on your instructions? Then no, and the probability is that
what he is doing is no concern of mine or

(14:53):
of yours either. But I don't know, and I have
come here to make sure keep in the shadow. We
don't want to keep to see us prowling about here.
He stepped back into the shade, and we pursued our
way in silence, and even then, troubled and agitated as
I was, I noted that he asked me no question
as to what was in my mind. He was leaving

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the initiative entirely to me. When we had crossed the
park in the shelter of the trees and descended into
the hollow by the little lake, where we were out
of sight of the gatehouse, I led the way towards
the boundary between the park and the cemetery. The two
enclosures were separated, as I have said, by a low
wall surmounted by a range of high, massive railings, and

(15:35):
the wall and the cemetery beyond were partially concealed by
an irregular hedge of large bushes. Pushing through the bushes,
I moved along the wall until I came to the
place which I intended to watch, And here I halted
in the shade of a tall mass of bushes, and
resting my arms on the broad coping of the wall,
took up my post of observation. With Wallingford silently attentive

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at my side. The great burial ground was enveloped in darkness,
so profound that the crowded headstones and monuments conveyed to
the eye no more than a confused glimmer of ghostly
pallor that was barely distinguishable from the general obscurity. One
monument only could be separately identified, a solitary stone cross

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that rose above a half seen graved some sixty yards
from the wall. But already the mysterious procession could be seen,
threading its way in and out by the intricate winding paths,
the gleam of the lanterns lighting up, now a marble figure,
and now a staring headstone or urn or broken column.
And as it drew ever nearer the glarer of the lanterns,
the rumble of the barrel wheels on the hard paths,

(16:40):
and the spectral figures of the men grew more and
more distinct, and still Wallingford watched and spoke, never a word.
At length, the turn of the path brought the procession
into full view, and as it approached they could make
out a man, evidently by his uniform, the cemetery keeper,
leading lantern in hand and showing the way. Nearer and

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nearer the procession drew, until at last close by the
stone cross. The leader halted. Then, as Thorndyke and his companions,
now clearly visible, came up, he lifted his lantern and
let its light fall full on the cross. And even
at this distance I could read with ease, though it
was unnecessary, the single name Stella, as that name to

(17:24):
me so sacred, flashed out of the darkness. Wallingford gripped
my arm, Great God, he exclaimed, it's Stella Kane's grave.
I came here once with Barbara to plant flowers on it.
He paused, breathing hard and still clutching my arm. Then,
in a hoarse whisper, he demanded, what can that devil
be going to do? There was little need to ask.

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Even as he spoke, the laborers began to unload from
the first barrel its lading of picks, shovels, and coils
of rope, And when these were laid on the ground,
the second barrel yielded up its cargo, a set of
rough canvas screen which the men began to set up
around the grave. And even as the screens were being erected,
another lantern slowly approaching along the path revealed two men

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carrying a long bedsteadlike object, a bier, which they have
length set down upon its stunted legs, just outside the
screens with set teeth. I stared incredulously between the railings
at these awful preparations, while Wallingford, breathing noisily, held fast
to my arm with a hand that I could feel
shaking violently. The lanterns inside the screens threw a weird,

(18:33):
uncertain light on the canvas, and monstrous distorted shadows moved
to and fro. Presently, amidst these flitting spectral shapes appeared
one like an enormous gnome, huge, hideous and deformed, holding
an upraised pick. The shadowy implement fell with an audible impact,
followed by the ring of a shovel. At the sight,

(18:54):
and the sound so dreadfully conclusive, Wallingford sprang up with
a stifled cry, God Almighty, that devil is going to
dig her up. He stood motionless and rigid for a
few moments, then, turning suddenly without another word, he burst
through the bushes, and I heard him racing madly across
the park. I had half a mind to follow him.

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I had seen enough. I now knew the shocking truth.
Why stay let my soul be harrowed by the sight
of these ghouls. Every stroke of pick or shovel seemed
to knock at my heart. Why not go and leave
them to their work of desecration? But I could not go.
I could not tear myself away. There was the empty bier,

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presently she would be lying on it. I could not
go until I had seen her borne away. So I
stayed there, gazing between the railings, watching the elfin shapes
that flitted to and fro on the screen, listening to
the thud of pick and the ring and scrape of shovel,
and letting my confused thoughts wander obscurely through a maze
of half realized pain and anger. I try in vain

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to recall clearly what was my state of mind. Out
of the confusion and bewilderment, little emerges but a dull indignation,
and especially a feeling of surprise resentment against Thorndike. The
horrible business went on methodically by degrees. A shadowy mound
grew at the bottom of the screen, and then other
movements and other sounds, A hollow, woody sound that seemed

(20:22):
to bring my heart into my mouth. At last, the
screens were opened at the end, and then the coffin
was borne out and laid on the bier. By the
light of the lanterns, I could see it distinctly. I
was even able to recognize it, shabby and irt stained
as it now was. I saw Thorndyke help the keeper
to spread over it some kind of pall, and then

(20:42):
two men stepped between the handles of the bier, stooped
and picked it up. And then the grim procession re
formed and began slowly to move away. I watched until
it had passed round a turn of the path and
was hidden from my view. Then I stood up, pushed
my way through the bushes, and stole away across the
park by the way I had come in the ditch
inside the fence. I stood for a few moments, listening,

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but the silence was as profound as the darkness. As
quietly as I could, I climbed over the fence and
dropped down into the lane. There seemed to be not
a soul moving anywhere near. Nevertheless, when I had slipped
on my overcoat, instead of retracing my steps down the lane,
past the entrance gates of the cemetery, I turned to
the right and twirled up the steep hill to its

(21:26):
termination in South Grove, where I bore away westward, and
descending the long slope of West Hill, past the Duke
of Saint Albans, and re entered the Highgate Road. It
did not occur to me to look out for any conveyance.
My mind was in a world that seemed to communicate
itself to my body, and I walked on and on,
like one in a dream. The dreary miles of deserted

(21:48):
streets were consumed, done, reckoned, though still without conscious purpose.
I followed the direct road home, as a well constructed
automaton might have done, But I saw nothing, nor for
a time could I be said to think coherently. My
thoughts seethed and eddied in such confusion that no product emerged.
I was conscious only of an indignant sense of shock, decency,

(22:10):
and a loathing of Thorndyke and all his works. Presently, however,
I grew somewhat more reasonable, and my thoughts began to
take more coherent shape. As a lawyer, I could not
but perceive that Thorndyke must have something definite in his mind.
He could not have done what I had seen him
do without a formal authority from the Home Secretary, And

(22:31):
before any such authority would have been given, he would
have been called upon to show cause why the exhumation
should be carried out. And such licenses are not likely granted.
Nor I had to admit, was Thorndyke likely to have
made the application without due consideration. He must have had
reasons for this outrageous proceeding, which not only appeared sufficient

(22:52):
to him, but which must have appeared sufficient to the
Home Secretary. All this became by degrees clear enough to me.
But yet I had not a moment's doubt that he
had made some monstrous mistake. Probably he had been misled
by something in my diary that seemed to be the
only possible explanation. Presently, he would discover his error by

(23:13):
means which I shudderingly put aside. But when the error
was discovered, the scandal would remain. It is impossible to
maintain secrecy in a case like this. In twenty four
hours or less, all the world would know that the
body of missus Moncous's stepsister had been exhumed, and no
subsequent explanation would serve to destroy the effect of that announcement.

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Wallingford's dismal prophecy was about to be fulfilled. Moreover, Thorndyke's
action amounted in effect to an open accusation not of
Madeline or Wallingford, but of Barbara herself, and this indignity
she would suffer at my hands, at the hands of
her oldest friend. The thought was maddening, but for the

(23:56):
outrageous lateness of the hour, I would have gone to
her at once, to put her on her yard and
crave her pardon. It was the least that I could do.
But it could not be done to night, for she
would have been in bed hours ago and her flat
locked up for the night. However, I would go in
the morning at the earliest possible hour. I knew that
Barber was an early riser, and it would not be

(24:17):
amiss if I arrived at the flat before the maid.
She must be warned at the earliest possible moment, and
by me, who was the author of the mischief. Thus,
by the time that I reached my chambers, I decided
clearly what was to be done. At first I was
disposed to reject altogether the idea of sleep, but presently
more reasonable thoughts prevailing, I decided at least to lie

(24:40):
down and sleep a little, if I could. But first
I made a few indispensable preparations for the morning. Filled
the kettle and placed it on the gas ring, set
out the materials for a hasty breakfast, and clean my shoes. Then,
when I had wound the alarm clock and set it
for five, I partially undressed and crept into bed. End

(25:00):
of Chapter fifteen