May 15, 2025 • 29 mins
Step into the world of Victorian London, filled with humor, crime, and adventure. Follow a unique group of men who, having exhausted lifes pleasures, form a Burglars Club for some much-needed excitement. Here, membership comes with a price - a city burglary as an entrance fee, set by their president. Every other year, each member needs to maintain his subscription through a provincial line. This gripping tale skillfully intertwines the thrill of crime with the charm of camaraderie.
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Chapter ten of The Burglars Club, a romance in twelve chronicles.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Matthew Swada. The Burglars
Club by Henry Augustus Herring, Chapter ten, the hal byd miniature.
(00:21):
Mister Adolph Meyer, the Friend of Nations, the associate of
Kings in the hope of the impecunious, had built himself
a house on Saint George's Island, off the coasts of Hampshire.
As mister Meyer's origin was German and the country of
his adoption was England, it was perhaps natural that he
should have gone to Tuscany for the architecture of his
marine residence. Its boldly projecting cornices, its rusticated base in Quohens,
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the consuls of its upper windows all betrayed its Florentine birth.
But the lower windows, reaching to the ground, were such
as we associate with the name of France, and were
doubtless intended as a common imp to the great and
gay nation living directly across the water to the south.
A terrace bounded by A low wall set with dogs,
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apparently petrified by their own ugliness. Separated the villa from
the beach. To the west were the orchard houses. To
the north, before the front of the house lay a
bowling green, beyond it a wood through which ran the
path leading to the landing stage and the neighboring island
of Great Britain. A spiral staircase at the east end
of the house led to the observatory containing the powerful
(01:31):
equatorial telescope, through which, as opportunity offered, mister Meyer was
wont to gaze thoughtfully at the satellites of Jupiter, the
canals on Mars, and the other eccentricities of the heavens.
There was, of course, a fountain between the bowling green
and the cypress trees. There was also a sun dial
bearing a sentence of cryptic import and in the woods
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at the least expected places stood marble columns, broken and
ivy wreathed or supporting busts of Socrates, Palace, Homer, and
other appropriate notabilities. Inside the house were treasuries that had
cost the ransom of a millionaire. Meyer was a bachelor,
and here he spent his week ends absorbing ozone enough
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to see him through till the following Saturday, and maturing
Titanic schemes for the Federation of the World and the
confounding of rival financiers. Once only had he brought a
guest with him, an African proconsul who had, with much difficulty,
though with ultimate success, joined his outward boundship from Meyer's
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electric launch. Each year a local mayor called admired, wondered
and retired. Occasionally some venturesome tourist was captured and turned back.
Other visitors were rare, and their reception depended on the
mood of the lord of the island. One day last April,
a stranger with a camera rode across from England. At
(02:56):
the landing stage, he informed the man in charge that
he had business with many, mister Meyer. This was telephoned
to the house. What business came the reply? Particular business,
said the newcomer. What particular business pictures was the answer.
This was transmitted and the reply was taken. You can go,
said the man, hanging up the receiver. Straight up the
(03:17):
path and through the woods, turned to the left at
the busk of Omer. Ten minutes later, the visitor was
shown into a room facing the sea, in which mister
Meyer was seated by the open window, reading from a
gigantic folio. He was a short, podgy man with black
curly hair, a round a nose, and bright eyes. His
mustache and imperial did not conceal the extraordinary firmness of
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his mouth and jaw. He rose as his visitor entered.
He was, as usual attired in a frock coat and
gray trousers. Once he had been in flannels when an
emergency had arisen demanding city attire, which was not immediately forthcoming.
Mister Meyer had lost an opportunity in life through care carelessness. Therefore,
(04:01):
on land he ever afterwards wore a frock coat, except
when an evening dress or pajamas. The occasion should never
again find him wanting you wish to see me on business?
He asked, what is it? His visitor, who was cast
in a finer less decided Mold, a good looking, clean
shaven man of something over thirty, replied, I came to
(04:23):
ask for permission to photograph the inside of your place.
You are not from mister Holsman, Den, said Meyer curtly. No,
you said your business was important, so it is to myself.
Meyer looked sharply at him. Why do you want to
photograph my place for insertion in a magazine? Which magazine?
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Any that will take the article? I am not proud.
It is important that I should make some money. I
have seen many interesting reproductions of interiors of the stately
homes of England in the periodicals, but never one of
your house. Hence my appearance. I hope I I may
have your permission. Why should I grant you permission? Said Meyer,
I live here in solitude. I do not bring visitors.
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I do not want them. Your intrusion is impertinent. His
visitor flushed. Sorry if I have annoyed you, he said,
but it does not seem such a great favor to ask.
Most people are glad to have pictures of themselves and
their houses in the papers. Most people are fools, as
dom As Carlyle said, have you a family? I am
(05:27):
not married. There is no excuse for a single man
taking pictures of people's interiors. It is not to work
for a man like you. I shall not encourage such tomfoolery. No,
I do not give you permission. But stay. There is
an orchid from Demital of Africa, of which I would
like to have a picture to sipropity in my ARII
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a new species which I have had to satisfaction to detect.
Perhaps you would be kind enough to photograph it for me,
and your journey would not be altogether lost. Come along,
what is your name? Please? His visitor handed him a
card on which was printed John Lucas, one forty Brixton Gardens, London.
W You have come a long way, mister Meyer observed,
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A very long way, sir. Perhaps you wouldn't mind letting
me look around your house, even if I may not
photograph it. I am interested in domestic architecture and er curious.
Mister Meyer looked intently at his visitor. Yes, mister Lucas,
he said slowly, I will also show you around my house.
Since you have come so far and are interested in
(06:32):
domestic architecture and curios, I have plenty of both. Then
we will photograph de orkitt. Mister Meyer led the photographer
through his villa, pointing out its architectural beauties and indicating
the various treasures which it contained. Mister Lucas was profuse
in his expressions of appreciation. Are you not afraid of burglars?
He asked, I'm afraid of nutting, replied mister Meyer. Otherwise
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I should not be here to say in dis tuscan Villa,
I have gone into the question of dieves, and I
think I should be able to meet the situation. They
had made a tour of the rooms, had ascended the
heights of the observatory and inspected the electric plant at
its base. Is there anything else you would like to see?
Asked mister Meyer politely. I believe that you collect miniatures.
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Might I look at them? Come this way? In a
corner of the marble hall, there was a cabinet facing
a window. Meyer stood before it. See he said, I
press this button and it releases the trars. So the
shutter flew back and the drawers were free. Meyer opened
them one by one and indicated their contents. They are
all choice examples of the best masters. These are gossways,
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This is an ingle heart, and so on. He went
through the collection till he had shown the last drawer
but one. He was about to close the cabinet when
mister Lucas asked, have you any haulbinds? One, replied Meyer,
and dare I was neglecting to show it to you?
This last drawer is the most important of the lot.
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He opened it and drew forth a small square frame.
Here is the latest aggition to my collection, a crand
halbind you notice the blue background characteristic of that creatmaster,
and the wonderful thin painting. You can almost see through it.
It is a portrait of Meyer of Basel, perhaps a
relation of mine, perhaps not. It does not matter. It
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is a fine picture, don't you think so. Lucas handed
it back. I envy you, he said. There is no need.
Mister Meyer responded as he closed the cabinet and fee
no man till he dead, said the old Creek philosopher,
and I am very much alive. Now come to the
orchid house and photograph the Cipropidium MAYERI. An hour later,
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after taking photographs of the rare exotic from every point
of the compass, mister Lucas made his way to the
landing stage, and from thence he rode thoughtfully across to Bournemouth.
On the following Monday night, a boat with a solitary
oarsman put off from the mainland, and, after several changes
of route, was successfully beached on the south shore of
(09:10):
Saint George Island under the protection of the trees. Its
occupant none other, indeed, than mister John Lucas. Stealthily approached
to the Tuscan villa, which stood out in bold relief
in the vivid moonlight. He gained the terrace, and, keeping
as much possible within the shadow of the balustrade and dogs,
he crept to the fourth window, the one at which
(09:31):
mister Meyer was sitting on the preceding Saturday. There is
no use disguising the fact any longer. Mister Lucas was
a burglar, and he now proceeded to act after the
manner of his craft. After fixing some adhesive material to
the pane, he began to cut out a square of
the window. The glass was thick, so the process was long,
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but mister Lucas toiled at it with a patience and
perseverance worthy of a better cause. Only once did he
desist to follow the suggestion of a sudden impulse and
try all the windows of the house. But each was fastened,
and mister Lucas resumed his original labor. It was fully
an hour before he drew out the square of glass,
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which enabled him to undo the catch inside. Then nearly
as long passed before the removal of a second square
at the foot allowed him to unscrew the bottom fastening.
The window was open at last, and Lucas stepped inside.
It was the second burglary of his life, and he
reflected that so far all that had happened was greatly
to the credit of his professional abilities. A moment afterwards,
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he was chilled by the later thought that nothing in
particular had happened so far, and that the possibilities of
the near future were very great. Indeed, with his stealthy
entry into mister Meyers's villa, the personality of that gentleman
had suddenly oppressed him. At Bournemouth, all that day, with
the sun shining and the band playing popular airs, mister
(10:58):
Meyer had occurred to him merely as an eccentric German gentleman.
But now, at something after midnight, in the deathly stillness
of his villa, mister Lucas only remembered the Teuton's sharp,
decisive utterances, his piercing glances, and his large general reputation
for unpleasantness as an enemy. Perhaps it was the sight
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of mister Meyer's empty chair that had brought this train
of thought to his mind. The big folio he had
been reading was still at its side, Lucas flashed his
electric pocket light on the open page. Love Labors Lost
met his eyes. This struck him as ominous. Lucas pulled
himself together. What had he to do with empty chairs
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and old folios and omens. He was a burglar out
for the night on urgent business. Let him attend to
it and keep his dreams in soliloquies for the daytime.
He walked across the polished floor, his rubber souls being
absolutely noiseless. He raised the heavy curtain and passed beneath
it through the archway. There in front of him was
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the marble hall, bathed in colored moonlight. The fountain played
softly to the tones of gold, azure and red cast
from the stainless glass window. If mister Lucas had been
conversant with Keats, he would doubtless have thought of Saint
Agnes Eve, But presumably mister Lucas did not, for keeping
well to the wall, he stole quickly across to where
(12:25):
stood the case containing the miniatures. Hugh breast a button
and it releases detroers, So he smiled as mister Meyer's
pronunciation came back to him. He followed the instructions and
the drawers were free, cosway and angle heart did not
detain him tonight. He opened the bottom drawer. There lay
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the hullbind for which mister Meyer had recently paid three
thousand guineas. Lucas dropped it carefully into the pocket of
his Norfolk jacket, shut the drawer and closed the case.
So far all was well, very well. Indeed, only a
few yards a curtain and a few yards more lay
between him and freedom. Then again there fell upon him
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a sense of mister Meyer's personality. What had the man
not done? He had browbeaten an emperor, hood, winked a
couple of Willie chancellors, and decimated the ranks of rival practitioners.
Was he John Lucas, a mere tyro and the burglary
profession able to outwit the smartest man of the day.
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Had he only to break a window, step across the floor,
seize a treasure and depart, No, it was impossible. The
very ease with which everything had been accomplished was the
worst sign of all. I have gone into the question
of Dee's and tink I should be able to meet
to disituation. Meyers's words came back to him. Now he
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himself was in town. Lucas had seen him depart that
morning to make it absolutely certain, But his myrmidons were
doubtless hidden around. An electric shock would suddenly hold him fast,
and Meyer's butler or stage manager or whatever he was called,
would appear and wing him, unless the servants were asleep
in their master's absence. But nothing was ever left to
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chance in mister Meyer's life or his house. The very
silence was eloquent of impending catastrophe. Again, mister Lucas reapproached
himself with nervous folly. It is only my second burglary,
he reflected apologetically. He stepped across the hall and once
more raised the curtains. Ah. The room, which ten minutes
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ago was dark and empty, was now brilliantly illuminated, and
there stood mister Adolph Meyer, seated in his chair. Meyer
Rosen came forward. Ah, mister Lucas, he said, this is
indeed a pleasure, not altogether unexpected, I admit, but it
is always satisfactory to find one's conclusions prove correct. I
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thought you would have to return to make some final
notes on my domestic architecture and my curios. You have
seen my place by day. Now you visit me by night.
That is charming. Lucas stood by the curtain, overwhelmed with confusion.
Not by a word did mister Meyer betray any resentment
at his presence. But there was a thinly disguised vein
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of banter in his speech that made the burglars pulses quicken.
Perhaps you have not noticed a view I have here,
mister Lucas, said Meyer. Come and look. He threw open
the window wide. The moon was playing on the waters
of the channel. Clouds were scurrying across the sky. A
lighthouse flashed in the far distance. I like this view,
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said Meyer. De sea is always the same, deep and treacherous.
One always knows what to expect, But man, you never know.
How do you look upon to see, mister Lucas good
for boating and er bathing, responded Lucas, desperately good for
boating and baiting. Repeated Meyer. That is so you are practical.
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That is where you islanders have the advantage over us, tremaus.
But somehow the dreams have a habit of outlasting to practice.
I do not tink of boating and baiting when I
look on to sea. I tink of all debt is
above it and below it. On the top, ships carrying
men and women and children to continents. Below the waves,
dead men and women and children, those who have died
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by the way, floating by the cables, which are carrying
words that make and unmake nations and men. Life and
death are there together. Did you never tink of de
sea in that way, mister Lucas, when you was not
studying domestic architecture and curios I can't say that, I
have said Lucas, trying vainly to rise to the situation.
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A man with a weapon he could not have met
and fought any day at a moment's notice. But smooth
words and soliloquies, how could he meet him? Though there
was a hidden meeting in every phrase, a subtle danger
indicated in every intonation. I should practice it, then, mister Lucas,
said Meyer gravely. A little more tinking and a little
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less action is the new prescription the doctors are giving
to this country. He turned away from the window after
closing it. He did not appear to notice the two
great holes in the glass which stared him in the face.
Then I shut my window tight for fear of deeds.
Mister Lucas, he went on, and go to my observatory
where we went the other day. I go up those
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steps to my telescope and bring the stars within speaking distance.
Have you ever spoken with the stars, mister Lucas, no,
replied the burglar curtly. Ah, I taught not. Somehow you
did not give me that impression. You should study de
moon for our beginning. Mister Lucas, it is a poor,
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worn out star of a sort. What does it tell
of of life? Run down as many men's are. But
after all, the moon had its day. It was not
cut off in its prime like some men's lives are,
mister Lucas, because of a comet like tout or a
meteor suggestion of evil. A great science is astronomy, mister Lucas,
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Do you not think so? Mister Lucas did not reply.
Why do I speak of these things, mister Lucas, said
Meyer with increasing earnestness, because you are young, very young,
though you are nearly so old as me. I speak
of them because you are wasting your life entering my
house in the middle of the night to take photographs,
when the stars are singing outside and the world is
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calling for the man who, as Dolmas Carlyle says, is
not there. What would Domas Carlyle have said if he
had known that you were here all the time taking
photographs and mister Adolph Meyer's villa, robbing mister Meyer without
the excuse of necessity. Lucas made an attempt to speak,
but Meyers stopped him. The little man's voice rose, his
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eyes gleamed, and his very stature seemed to swell. The
room was full of him. Be silent, sir, he said,
with a gesture of an emperor. I am speaking. Listen.
I know what you will say. It is for sport
that you do, this sport that eats up your race
and makes men like me your master. You take your
(19:07):
gun and kill. See pointing through that window at a
problematical's object. That bird, that beautiful white girl, it is
flying seeking for food or its mate. You shoot it,
never shouted Louis indignantly. You do. I know you do.
You take that wonderful ding we call life for sport.
You rob me. That is a similar ding. But it
(19:30):
is sport also, mind got but you shall rob and
kill no more. He struck a bell. Lucas back to
the wall to be ready for emergencies. A little sharp
featured man entered here. He is mister marvel said Meyer.
I've got him red handed and cold sold. That's right, sir,
said the little man, briskly, producing a pair of handcuffs.
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I'll take him across to Bournemouth and we'll have him
up at the police court in the morning. Mister Meyer
did not appear to have heard him. Strange, is it not.
He resumed that you and I and mister Marvelle, the
clever detective, should be here. Mister Lucas, no, I will
call you by your broper name, Sir Rubert Inkldry. I
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ask you to listen. He took up a red volume
from the table. This is a useful book, he said,
as he opened it. We are all entered up here.
All are public appearances. That is not our midnight photographings. Ah.
Here it is Sir Rubert Kledry, seventh Baronet, born in
eighteen sixty eight, only son of six Baronet and Mary,
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daughter of Viscount Morecombe, educated Eton and christ Church, Oxford.
Owns twenty thousand acres address Koldry, Castle, Leicestershire, fifty seven
Brook Street, w Club's Bachelor Brutles turf. That is fine
for a beginning, continued Meyer. But what an end, Sir Rubert,
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in this room with mister Meyer, whom you have robbed
in an detective and de Bornamount Police court in the morning.
That is not very fine, lan lissen Akin. He turned
over the leaves and read Adolph Meyer born eighteen sixty four, financier,
son of Jacob Meyer of jusseldorff M A London University,
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Commander of the Victorian Order, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor,
address sixteen Lombard Street, e C and Saint George's Island, Bournemouth.
That is all. There are no clubs and no acres.
I have the orders because I did service to England
and France. I am am Ma of London University. Because
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when I was a young man behind the counter in
de Bank all day, I worked for my decree by night.
And now I am here and you are where I
like to put you, Sir Robert Koudriy, Bournemouth Police Station,
suggested mister Marvell, who was aching to get to business.
Bornemount Police Station repeated mister Meyer slowly, No, mister Marvel,
(22:04):
I think not. I am master of arts of London
University and reader of Blatto letting alone the other things.
He shall go free in mister Marvell, you will please
forget the incident I telegraphed for you on Saturday. You came,
but there was nothing. That is what you will report
(22:24):
please at Scotland Yard. But you, Sir Rubert, you will
not forget. You will remember. You will neither kill nor
rob again, because it is the wish of mister Adolph
Meyer who makes you free instead of sending you to
the police station. Also said Rubert, I suggest that you
give up that club that mister Marvell speaks of. See
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you have my holbine in your pocket, Take it since
you want it, show it to your friends and say
that mister Meyer, who is m a of London University,
Commander Chevalier and General Chreamer, says that they had better
to spend four. The stars are singing and mister Marvel
is watching. Mister Marvel folded up his handcuffs methodically and
(23:08):
replaced them in his pocket. He was too well trained
to show the intense disgust he felt. At the turn
the proceedings had taken again. The burglar endeavored to speak,
but once more mister Meyer commanded silence. Mister Marvel, will
see you to your boat, Sir Rupert, he said, I
trust that you will weigh my words. Well. It is
not often that I say so many, and they have
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caused me some inconvenience to speak, as I am not
accustomed to spend Monday nights in my marine villa. To
be here, I had this afternoon to postpone an interview
with the Turkish ambassador, which I have since learned by
telegram from Constantopole has been misconstrued. The Sultan will not
sleep much to night, and in the morning newspapers there
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will be talk of trouble in the Balkan states. Some
people will be fearing war, Sir Rubert, and all on
account of you and your midnight photographings. I wonder what
Domus Cardle would say to a mess like that. Good Night.
Mister Meyer turned abruptly on his heels and left the room.
Come along, Sir Rupert, please, said mister Marvel. In the
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brilliant moonshine. They went along the terrace by the stone
dogs and down the steps to the beach. They found
the boat by the trees. How did mister Meyer come
to suspect my errand said Inkletree. Suddenly the detective smiled
a wan smile. Well, sir, he replied, I wasn't present
when you saw him on Saturday, but I think that
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mister Meyer read you through as if you were a
book printed in pretty big letters. Too. It was a
rather thin tail that about the magazine article, and when
you asked to see round the house, mister Meyer was
certain that you had some special object in view. When
you inquired about the miniatures, he knew what you were after,
as the papers had lately been full of the Hulbine.
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To make sure on the point, he didn't show it
to you, and of course you asked to see it.
Then he telegraphed to Scotland Yard and they sent me.
How did you find out who I was and why
I wanted the miniature? Ah, said mister Marvel dryly. I'll
tell you that some day later on, Sir Rupert, we
shall probably meet again. Then the baronet put out to sea,
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and the detective went back to the Tuscan villa. On
the following evening, at the meeting of the Burglars Club,
the secretary produced the Halbind miniature and read a letter
from Sir Rubert Inkletree, which accompanied it. Then the President rose,
My lords and gentlemen, He said, we have just heard
the singular adventure which has befallen one of our members.
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The Halbind miniature is here, but only owing to the
good will of its owner, Sir Rubert Kletree is at
liberty owing to the forbearance of the same gentleman. Under
the circumstances, I think we have no option but to
accept the resignation of Sir Rupert, who does not appear
to have acted with the ajoitness which is a necessary
qualify occasion of our members. It may well be that
(26:02):
you or I would have done no better under similar circumstances.
But I need hardly remind you that in this club
we judge only by results, and the results in this
instance are not satisfactory. There is a further matter to consider,
a message from mister Meyer, which demands a reply. Colonel Altamont,
as the doian of our club, we look to your
(26:25):
premature gray hairs for guidance. Altamont rose, amidst general applause,
Your grace, my lords and gentlemen, he began, It is
surely unnecessary to ask for my opinion on this situation.
Our existence is now known to the outside world. Twice
has this detective Marvel been within reach of us. Someone
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has betrayed us, and I, for one, do not intend
to rest until I have traced that traitor. But this
is not the matter before us now. Though mister Meyer
objects to sport, he has behaved like a perfect sportsman.
Here for his courtesy we wish to express hearty thanks
and appreciation. But for his suggestion that we should disband,
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we surely have one answer only, and that is never,
never Never. The words were re echoed on all sides,
our club would indeed have fallen on degenerate days, continued Altamont,
when quiet was restored, if the fact of its existence
being known were promptly to bring about its end. Surely
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the fact that we are watched should give an added
zest to our proceedings, which have been all too monotonously serene.
The knowledge that Scotland Yard is acting, and that we
carry our personal liberty in our hands, should spur us
on to the Homeric deeds for the preparation of which
we exist. Inkletree's PostScript is pathetic and vividly shows the
(27:51):
present unbalanced state of his mind. He asks whether we
consider that under mister Meyer's terms he is at liberty
to fish. My own feeling is that I would have
suffered a long period of incarceration rather than have surrendered
my rights to act as a free and independent Englishman.
But Ingletree, having accepted his liberty on mister myers stupendous terms,
(28:12):
has surely forfeited that right to again take life in
any form. If he so much as nets a minnow,
he has no option but to surrender himself forthwith at
the Bournemouth Police Station. We all forget the loss of
our ones brilliant member, but it is obvious from Ingletree's
behavior during the last few days that he is not
the man he was when he paid his entrance fee
(28:34):
by the production of what was it, mister Secretary the
Mace of the House of Commons, No, Sir, replied the Secretary,
That was mister Henderson's fee. Sir Rupert Ingletree entered with
the Portland vase from the British Museum. Ah quite so,
thank you, and a very smart bit of work it was.
I remember. It is regrettable that Sir Rupert could not
(28:57):
be here in person this evening to advance any extenua
waiting circumstances. But as he is probably under the surveillance
of Scotland Yard, we appreciate his reason for adopting the
medium of the Postmaster General for communicating with us. I
therefore propose that Sir rupert Ingletree's resignation be accepted, and that,
with the holbind picture, which we at once returned to
(29:19):
its owner in accordance with our rule, we send a
letter expressing our appreciation of mister Meyer's magnanimomy and our
regret that we are unable to disband. We could leave
it to our secretary to couch this in the neat
epigrammatic style for which he is famed in the Chancellaries
of Europe. End of Chapter ten
Chapter ten of The Burglars Club, a romance in twelve chronicles.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Matthew Swada. The Burglars
Club by Henry Augustus Herring, Chapter ten, the hal byd miniature.
(00:21):
Mister Adolph Meyer, the Friend of Nations, the associate of
Kings in the hope of the impecunious, had built himself
a house on Saint George's Island, off the coasts of Hampshire.
As mister Meyer's origin was German and the country of
his adoption was England, it was perhaps natural that he
should have gone to Tuscany for the architecture of his
marine residence. Its boldly projecting cornices, its rusticated base in Quohens,
(00:47):
the consuls of its upper windows all betrayed its Florentine birth.
But the lower windows, reaching to the ground, were such
as we associate with the name of France, and were
doubtless intended as a common imp to the great and
gay nation living directly across the water to the south.
A terrace bounded by A low wall set with dogs,
(01:08):
apparently petrified by their own ugliness. Separated the villa from
the beach. To the west were the orchard houses. To
the north, before the front of the house lay a
bowling green, beyond it a wood through which ran the
path leading to the landing stage and the neighboring island
of Great Britain. A spiral staircase at the east end
of the house led to the observatory containing the powerful
(01:31):
equatorial telescope, through which, as opportunity offered, mister Meyer was
wont to gaze thoughtfully at the satellites of Jupiter, the
canals on Mars, and the other eccentricities of the heavens.
There was, of course, a fountain between the bowling green
and the cypress trees. There was also a sun dial
bearing a sentence of cryptic import and in the woods
(01:53):
at the least expected places stood marble columns, broken and
ivy wreathed or supporting busts of Socrates, Palace, Homer, and
other appropriate notabilities. Inside the house were treasuries that had
cost the ransom of a millionaire. Meyer was a bachelor,
and here he spent his week ends absorbing ozone enough
(02:14):
to see him through till the following Saturday, and maturing
Titanic schemes for the Federation of the World and the
confounding of rival financiers. Once only had he brought a
guest with him, an African proconsul who had, with much difficulty,
though with ultimate success, joined his outward boundship from Meyer's
(02:34):
electric launch. Each year a local mayor called admired, wondered
and retired. Occasionally some venturesome tourist was captured and turned back.
Other visitors were rare, and their reception depended on the
mood of the lord of the island. One day last April,
a stranger with a camera rode across from England. At
(02:56):
the landing stage, he informed the man in charge that
he had business with many, mister Meyer. This was telephoned
to the house. What business came the reply? Particular business,
said the newcomer. What particular business pictures was the answer.
This was transmitted and the reply was taken. You can go,
said the man, hanging up the receiver. Straight up the
(03:17):
path and through the woods, turned to the left at
the busk of Omer. Ten minutes later, the visitor was
shown into a room facing the sea, in which mister
Meyer was seated by the open window, reading from a
gigantic folio. He was a short, podgy man with black
curly hair, a round a nose, and bright eyes. His
mustache and imperial did not conceal the extraordinary firmness of
(03:40):
his mouth and jaw. He rose as his visitor entered.
He was, as usual attired in a frock coat and
gray trousers. Once he had been in flannels when an
emergency had arisen demanding city attire, which was not immediately forthcoming.
Mister Meyer had lost an opportunity in life through care carelessness. Therefore,
(04:01):
on land he ever afterwards wore a frock coat, except
when an evening dress or pajamas. The occasion should never
again find him wanting you wish to see me on business?
He asked, what is it? His visitor, who was cast
in a finer less decided Mold, a good looking, clean
shaven man of something over thirty, replied, I came to
(04:23):
ask for permission to photograph the inside of your place.
You are not from mister Holsman, Den, said Meyer curtly. No,
you said your business was important, so it is to myself.
Meyer looked sharply at him. Why do you want to
photograph my place for insertion in a magazine? Which magazine?
(04:44):
Any that will take the article? I am not proud.
It is important that I should make some money. I
have seen many interesting reproductions of interiors of the stately
homes of England in the periodicals, but never one of
your house. Hence my appearance. I hope I I may
have your permission. Why should I grant you permission? Said Meyer,
I live here in solitude. I do not bring visitors.
(05:07):
I do not want them. Your intrusion is impertinent. His
visitor flushed. Sorry if I have annoyed you, he said,
but it does not seem such a great favor to ask.
Most people are glad to have pictures of themselves and
their houses in the papers. Most people are fools, as
dom As Carlyle said, have you a family? I am
(05:27):
not married. There is no excuse for a single man
taking pictures of people's interiors. It is not to work
for a man like you. I shall not encourage such tomfoolery. No,
I do not give you permission. But stay. There is
an orchid from Demital of Africa, of which I would
like to have a picture to sipropity in my ARII
(05:48):
a new species which I have had to satisfaction to detect.
Perhaps you would be kind enough to photograph it for me,
and your journey would not be altogether lost. Come along,
what is your name? Please? His visitor handed him a
card on which was printed John Lucas, one forty Brixton Gardens, London.
W You have come a long way, mister Meyer observed,
(06:11):
A very long way, sir. Perhaps you wouldn't mind letting
me look around your house, even if I may not
photograph it. I am interested in domestic architecture and er curious.
Mister Meyer looked intently at his visitor. Yes, mister Lucas,
he said slowly, I will also show you around my house.
Since you have come so far and are interested in
(06:32):
domestic architecture and curios, I have plenty of both. Then
we will photograph de orkitt. Mister Meyer led the photographer
through his villa, pointing out its architectural beauties and indicating
the various treasures which it contained. Mister Lucas was profuse
in his expressions of appreciation. Are you not afraid of burglars?
He asked, I'm afraid of nutting, replied mister Meyer. Otherwise
(06:56):
I should not be here to say in dis tuscan Villa,
I have gone into the question of dieves, and I
think I should be able to meet the situation. They
had made a tour of the rooms, had ascended the
heights of the observatory and inspected the electric plant at
its base. Is there anything else you would like to see?
Asked mister Meyer politely. I believe that you collect miniatures.
(07:19):
Might I look at them? Come this way? In a
corner of the marble hall, there was a cabinet facing
a window. Meyer stood before it. See he said, I
press this button and it releases the trars. So the
shutter flew back and the drawers were free. Meyer opened
them one by one and indicated their contents. They are
all choice examples of the best masters. These are gossways,
(07:44):
This is an ingle heart, and so on. He went
through the collection till he had shown the last drawer
but one. He was about to close the cabinet when
mister Lucas asked, have you any haulbinds? One, replied Meyer,
and dare I was neglecting to show it to you?
This last drawer is the most important of the lot.
(08:04):
He opened it and drew forth a small square frame.
Here is the latest aggition to my collection, a crand
halbind you notice the blue background characteristic of that creatmaster,
and the wonderful thin painting. You can almost see through it.
It is a portrait of Meyer of Basel, perhaps a
relation of mine, perhaps not. It does not matter. It
(08:28):
is a fine picture, don't you think so. Lucas handed
it back. I envy you, he said. There is no need.
Mister Meyer responded as he closed the cabinet and fee
no man till he dead, said the old Creek philosopher,
and I am very much alive. Now come to the
orchid house and photograph the Cipropidium MAYERI. An hour later,
(08:48):
after taking photographs of the rare exotic from every point
of the compass, mister Lucas made his way to the
landing stage, and from thence he rode thoughtfully across to Bournemouth.
On the following Monday night, a boat with a solitary
oarsman put off from the mainland, and, after several changes
of route, was successfully beached on the south shore of
(09:10):
Saint George Island under the protection of the trees. Its
occupant none other, indeed, than mister John Lucas. Stealthily approached
to the Tuscan villa, which stood out in bold relief
in the vivid moonlight. He gained the terrace, and, keeping
as much possible within the shadow of the balustrade and dogs,
he crept to the fourth window, the one at which
(09:31):
mister Meyer was sitting on the preceding Saturday. There is
no use disguising the fact any longer. Mister Lucas was
a burglar, and he now proceeded to act after the
manner of his craft. After fixing some adhesive material to
the pane, he began to cut out a square of
the window. The glass was thick, so the process was long,
(09:52):
but mister Lucas toiled at it with a patience and
perseverance worthy of a better cause. Only once did he
desist to follow the suggestion of a sudden impulse and
try all the windows of the house. But each was fastened,
and mister Lucas resumed his original labor. It was fully
an hour before he drew out the square of glass,
(10:13):
which enabled him to undo the catch inside. Then nearly
as long passed before the removal of a second square
at the foot allowed him to unscrew the bottom fastening.
The window was open at last, and Lucas stepped inside.
It was the second burglary of his life, and he
reflected that so far all that had happened was greatly
to the credit of his professional abilities. A moment afterwards,
(10:37):
he was chilled by the later thought that nothing in
particular had happened so far, and that the possibilities of
the near future were very great. Indeed, with his stealthy
entry into mister Meyers's villa, the personality of that gentleman
had suddenly oppressed him. At Bournemouth, all that day, with
the sun shining and the band playing popular airs, mister
(10:58):
Meyer had occurred to him merely as an eccentric German gentleman.
But now, at something after midnight, in the deathly stillness
of his villa, mister Lucas only remembered the Teuton's sharp,
decisive utterances, his piercing glances, and his large general reputation
for unpleasantness as an enemy. Perhaps it was the sight
(11:18):
of mister Meyer's empty chair that had brought this train
of thought to his mind. The big folio he had
been reading was still at its side, Lucas flashed his
electric pocket light on the open page. Love Labors Lost
met his eyes. This struck him as ominous. Lucas pulled
himself together. What had he to do with empty chairs
(11:39):
and old folios and omens. He was a burglar out
for the night on urgent business. Let him attend to
it and keep his dreams in soliloquies for the daytime.
He walked across the polished floor, his rubber souls being
absolutely noiseless. He raised the heavy curtain and passed beneath
it through the archway. There in front of him was
(12:02):
the marble hall, bathed in colored moonlight. The fountain played
softly to the tones of gold, azure and red cast
from the stainless glass window. If mister Lucas had been
conversant with Keats, he would doubtless have thought of Saint
Agnes Eve, But presumably mister Lucas did not, for keeping
well to the wall, he stole quickly across to where
(12:25):
stood the case containing the miniatures. Hugh breast a button
and it releases detroers, So he smiled as mister Meyer's
pronunciation came back to him. He followed the instructions and
the drawers were free, cosway and angle heart did not
detain him tonight. He opened the bottom drawer. There lay
(12:46):
the hullbind for which mister Meyer had recently paid three
thousand guineas. Lucas dropped it carefully into the pocket of
his Norfolk jacket, shut the drawer and closed the case.
So far all was well, very well. Indeed, only a
few yards a curtain and a few yards more lay
between him and freedom. Then again there fell upon him
(13:08):
a sense of mister Meyer's personality. What had the man
not done? He had browbeaten an emperor, hood, winked a
couple of Willie chancellors, and decimated the ranks of rival practitioners.
Was he John Lucas, a mere tyro and the burglary
profession able to outwit the smartest man of the day.
(13:29):
Had he only to break a window, step across the floor,
seize a treasure and depart, No, it was impossible. The
very ease with which everything had been accomplished was the
worst sign of all. I have gone into the question
of Dee's and tink I should be able to meet
to disituation. Meyers's words came back to him. Now he
(13:49):
himself was in town. Lucas had seen him depart that
morning to make it absolutely certain, But his myrmidons were
doubtless hidden around. An electric shock would suddenly hold him fast,
and Meyer's butler or stage manager or whatever he was called,
would appear and wing him, unless the servants were asleep
in their master's absence. But nothing was ever left to
(14:11):
chance in mister Meyer's life or his house. The very
silence was eloquent of impending catastrophe. Again, mister Lucas reapproached
himself with nervous folly. It is only my second burglary,
he reflected apologetically. He stepped across the hall and once
more raised the curtains. Ah. The room, which ten minutes
(14:32):
ago was dark and empty, was now brilliantly illuminated, and
there stood mister Adolph Meyer, seated in his chair. Meyer
Rosen came forward. Ah, mister Lucas, he said, this is
indeed a pleasure, not altogether unexpected, I admit, but it
is always satisfactory to find one's conclusions prove correct. I
(14:53):
thought you would have to return to make some final
notes on my domestic architecture and my curios. You have
seen my place by day. Now you visit me by night.
That is charming. Lucas stood by the curtain, overwhelmed with confusion.
Not by a word did mister Meyer betray any resentment
at his presence. But there was a thinly disguised vein
(15:14):
of banter in his speech that made the burglars pulses quicken.
Perhaps you have not noticed a view I have here,
mister Lucas, said Meyer. Come and look. He threw open
the window wide. The moon was playing on the waters
of the channel. Clouds were scurrying across the sky. A
lighthouse flashed in the far distance. I like this view,
(15:35):
said Meyer. De sea is always the same, deep and treacherous.
One always knows what to expect, But man, you never know.
How do you look upon to see, mister Lucas good
for boating and er bathing, responded Lucas, desperately good for
boating and baiting. Repeated Meyer. That is so you are practical.
(15:55):
That is where you islanders have the advantage over us, tremaus.
But somehow the dreams have a habit of outlasting to practice.
I do not tink of boating and baiting when I
look on to sea. I tink of all debt is
above it and below it. On the top, ships carrying
men and women and children to continents. Below the waves,
dead men and women and children, those who have died
(16:18):
by the way, floating by the cables, which are carrying
words that make and unmake nations and men. Life and
death are there together. Did you never tink of de
sea in that way, mister Lucas, when you was not
studying domestic architecture and curios I can't say that, I
have said Lucas, trying vainly to rise to the situation.
(16:40):
A man with a weapon he could not have met
and fought any day at a moment's notice. But smooth
words and soliloquies, how could he meet him? Though there
was a hidden meeting in every phrase, a subtle danger
indicated in every intonation. I should practice it, then, mister Lucas,
said Meyer gravely. A little more tinking and a little
(17:01):
less action is the new prescription the doctors are giving
to this country. He turned away from the window after
closing it. He did not appear to notice the two
great holes in the glass which stared him in the face.
Then I shut my window tight for fear of deeds.
Mister Lucas, he went on, and go to my observatory
where we went the other day. I go up those
(17:23):
steps to my telescope and bring the stars within speaking distance.
Have you ever spoken with the stars, mister Lucas, no,
replied the burglar curtly. Ah, I taught not. Somehow you
did not give me that impression. You should study de
moon for our beginning. Mister Lucas, it is a poor,
(17:43):
worn out star of a sort. What does it tell
of of life? Run down as many men's are. But
after all, the moon had its day. It was not
cut off in its prime like some men's lives are,
mister Lucas, because of a comet like tout or a
meteor suggestion of evil. A great science is astronomy, mister Lucas,
(18:03):
Do you not think so? Mister Lucas did not reply.
Why do I speak of these things, mister Lucas, said
Meyer with increasing earnestness, because you are young, very young,
though you are nearly so old as me. I speak
of them because you are wasting your life entering my
house in the middle of the night to take photographs,
when the stars are singing outside and the world is
(18:25):
calling for the man who, as Dolmas Carlyle says, is
not there. What would Domas Carlyle have said if he
had known that you were here all the time taking
photographs and mister Adolph Meyer's villa, robbing mister Meyer without
the excuse of necessity. Lucas made an attempt to speak,
but Meyers stopped him. The little man's voice rose, his
(18:47):
eyes gleamed, and his very stature seemed to swell. The
room was full of him. Be silent, sir, he said,
with a gesture of an emperor. I am speaking. Listen.
I know what you will say. It is for sport
that you do, this sport that eats up your race
and makes men like me your master. You take your
(19:07):
gun and kill. See pointing through that window at a
problematical's object. That bird, that beautiful white girl, it is
flying seeking for food or its mate. You shoot it,
never shouted Louis indignantly. You do. I know you do.
You take that wonderful ding we call life for sport.
You rob me. That is a similar ding. But it
(19:30):
is sport also, mind got but you shall rob and
kill no more. He struck a bell. Lucas back to
the wall to be ready for emergencies. A little sharp
featured man entered here. He is mister marvel said Meyer.
I've got him red handed and cold sold. That's right, sir,
said the little man, briskly, producing a pair of handcuffs.
(19:53):
I'll take him across to Bournemouth and we'll have him
up at the police court in the morning. Mister Meyer
did not appear to have heard him. Strange, is it not.
He resumed that you and I and mister Marvelle, the
clever detective, should be here. Mister Lucas, no, I will
call you by your broper name, Sir Rubert Inkldry. I
(20:13):
ask you to listen. He took up a red volume
from the table. This is a useful book, he said,
as he opened it. We are all entered up here.
All are public appearances. That is not our midnight photographings. Ah.
Here it is Sir Rubert Kledry, seventh Baronet, born in
eighteen sixty eight, only son of six Baronet and Mary,
(20:37):
daughter of Viscount Morecombe, educated Eton and christ Church, Oxford.
Owns twenty thousand acres address Koldry, Castle, Leicestershire, fifty seven
Brook Street, w Club's Bachelor Brutles turf. That is fine
for a beginning, continued Meyer. But what an end, Sir Rubert,
(20:59):
in this room with mister Meyer, whom you have robbed
in an detective and de Bornamount Police court in the morning.
That is not very fine, lan lissen Akin. He turned
over the leaves and read Adolph Meyer born eighteen sixty four, financier,
son of Jacob Meyer of jusseldorff M A London University,
(21:22):
Commander of the Victorian Order, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor,
address sixteen Lombard Street, e C and Saint George's Island, Bournemouth.
That is all. There are no clubs and no acres.
I have the orders because I did service to England
and France. I am am Ma of London University. Because
(21:42):
when I was a young man behind the counter in
de Bank all day, I worked for my decree by night.
And now I am here and you are where I
like to put you, Sir Robert Koudriy, Bournemouth Police Station,
suggested mister Marvell, who was aching to get to business.
Bornemount Police Station repeated mister Meyer slowly, No, mister Marvel,
(22:04):
I think not. I am master of arts of London
University and reader of Blatto letting alone the other things.
He shall go free in mister Marvell, you will please
forget the incident I telegraphed for you on Saturday. You came,
but there was nothing. That is what you will report
(22:24):
please at Scotland Yard. But you, Sir Rubert, you will
not forget. You will remember. You will neither kill nor
rob again, because it is the wish of mister Adolph
Meyer who makes you free instead of sending you to
the police station. Also said Rubert, I suggest that you
give up that club that mister Marvell speaks of. See
(22:46):
you have my holbine in your pocket, Take it since
you want it, show it to your friends and say
that mister Meyer, who is m a of London University,
Commander Chevalier and General Chreamer, says that they had better
to spend four. The stars are singing and mister Marvel
is watching. Mister Marvel folded up his handcuffs methodically and
(23:08):
replaced them in his pocket. He was too well trained
to show the intense disgust he felt. At the turn
the proceedings had taken again. The burglar endeavored to speak,
but once more mister Meyer commanded silence. Mister Marvel, will
see you to your boat, Sir Rupert, he said, I
trust that you will weigh my words. Well. It is
not often that I say so many, and they have
(23:30):
caused me some inconvenience to speak, as I am not
accustomed to spend Monday nights in my marine villa. To
be here, I had this afternoon to postpone an interview
with the Turkish ambassador, which I have since learned by
telegram from Constantopole has been misconstrued. The Sultan will not
sleep much to night, and in the morning newspapers there
(23:50):
will be talk of trouble in the Balkan states. Some
people will be fearing war, Sir Rubert, and all on
account of you and your midnight photographings. I wonder what
Domus Cardle would say to a mess like that. Good Night.
Mister Meyer turned abruptly on his heels and left the room.
Come along, Sir Rupert, please, said mister Marvel. In the
(24:11):
brilliant moonshine. They went along the terrace by the stone
dogs and down the steps to the beach. They found
the boat by the trees. How did mister Meyer come
to suspect my errand said Inkletree. Suddenly the detective smiled
a wan smile. Well, sir, he replied, I wasn't present
when you saw him on Saturday, but I think that
(24:32):
mister Meyer read you through as if you were a
book printed in pretty big letters. Too. It was a
rather thin tail that about the magazine article, and when
you asked to see round the house, mister Meyer was
certain that you had some special object in view. When
you inquired about the miniatures, he knew what you were after,
as the papers had lately been full of the Hulbine.
(24:55):
To make sure on the point, he didn't show it
to you, and of course you asked to see it.
Then he telegraphed to Scotland Yard and they sent me.
How did you find out who I was and why
I wanted the miniature? Ah, said mister Marvel dryly. I'll
tell you that some day later on, Sir Rupert, we
shall probably meet again. Then the baronet put out to sea,
(25:18):
and the detective went back to the Tuscan villa. On
the following evening, at the meeting of the Burglars Club,
the secretary produced the Halbind miniature and read a letter
from Sir Rubert Inkletree, which accompanied it. Then the President rose,
My lords and gentlemen, He said, we have just heard
the singular adventure which has befallen one of our members.
(25:40):
The Halbind miniature is here, but only owing to the
good will of its owner, Sir Rubert Kletree is at
liberty owing to the forbearance of the same gentleman. Under
the circumstances, I think we have no option but to
accept the resignation of Sir Rupert, who does not appear
to have acted with the ajoitness which is a necessary
qualify occasion of our members. It may well be that
(26:02):
you or I would have done no better under similar circumstances.
But I need hardly remind you that in this club
we judge only by results, and the results in this
instance are not satisfactory. There is a further matter to consider,
a message from mister Meyer, which demands a reply. Colonel Altamont,
as the doian of our club, we look to your
(26:25):
premature gray hairs for guidance. Altamont rose, amidst general applause,
Your grace, my lords and gentlemen, he began, It is
surely unnecessary to ask for my opinion on this situation.
Our existence is now known to the outside world. Twice
has this detective Marvel been within reach of us. Someone
(26:46):
has betrayed us, and I, for one, do not intend
to rest until I have traced that traitor. But this
is not the matter before us now. Though mister Meyer
objects to sport, he has behaved like a perfect sportsman.
Here for his courtesy we wish to express hearty thanks
and appreciation. But for his suggestion that we should disband,
(27:07):
we surely have one answer only, and that is never,
never Never. The words were re echoed on all sides,
our club would indeed have fallen on degenerate days, continued Altamont,
when quiet was restored, if the fact of its existence
being known were promptly to bring about its end. Surely
(27:28):
the fact that we are watched should give an added
zest to our proceedings, which have been all too monotonously serene.
The knowledge that Scotland Yard is acting, and that we
carry our personal liberty in our hands, should spur us
on to the Homeric deeds for the preparation of which
we exist. Inkletree's PostScript is pathetic and vividly shows the
(27:51):
present unbalanced state of his mind. He asks whether we
consider that under mister Meyer's terms he is at liberty
to fish. My own feeling is that I would have
suffered a long period of incarceration rather than have surrendered
my rights to act as a free and independent Englishman.
But Ingletree, having accepted his liberty on mister myers stupendous terms,
(28:12):
has surely forfeited that right to again take life in
any form. If he so much as nets a minnow,
he has no option but to surrender himself forthwith at
the Bournemouth Police Station. We all forget the loss of
our ones brilliant member, but it is obvious from Ingletree's
behavior during the last few days that he is not
the man he was when he paid his entrance fee
(28:34):
by the production of what was it, mister Secretary the
Mace of the House of Commons, No, Sir, replied the Secretary,
That was mister Henderson's fee. Sir Rupert Ingletree entered with
the Portland vase from the British Museum. Ah quite so,
thank you, and a very smart bit of work it was.
I remember. It is regrettable that Sir Rupert could not
(28:57):
be here in person this evening to advance any extenua
waiting circumstances. But as he is probably under the surveillance
of Scotland Yard, we appreciate his reason for adopting the
medium of the Postmaster General for communicating with us. I
therefore propose that Sir rupert Ingletree's resignation be accepted, and that,
with the holbind picture, which we at once returned to
(29:19):
its owner in accordance with our rule, we send a
letter expressing our appreciation of mister Meyer's magnanimomy and our
regret that we are unable to disband. We could leave
it to our secretary to couch this in the neat
epigrammatic style for which he is famed in the Chancellaries
of Europe. End of Chapter ten
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