June 9, 2025 • 48 mins
Dive into seven captivating mystery stories featuring master detective Martin Hewitt, as narrated by his trusty, yet unnamed, sidekick. Authored by Arthur Morrison, these tales showcase his extraordinary imagination through diverse scenarios, motivations, crimes, and characters. Whether hes hot on the trails of a Russian spy or a household pet, or investigating the theft of national security documents versus the destruction of a counterfeit work of art, Hewitts adventures are as varied as they are thrilling.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter three of Martin Hewitt Investigator by Arthur Morrison. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter three, The
Case of mister Foggett. Almost the only dogmatism that Martin
Hewett permitted himself in regard to his professional methods was
(00:21):
one on the matter of accumulative probabilities. Often, when I
have remarked upon the apparently trivial nature of the clues
by which he allowed himself to be guided, sometimes to
all seeming in the very face of all likelihood, he
has replied that two trivialities pointing in the same direction
became at once by their mere agreement, no trivialities at all,
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but enormously important considerations. If I were in search of
a man, he would say, of whom I knew nothing
but that he squinted, bore a birthmark on his right hand,
and limped. And I observe the man who answered to
the first peculiarity. So far the clue would be trivial,
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because thousands of men squint. Now, if that man presently
moved and exhibited a birthmark on his right hand, the
value of that squint and that mark would increase at
once one hundred or one thousandfold apart, they are little
together much the weight of evidence is not doubled, merely
it would be only doubled if half the men who
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squinted had right hand birthmarks, whereas the proportion, if it
could be ascertained, would be perhaps more like one in
ten thousand. The two trivialities pointing in the same direction
become very strong evidence. And when the man is seen
to walk with a limp, that limp, another triviality, re
enforcing the others, brings the matter to the rank of
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a practical certainty. The Bertillon system of identification, What is
it but a summary of trivialities. Thousand of men are
of the same height, thousands of the same length of foot,
thousands of the same girth of head. Thousands correspond in
any separate measurement you may name. It is when the
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measurements are taken together that you have your men identified forever.
Just consider how few, if any, of your friends correspond
exactly in any two personal peculiarities. Hewitt's dogma received its
illustration unexpectedly close at home. The old house wherein my
chambers and Hewitt's office were situated, contained besides my own,
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two or three more bachelor's dens, in addition to the
offices on the ground and first and second floors. At
the very top of all, at the back, a fat,
middle aged man named Foggot occupied a set of four rooms.
It was only after a long residence, by an accidental
remark of the housekeepers, that I learned the man's name,
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which was not pain on his door, or displayed with
all the others on the wall of the ground floor porch.
Mister Foggett appeared to have few friends, but lived in
something as nearly approaching luxury as an old bachelor living
in chambers can live. An ascending case of champagne was
a common phenomenon of the staircase, and I have more
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than once seen a picture destined for the top floor
of a sort that went far to awaken green covetousness
in the heart of a poor journalist. The man himself
was not altogether prepossessing. Fat as he was, he had
a way of carrying his head forward on his extended neck,
and gazing widely about with a pair of the roundest
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and most prominent eyes I remember to have ever seen,
except in a fish on the whole. His appearance was
rather vulgar, rather arrogant, and rather suspicious, without any very
pronounced quality of any sort. But certainly he was not pretty.
In the end, however, he was found shot dead in
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his sitting room. It was in this way Hewett and
I had dined together at my club, and late in
the evening had returned to my rooms to smoke and
discuss whatever came uppermost. I had made a bargain that
day with two speculative odd lots at a book sale,
each of which contained a hidden prize. We sat talking
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and turning over these books while time went unperceived, when
suddenly we were startled by a loud report. Clearly it
was in the building. We listened for a moment, but
heard nothing else. And then he would express his opinion
that the report was that of a gun shot. Gunshots
in residential chambers are not common things. Wherefore I got
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up and went to the landing, looking up the stairs
and down. At the top of the next flight, I
saw missus Clayton, the housekeeper. She appeared to be frightened
and told me that the report came from mister Foggett's room.
She thought he might have had an accident with the
pistol that usually lay on his mantelpiece. We went upstairs
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with her and she knocked at mister Foggett's door. There
was no reply. Through the ventilating fan over the door,
it could be seen that there were lights within a sign.
Missus Clayton maintained that mister Foggett was not out. We
knocked again, much more loudly, and called, but still ineffectually.
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The door was locked, and an application of the housekeeper's
key proved that the tenant's key had been left in
the lock inside. Missus Clayton's conviction that something had happened
became distressing, and in the end Hewett pried opened the
door with a small poker. Something had happened. In the
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sitting room. Mister fogget sat with his head bowed over
the table, quiet and still. The head was ill to
look at, and by it lay alone large revolver of
the full sized army pattern. Missus Clayton ran back toward
the landing with faint screams. Run Brett, said Hewett, a
doctor and a policeman. I bounced down the stairs half
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a flight at a time. First I thought a doctor,
he may not be dead. I could think of no
doctor in the immediate neighborhood, but ran up the street
away from the strand, as being the more likely direction
for the doctor, although less so for the policeman. It
took me a good five minutes to find the medico
after being led astray by a red lamp at a
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private hotel, and another five to get back with a policeman.
Foggett was dead, without a doubt, probably had shot himself.
The doctor thought, from the powdered blackening and other circumstances,
certainly nobody could have left the room by the door,
or he must have passed my landing, while the fact
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of the door being found locked from the inside made
the thing impossible. There were two windows to the room,
both of which were shut, one being fastened by the catch,
while the catch of the other was broken an old fracture.
Below these windows was a sheer drop of fifty feet
or more without a foot or hand hold near the
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windows in the other rooms were shut and fastened. Certainly
it seemed suicide, unless it were one of those accidents
that will occur to people who fiddle ignorantly with firearms.
Soon the rooms were in possession of the police, and
we were turned out. We looked in at the housekeeper's kitchen,
where her daughter was reviving and calming missus Clayton with
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gin and water. You mustn't upset yourself, Missus Clayton, Hugh
had said, or what will become of us all? The
doctor thinks it was an accident. He took a small
bottle of sewing machine oil from his pocket and handed
it to the daughter, thanking her for the loan. There
was little evidence at the inquest. The shot had been heard,
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the body had been found. That was the practical sum
of the matter. No friends or relatives of the dead
man came forward. The doctor gave his opinion as to
the probability of suicide or an accident, and the police
evidence tended in the same direction. Nothing had been found
to indicate that any other person had been near the
dead man's rooms on the night of the fatality. On
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the other hand, his papers, bank book, et cetera proved
him to be a man of considerable substance, with no
apparent motive for suicide. The police had been unable to
trace any relatives, or indeed any nearer connections than casual acquaintances,
fellow clubmen, and so on. The jury found that mister
fogget had died by accident. Well, brett Hewitt asked me afterward,
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what do you think of the verdict? I said that
it seemed to me the most reasonable one possible, and
to square with the common sense view of the case. Yes,
he replied, perhaps it does from the point of view
of the jury, and on their information, their verdict was
quite reasonable. Nevertheless, mister Foggett did not shoot himself. He
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was shot by a rather tall, active young man, perhaps
a sailor, but certainly a gymnast, a young man whom
I think I could identify if I saw him. But
how do you know this? By the simplest possible of inferences,
which you may easily guess if you will. But think,
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but then, why didn't you say this at the inquest,
my dear fellow. They don't want any inferences and conjectures
at an inquest. They only want evidence. If I had
traced the murderer, of course, then I should have communicated
with the police. As a matter of fact, it is
quite possible that the police have observed and know as
much as I do, or more. They don't give everything
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away at an inquest. You know it wouldn't do. But
if you are right, how did the man get away? Come?
We are near home? Now, let us take a look
at the back of the house. He couldn't have left
by Foggot's landing door, as we know, and as he
was there, I am certain of that, And as the
chimney is out of the question, for there was a
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good fire in the grate, he must have gone out
by the window. Only one window is possible that with
the broken catch, for all the others were fastened inside.
Out of that window then he went. But how the
window is fifty feet up? Of course it is. But
why will you persist in assuming that the only way
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of escape by a window is downward? See? Now look
up there. The window is at the top floor, and
it has a very broad sill. Over the window is
nothing but the flat face of the gable end. But
to the right, and a foot or two above the
level of the top of the window an iron gutter end.
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Observe it is not of lead composition, but a strong
iron gutter, supported just at its end by an iron bracket.
If a tall man stood on the end of the
window sill. Steadying himself by the left hand and leaning
to the right, he could just touch the end of
this gutter with his right hand. The full stretch towed
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to finger is seven feet three inches. I have measured it.
An active gymnast or a sailor could catch the gutter
with a slight spring and by it draw himself upon
the roof. You will say, he would have to be
very active, dexterous and cool. So he would. And that
very fact helps us because it narrows the field of inquiry.
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We know the sort of man to look for, because
being certain as I am that the man was in
the room, I know that he left in the way
I am telling you he must have left in some way,
and all the other ways being impossible, this alone remains difficult.
As the feet may seem. The fact of his shutting
the wind window behind him further proves his coolness and address.
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At so great a height from the ground. All this
was very plain, but the main point was still dark.
You say you know that another man was in the room.
I said, how do you know that? As I said,
by an obvious inference? Come now you shall guess how
I arrived at the inference You often speak of your
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interest in my work and the attention with which you
follow it. This shall be a simple exercise for you.
You saw everything in the room as plainly as I myself.
Bring the scene back to your memory and think over
the various small objects littering about and how they would
affect the case. Quick observation is the first essential for
my work. Did you see a newspaper? For instance? Yes,
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there was an evening paper on the floor, but I
didn't examine it anything else. On the table there was
a whiskey decanter taken from the tantalus stand on the sideboard,
and one glass that, by the bye I added, looked
as though only one person were present, So it did, perhaps,
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although the inference wouldn't be very strong. Go on. There
was a fruit stand on the sideboard, with a plate
beside it containing a few nutshells, a piece of apple,
a pair of nutcrackers, and I think some orange peel.
There was, of course, all the ordinary furniture, but no
chair pulled up to the table except that used by
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Foggett himself. That's all I noticed, I think. Stay There
was an ashtray on the table and a partly burnt
cigar near it? Only one cigar, though excellent? Excellent indeed,
as far as memory and simple observation go, you saw
everything plainly, and you remember everything surely? Now you know
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how I found out that another man had just left? No,
I don't. Unless there were different kinds of ash in
the ashtray, that is a fairly good suggestion. But there
were not. There was only a single ash corresponding in
every way to that on the cigar. Don't you remember
everything that I did? As we went downstairs? You returned
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a bottle of oil to the housekeeper's daughter. I think
I did. Doesn't that give you a hint? Come? You
surely have it now I haven't. Then I shan't tell
you you don't deserve it. Think, and don't mention the
subject again till you have at least one guess to make.
The thing stares you in the face. You see it,
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you remember it, and yet you won't see it. I
won't encourage your slovenliness of thought, my boy, by telling
you what you can know for yourself if you like,
good Bye, I'm off. Now there's a case in hand
I can't neglect. Don't you propose to go further into this.
Then Hewett shrugged his shoulders. I'm not a policeman, he said.
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The case is in very good hands. Of course, if
anybody comes to me to do it as a matter
of business, I'll take it up. It's very interesting, but
I can't neglect my regular work for it. Naturally, I
shall keep my eyes open and my memory in order.
Sometimes these things come into their hands by themselves, as
it were in that case. Of course, I am a
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loyal citizen and ready to help the law. Au revoir.
I am a busy man myself, and thought little more
of Hewitt's conundrum for some time. Indeed, when I did think,
I saw no way to the answer. A week after
the inquest, I took a holiday. I had written my
nightly Leaders regularly every day for the past five years,
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and saw no more of Hewett for six weeks after
my return, with still a few days of leave to run,
one evening, we together turned into Lusati's off Coventry Street
for dinner. I have been here several times lately, Hewitt said,
they feed you very well. No, not that table. He
seized my arm as I turned to an unoccupied corner.
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I fancy its drafty. He led the way to a
longer table, where a dark lithe and as well as
could be seen, a tall young man already sat and
took chairs opposite him. We had scarcely seated ourselves before
Hewett broke into a torrent of conversation on the subject
of bicycling. As our previous conversation had been of a
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literary sort, and as I had never known Hewitt at
any other time to show the slightest interest in bicycling,
this rather surprised me. I had, however, such a general
outsider's grasp of the subject, as is usual in a
journalist of all work, and managed to keep the talk
going from my side. As we went on, I could
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see the face of the young man opposite brightened with interest.
He was a rather fine looking fellow, with a dark,
though very clear skin, but had a hard, angry look
of eye, a prominence of cheekbone, and a squareness of
jaw that gave him a rather uninviting aspect. As Hewett
rattled on, however, our neighbor's expression became one of pleasant interest. Merely,
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of course, Hewett said, we've a number of very capital
men just now, but I believe a deal in the
forgotten writers of five, ten and fifteen years back. Osmond
I believe was better than any man writing now, and
I think it would puzzle some of them to beat
Ernable as he was at his best. But poor old Courtus, really,
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I believe he was as good as anybody. Nobody ever
beat Cortus except let me see, I think somebody beat
Cortus once? Was it now? I can't remember, Lyles, said
the young man opposite, looking up quickly. Ah, yes, Liles,
it was Charlie Lyles, isn't it a championship mile championship
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eighteen eighty? Cortis won the other three though, yees, so
he did. I saw Cordis when he first broke the
old two forty six mile record and straightway Hewitch plunged
into a whirl of talk of bicycles, tricycles, records, racing cyclists,
Hillier and Sniner and Noel Whiting, Taylorson and Appleyard talk,
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wherein the young man opposite bore an animated share while
I was left in the cold. Our new friend, it seems,
had himself been a prominent racing bicyclist a few years back,
and was presently at Hewett's request, exhibiting a neat gold
medal that hung at his WatchGuard. That was one, he explained,
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in the old tall bicycle days, the days of bad tracks,
when every racing cyclist carried cinder scars on his face
from numerous accidents. He pointed to a blue mark on
his forehead, which he told us was a track scar,
and described a bad fall that had cost him two
teeth and broken others. The gaps among his teeth were
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plain to see as he smiled. Presently, the waiter brought dessert,
and the young man opposite took an apple, nutcrackers and
a fruit knife lay on our side of the stand,
and Hewitt turned the stand to offer him the knife.
No thanks, he said, I only polish a good apple,
never peel it. It's a mistake, except with thick skinned
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foreign ones, and he began to munch the apple as
only a boy or a healthy athlete can. Presently, he
turned his head to order coffee. The waiter's back was turned,
and he had to be called twice. To my unutterable amazement,
Hewitt reached swiftly across the table, snatched the half eaten
apple from the young man's plate, and pocketed it. Gazing
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immediately with an abstracted air, had a painted cupid on
the ceiling. Our neighbor turned again, looked doubtfully at his
plate and the tablecloth about it, and then shot a
keen glance in the direction of Hewett. He said nothing, however,
but took his coffee and his bill deliberately drank the former,
gazing quietly at Hewett as he did it, paid the
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ladder and left Immediately. Hewett was on his feet and
taking an umbrella which stood near, followed. Just as he
reached the door, he met our late neighbor, who had
turned suddenly. Back your umbrella, I think, Hewitt asked, offering it. Yes, thanks,
But the man's eye had more than its former hardness,
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and his jaw muscles tightened as I looked. He turned
and went. Hewett came back to me. Pay the bill,
he said, and go back to your rooms. I will
come on later. I must follow this man. It's the
Foggot case. As he went out, I heard a cab
rattle way, and immediately after it on. I paid the
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bill and went home. It was ten o'clock before Hewitt
turned up, calling at his office below. On his way
up to me, mister Sidney Mason, he said, is the
gentleman the police will be wanting tomorrow, I expect for
the foggot murder. He is as smart a man as
I remember ever meeting, and has done me rather neatly
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twice this evening. You mean the man we sat opposite
at Luzati's. Of course, yes, I got his name, of course,
from the reverse of that gold medal. He was good
enough to show me. But I fear he has bilked
me over the address. He suspected me that was plain,
and left his umbrella by way of experiment to see
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if I were watching him sharply enough to notice the
circumstance and to avail myself of it to follow him.
I was hasty and fell into the trap. He cabbed
it away from Lusati's, and I cabbed it after him.
He has led me a pretty dance up and down Londonton,
and two cabbies made quite a stroke of business out
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of us. In the end he entered a house of which,
of course I have taken the address, but I expect
he doesn't live there. He is too smart a man
to lead me to his den. But the police can
certainly find something of him at the house he went
in at, and I expect left by the back way,
by the way. You never guessed the simple little puzzle
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as to how I found that this was a murderer,
did you you see it? Now? Of course, something to
do with that apple you stole. I suppose something to
do with it, and I should think so you worthy innocent.
Just ring your bell, we'll borrow missus Clayton's sewing machine
oil again. On the night we broke into Foggett's room,
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you saw the nutshells and the bitten remains of an
apple on the sideboard, and you remembered it. And yet
you couldn't see that in that piece of apple possibly
lay an important piece of evidence. Of course, I never
expected you to have arrived at any conclusion as I had,
because I had ten minutes in which to examine that
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apple and to do what I did with it. But
at least you should have seen the possibility of evidence
in it first. Now, the apple was white. A bitten apple,
as you must have observed, turns a reddish brown color
if left to stand long. Different kinds of apples brown
with different rapidities, and the browning always begins at the core.
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This is one of the twenty thousand tiny things that
few people take the trouble to notice, but which it
is useful for a man in my position to know.
A russet will brown quite quickly. The apple on the
sideboard was, as near as I could tell, a new
Town Pippin or other apple of that kind, which will
brown at the core in from twenty minutes to half
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an hour, and in other parts in a quarter of
an hour or more. When we saw it, it was white,
with barely a tinge of about the exposed core. Inference
somebody had been eating it fifteen or twenty minutes before,
perhaps a little longer, an inference supported by the fact
that it was only partly eaten. I examined that apple
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and found it bore marks of very irregular teeth. While
you were gone, I oiled it over, and, rushing down
to my rooms, where I always have a little plaster
of Paris handy for such work, took a mold of
the part where the teeth had left the clearest marks.
I then returned the apple to its place for the
police to use if they thought fit. Looking at my mold,
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it was plain that the person who had bitten. That
apple had lost two teeth, one at the top and
one below, not exactly opposite, but nearly so. The other teeth,
although they would appear to have been fairly sound, were
irregular in size and line. Now the dead man had,
as I saw, a very excellent set of false teeth,
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regular and sharp, with none missing. Therefore, it was plain
that somebody else had been eating that apple. Do I
make myself clear? Quite go on? There were other inferences
to be made, slighter, but all pointing the same way.
For instance, a man of Foggott's age does not, as
a rule, munch an unpeeled apple like a schoolboy. Inference
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a young man and healthy. Why I came to the
conclusion that he was tall, active, a gymnast, and perhaps
a sailor. I have already told you. When we examined
the outside of Foggett's window. It was also pretty clear
that robbery was not the motive, since nothing was disturbed,
and that a friendly conversation had preceded the murder, witnessed
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the drinking and the eating of the apple. Whether or
not the police noticed these things, I can't say. If
they had had their best men on they certainly would
I think, but the case to a rough observer looked
so clearly one of accident or suicide that possibly they didn't.
As I said after the inquest, I was unable to
devote any immediate time to the case, but I resolved
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to keep my eyes open. The man to look for
was tall, young, strong, and active, with a very irregular
set of teeth, a tooth missing from the lower jaw
just to the left of the center, and another from
the upper jaw a little farther, still toward the left.
He might possibly be a person I had seen about
the premises. I have a good memory for faces, or
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of course, he possibly might not. Just before you returned
from your holiday, I noticed a young man at Utsati's
whom I remembered to have seen somewhere about the offices
in this building. He was tall, young, and so on.
But I had a client with me and was unable
to examine him more narrowly. Indeed, as I was not
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exactly engaged on the case, and as there are several
tall young men about, I took little trouble but to day,
finding the same young man with a vacant seat opposite him,
I took the opportunity of making a closer acquaintance, you
certainly managed to draw him out. Oh. Yes, the easiest
person in the world to draw out is a cyclist.
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The easiest cyclist to draw out is, of course the novice,
but the next easiest is the veteran. When you see
a healthy, well trained looking man, who nevertheless has a
slight stoop in his shoulders and maybe a medal on
his watch guard, it is always safe to try him
first with a little cycle racing talk. I soon brought
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mister Mason out of his shell, read his name on
the medal, and had a chance of observing his teeth. Indeed,
he spoke of them himself. Now, as I observed just now,
there are several tall, athletic young men about, and also
there are several men who have lost teeth. But now
I saw this tall and athletic young man had lost
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exactly two teeth, one from the lower jaw just to
the left of the center, and another from the upper
jaw farther still toward the left. Trivialities pointing in the
same direction become important considerations. More, his teeth were irregular throughout,
and as nearly as I could remember, it looked remarkably
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like this little plaster mold of mine. He produced from
his pocket an irregular lump of plaster about three inches long.
On one side of this appeared in relief the likeness
of two irregular rows of six or eight teeth minus
one in each row, where a deep gap was seen
in the position spoken of by my friend. He proceeded.
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This was enough at least to set me after this
young man. But he gave me the greatest chance of
all when he turned and left his apple eaten unpeeled.
Remember another important triviality on his plate. I'm afraid I
wasn't at all polite, and I ran the risk of
arousing his suspicions, but I couldn't resist the temptation to
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steal it. I did as you saw, and here it is.
He brought the apple from his coat pocket. One bitten side,
placed against the upper half of the mold, fitted precisely
a projection of apple, filling exactly the deep gap. The
other side similarly fitted the lower half. There's no getting
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behind that, you see, Pewett remarked. Merely observing the man's
teeth was a guide to some extent. But this is
as plain as his signature or his thumb impression, You'll
never find two men bite exactly alike, no matter whether
they leave distinct teeth marks or not. Here by the
bye is missus Clayton's oil. We'll take another mold from
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this apple and compare them. He oiled the apple, heaped
a little plaster in a newspaper, took my water jug,
and rapidly pulled off a hard mold. The parts corresponding
to the merely broken places in the apple were of
course dissimilar, but as to the teeth marks, the impressions
were Identif that will do, I think, Hewitt said, tomorrow morning, Brett,
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I shall put up these things in a small parcel
and take them round to Bow Street. But are they
sufficient evidence? Quite sufficient for the police purpose. There is
the man, and all the rest his movements on the
day and so forth are simply matters of inquiry. At
any rate, that is police business. I had scarcely sat
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down to my breakfast on the following morning when Hewitt
came into the room and put a long letter before
me from our friend of last night. He said, read it.
This letter began abruptly and undated, and was as follows.
To Martin, Hewett esquire, Sir, I must compliment you on
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the adroitness you exhibited this evening in extracting from me
my name the address I was able to balk you
of for the time being, although by the time you
read this you will probably have found it through the
lawless as I am an admitted solicitor, that, however, will
be of little used to you, for I am removing
myself I think beyond the reach even of your abilities
(31:11):
of search. I knew you well by sight, and was
perhaps foolish to allow myself to be drawn as I did. Still,
I had no idea that it would be dangerous, especially
after seeing you as a witness with very little to
say at the inquest upon the scoundrel I shot. Your
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somewhat discourteous seizure of my apple at first amazed me.
Indeed I was a little doubtful as to whether you
had really taken it, But it was my first warning
that you might be playing a deep game against me.
Incomprehensible as the action was to my mind, I subsequently
reflected that I had been eating an apple instead of
(31:52):
taking the drink he first offered me in the dead
Wretch's rooms on the night he came to his merited end.
From this, I assume that your design was in some
way to compare what remained of the two apples. Although
I do not presume to fathom the depths of your
detective system. Still I have heard of many of your cases,
(32:15):
and profoundly admire the keenness you exhibit. I am thought
to be a keen man myself, but although I was
able to some extent to hold my own to night,
I admit that your acumen in this case alone is
something beyond me. I do not know by whom you
are commissioned to hunt me, nor to what extent you
(32:36):
may be acquainted with my connection with the creature I killed.
I have sufficient respect for you, however, to wish that
you should not regard me as a vicious criminal, and
a couple of hours to spare in which to offer
you an explanation that will convince you that such is
not altogether the case. A hasty and violent temper I
(32:56):
admit possessing. But even now I cannot forget the one
crime it has led me into, for it is, I suppose,
strictly speaking, a crime, For it was the man Foggot
who made a felon of my father before the eyes
of the world, and killed him with shame. It was
he who murdered my mother, and none the less murdered
(33:17):
her because she died of a broken heart. That he
was also a thief and a hypocrite might have concerned
me little, But for that of my father I remember
very little. He must, I fear, have been a weak
and incapable man in many respects. He had no business abilities.
In fact, was quite unable to understand the complicated business
(33:40):
matters in which he largely dealt. Foggot was a consummate
master of all those arts of financial jugglery that make
so many fortunes and ruin so many others in matters
of company promoting stocks and shares. He was unable to
exercise them, however, because of a great financial disaster in
(34:01):
which he had been mixed up a few years before,
and which made his name one to be avoided in future.
In these circumstances, he made a sort of secret and
informal partnership with my father, who, ostensibly alone in the business,
acted throughout on the directions of Foggot, understanding as little
(34:22):
what he did. Poor simple man as a schoolboy would
have done. The transactions carried on went from small to large,
and unhappily, from honorable to dishonourable. My father relied on
the superior abilities of mister Foggot, with an absolute trust,
carrying out each day the directions given him privately the
(34:44):
previous evening, buying, selling, printing prospectuses, signing, whatever had to
be signed, all with the sole responsibility and as sole partner,
while Foggot behind the scenes absorbed the larger share of
the profits. In brief, my unhappy and foolish father was
a mere tool in the hands of the cunning scoundrel
(35:06):
who pulled all the wires of the business himself, unseen
and irresponsible. At last, three companies for the promotion of
which my father was responsible, came to grief in a heap.
Fraud was written large over all their history, and while
Foggot retired with his plunder, my father was left to
(35:29):
meet ruin disgrace and imprisonment. From beginning to end, he
and only he was responsible. There was no shred of
evidence to connect Foggot with the matter, and no means
of escape from the net drawn about my father. He
lived through three years of imprisonment, and then entirely abandoned
(35:50):
by the man who had made use of his simplicity.
He died of nothing but shame and a broken heart.
Of this I knew nothing at the time. Again and again,
as a small boy, I remember asking of my mother
why I had no father at home as other boys had,
unconscious of the stab I thus inflicted on her gentle
(36:11):
heart of her my earliest as well as my latest
memory is that of a pale, weeping woman who grudged
to let me out of her sight. Little by little
I learned the whole cause of my mother's grief, for
she had no other confidant, and I fear my character
developed early, for my first coherent remembrance of the matter
(36:33):
is that of a childish design to take a table
knife and kill the bad man who had made my
father die in prison and caused my mother to cry.
One thing, however, I never knew the name of that
bad man. Again and again, as I grew older, I
demanded to know, but my mother always withheld it from me,
(36:54):
with a gentle reminder that vengeance was for a greater
hand than mine. I was said seventeen years of age,
when my mother died. I believed that nothing but her
strong attachment to myself and her desire to see me
safely started in life, kept her alive so long. Then
I found that through all those years of narrowed means,
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she had contrived to scrape and save a little money,
sufficient as it afterward proved to see me through the
examinations for entrance to my profession, with the generous assistance
of my father's old legal advisers, who gave me my articles,
and who have all along treated me with extreme kindness.
(37:36):
Most of the succeeding years of my life do not
concern the matter in hand. I was a lawyer's clerk
in my benefactor's service, and afterward a qualified man. Among
their assistants all through the firm were careful in pursuance
of my poor mother's wishes that I should not learn
the name or whereabouts of the man who had wrecked
(37:56):
her life and my father's. I first met the man
himself at the Clifton Club, where I had gone with
an acquaintance who was a member. It was not till
afterward that I understood his curious awkwardness on that occasion.
A week later I called as I had frequently done
at the building in which your office is situated, on
(38:18):
business with a solicitor who has an office on the
floor above your own. On the stairs, I almost ran
against mister Foggett. He started and turned pale, exhibiting signs
of alarm that I could not understand, and asked me
if I wished to see him. No, I replied, I
(38:38):
didn't know you lived here. I am after somebody else
just now. Aren't you well? He looked at me rather
doubtfully and said he was not very well. I met
him twice or thrice after that, and on each occasion
his manner grew more friendly, in a servile, flattering and
mean sort of way, a thing unpleasant enough in anybody,
(39:00):
but doubly so in the intercourse of a man with
another young enough to be his own son. Still, of course,
I treated the man civilly enough. On one occasion he
asked me into his rooms to look at a rather
fine picture he had lately bought, and observed casually lifting
a large revolver from the mantel piece. You see, I
(39:22):
am prepared for any unwelcome visitors to my little den.
He he, conceiving him, of course, to refer to Burglars.
I could not help wondering at the forced and hollow
character of his laugh. As he went down the stairs,
he said, I think we know one another pretty well now,
mister Mason. Eh, and if I could do anything to
(39:45):
advance your professional prospects, I should be glad of the chance.
Of course, I understand the struggles of a young professional man.
He hey. It was the forced laugh again, and the
man spoke nervously. I I think. He added that if
you will drop in tomorrow evening, perhaps I may have
a little proposal to make, will you, I assented, wondering
(40:10):
what his proposal could be. Perhaps this eccentric old gentleman
was a good fellow, after all, anxious to do me
a good turn, and his awkwardness was nothing but a
natural delicacy in breaking the ice. I was not so
flush of good friends as to be willing to lose one.
He might be desirous of putting business in my way.
(40:31):
I went and was received with cordiality that even then
seemed a little over effusive. We sat and talked of
one thing and another for a long while, and I
began to wonder when mister Foggett was coming to the
point that most interested me. Several times he invited me
to drink and smoke, but long usage to athletic training
(40:54):
has given me a distaste for both practices, and I declined.
At last, he began to talk about myself. He was
afraid that my professional prospects in this country were not great,
but he had heard that in some of the colonies
South Africa, for example, young lawyers had brilliant opportunities. If
(41:15):
you'd like to go there, he said, I've no doubt
with a little capital, a clever man like you could
get a grand practice together very soon, or you might
buy a share in some good established practice. I should
be glad to let you have five hundred pounds or
even a little more, if that wouldn't satisfy you. And
(41:36):
I stood aghast. Why should this man, almost a stranger,
offer me five hundred pounds or even more if that
would satisfy me? What claim had I on him? It
was very generous of him, of course, but out of
the question. I was at least a gentleman and had
a gentleman's self respect. Meanwhile, he had gone maundering on
(41:58):
in a halting sort of way, and presently let slip,
a sentence that struck me like a blow between the eyes.
I shouldn't like you to bear ill will, because what
has happened in the past, he said, your late, your late,
lamented mother. I'm afraid she had unworthy suspicions. I'm sure
(42:18):
it was all the best for all parties. Your father
always appreciated. I set back my chair and stood erect
before him. This groveling wretch forcing the words through his
dry lips was the thief who had made another of
my father and had brought to miserable ends the lives
of both my parents. Everything was clear. The creature went
(42:43):
in fear of me, never imagining that I did not
know him, and sought to buy me off, to buy
me from the remembrance of my dead mother's broken heart,
for five hundred pounds, five hundred pounds that he had
made my father's steel for him. I said not a word,
but the memory of all my mother's bitter years, and
(43:04):
a savage sense of this crowning insult to myself took
a hold upon me, and I was a tiger even then.
I verily believe that one word of repentance, one tone
of honest remorse, would have saved him. But he drooped
his eyes, snuffled excuses and stammered of unworthy suspicions, and
(43:25):
no ill will I let him stammer. Presently he looked
up and saw my face, and fell back in his chair,
sick with terror. I snatched the pistol from the mantelpiece, and,
thrusting it in his face, shot him where he sat.
My subsequent coolness and quietness surprise me. Now I took
(43:47):
my hat and stepped toward the door, but there were
voices on the stairs. The door was locked on the inside,
and I left it. So I went back and quietly
opened a window. Below was a clear drop into darkness,
and above was a plain wall, but away to one side,
where the slope of the gable sprang from the roof,
(44:08):
an iron gutter ended supported by a strong bracket. It
was the only way I got upon the sill and
carefully shut the window behind me, for people were already
knocking at the lobby door from the end of the sill,
Holding on by the reveal of the window with one hand,
leaning and stretching myself utmost, I caught the gutter, swung
(44:29):
myself clear, and scrambled onto the roof. I climbed over
many roofs before I found, in an adjoining street a
ladder lashed perpendicularly against the front of a house in
course of repair. This to me was an easy opportunity
of descent, notwithstanding the boards fastened over the face of
the ladder, and I availed myself of it. I have
(44:53):
taken some time and trouble in order that you, so
far as I am aware, the only human being besides
me myself who knows me to be the author of
Fogert's death, shall have at least the means of appraising
my crime at its just value of culpability. How much
you already know of what I have told you, I
cannot guess. I am wrong, hardened and flaggtitious. I make
(45:19):
no doubt, but I speak of the facts as they are.
You see the thing, of course, from your own point
of view. I from mine, and I remember my mother,
trusting that you will forgive the odd freak of a
man a criminal. Let us say, who makes a confidant
of the man set to hunt him down? I beg
(45:40):
leave to be, sir, your obedient servant, Sidney Mason. I
read the singular document through and handed it back to Hewett.
How does it strike you, Hewitt asked, Mason would seem
to be a man of very marked character. I said, certainly,
no fool, And if his tail is true, foggot is
(46:03):
no great loss to the world. Just so if the
tale is true, personally, I am disposed to believe it is.
Where was the letter posted? It wasn't posted. It was
handed in with the others from the front door letter
box this morning in an unstamped envelope. He must have
(46:23):
dropped it in himself during the night. Paper. Hewett proceeded,
holding it up to the light. Turkey mill ruled foolscap envelope, blue,
official shape, Pierrie's water mark, both quite ordinary and no
special marks. Where do you suppose he's gone? Impossible to guess.
(46:45):
Some might think he meant suicide by the expression beyond
the reach even of your abilities to search. But I
scarcely think he is the sort of man to do that. No,
there is no telling. Something may be got at by
inquiring at his late address, of course, But when such
a man tells you he doesn't think you will find him,
(47:06):
you may count upon its being a difficult job. His
opinion is not to be despised. What shall you do?
Put the letter in the box with the casts for
the police Fiat justicia. You know, without any question of
sentiment as to the apple, I really think, if the
police will let me, I'll make you a present of it.
(47:29):
Keep it somewhere as a souvenir of your absolute deficiency
in reflective observation in this case, and look at it
whenever you feel yourself growing dangerously conceited. It should cure you.
This is the history of the withered and almost petrified
half apple that stands in my cabinet, among a number
(47:50):
of flint implements and one or two rather fine old
Roman vessels. Of mister Sidney Mason. We never heard another word.
The police did the best, but he had left not
a track behind him. His rooms were left almost undisturbed,
and he had gone without anything in the way of
elaborate preparation for his journey, and without leaving a trace
(48:13):
of his intentions. End of Chapter three
Chapter three of Martin Hewitt Investigator by Arthur Morrison. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter three, The
Case of mister Foggett. Almost the only dogmatism that Martin
Hewett permitted himself in regard to his professional methods was
(00:21):
one on the matter of accumulative probabilities. Often, when I
have remarked upon the apparently trivial nature of the clues
by which he allowed himself to be guided, sometimes to
all seeming in the very face of all likelihood, he
has replied that two trivialities pointing in the same direction
became at once by their mere agreement, no trivialities at all,
(00:45):
but enormously important considerations. If I were in search of
a man, he would say, of whom I knew nothing
but that he squinted, bore a birthmark on his right hand,
and limped. And I observe the man who answered to
the first peculiarity. So far the clue would be trivial,
(01:05):
because thousands of men squint. Now, if that man presently
moved and exhibited a birthmark on his right hand, the
value of that squint and that mark would increase at
once one hundred or one thousandfold apart, they are little
together much the weight of evidence is not doubled, merely
it would be only doubled if half the men who
(01:28):
squinted had right hand birthmarks, whereas the proportion, if it
could be ascertained, would be perhaps more like one in
ten thousand. The two trivialities pointing in the same direction
become very strong evidence. And when the man is seen
to walk with a limp, that limp, another triviality, re
enforcing the others, brings the matter to the rank of
(01:51):
a practical certainty. The Bertillon system of identification, What is
it but a summary of trivialities. Thousand of men are
of the same height, thousands of the same length of foot,
thousands of the same girth of head. Thousands correspond in
any separate measurement you may name. It is when the
(02:12):
measurements are taken together that you have your men identified forever.
Just consider how few, if any, of your friends correspond
exactly in any two personal peculiarities. Hewitt's dogma received its
illustration unexpectedly close at home. The old house wherein my
chambers and Hewitt's office were situated, contained besides my own,
(02:37):
two or three more bachelor's dens, in addition to the
offices on the ground and first and second floors. At
the very top of all, at the back, a fat,
middle aged man named Foggot occupied a set of four rooms.
It was only after a long residence, by an accidental
remark of the housekeepers, that I learned the man's name,
(02:59):
which was not pain on his door, or displayed with
all the others on the wall of the ground floor porch.
Mister Foggett appeared to have few friends, but lived in
something as nearly approaching luxury as an old bachelor living
in chambers can live. An ascending case of champagne was
a common phenomenon of the staircase, and I have more
(03:21):
than once seen a picture destined for the top floor
of a sort that went far to awaken green covetousness
in the heart of a poor journalist. The man himself
was not altogether prepossessing. Fat as he was, he had
a way of carrying his head forward on his extended neck,
and gazing widely about with a pair of the roundest
(03:42):
and most prominent eyes I remember to have ever seen,
except in a fish on the whole. His appearance was
rather vulgar, rather arrogant, and rather suspicious, without any very
pronounced quality of any sort. But certainly he was not pretty.
In the end, however, he was found shot dead in
(04:05):
his sitting room. It was in this way Hewett and
I had dined together at my club, and late in
the evening had returned to my rooms to smoke and
discuss whatever came uppermost. I had made a bargain that
day with two speculative odd lots at a book sale,
each of which contained a hidden prize. We sat talking
(04:26):
and turning over these books while time went unperceived, when
suddenly we were startled by a loud report. Clearly it
was in the building. We listened for a moment, but
heard nothing else. And then he would express his opinion
that the report was that of a gun shot. Gunshots
in residential chambers are not common things. Wherefore I got
(04:48):
up and went to the landing, looking up the stairs
and down. At the top of the next flight, I
saw missus Clayton, the housekeeper. She appeared to be frightened
and told me that the report came from mister Foggett's room.
She thought he might have had an accident with the
pistol that usually lay on his mantelpiece. We went upstairs
(05:10):
with her and she knocked at mister Foggett's door. There
was no reply. Through the ventilating fan over the door,
it could be seen that there were lights within a sign.
Missus Clayton maintained that mister Foggett was not out. We
knocked again, much more loudly, and called, but still ineffectually.
(05:30):
The door was locked, and an application of the housekeeper's
key proved that the tenant's key had been left in
the lock inside. Missus Clayton's conviction that something had happened
became distressing, and in the end Hewett pried opened the
door with a small poker. Something had happened. In the
(05:50):
sitting room. Mister fogget sat with his head bowed over
the table, quiet and still. The head was ill to
look at, and by it lay alone large revolver of
the full sized army pattern. Missus Clayton ran back toward
the landing with faint screams. Run Brett, said Hewett, a
doctor and a policeman. I bounced down the stairs half
(06:14):
a flight at a time. First I thought a doctor,
he may not be dead. I could think of no
doctor in the immediate neighborhood, but ran up the street
away from the strand, as being the more likely direction
for the doctor, although less so for the policeman. It
took me a good five minutes to find the medico
after being led astray by a red lamp at a
(06:36):
private hotel, and another five to get back with a policeman.
Foggett was dead, without a doubt, probably had shot himself.
The doctor thought, from the powdered blackening and other circumstances,
certainly nobody could have left the room by the door,
or he must have passed my landing, while the fact
(06:57):
of the door being found locked from the inside made
the thing impossible. There were two windows to the room,
both of which were shut, one being fastened by the catch,
while the catch of the other was broken an old fracture.
Below these windows was a sheer drop of fifty feet
or more without a foot or hand hold near the
(07:18):
windows in the other rooms were shut and fastened. Certainly
it seemed suicide, unless it were one of those accidents
that will occur to people who fiddle ignorantly with firearms.
Soon the rooms were in possession of the police, and
we were turned out. We looked in at the housekeeper's kitchen,
where her daughter was reviving and calming missus Clayton with
(07:39):
gin and water. You mustn't upset yourself, Missus Clayton, Hugh
had said, or what will become of us all? The
doctor thinks it was an accident. He took a small
bottle of sewing machine oil from his pocket and handed
it to the daughter, thanking her for the loan. There
was little evidence at the inquest. The shot had been heard,
(07:59):
the body had been found. That was the practical sum
of the matter. No friends or relatives of the dead
man came forward. The doctor gave his opinion as to
the probability of suicide or an accident, and the police
evidence tended in the same direction. Nothing had been found
to indicate that any other person had been near the
dead man's rooms on the night of the fatality. On
(08:22):
the other hand, his papers, bank book, et cetera proved
him to be a man of considerable substance, with no
apparent motive for suicide. The police had been unable to
trace any relatives, or indeed any nearer connections than casual acquaintances,
fellow clubmen, and so on. The jury found that mister
fogget had died by accident. Well, brett Hewitt asked me afterward,
(08:47):
what do you think of the verdict? I said that
it seemed to me the most reasonable one possible, and
to square with the common sense view of the case. Yes,
he replied, perhaps it does from the point of view
of the jury, and on their information, their verdict was
quite reasonable. Nevertheless, mister Foggett did not shoot himself. He
(09:09):
was shot by a rather tall, active young man, perhaps
a sailor, but certainly a gymnast, a young man whom
I think I could identify if I saw him. But
how do you know this? By the simplest possible of inferences,
which you may easily guess if you will. But think,
(09:30):
but then, why didn't you say this at the inquest,
my dear fellow. They don't want any inferences and conjectures
at an inquest. They only want evidence. If I had
traced the murderer, of course, then I should have communicated
with the police. As a matter of fact, it is
quite possible that the police have observed and know as
much as I do, or more. They don't give everything
(09:53):
away at an inquest. You know it wouldn't do. But
if you are right, how did the man get away? Come?
We are near home? Now, let us take a look
at the back of the house. He couldn't have left
by Foggot's landing door, as we know, and as he
was there, I am certain of that, And as the
chimney is out of the question, for there was a
(10:15):
good fire in the grate, he must have gone out
by the window. Only one window is possible that with
the broken catch, for all the others were fastened inside.
Out of that window then he went. But how the
window is fifty feet up? Of course it is. But
why will you persist in assuming that the only way
(10:36):
of escape by a window is downward? See? Now look
up there. The window is at the top floor, and
it has a very broad sill. Over the window is
nothing but the flat face of the gable end. But
to the right, and a foot or two above the
level of the top of the window an iron gutter end.
(10:56):
Observe it is not of lead composition, but a strong
iron gutter, supported just at its end by an iron bracket.
If a tall man stood on the end of the
window sill. Steadying himself by the left hand and leaning
to the right, he could just touch the end of
this gutter with his right hand. The full stretch towed
(11:18):
to finger is seven feet three inches. I have measured it.
An active gymnast or a sailor could catch the gutter
with a slight spring and by it draw himself upon
the roof. You will say, he would have to be
very active, dexterous and cool. So he would. And that
very fact helps us because it narrows the field of inquiry.
(11:40):
We know the sort of man to look for, because
being certain as I am that the man was in
the room, I know that he left in the way
I am telling you he must have left in some way,
and all the other ways being impossible, this alone remains difficult.
As the feet may seem. The fact of his shutting
the wind window behind him further proves his coolness and address.
(12:04):
At so great a height from the ground. All this
was very plain, but the main point was still dark.
You say you know that another man was in the room.
I said, how do you know that? As I said,
by an obvious inference? Come now you shall guess how
I arrived at the inference You often speak of your
(12:24):
interest in my work and the attention with which you
follow it. This shall be a simple exercise for you.
You saw everything in the room as plainly as I myself.
Bring the scene back to your memory and think over
the various small objects littering about and how they would
affect the case. Quick observation is the first essential for
my work. Did you see a newspaper? For instance? Yes,
(12:48):
there was an evening paper on the floor, but I
didn't examine it anything else. On the table there was
a whiskey decanter taken from the tantalus stand on the sideboard,
and one glass that, by the bye I added, looked
as though only one person were present, So it did, perhaps,
(13:09):
although the inference wouldn't be very strong. Go on. There
was a fruit stand on the sideboard, with a plate
beside it containing a few nutshells, a piece of apple,
a pair of nutcrackers, and I think some orange peel.
There was, of course, all the ordinary furniture, but no
chair pulled up to the table except that used by
(13:32):
Foggett himself. That's all I noticed, I think. Stay There
was an ashtray on the table and a partly burnt
cigar near it? Only one cigar, though excellent? Excellent indeed,
as far as memory and simple observation go, you saw
everything plainly, and you remember everything surely? Now you know
(13:53):
how I found out that another man had just left? No,
I don't. Unless there were different kinds of ash in
the ashtray, that is a fairly good suggestion. But there
were not. There was only a single ash corresponding in
every way to that on the cigar. Don't you remember
everything that I did? As we went downstairs? You returned
(14:16):
a bottle of oil to the housekeeper's daughter. I think
I did. Doesn't that give you a hint? Come? You
surely have it now I haven't. Then I shan't tell
you you don't deserve it. Think, and don't mention the
subject again till you have at least one guess to make.
The thing stares you in the face. You see it,
(14:38):
you remember it, and yet you won't see it. I
won't encourage your slovenliness of thought, my boy, by telling
you what you can know for yourself if you like,
good Bye, I'm off. Now there's a case in hand
I can't neglect. Don't you propose to go further into this.
Then Hewett shrugged his shoulders. I'm not a policeman, he said.
(15:02):
The case is in very good hands. Of course, if
anybody comes to me to do it as a matter
of business, I'll take it up. It's very interesting, but
I can't neglect my regular work for it. Naturally, I
shall keep my eyes open and my memory in order.
Sometimes these things come into their hands by themselves, as
it were in that case. Of course, I am a
(15:23):
loyal citizen and ready to help the law. Au revoir.
I am a busy man myself, and thought little more
of Hewitt's conundrum for some time. Indeed, when I did think,
I saw no way to the answer. A week after
the inquest, I took a holiday. I had written my
nightly Leaders regularly every day for the past five years,
(15:46):
and saw no more of Hewett for six weeks after
my return, with still a few days of leave to run,
one evening, we together turned into Lusati's off Coventry Street
for dinner. I have been here several times lately, Hewitt said,
they feed you very well. No, not that table. He
seized my arm as I turned to an unoccupied corner.
(16:09):
I fancy its drafty. He led the way to a
longer table, where a dark lithe and as well as
could be seen, a tall young man already sat and
took chairs opposite him. We had scarcely seated ourselves before
Hewett broke into a torrent of conversation on the subject
of bicycling. As our previous conversation had been of a
(16:30):
literary sort, and as I had never known Hewitt at
any other time to show the slightest interest in bicycling,
this rather surprised me. I had, however, such a general
outsider's grasp of the subject, as is usual in a
journalist of all work, and managed to keep the talk
going from my side. As we went on, I could
(16:52):
see the face of the young man opposite brightened with interest.
He was a rather fine looking fellow, with a dark,
though very clear skin, but had a hard, angry look
of eye, a prominence of cheekbone, and a squareness of
jaw that gave him a rather uninviting aspect. As Hewett
rattled on, however, our neighbor's expression became one of pleasant interest. Merely,
(17:16):
of course, Hewett said, we've a number of very capital
men just now, but I believe a deal in the
forgotten writers of five, ten and fifteen years back. Osmond
I believe was better than any man writing now, and
I think it would puzzle some of them to beat
Ernable as he was at his best. But poor old Courtus, really,
(17:38):
I believe he was as good as anybody. Nobody ever
beat Cortus except let me see, I think somebody beat
Cortus once? Was it now? I can't remember, Lyles, said
the young man opposite, looking up quickly. Ah, yes, Liles,
it was Charlie Lyles, isn't it a championship mile championship
(18:03):
eighteen eighty? Cortis won the other three though, yees, so
he did. I saw Cordis when he first broke the
old two forty six mile record and straightway Hewitch plunged
into a whirl of talk of bicycles, tricycles, records, racing cyclists,
Hillier and Sniner and Noel Whiting, Taylorson and Appleyard talk,
(18:26):
wherein the young man opposite bore an animated share while
I was left in the cold. Our new friend, it seems,
had himself been a prominent racing bicyclist a few years back,
and was presently at Hewett's request, exhibiting a neat gold
medal that hung at his WatchGuard. That was one, he explained,
(18:48):
in the old tall bicycle days, the days of bad tracks,
when every racing cyclist carried cinder scars on his face
from numerous accidents. He pointed to a blue mark on
his forehead, which he told us was a track scar,
and described a bad fall that had cost him two
teeth and broken others. The gaps among his teeth were
(19:09):
plain to see as he smiled. Presently, the waiter brought dessert,
and the young man opposite took an apple, nutcrackers and
a fruit knife lay on our side of the stand,
and Hewitt turned the stand to offer him the knife.
No thanks, he said, I only polish a good apple,
never peel it. It's a mistake, except with thick skinned
(19:32):
foreign ones, and he began to munch the apple as
only a boy or a healthy athlete can. Presently, he
turned his head to order coffee. The waiter's back was turned,
and he had to be called twice. To my unutterable amazement,
Hewitt reached swiftly across the table, snatched the half eaten
apple from the young man's plate, and pocketed it. Gazing
(19:55):
immediately with an abstracted air, had a painted cupid on
the ceiling. Our neighbor turned again, looked doubtfully at his
plate and the tablecloth about it, and then shot a
keen glance in the direction of Hewett. He said nothing, however,
but took his coffee and his bill deliberately drank the former,
gazing quietly at Hewett as he did it, paid the
(20:18):
ladder and left Immediately. Hewett was on his feet and
taking an umbrella which stood near, followed. Just as he
reached the door, he met our late neighbor, who had
turned suddenly. Back your umbrella, I think, Hewitt asked, offering it. Yes, thanks,
But the man's eye had more than its former hardness,
(20:40):
and his jaw muscles tightened as I looked. He turned
and went. Hewett came back to me. Pay the bill,
he said, and go back to your rooms. I will
come on later. I must follow this man. It's the
Foggot case. As he went out, I heard a cab
rattle way, and immediately after it on. I paid the
(21:01):
bill and went home. It was ten o'clock before Hewitt
turned up, calling at his office below. On his way
up to me, mister Sidney Mason, he said, is the
gentleman the police will be wanting tomorrow, I expect for
the foggot murder. He is as smart a man as
I remember ever meeting, and has done me rather neatly
(21:22):
twice this evening. You mean the man we sat opposite
at Luzati's. Of course, yes, I got his name, of course,
from the reverse of that gold medal. He was good
enough to show me. But I fear he has bilked
me over the address. He suspected me that was plain,
and left his umbrella by way of experiment to see
(21:42):
if I were watching him sharply enough to notice the
circumstance and to avail myself of it to follow him.
I was hasty and fell into the trap. He cabbed
it away from Lusati's, and I cabbed it after him.
He has led me a pretty dance up and down Londonton,
and two cabbies made quite a stroke of business out
(22:03):
of us. In the end he entered a house of which,
of course I have taken the address, but I expect
he doesn't live there. He is too smart a man
to lead me to his den. But the police can
certainly find something of him at the house he went
in at, and I expect left by the back way,
by the way. You never guessed the simple little puzzle
(22:25):
as to how I found that this was a murderer,
did you you see it? Now? Of course, something to
do with that apple you stole. I suppose something to
do with it, and I should think so you worthy innocent.
Just ring your bell, we'll borrow missus Clayton's sewing machine
oil again. On the night we broke into Foggett's room,
(22:47):
you saw the nutshells and the bitten remains of an
apple on the sideboard, and you remembered it. And yet
you couldn't see that in that piece of apple possibly
lay an important piece of evidence. Of course, I never
expected you to have arrived at any conclusion as I had,
because I had ten minutes in which to examine that
(23:08):
apple and to do what I did with it. But
at least you should have seen the possibility of evidence
in it first. Now, the apple was white. A bitten apple,
as you must have observed, turns a reddish brown color
if left to stand long. Different kinds of apples brown
with different rapidities, and the browning always begins at the core.
(23:30):
This is one of the twenty thousand tiny things that
few people take the trouble to notice, but which it
is useful for a man in my position to know.
A russet will brown quite quickly. The apple on the
sideboard was, as near as I could tell, a new
Town Pippin or other apple of that kind, which will
brown at the core in from twenty minutes to half
(23:52):
an hour, and in other parts in a quarter of
an hour or more. When we saw it, it was white,
with barely a tinge of about the exposed core. Inference
somebody had been eating it fifteen or twenty minutes before,
perhaps a little longer, an inference supported by the fact
that it was only partly eaten. I examined that apple
(24:13):
and found it bore marks of very irregular teeth. While
you were gone, I oiled it over, and, rushing down
to my rooms, where I always have a little plaster
of Paris handy for such work, took a mold of
the part where the teeth had left the clearest marks.
I then returned the apple to its place for the
police to use if they thought fit. Looking at my mold,
(24:36):
it was plain that the person who had bitten. That
apple had lost two teeth, one at the top and
one below, not exactly opposite, but nearly so. The other teeth,
although they would appear to have been fairly sound, were
irregular in size and line. Now the dead man had,
as I saw, a very excellent set of false teeth,
(24:57):
regular and sharp, with none missing. Therefore, it was plain
that somebody else had been eating that apple. Do I
make myself clear? Quite go on? There were other inferences
to be made, slighter, but all pointing the same way.
For instance, a man of Foggott's age does not, as
a rule, munch an unpeeled apple like a schoolboy. Inference
(25:20):
a young man and healthy. Why I came to the
conclusion that he was tall, active, a gymnast, and perhaps
a sailor. I have already told you. When we examined
the outside of Foggett's window. It was also pretty clear
that robbery was not the motive, since nothing was disturbed,
and that a friendly conversation had preceded the murder, witnessed
(25:42):
the drinking and the eating of the apple. Whether or
not the police noticed these things, I can't say. If
they had had their best men on they certainly would
I think, but the case to a rough observer looked
so clearly one of accident or suicide that possibly they didn't.
As I said after the inquest, I was unable to
devote any immediate time to the case, but I resolved
(26:05):
to keep my eyes open. The man to look for
was tall, young, strong, and active, with a very irregular
set of teeth, a tooth missing from the lower jaw
just to the left of the center, and another from
the upper jaw a little farther, still toward the left.
He might possibly be a person I had seen about
the premises. I have a good memory for faces, or
(26:28):
of course, he possibly might not. Just before you returned
from your holiday, I noticed a young man at Utsati's
whom I remembered to have seen somewhere about the offices
in this building. He was tall, young, and so on.
But I had a client with me and was unable
to examine him more narrowly. Indeed, as I was not
(26:49):
exactly engaged on the case, and as there are several
tall young men about, I took little trouble but to day,
finding the same young man with a vacant seat opposite him,
I took the opportunity of making a closer acquaintance, you
certainly managed to draw him out. Oh. Yes, the easiest
person in the world to draw out is a cyclist.
(27:11):
The easiest cyclist to draw out is, of course the novice,
but the next easiest is the veteran. When you see
a healthy, well trained looking man, who nevertheless has a
slight stoop in his shoulders and maybe a medal on
his watch guard, it is always safe to try him
first with a little cycle racing talk. I soon brought
(27:32):
mister Mason out of his shell, read his name on
the medal, and had a chance of observing his teeth. Indeed,
he spoke of them himself. Now, as I observed just now,
there are several tall, athletic young men about, and also
there are several men who have lost teeth. But now
I saw this tall and athletic young man had lost
(27:53):
exactly two teeth, one from the lower jaw just to
the left of the center, and another from the upper
jaw farther still toward the left. Trivialities pointing in the
same direction become important considerations. More, his teeth were irregular throughout,
and as nearly as I could remember, it looked remarkably
(28:13):
like this little plaster mold of mine. He produced from
his pocket an irregular lump of plaster about three inches long.
On one side of this appeared in relief the likeness
of two irregular rows of six or eight teeth minus
one in each row, where a deep gap was seen
in the position spoken of by my friend. He proceeded.
(28:35):
This was enough at least to set me after this
young man. But he gave me the greatest chance of
all when he turned and left his apple eaten unpeeled.
Remember another important triviality on his plate. I'm afraid I
wasn't at all polite, and I ran the risk of
arousing his suspicions, but I couldn't resist the temptation to
(28:56):
steal it. I did as you saw, and here it is.
He brought the apple from his coat pocket. One bitten side,
placed against the upper half of the mold, fitted precisely
a projection of apple, filling exactly the deep gap. The
other side similarly fitted the lower half. There's no getting
(29:17):
behind that, you see, Pewett remarked. Merely observing the man's
teeth was a guide to some extent. But this is
as plain as his signature or his thumb impression, You'll
never find two men bite exactly alike, no matter whether
they leave distinct teeth marks or not. Here by the
bye is missus Clayton's oil. We'll take another mold from
(29:39):
this apple and compare them. He oiled the apple, heaped
a little plaster in a newspaper, took my water jug,
and rapidly pulled off a hard mold. The parts corresponding
to the merely broken places in the apple were of
course dissimilar, but as to the teeth marks, the impressions
were Identif that will do, I think, Hewitt said, tomorrow morning, Brett,
(30:05):
I shall put up these things in a small parcel
and take them round to Bow Street. But are they
sufficient evidence? Quite sufficient for the police purpose. There is
the man, and all the rest his movements on the
day and so forth are simply matters of inquiry. At
any rate, that is police business. I had scarcely sat
(30:27):
down to my breakfast on the following morning when Hewitt
came into the room and put a long letter before
me from our friend of last night. He said, read it.
This letter began abruptly and undated, and was as follows.
To Martin, Hewett esquire, Sir, I must compliment you on
(30:47):
the adroitness you exhibited this evening in extracting from me
my name the address I was able to balk you
of for the time being, although by the time you
read this you will probably have found it through the
lawless as I am an admitted solicitor, that, however, will
be of little used to you, for I am removing
myself I think beyond the reach even of your abilities
(31:11):
of search. I knew you well by sight, and was
perhaps foolish to allow myself to be drawn as I did. Still,
I had no idea that it would be dangerous, especially
after seeing you as a witness with very little to
say at the inquest upon the scoundrel I shot. Your
(31:31):
somewhat discourteous seizure of my apple at first amazed me.
Indeed I was a little doubtful as to whether you
had really taken it, But it was my first warning
that you might be playing a deep game against me.
Incomprehensible as the action was to my mind, I subsequently
reflected that I had been eating an apple instead of
(31:52):
taking the drink he first offered me in the dead
Wretch's rooms on the night he came to his merited end.
From this, I assume that your design was in some
way to compare what remained of the two apples. Although
I do not presume to fathom the depths of your
detective system. Still I have heard of many of your cases,
(32:15):
and profoundly admire the keenness you exhibit. I am thought
to be a keen man myself, but although I was
able to some extent to hold my own to night,
I admit that your acumen in this case alone is
something beyond me. I do not know by whom you
are commissioned to hunt me, nor to what extent you
(32:36):
may be acquainted with my connection with the creature I killed.
I have sufficient respect for you, however, to wish that
you should not regard me as a vicious criminal, and
a couple of hours to spare in which to offer
you an explanation that will convince you that such is
not altogether the case. A hasty and violent temper I
(32:56):
admit possessing. But even now I cannot forget the one
crime it has led me into, for it is, I suppose,
strictly speaking, a crime, For it was the man Foggot
who made a felon of my father before the eyes
of the world, and killed him with shame. It was
he who murdered my mother, and none the less murdered
(33:17):
her because she died of a broken heart. That he
was also a thief and a hypocrite might have concerned
me little, But for that of my father I remember
very little. He must, I fear, have been a weak
and incapable man in many respects. He had no business abilities.
In fact, was quite unable to understand the complicated business
(33:40):
matters in which he largely dealt. Foggot was a consummate
master of all those arts of financial jugglery that make
so many fortunes and ruin so many others in matters
of company promoting stocks and shares. He was unable to
exercise them, however, because of a great financial disaster in
(34:01):
which he had been mixed up a few years before,
and which made his name one to be avoided in future.
In these circumstances, he made a sort of secret and
informal partnership with my father, who, ostensibly alone in the business,
acted throughout on the directions of Foggot, understanding as little
(34:22):
what he did. Poor simple man as a schoolboy would
have done. The transactions carried on went from small to large,
and unhappily, from honorable to dishonourable. My father relied on
the superior abilities of mister Foggot, with an absolute trust,
carrying out each day the directions given him privately the
(34:44):
previous evening, buying, selling, printing prospectuses, signing, whatever had to
be signed, all with the sole responsibility and as sole partner,
while Foggot behind the scenes absorbed the larger share of
the profits. In brief, my unhappy and foolish father was
a mere tool in the hands of the cunning scoundrel
(35:06):
who pulled all the wires of the business himself, unseen
and irresponsible. At last, three companies for the promotion of
which my father was responsible, came to grief in a heap.
Fraud was written large over all their history, and while
Foggot retired with his plunder, my father was left to
(35:29):
meet ruin disgrace and imprisonment. From beginning to end, he
and only he was responsible. There was no shred of
evidence to connect Foggot with the matter, and no means
of escape from the net drawn about my father. He
lived through three years of imprisonment, and then entirely abandoned
(35:50):
by the man who had made use of his simplicity.
He died of nothing but shame and a broken heart.
Of this I knew nothing at the time. Again and again,
as a small boy, I remember asking of my mother
why I had no father at home as other boys had,
unconscious of the stab I thus inflicted on her gentle
(36:11):
heart of her my earliest as well as my latest
memory is that of a pale, weeping woman who grudged
to let me out of her sight. Little by little
I learned the whole cause of my mother's grief, for
she had no other confidant, and I fear my character
developed early, for my first coherent remembrance of the matter
(36:33):
is that of a childish design to take a table
knife and kill the bad man who had made my
father die in prison and caused my mother to cry.
One thing, however, I never knew the name of that
bad man. Again and again, as I grew older, I
demanded to know, but my mother always withheld it from me,
(36:54):
with a gentle reminder that vengeance was for a greater
hand than mine. I was said seventeen years of age,
when my mother died. I believed that nothing but her
strong attachment to myself and her desire to see me
safely started in life, kept her alive so long. Then
I found that through all those years of narrowed means,
(37:16):
she had contrived to scrape and save a little money,
sufficient as it afterward proved to see me through the
examinations for entrance to my profession, with the generous assistance
of my father's old legal advisers, who gave me my articles,
and who have all along treated me with extreme kindness.
(37:36):
Most of the succeeding years of my life do not
concern the matter in hand. I was a lawyer's clerk
in my benefactor's service, and afterward a qualified man. Among
their assistants all through the firm were careful in pursuance
of my poor mother's wishes that I should not learn
the name or whereabouts of the man who had wrecked
(37:56):
her life and my father's. I first met the man
himself at the Clifton Club, where I had gone with
an acquaintance who was a member. It was not till
afterward that I understood his curious awkwardness on that occasion.
A week later I called as I had frequently done
at the building in which your office is situated, on
(38:18):
business with a solicitor who has an office on the
floor above your own. On the stairs, I almost ran
against mister Foggett. He started and turned pale, exhibiting signs
of alarm that I could not understand, and asked me
if I wished to see him. No, I replied, I
(38:38):
didn't know you lived here. I am after somebody else
just now. Aren't you well? He looked at me rather
doubtfully and said he was not very well. I met
him twice or thrice after that, and on each occasion
his manner grew more friendly, in a servile, flattering and
mean sort of way, a thing unpleasant enough in anybody,
(39:00):
but doubly so in the intercourse of a man with
another young enough to be his own son. Still, of course,
I treated the man civilly enough. On one occasion he
asked me into his rooms to look at a rather
fine picture he had lately bought, and observed casually lifting
a large revolver from the mantel piece. You see, I
(39:22):
am prepared for any unwelcome visitors to my little den.
He he, conceiving him, of course, to refer to Burglars.
I could not help wondering at the forced and hollow
character of his laugh. As he went down the stairs,
he said, I think we know one another pretty well now,
mister Mason. Eh, and if I could do anything to
(39:45):
advance your professional prospects, I should be glad of the chance.
Of course, I understand the struggles of a young professional man.
He hey. It was the forced laugh again, and the
man spoke nervously. I I think. He added that if
you will drop in tomorrow evening, perhaps I may have
a little proposal to make, will you, I assented, wondering
(40:10):
what his proposal could be. Perhaps this eccentric old gentleman
was a good fellow, after all, anxious to do me
a good turn, and his awkwardness was nothing but a
natural delicacy in breaking the ice. I was not so
flush of good friends as to be willing to lose one.
He might be desirous of putting business in my way.
(40:31):
I went and was received with cordiality that even then
seemed a little over effusive. We sat and talked of
one thing and another for a long while, and I
began to wonder when mister Foggett was coming to the
point that most interested me. Several times he invited me
to drink and smoke, but long usage to athletic training
(40:54):
has given me a distaste for both practices, and I declined.
At last, he began to talk about myself. He was
afraid that my professional prospects in this country were not great,
but he had heard that in some of the colonies
South Africa, for example, young lawyers had brilliant opportunities. If
(41:15):
you'd like to go there, he said, I've no doubt
with a little capital, a clever man like you could
get a grand practice together very soon, or you might
buy a share in some good established practice. I should
be glad to let you have five hundred pounds or
even a little more, if that wouldn't satisfy you. And
(41:36):
I stood aghast. Why should this man, almost a stranger,
offer me five hundred pounds or even more if that
would satisfy me? What claim had I on him? It
was very generous of him, of course, but out of
the question. I was at least a gentleman and had
a gentleman's self respect. Meanwhile, he had gone maundering on
(41:58):
in a halting sort of way, and presently let slip,
a sentence that struck me like a blow between the eyes.
I shouldn't like you to bear ill will, because what
has happened in the past, he said, your late, your late,
lamented mother. I'm afraid she had unworthy suspicions. I'm sure
(42:18):
it was all the best for all parties. Your father
always appreciated. I set back my chair and stood erect
before him. This groveling wretch forcing the words through his
dry lips was the thief who had made another of
my father and had brought to miserable ends the lives
of both my parents. Everything was clear. The creature went
(42:43):
in fear of me, never imagining that I did not
know him, and sought to buy me off, to buy
me from the remembrance of my dead mother's broken heart,
for five hundred pounds, five hundred pounds that he had
made my father's steel for him. I said not a word,
but the memory of all my mother's bitter years, and
(43:04):
a savage sense of this crowning insult to myself took
a hold upon me, and I was a tiger even then.
I verily believe that one word of repentance, one tone
of honest remorse, would have saved him. But he drooped
his eyes, snuffled excuses and stammered of unworthy suspicions, and
(43:25):
no ill will I let him stammer. Presently he looked
up and saw my face, and fell back in his chair,
sick with terror. I snatched the pistol from the mantelpiece, and,
thrusting it in his face, shot him where he sat.
My subsequent coolness and quietness surprise me. Now I took
(43:47):
my hat and stepped toward the door, but there were
voices on the stairs. The door was locked on the inside,
and I left it. So I went back and quietly
opened a window. Below was a clear drop into darkness,
and above was a plain wall, but away to one side,
where the slope of the gable sprang from the roof,
(44:08):
an iron gutter ended supported by a strong bracket. It
was the only way I got upon the sill and
carefully shut the window behind me, for people were already
knocking at the lobby door from the end of the sill,
Holding on by the reveal of the window with one hand,
leaning and stretching myself utmost, I caught the gutter, swung
(44:29):
myself clear, and scrambled onto the roof. I climbed over
many roofs before I found, in an adjoining street a
ladder lashed perpendicularly against the front of a house in
course of repair. This to me was an easy opportunity
of descent, notwithstanding the boards fastened over the face of
the ladder, and I availed myself of it. I have
(44:53):
taken some time and trouble in order that you, so
far as I am aware, the only human being besides
me myself who knows me to be the author of
Fogert's death, shall have at least the means of appraising
my crime at its just value of culpability. How much
you already know of what I have told you, I
cannot guess. I am wrong, hardened and flaggtitious. I make
(45:19):
no doubt, but I speak of the facts as they are.
You see the thing, of course, from your own point
of view. I from mine, and I remember my mother,
trusting that you will forgive the odd freak of a
man a criminal. Let us say, who makes a confidant
of the man set to hunt him down? I beg
(45:40):
leave to be, sir, your obedient servant, Sidney Mason. I
read the singular document through and handed it back to Hewett.
How does it strike you, Hewitt asked, Mason would seem
to be a man of very marked character. I said, certainly,
no fool, And if his tail is true, foggot is
(46:03):
no great loss to the world. Just so if the
tale is true, personally, I am disposed to believe it is.
Where was the letter posted? It wasn't posted. It was
handed in with the others from the front door letter
box this morning in an unstamped envelope. He must have
(46:23):
dropped it in himself during the night. Paper. Hewett proceeded,
holding it up to the light. Turkey mill ruled foolscap envelope, blue,
official shape, Pierrie's water mark, both quite ordinary and no
special marks. Where do you suppose he's gone? Impossible to guess.
(46:45):
Some might think he meant suicide by the expression beyond
the reach even of your abilities to search. But I
scarcely think he is the sort of man to do that. No,
there is no telling. Something may be got at by
inquiring at his late address, of course, But when such
a man tells you he doesn't think you will find him,
(47:06):
you may count upon its being a difficult job. His
opinion is not to be despised. What shall you do?
Put the letter in the box with the casts for
the police Fiat justicia. You know, without any question of
sentiment as to the apple, I really think, if the
police will let me, I'll make you a present of it.
(47:29):
Keep it somewhere as a souvenir of your absolute deficiency
in reflective observation in this case, and look at it
whenever you feel yourself growing dangerously conceited. It should cure you.
This is the history of the withered and almost petrified
half apple that stands in my cabinet, among a number
(47:50):
of flint implements and one or two rather fine old
Roman vessels. Of mister Sidney Mason. We never heard another word.
The police did the best, but he had left not
a track behind him. His rooms were left almost undisturbed,
and he had gone without anything in the way of
elaborate preparation for his journey, and without leaving a trace
(48:13):
of his intentions. End of Chapter three
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