11 - Red Thumb Mark by R. Austin Freeman

Dive into the mystery of missing diamonds, an untouched safe, two blood-streaked thumb prints, and the enigmatic Mr X. As these elements converge, the brilliant Dr. Thorndyke steps onto the scene. Will he crack the case? The Red Thumb Mark marks the thrilling debut of Freeman’s popular Thorndyke series. (Summary by Diana Majlinger)

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven of The Red Thumb Mark. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Recording by Marianne The Red Thumb Mark by R. Austin Freeman,
Chapter eleven, The Ambush. I am going to ask for

(00:21):
your collaboration in another case, said Thorndyke a day or
two later. It appears to be one of suicide, but
the solicitors to the Griffin office have asked me to
go down to the place, which is in the neighborhood
of Barnet, and be present at the post mortem and
the inquest. They have managed to arrange that the inquest
shall take place directly after the post mortem, so that

(00:41):
we shall be able to do the whole business in
a single visit. Is the case one of any intricacy,
I asked, I don't think so, he answered. It looks
like a common suicide, but you can never tell. The
importance of the case at present arises entirely from the
heavy insurance. A verdict of suicide will mean a gain
of ten thousand pounds to the Griffin, so naturally the

(01:04):
directors are anxious to get the case settled, and not
inclined to boggle over a little expense, naturally, And when
will the expedition take place, i asked? The inquest is
fixed for tomorrow. What is the matter? Does that fall
foul of any arrangement of yours? Oh? Nothing of importance,
I replied, hastily, deeply ashamed of the momentary change of

(01:27):
countenance that my friend had been so quick to observe. Well,
what is it, persisted Thorndyke. You have got something on
It's nothing, I tell you, But what can be easily
arranged to suit your plans? Churche la, hum queried Thorndyke,
with an exasperating grin. Yes, I answered, turning as red

(01:48):
as a pickled cabbage. Since you are so beastly inquisitive,
Miss Gibson wrote on behalf of missus Hornby asking me
to dine with them and familia tomorrow evening, and I
sent off an acceptance an hour ago. And you call
that nothing of importance, exclaimed Thorndyke. Alas and likewise a lackaday,
which is an approximately synonymous expression. The age of chivalry

(02:11):
is past. Indeed, of course you must keep your appointment.
I can manage quite well alone. We shouldn't be back
early enough for me to go to Kensington from the station,
I suppose, no, certainly not. I find that the trains
are very awkward. We should not reach King's Cross until
nearly one in the morning. Then in that case I

(02:32):
shall write to Miss Gibson and excuse myself. Oh, I
wouldn't do that, said Thorndyke. It will disappoint them, and
really it is not necessary. I shall write forthwith, I
said firmly. So please don't try to dissuade me. I
have been feeling quite uncomfortable at the thought that all
the time I have been in your employ I seem

(02:52):
to have done nothing but idle about and amuse myself.
The opportunity of doing something tangible for my wages is
too precious to be allowed to slip. Thorndyke chuckled indulgently.
You shall do as you please, my dear boy, he said,
But don't imagine that you have been eating the bread
of idleness. When you see this hornby case worked out

(03:12):
in detail, you will be surprised to find how large
a part you have taken in unraveling it. Your worth
to me has been far beyond your poor little salary.
I can assure you. It is very handsome of you
to say that, I said, highly gratified to learn that
I really was of use, and not as I have
begun to suspect, a mere object of charity. It is

(03:34):
perfectly true, he answered. And now, since you are going
to help me in this case, I will set you
your task. The case, as I have said, appears to
be quite simple, but it never does to take the
simplicity for granted. Here is the letter from the solicitors,
giving the facts as far as they are known at present.
On the shelves there you will find Caspar, Tailor, Guy

(03:55):
and Ferrier, and the other authorities on medical jurisprudence. And
I will put out one or two other books that
you may find useful. I want you to extract and
make classified notes of everything that may bear on such
a case as the present one may turn out to be.
We must go prepared to meet any contingency that may arise.
This is my invariable practice. And even if the case

(04:15):
turns out to be quite simple, the labor is never wasted,
for it represents so much experience gained. Casper and Taylor
are pretty old, aren't they, I objected, So is suicide,
he retorted dryly. It is a capital mistake to neglect
the old authorities. There were strong men before Agamemnon, and

(04:35):
some of them were uncommonly strong. Let me tell you,
give your best attention to the venerable Casper and the
obsolete Tailor, and you will not be without your reward.
As a result of these injunctions. I devoted the remainder
of the day to the consideration of the various methods
by which a man might contrive to effect his exit
from the stage of human activities. And a very engrossing

(04:58):
study I found it, and the more interesting in view
of the problem that awaited solution on the morrow. But
yet not so engrossing, but that I was able to
find time to write a long, rather intimate, and minutely
explanatory letter to Miss Gibson, in which I even mentioned
the hour of our return as showing the impossibility of
my keeping my engagement. Not that I had the smallest

(05:18):
fear of her taking offense, for it is an evidence
of my respect and regard for her that I canceled
the appointment without a momentary doubt that she would approve
of my action, but it was pleasant to write to
her at length and to feel the intimacy of keeping
her informed of the details of my life. The case,
when we went to inquire into it on the spot,
turned out to be a suicide of the most transparent type.

(05:41):
Whereat both Thorndyke and I were, I think a little disappointed,
he at having apparently done so little for a very
substantial fee, and I at having no opportunity for applying
my recently augmented knowledge. Yes, said my colleague, as we
rolled ourselves up in our rugs in adjacent corners of
the railway carriage. It has been a flat affair, and

(06:01):
the whole thing could have been managed by the local solicitor.
But it is not a waste of time after all.
For you see, I have to do many a day's
work for which I get not a farthing of payment,
nor even any recognition, so that I do not complain
if I occasionally find myself receiving more payment than my
actual services merit. And as to you, I take it

(06:22):
that you have acquired a good deal of valuable knowledge
on the subject of suicide, and knowledge as the late
Lord Bacon remarked with more truth and originality is power
to this. I made no reply, having just lit my
pipe and feeling uncommonly drowsy, and my companion having followed
my example, we smoked in silence, becoming more and more somnolent,

(06:44):
until the train drew up in the terminus, and we
turned out, yawning and shivering, on to the platform. Bah,
exclaimed Thorndyke, drawing his rug round his shoulders. This is
a cheerless hour a quarter past one. See how chilly
and misery all these poor devils of passenger's Look. Shall
we cab it or walk? I think a sharp walk

(07:06):
would rouse our circulation after sitting huddled up in the
carriage for so long, I answered, so do, I said Thorndyke.
So let us away, hark forward, and also tally ho.
In fact, one might go so far as to say, yoicks,
that gentleman appears to favor the strenuous life, if one
may judge by the size of his brocket wheel. He

(07:26):
pointed to a bicycle that was drawn up by the
curb in the approach, a machine of the road racer
type with an enormous brocket wheel, indicating a gear of
at least ninety some scorcher of an amateur racer, probably,
I said, who takes the opportunity of getting a spin
on the wood pavement when the streets are empty. I
looked round to see if I could identify the owner,

(07:48):
but the machine appeared to be for the moment taking
care of itself. King's Cross is one of those districts
in which the inhabitants are slow in settling down for
the night, and even add a quarter past one in
the morning, its streets are not entirely deserted. Here and
there the glimmer of a street lamp or the far
reaching ray from a tall electric light reveals the form

(08:09):
of some nocturnal prowler, creeping along with catlike stealthiness, or
bursting catlike into unmelodious song. Not greatly desirous of the
society of these roysterers, we crossed quickly from the station
into the Gray's Inn Road, now silent and excessively dismal
in aspect, and took our way along the western side.

(08:30):
We had turned the curve and were crossing Manchester Street
when a series of yelps from ahead announced the presence
of a party of merrymakers, whom we were not yet
able to see, however, for the night was an exceptionally
dark one. But the sounds of revelie continued to increase
in volume as we proceeded, until as we passed Sidmus
Street we came in sight of the revelers. There were

(08:52):
some half dozen in number, all of them roffs of
the hooligan type, and they were evidently in boisterous spirits,
for as they passed the entrance to the Royal Free Hospital,
they halted and battered furiously at the gate. Shortly after
this exploit, they crossed the road on to our side,
whereupon Thorndyke caught my arm and slackened his pace. Let

(09:14):
them draw a head, said he. It is a wise
precaution to give all hooligan gangs a very wide berth
at this time of night. We had better turned down
Heathcote Street and crossed Mecklenburgh Square. We continued to walk
on at reduced speed until we reached Heathcote Street, into
which we turned and so entered Mecklenburg Square, where we

(09:35):
mended our pace. Once more, the hooligan pursued Thorndyke as
we walked briskly across the silent Square covers a multitude
of sins, ranging from highway robbery with violence and paid
assassination technically known as bashing down to the criminal folly
of philanthropic magistrate who seems to think that his function

(09:55):
in the economy of nature is to secure the survival
of the unfittest. There goes a cyclist along Guildford Street.
I wonder if that is our strenuous friend from the station.
If so, he has slipped past the hooligans. We were
just entering Doughty Street, and as Thorndyke spoke, a man
on a bicycle was visible for an instant at the

(10:15):
crossing of the two streets. When we reached Guildford Street,
we both looked down the long lamp lighted vista, but
the cyclist had vanished. We had better go straight on
into Theobald's Road, said Thorndyke, and we accordingly pursued our
way up the fine old world street, from whose tall
houses our footfalls echoed, so that we seemed to be

(10:35):
accompanied by an invisible multitude, until we reached that part
where it unaccountably changes its name and becomes John Street.
There always seems to me something very pathetic about these
old Bloomsbury streets, said Thorndyke, with their faded grandeur and
dignified seediness. They remind me of some prim and aged
gentlewoman in reduced circumstances. Who hallo, What was that? A faint,

(11:01):
sharp thud from behind had been followed instantly by the
shattering of a ground floor window in front. We both
stopped dead and remained for a couple of seconds, staring
into the gloom from whence the first sound had come.
Then Thorndyke darted diagonally across the road at a swift run,
and I immediately followed. At the moment when the affair happened,

(11:22):
we had gone about forty yards up John Street, that is,
from the place where it is crossed by Henry Street,
and we now raced across the road to the further
corner of the latter street. When we reached it, however,
the little thoroughfare was empty, and as we paused for
a moment, no sound of retreating footsteps broke the silence.
The shot certainly came from here, said Thorndyke. Come on,

(11:44):
and again he broke into a run. A few yards
up the street, a mewse turns off to the left,
and into this my companion plunged, motioning me to go
straight on, which I accordingly did, and in a few
paces reached the top of the street. Here, a narrow
thoroughfre with a broad, smooth pavement bears off to the
left parallel with the mews. And as I arrived at

(12:07):
the corner and glanced up the little street, I saw
a man on a bicycle gliding swiftly and silently toward
Little James Street. With a mighty shout of stop thief.
I started in hot pursuit, but though the man's feet
were moving in an apparently leisurely manner, he drew ahead
at an astonishing pace in spite of my efforts to
overtake him. And then it dawned upon me that the

(12:29):
slow revolutions of his feet were due in reality to
the unusually high gear of the machine that he was riding.
As I realized this, and at the same moment recalled
the bicycle that we had seen in the station, the
fugitive swung round into Little James Street and vanished. The
speed at which the man was traveling made further pursuit
utterly futile. So I turned and walked back, panting and

(12:52):
perspiring from the unwonted exertion. As I re entered Henry Street,
Thorndyke emerged from the mews and halted on seeing me cyclist,
he asked laconically as I came up, Yes, I answered,
riding a machine geared up to about ninety ah. He
must have followed us from the station, said Thorndyke. Did

(13:13):
you notice if he was carrying anything. He had a
walking stick in his hand. I didn't see anything else.
What sort of walking stick? I couldn't see very distinctly.
It was a stoutish stick, I should say, a malacca probably,
and it had what looked like a horn handle. I
could see that as he passed a street lamp. What

(13:34):
kind of lamp had he? I couldn't see, But as
he turned the corner I noticed that it seemed to
burn very dimly. A little vast lean or even oil
smeared on the outside of the glass, will reduce the
glare of a lamp very appreciably, my companion remarked, especially
on a dusty road. Ha. Here is the proprietor of
the broken window. He wants to know. You know, we

(13:57):
had once more turned into John Street and now perceived
demand standing on the wide doorstep of the house with
a shattered window, looking anxiously up and down the street.
Do either of you two gents know anything about this here?
He asked, pointing to the broken pane. Yes, said Thorndyke.
We happened to be passing when it was done. In fact,
he added, I rather suspect that the missile, whatever it was,

(14:21):
was intended for our benefit. Oh said the man who
done it? That I can't say, replied Thorndyke. Whoever he was,
He made off on a bicycle and we were unable
to catch him. Oh, said the man, once more, regarding
us with growing suspicion. On a bicycle. Hey, damn funny,

(14:42):
ain't it? What did he do with it? That is
what I should like to find out, said Thorndyke. I
see this house is empty, Yes, it's empty. Leastways it's
to let I'm the caretaker. But what's that got to
do with it? Merely this, answered Thorndyke. That the object, stone, bullet,
or whatever it may have been, was aimed. I believe

(15:03):
at me, and I should like to ascertain its nature.
Would you do me the favor of permitting me to
look for it? The caretaker was evidently inclined to refuse
this request, for he glanced suspiciously from my companion to
me once or twice before replying. But at length he
turned towards the open door and gruffly invited us to enter.

(15:24):
A paraffin lamp was on the floor in a recess
of the hall, and this our conductor took up when
he had closed the street door. This is the room,
he said, turning the key and thrusting the door open.
The library they call it, but it's the front parlor
in plain English. He entered, and, holding the lamp above
his head, stared balefully at the broken window. Thorndyke glanced

(15:45):
quickly along the floor in the direction of the missile
would have taken, and then said, do you see any
mark on the wall there? As he spoke, he indicated
the wall opposite the window, which obviously could not have
been struck by a projectile entering with such extreme obliquity.
And I was about to point out this fact when
I fortunately remembered the great virtue of silence. Our friend

(16:08):
approached the wall, still holding up the lamp, and scrutinized
the surface with close attention. And while he was thus engaged,
I observed Thorndyke stoop quickly and pick up something, which
he deposited carefully and without remark, in his waistcoat pocket.
I don't see no bruise anywhere, said the caretaker, sweeping
his hand over the wall. Perhaps the thing struck this wall,

(16:31):
suggested Thorndyke, pointing to the one that was actually in
the line of fire. Yes, of course, he added, it
would be this one. The shot came from Henry Street.
The caretaker crossed the room and through the light of
the lamp on the wall, thus indicated, Ah, here we are,
he exclaimed, with gloomy satisfaction, pointing to a small dent

(16:52):
in which the wall paper was turned back and the
plaster exposed. Looks almost like a bullet mark. But you
say you didn't hear no report, No, said Thorndyke. There
was no report. It must have been a catapult. The
caretaker set the lamp down on the floor and proceeded
to grope about for the projectile, in which operation we
both assisted and I could not suppress a faint smile

(17:14):
as I noticed the earnestness with which Thorndyke peered about
the floor in search of the missile that was quietly
reposing in his waistcoat pocket. We were deep in our
investigations when there was heard an uncompromising double knock at
the street door, followed by the loud pealing of a
bell in the basement. Bobby, I suppose, growled the caretaker.

(17:34):
Here's a bloomin fuss about nothin. He caught up the
lamp and went out, leaving us in the dark. I
picked it up, you know, said Thorndyke. When we were alone.
I saw you, I answered, good, I applaud your discretion.
He rejoined. The caretaker's supposition was correct. When he returned,
he was accompanied by a burly constable, who saluted us

(17:56):
with a cheerful smile and glanced facetiously round the empty room.
Our boys, said, he nodding toward the broken window. They're
playful lads, that they are. You are passing when it happened, sir,
I hear, yes, answered Thorndyke, and he gave the constable
a brief account of the occurrence, which the latter listened
to no book in hand, well, said he. When the

(18:19):
narrative concluded. If those hooligan boys are going to take
to catapults, they'll make things lively all around. You ought
to run some of them in, said the caretaker. Run
em in, exclaimed the constable in a tone of disgust. Yes,
and then the magistrate will tell em to be good
boys and give 'em five shillings out of the poor
box to buy illustrated testaments. I'd testament them worthless barmits.

(18:44):
He rammed his note book fiercely into his pocket and
stalked out of the room into the street, whither we followed.
You'll find that bullet or stone when you sweep up
the room, he said, as he turned on to his beat,
And you'd better let us have it. Good night, sir.
He strolled off toward Henry Street, while Thorndyke and I
resumed our journey southward. Why were you so secret about

(19:07):
that projectile, I asked my friend as we walked up
the street, partly to avoid discussion with the caretaker, he replied,
but principally because I thought it likely that a constable
would pass the house, and seeing the light come in
to make inquiries, and then then I should have to
hand the object over to him. And why not? Is
the object a specially interesting one? It is highly interesting

(19:30):
to me at the present moment, replied Thorndyke with a chuckle,
because I have not examined it. I have a theory
as to its nature, which theory I should like to
test before taking the police into my confidence. Are you
going to take me into your confidence? I asked, when
we get home, if you are not too sleepy, he replied.
On our arrival at his chambers, Thorndyke desired me to

(19:53):
light up and clear one end of the table while
he went to the workshop to fetch some tools. I
turned back the table cover and and having adjusted the
gas so as to light this part of the table,
waited in some impatience for my colleague's return. In a
few minutes he re entered bearing a small vice, a
metal saw, and a wide mouthed bottle. What have you

(20:14):
got in that bottle, I asked, perceiving a metal object
inside it. That is the projectile which I have thought
fit to rinse in distilled water for reasons that will
presently appear. He agitated, the bottle gently for a minute
or so, and then, with a pair of dissecting forceps,
lifted out the object and held it above the surface
of the water to drain, after which he laid it

(20:36):
carefully on a piece of blotting paper. I stooped over
the projectile and examined it with great curiosity, while Thorndyke
stood by, regarding me with an almost equal interest. Well,
he said, after watching me in silence for some time,
what do you see? I see a small brass cylinder,
I answered, about two inches long and rather thicker than

(20:58):
an ordinary lead pencil. One end is conical, and there
is a small hole at the apex, which seems to
contain a steel point. The other end is flat, but
has in the center a small square projection, such as
might fit a watch key. I notice also a small
hole in the side of the cylinder close to the
flat end. The thing looks like a miniature shell and

(21:20):
appears to be hollow. It is hollow, said Thorndyke. You
must have observed that when I held it up to drain,
the water trickling out through the hole at the pointed end. Yes,
I noticed that. Now take it up and shake it.
I did so, and felt some heavy object rattle inside it.
There is some looser body inside it, I said, which

(21:42):
fits it pretty closely, as it moves only in the
long diameter. Quite so, your description is excellent. And now
what is the nature of this projectile? I should say
it is a miniature shell or explosive bullet, wrong, said Thorndyke.
Very natural inference, but a wrong one. Then what is

(22:03):
the thing? I demanded, my curiosity still further aroused. I
will show you, he replied. It is something much more
subtle than an explosive bullet, which would really be a
rather crude appliance, admirably thought out and thoroughly well executed.
We have to deal with the most ingenious and capable man.
I was fain to laugh at his enthusiastic appreciation of

(22:26):
the methods of his would be assassin, and the humor
of the situation then appeared to dawn on him, for
he said, with an apologetic smile, I am not expressing approval,
you must understand, but merely professional admiration. It is this
class of criminal that creates the necessity for my services.
He is my patron, so to speak, my ultimate employer.

(22:47):
For the common crook can be dealt with quite efficiently
by the common policeman. While he was speaking, he had
been fitting the little cylinder between two pads of tissue
paper in the vice, which he now screwed up tight.
Then with the fine metal saw, he began to cut
the projectile lengthwise into two slightly unequal parts. This operation

(23:08):
took some time, especially since he was careful not to
cut the loose body inside, But at length the section
was completed and the interior of the cylinder exposed when
he released it from the vice and held it up
before me with an expression of triumph. Now what do
you make of it? He demanded. I took the object
in my fingers and looked at it closely, but was

(23:29):
at first more puzzled than before. The loose body I
now saw to be a cylinder of lead, about half
an inch long, accurately fitting the inside of the cylinder,
but capable of sliding freely backwards and forwards. The steel
point which I had noticed in the hole at the
apex of the conical end, was now seen to be
the pointed termination of a slender steel rod, which projected

(23:51):
fully an inch into the cavity of the cylinder, and
the conical end itself was a solid mass of lead. Well,
queried Thorndyke. Seeing that I was silent, You tell me
it is not an explosive bullet, I replied, Otherwise I
should have been confirmed in that opinion. I should have
said that the percussion cap was carried by this lead

(24:12):
plunger and struck on the end of that steel rod
when the flight of the bullet was suddenly arrested. Very good, indeed,
said Thorndyke. You are right so far as this is
in fact the mechanism of a percussion shell. But look
at this. You see this little rod was driven inside
the bullet when the latter struck the wall. Let us
replace it in its original position. He laid the end

(24:36):
of a small flat file against the end of the
rod and pressed it firmly when the rod slid through
the hole until it projected an inch beyond the apex
of the cone. Then he handed the projectile back to me.
A single glance at the point of the steel rod
made the whole thing clear, and I gave a whistle
of consternation. For the rod was a fine tube with

(24:57):
a sharply pointed end. The infernal scoundrel, I exclaimed, It
is a hypodermic needle. Yes, a veterinary hypodermic of extra
large bore. Now you see the subtlety and ingenuity of
the whole thing. If he had had a reasonable chance,
he would certainly have succeeded. You speak quite regretfully, I said,

(25:21):
laughing at the oddity of his attitude towards the assassin.
Not at all, he replied, I have the character of
a single handed player. But even the most self reliant
man can hardly make a post mortem on himself. I
am merely appreciating an admirable piece of mechanical design, most
efficiently carried out. Observe the completeness of the thing, and

(25:41):
the way in which all the necessities of the case
are foreseen and met. This projectile was discharged from a
powerful air gun, the walking stick form provided with a
force pump and key. The barrel of that gun was rifled.
How do you know that, I asked? Well? To begin with,
it would be useless to fit a needle to the

(26:02):
projectile unless the latter was made to travel with the
point forwards. But there is direct evidence that the barrel
was rifled. You noticed the little square projection on the
back surface of the cylinder that was evidently made to
fit a washer or wad, probably a thin plate of
soft metal, which would be driven by the pressure from
behind into the grooves of the rifling, and thus give

(26:24):
a spinning motion to the bullet. When the latter left
the barrel, the wad would drop off, leaving it free.
I see, I was wondering what the square projection was for.
It is, as you say, extremely ingenious, highly and genius,
said Thorndyke, enthusiastically. And so is the whole device. See

(26:44):
how perfectly it would have worked but for a mere fluke,
and for the complication of your presence. Supposing that I
had been alone, so that he could have approached to
a shorter distance. In that case he would not have missed,
and the thing would have been done. You see how
it was intended to be done, I suppose, I think, so,
I answered, But I should like to hear your account
of the process. Well, you see, he first finds out

(27:07):
that I am returning by a late train, which he
seems to have done, and he waits for me at
the terminus. Meanwhile, he fills the cylinder with a solution
of a powerful alkaloidal poison, which is easily done by
dipping the needle into the liquid and sucking at the
small hole near the back end. When the piston will
be drawn up and the liquid will follow it, you
notice that the upper side of the piston is covered

(27:28):
with vaciline introduced through the hole, no doubt, which would
prevent the poison from coming out into the mouth and
make the cylinder secure from leakage. On my arrival, he
follows me on his bicycle until I pass through a
sufficiently secluded neighborhood. Then he approaches me or passes me,
and waits round a corner and shoots at pretty close range.

(27:49):
It doesn't matter where he hits me. All parts are
equally vital, so he can aim at the middle of
my back. Then the bullet comes spinning through the air
point foremost the needle passes through the clothing and enters
the flesh, and as the bullet is suddenly stopped, the
heavy piston flies down by its own great momentum and
squirts out a jet of the poison into the tissues.

(28:10):
The bullet then disengages itself and drops on to the ground. Meanwhile,
our friend has mounted his bicycle and is off, And
when I feel the prick of the needle, I turn, and,
without stopping to look for the bullet, immediately give chase.
I am, of course not able to overtake a man
on a racing machine, but still I follow him some distance.
Then the poison begins to take effect the more rapidly

(28:32):
from the violent exercise, and presently I drop insensible. Later
on my body is found there are no marks of violence,
and possibly the needle puncture escapes observation at the post mortem,
in which case the verdict will be death from heart failure.
Even if the poison in the puncture are discovered, there
is no clue. The bullet lies some streets away and

(28:53):
is probably picked up by some boy or passing stranger
who cannot conjecture its use, and who would never connect
it with the man who has found dead. You will
admit that the whole plan has been worked out with
surprising completeness and foresight. Yes, I answered, there is no
doubt that the fellow is a most infernally clever scoundrel.
May I ask if you have any idea who he is? Well,

(29:17):
Thorndyke replied, seeing that as Carlyle has unkindly pointed out
clever people are not in an overwhelming majority, and that
of the clever people whom I know, only a very
few are interested in my immediate demise. I am able
to form a fairly probable conjecture. And what do you
mean to do? For the present? I shall maintain an

(29:37):
attitude of masterly inactivity and avoid the night air. But surely,
I exclaimed, you will take some measures to protect yourself
against attempts of this kind. You can hardly doubt now
that your accident in the fog was really an attempted murder.
I never did doubt it as a matter of fact,
although I prevaricated at the time. But I have not

(29:59):
enough evidence. Again, this man at present and consequently, can
do nothing but show that I suspect him, which would
be foolish. Whereas if I lie low, one of two
things will happen. Either the occasion for my removal, which
is only a temporary one, will pass, or he will
commit himself and will put a definite clue into my hands.
Then we shall find the air cane, the bicycle, perhaps

(30:21):
a little stock of poison, and certain other trifles that
I have in mind. Which will be good confirmatory evidence,
though insufficient in themselves. And now I think I really
must adjourn this meeting, or we shall be good for
nothing tomorrow. End of Chapter eleven.