March 31, 2025 • 44 mins
Tales of Terror and Mystery is a spine-tingling collection of short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, masterfully blending suspense, horror, and the unexplained. Divided into two parts—Tales of Terror and Tales of Mystery—the book explores eerie encounters, unsettling twists, and haunting atmospheres. From psychological thrills to scientific enigmas, Doyle steps beyond his famous detective tales to deliver chilling narratives that captivate and disturb. Perfect for fans of classic gothic fiction and supernatural suspense, this collection reveals a darker, more mysterious side of Doyle’s literary genius. For more thrilling content and engaging podcasts, visit https://www.quietperiodplease.com/.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle, The
Men with the Watches. 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
Marta Kognowska Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle,
(00:22):
The Man with the Watches. There are many who will
still bear in mind the singular circumstances which, under the
heading of the Rugby Mystery, filled many columns of the
Daily Press in the spring of the year eighteen ninety two,
Coming as it did at a period of exceptional dullness.
It attracted perhaps rather more attention than it deserved, but
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it offered to the public that mixture of the whimsical
and the tragic which is most stimulating to the popular imagination.
Interests drooped, however, when after weeks of ruthless investigation, it
was found that no final explanation of the facts was forthcoming,
and the tragedy seemed, from that time to the present
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to have finally taken its place in the dark catalog
of inexplicable and unexpeated crimes. A recent communication, the authenticity
of which appears to be of both questioned, has however,
thrown some new and clear light upon the matter before
laying it, Before laying it before the public, it would
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be as well, perhaps that I should refresh their memories
as to the singular facts upon which this commentary is founded.
These facts were briefly as follows. At five o'clock on
the evening of the eighteenth of March, in the year
already mentioned, a train left Houston Station for Manchester. It
was a rainy, squally day, which grew wilder as it progressed.
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So it was by no means the weather in which
anyone would travel who was not driven to do so
by necessity. The train, however, is a favorite one among
Manchester businessmen who are returning from town, for it does
the journey in four hours and twenty minutes, with only
three stoppages upon the way, in spite of the inclement evening.
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It was therefore fairly well filled upon the occasion of
which I speak. The guard of the train was a
tried servant of the company, a man who had worked
for twenty two years without a blemish or complaint. His
name was John Palmer. The station clock was upon the
stroke of five, and the guard was about to give
the customary signal to the engine driver when he observed
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two belated passengers hurrying down the platform. The one was
an exceptionally tall man, dressed in a long black overcoat
with Astrakhan collar and calfs. I have already said that
the evening was an inclement one, and the tall traveler
had the high warm collar turned up to protect his
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throat against the bitter march wind. He appeared, as far
as the guard could judge by so hurried an inspection,
to be a man between fifty and sixty years of age,
who had retained a good deal of the vigor and
activity of his youth. In one hand, he carried a
brown leather gladstone back. His companion was a lady, tall
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and erect, walking with a vigorous step which outpaced the
gentleman beside her. She wore a long fawn colored dust cloak,
a black close fitting toque, and a dark veil which
concealed the greater part of her face. The two might
very well have passed as father and daughter. They walked
swiftly down the line of carriages, glancing in at the
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windows until the guard, John Palmer, overtook them. Now then, sir,
look sharp, the train is going, said he first class,
the man answered. The guard turned the handle of the
nearest door in the carriage, which he had opened. There
sat a small man with a cigar in his mouth.
His appearance to have impressed itself upon the guard's memory,
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for he was prepared afterwards to describe or to identify him.
He was a man of thirty four or thirty five
years of age, dressed in some gray material, sharp nosed, alert,
with a ruddy, weather beaten face, and a small, closely
cropped black bird. He glanced up as the door was opened.
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The tall man paused with his foot upon the step.
This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes smoke, said he,
looking round at the guard. All right, here you are, sir,
said John Palmer. He slammed the door of the smoking carriage,
opened that of the next one, which was empty, and
thrust the two travelers in. At the same moment, he
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sounded his whistle, and the wheels of the train began
to move. The man with the cigar was at the
window of his carriage and said something to the guard
as he rolled past. Him, but the the wards were
lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmer stepped into
the guard's van as it came up to him, and
thought no more of the incident. Twelve minutes after its departure,
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the train reached Willesden Junction, where it stopped for a
very short interval. An examination of the tickets had made
it certain that no one either joined or left it
at this time, and no passenger was seen to alight
upon the platform. At five fourteen the journey to Manchester
was resumed, and Rugby was reached at six point fifty,
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the express being five minutes late a Rugby. The attention
of the station officials was drawn to the fact that
the door of one of the first class carriages was open.
An examination of that compartment and of its neighbor disclosed
a remarkable state of affairs. The smoking carriage in which
the short, red faced man with the black bird had
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been seen was now empty for a half smoked cigar.
There was no trace whatever of its recent occupant. The
door of this carriage was fastened. In the next compartment
to which attention had been originally drawn, there was no
sign either of the gentlemen with the Astrakhan collar or
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of the young lady who accompanied him. All three passengers
had disappeared. On the other hand, there was found upon
the floor of this carriage, the one in which the
tall traveler and the lady had been, a young man,
fashionably dressed and of elegant appearance. He lay, with his
knees drawn up and his head resting against the farther door,
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an elbow upon either seat. A bullet had penetrated his heart,
and his death must have been instantaneous. No one had
seen such a man enter the train, and no railway
ticket was found in his pocket. Neither were there any
markings upon his linen, nor papers, nor personal property which
might help to identify him. Who he was, whence he
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had come, and how he had met his end were
each as great a mystery as what had occurred to
the three people who had started an hour and a
half before from Willesden. In those two compartments I have
said that there was no personal property which might help
to identify him. But it is true that there was
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one peculiarity about this unknown young man, which was much
commented upon at the time. In his pockets were found
no fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in the
various pockets of his waistcoat, one in his ticket pocket
and one in his breast pocket, and one small one
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set in a leather strap and fastened round his left wrist.
The obvious explanation that the man was a pickpocket and
that this was his plunder was discounted by the fact
that all six were of American make and of a
type which is rare in England. Three of them bore
the mark of the Rochester watchmaking Company, one was by
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Mason of Elmira, one was unmarked, and the small one,
which was highly jeweled and ornamented, was from Tiffany of
New York. The other contents of his pocket consisted of
an ivory knife with a corkscrew by Rogers of Sheffield,
a small circular mirror one inch in diameter, a readmission
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to slip to the Lyceum theater, a silver box full
of Vesta matches, and a brown leather cigar case containing
two cheiroots, also two pounds fourteen shillings in money. It
was clear then that whatever motives may have led to
his death, robbery was not among them. As already mentioned,
there were no markings upon the men's linen, which appeared
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to be new, and no tailor's name upon his coat.
In appearance, he was young, short, smooth cheeked, and delicately featured.
One of his front teeth was conspicuously stopped with gold.
On the discovery of the tragedy, an examination was instantly
made of the tickets of all passengers, and the number
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of the passengers themselves was counted. It was found that
only three tickets were unaccounted for, corresponding to the three
travelers who were missing. The express was then allowed to proceed,
but the new guard was sent with it, and John
Palmer was detained as a witness. At Rugby. The carriage,
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which included the two compartments in question, was uncoupled and
side tracked. Then, on the arrival of Inspector Vane of
Scotland Yard and of mister Henderson, a detective in the
service of the railway Company, an exhaustive inquiry was made
into all the circumstances that crime had been committed. Was
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certain the bullet, which appeared to have come from a
small pistol or revolver, had been fired from some little distance,
as there was no scorching of the clothes. No weapon
was found in the compartment, which finally disposed of the
theory of suicide, nor was there any sign of the
brown leather bag which the guard had seen in the
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hand of the tall gentleman. A lady's parasol was found
upon the wreck, but no other trace was to be
seen of the travelers in either of the sections. Apart
from the crime, the question of how or why three passengers,
one of them a lady, could get out of the
train and one other get in during the unbroken run
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between Willesden and Rugby was one which excited utmost curiosity
among the general public, and gave rise to much speculations
in the London press. John Palmer, the Guard, was able
at the inquest to give some evidence which threw a
little light upon the matter. There was a spot between
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Tring and Cheddington, according to his statement, where on account
of some repairs to the line, the train had, for
a few minutes slowed down to a pace not exceeding
eight or ten miles an hour. At that place it
might be possible for a man, or even for an
exceptionally active woman, to have left the train without serious injury.
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It was true that a gang of plate layers was there,
and that they had seen nothing, but it was their
custom to stand in the middle between the metals, and
the open carriage door was upon the far side, so
that it was conceivable that someone might have alighted unseen,
as the darkness would by that time be drawing in
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a steep embankment would instantly screen anyone who sprang out.
From the observation of the navies. The guard also deposed
that there was a good deal of movement upon the
platform at Willsden junction, and that though it was certain
that no one had either joined or left the train there,
it was still quite possible that some of the passengers
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might have changed unseen from one compartment to another. It
was by no means uncommon for a gentleman to finish
his cigar in a smoking carriage and then to change
to a clearer atmosphere. Supposing that the man with the
blackbird had done so at Willesden, and the half smoked
cigar upon the floor seemed to favor this position, he
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would naturally go into the nearest section, which would bring
him into the company of the two other actress in
this drama. Thus, the first stage of the affair might
be surmised without any great breach of probability, But what
the second stage had been, or how the final one
had been arrived at, Neither the guard nor the experienced
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detective officers could suggest. A Careful examination of the line
between when Willesden and Rugby resulted in one discovery which
might or might not have a bearing upon the tragedy.
Near Trying, at the very place where the train slowed down,
there was found, at the bottom of the embankment a
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small pocket testament, very shaby and worn. It was printed
by the Bible Society of London and bore an inscription
from John to Ellis January thirteenth, eighteen fifty six. Upon
the fly leaf. Underneath was written James July the fourteenth,
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eighteen fifty nine, and beneath that again Edward November first,
eighteen sixty nine, all the entries being in the same handwriting.
This was the only clue, if it could be called
a clue, which the police obtained, and the coroner's verdict
of murder by a person or persons unknown was the
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unsatisfactory ending of a singular case. Advertisements, rewards and inquiris
proved equally fruitless. And nothing could be found which was
solid enough to form the basis for a profitable investigation.
It would be a mystake, however, to suppose that no
theories were formed to account for the facts. On the contrary,
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the press, both in England and in America teemed with
suggestions and suppositions, most of which were obviously absurd. The
fact that the watches were of American make, and some
peculiarities in connection with the gold stopping of his front tooth,
appeared to indicate that the deceased was a citizen of
the United States, though his linen, clothes and boots were
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undoubtedly of British manufacture. It was surmised by some that
he was concealed under the seat, and that being discovered,
he was for some reason, possibly because he had overheard
their guilty secrets put to death by his fellow passe.
When coupled with generalities as to the ferocity and cunning
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of anarchical and other secret societies, this theory sounded as
plausible as any. The fact that he should be without
a ticket would be consistent with the idea of concealment,
and it was well known that women played a prominent
part in the a nihilistic propaganda. On the other hand,
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it was clear from the guard's statement that the men
must have been hidden there before the others arrived, and
how unlikely the coincidence that conspirators should stray exactly into
the very compartment in which a spy was already concealed. Besides,
this explanation ignored the man in the smoking carriage and
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gave no reason at all for his simultaneous disappearance. The
police had little difficulty in showing that such a theory
would not cover the facts, but they were unprepared, in
the absence of evidence, to advance any alternative explanation. There
was a letter in the Daily Gazette over the signature
of a well known criminal investigator, which gave rise to
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considerable discussion. At the time, he had formed a hypothesis
which had at least ingenuity to recommend it, and I
cannot do better than append it in his own words.
Whatever may be the truth, said him, it must depend
upon some bizarre and rare combination of events. So we
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need have no hesitation in postulating such events in our explanation.
In the absence of data, we must abandon the analytic
or scientific method of investigation, and must approach it in
the synthetic fashion. In a word, instead of taking known
events and deducing from them what has occurred, we must
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build up a fanciful explanation. If it will only be
consistent with known events. We can then test this explanation
by any fresh facts which may arise. If they all
fit into their places, the probability is that we are
upon the right track, and with each fresh fact this
probability increases in a geometrical progression, until the evidence becomes
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final and convincing. Now there is one most remarkable and
suggestive fact which has not met with the attention which
it deserves. There is a local train running through Harrow
and King's Langley, which is timed in such a way
that the express must have overtaken it at or about
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the period when it eased down its speed to eight
miles an hour. On account of the repairs of the line.
The two trains would at the time be traveling in
the same direction, at a similar rate of speed, and
upon parallel lines. It is within everyone's experience how under
such circumstances the occupant of each carriage can see very
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plainly the passengers in the other carriages opposite to him.
The lamps of the express had been lit at Willesden,
so that each compartment was brightly illuminated and most visible
to an observer from outside. Now the sequence of events,
as I reconstruct them, would be after this fashion. This
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young man, with the abnormal number of watches was alone
in the carriage of the slow train. His ticket, with
his papers and gloves and other things, was we will suppose,
on the seat beside him. He was probably an American,
and also probably a man of weak intellect. The excessive
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wearing of jewelry is an early symptom in some forms
of mania. As he sat watching the carriages of the express,
which were, on account of the state of the line,
going at the same pace as himself, he suddenly saw
some people in it whom he knew. He would suppose,
for the sake of our theory, that these people were
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a woman whom he loved and the man whom he hated,
and who in return hated him. The young man was
excitable and impulsive. He opened the door of his carriage,
stepped from the footboard of the local train to the
footboard of the express, opened the other door, and made
his way into the presence of these two people, the
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feat on the supposition that the trains were going at
the same pace, is by no means so perilous as
it might appear. Having now got our young man without
his ticket, into the carriage in which the elder man
and the young woman are traveling, it is not difficult
to imagine that the violen scene ensued. It is possible
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that the pair were also Americans, which is the more
probable as the man carried a weapon, an unusual think
in England. If our supposition of incipient men is correct,
the young man is likely to have assaulted the other
as the upshot of the quarrel. The elder man shot
the intruder and then made his escape from the carriage,
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taking the young lady with him. We will suppose that
all this happened very rapidly, and that the train was
still going at so slow a pace that it was
not difficult for them to leave it. A woman might
leave a train going at eight miles an hour. As
a matter of fact, we know that this woman did
do so. And now we have to fit in the
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man in the smoking carriage. Presuming that we have up
to this point reconstructed the tragedy. Correctly, we shall find
nothing in this other man to cause us to reconsider
our conclusions. According to meteory, this man saw the young
fellow cross from one train to the other, saw him
open the door, heard the pistol shot, saw the two
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fugitives spring out onto the line, really eyes that murder
had been done, and sprang out himself in pursuit. Why
he has never been heard of since whether he met
his own death in the pursuit, or whether, as is
more likely, he was made to realize that it was
not the case for his interference is a detail which
we have at present no means of explaining. I acknowledge
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that there are some difficulties in the way. At first sight,
it might seem improbable that at such moment a murderer
would burden himself in his flight with a brown leather bag.
My answer is that he was well aware that if
the back were found, his identity would be established. It
was absolutely necessary for him to take it with him.
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My theory stands or falls upon one point, and I
call upon the railway company to make strict inquiry as
to whether a ticket was found and claimed in the
local train through Harrow and King's Langley upon the eighteenth
of March. If such a ticket were found, my case
is proved. If not, my theory may still be the
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correct one, for it is conceivable either that he traveled
without a ticket or that his ticket was lost. To
this elaborate and plausible hypothesis. The answer of the police
and of the company was first that no such ticket
was found, secondly that the slow train would never run
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parallel to the express, and thirdly that the local train
had been stationary in King's Langley station when the express,
going at fifty miles an hour had flashed past it.
So perish the only satisfying explanation, and five years have
elapsed without supplying a new one. Now at last there
comes a statement which covers all the facts, and which
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must be regarded as authentic. It took the shape of
a letter dated from New York and addressed to the
same criminal investigator whose theory I have quoted. It is
given here in extent, so with the exception of the
two opening paragraphs, which are personal in their nature. You'll
excuse me if I am not very free with names.
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There's less reason now than there was five years ago,
when mother was still living but for all that I
had rather cover up our tracks all I can, but
I owe you an explanation, for if your idea of
it was wrong, it was a mighty ingenious one. All
the same, I'll have to go back a little so
as you may understand all about it. My people came
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from bugs, England and emigrated to the States in the
early fifties. They settled in Rochester, in the state of
New York, where my father ran a large dry goods store.
There were only two sons, myself, James, and my brother Edward.
I was ten years older than my brother, and after
my father died, I sort of took the place of
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a father to him, as an elder brother would. He
was a bright, spirited boy and just one of the
most beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there was always
a soft spot in him, and it was like mold
in cheese, for it spread and spread, and nothing that
you could do would stop it. Mother saw it just
as clearly as I did, but she went on spoiling
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him all the same, for he had such a way
with him that you could refuse him. Nothing. I did
all I could to hold him in, and he hated
me for my pains. At last he fairly got his hat,
and nothing that we could do would stop him. He
got off into New York and went rapidly from bad
to wars. At first he was only fast, and then
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he was criminal, and then at the end of a
year or two he was one of the most notorious
young crooks in the city. He had formed a friendship
with Sparrow maccoy, who was at the head of his
profession as a banko, steerer, green goodsman, and general rascal.
They took to card sharping and frequented some of the
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best hotels in New York. My brother was an excellent actor.
He might have made an honest name for himself if
he had chosen. And he would take the parts of
a young englishman of title, of a simple lad from
the West, or of a college undergraduate, whichever suited Sparrow
McCoy's purpose. And then one day he dressed himself as
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a girl, and he carried it off so well and
made himself such a valuable decoy that it was their
favorite game. Afterwards, they had made it right with Tammany
and with the police, so it seemed as if nothing
could ever stop them. For those were in the days
before the LEXU Commission, and if you only had a pull,
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you could do pretty nearly everything you wanted, and nothing
would have stopped them if they had only stuck to
Cards and New York. But they must needs come up
Rochester Way and forge the name upon a check. It
was my brother that did it, though everyone knew that
it was under the influence Sparrow mac coy. I bought
up that check and a pretty sum it cost me.
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Then I went to my brother, laid it before him
on the table, and swore to him that I would
prosecute if he did not clear out of the country.
At first, he simply left. I could not prosecute, he said,
without breaking our mother's heart, and he knew that I
would not do that. I made him understand, however, that
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our mother's heart was being broken in any case, and
that I had set firm on the point that I
would rather see him in Rochester Go then in a
New York hotel. So at last he gave in, and
he made me a solemn promise that he would see
Sparrow mac coy no more, that he would go to Europe,
and that he would turn his hand to any honest
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trade that I helped him to get. I took him
down right away to an old family friend, Joe Wilson,
who is an exporter of American watches and clocks, and
I got him to give Edward an agency in London
with a small salary and a fifteen percent commission on
all business. His manner and appearance were so good that
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he won the old man over at once, and within
a week he was sent off to London with a
case full of samples. It seemed to me that his
business of the check had really given my brother a fright,
and that there was some chance of his settling down
into an honest line of life. My mother had spoken
with him, and what she said had touched him, for
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she had always been the best of mothers to him,
and he had been the greatest sorrow of her life.
But I knew that this man Sparrow mac coy had
a great influence over Edward, and my chance of keeping
the land straight lay in breaking the connection between them.
I had a friend in the New York Detective Force,
and through him I kept the watch upon mc coy.
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When within a fortnight of my brother's sailing, I heard
that mc coy had taken a burthe in the Etruria.
I was as certain as if he had told me
that he was going over to England for the purpose
of coaxing Edward back again into the ways that he
had left. In an instant I had resolved to go also,
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and to pit my influence against McCoy's. I knew it
was a losing fight, but I thought, and my mother thought,
that it was my duty. We passed the last night
together in prayer for my success, and she gave me
her own testament that my father had given her on
the day of their marriage in the old Country, so
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that I might always wear it next to my heart.
I was a fellow traveler on the steamship with Sparrow McCoy,
and at last I had the satisfaction of spoiling his
little game for the voyage. The very first night, I
went into the smoking room and found him at the
head of a card table with a half a dozen
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young fellows who were carrying their full purses and their
empty skulls over to Europe. He was settling down for
his harvest, and a rich one it would have been.
But I soon changed all that, gentlemen, said, I are
you aware whom you are playing with. What's that to you?
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You mind your own business, said he, with an oath.
Who is it anyway, asked one of the dudes. He's
Sparrow mac coy, the most notorious card sharper in the States.
Up he jumped with a bottle in his hand, but
he remembered that he was under the flag of the
affid old country where low and order run, and tammany
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has no pull. Gaul and the gallows wait for the
violence and murder, and there's no slipping out by the
back door on board an ocean liner. Prove your words,
you said he. I will, said I, if you will
turn up your right shirt sleeve to the shoulder, I
will either prove my words or I will eat them.
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He turned white and said not a word. You see,
I knew something of his ways, and I was aware
of that part of the mechanism which he and all
such sharpers use consists of an elastic down the arm
with a clip just above the wrist. It is by
means of this clip that they withdraw from the hands
the cards which they do not want, while they substitute
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other cards from another hiding place. I reconed on it
being there, and it was he cursed me, slunk out
of the saloon, and was hardly seen again during the voyage.
For once, at any rate, I got level with mister
Sparrow mac coyl. But he soon had his revenge upon me,
for when it came to influencing my brother, he outweighed
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me every time. Edward had kept himself straight in London
for the first few weeks and had done some business
with his American watches until this the villain came across
his path. Once more. I did my best, but the
best was little enough. The next thing I heard there
had been a scandal at one of the North Cumberland
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Avenue hotels. A traveler had been fleeced of a large
sum by two Confederate card sharpers, and the matter was
in the hands of Scotland Yard. The first I learned
of it was in the evening paper, and I was
at once certain that my brother and McCoy were back
at their old games. I hurried at once to Edward's lodgings.
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They told me that he and a tall gentleman whom
I recognized as McCoy, had gone off together, and that
he had left the lodgings and taken his things with him.
The landlady had heard them give several directions to the
cabmen ending with Euston station, and she had accidentally overheard
the tall gentleman saying something about Manchester. She believed that
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that was their destination. A glance at the time table
showed me that the most likely train was at five,
though there was another at four thirty five, which they
might have caught. I had only time to get the
later one, but found no sign of them, either at
the depot or in the train. They must have gone
on by the earlier one, so I determined to follow
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them to Manchester and search for them in the hotels there.
One last appeal to my brother, by all that he
owed to my mother might even now bit salvation of him.
My nerves were overstrung, and I lit a cigar to
steady them. At that moment, just as the train was
moving off, the door of my compartment was flung open,
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and there were mc coy and my brother on the platform.
They were both disguised, and with good reason, for they
knew that the London police were after them. Mc coy
had a great Astrakhan color drawn up so that only
his eyes and nose were showing. My brother was dressed
like a woman, with a black veil half down his face,
(33:01):
but of course it did not deceive me for an instant,
nor would it have done so even if I had
not known that he had often used such a dress
before I started up, and as I did so, McCoy
recognized me. He said something. The conductor slammed the door,
and they were shown into the next compartment. I tried
(33:22):
to stop the train so as to follow them, but
the wheels were already moving at it, and it was
too late. When we stopped at Willesden, I instantly changed
my carriage. It appeared that I was not seen to
do so, which is not surprising, as the station was
crowded with people. McCoy of course was expecting me, and
he had spent the time between Euston and Willesden in
(33:45):
saying all he could to harden my brother's heart and
set him against me. That is what I fancied, for
I had never found him so impossible to soften or
to move. I tried this way, and I tried that
I pictured his future in an English goal. I described
the sorrow of his mother when I came back with
the news. I said everything to touch his heart, but
(34:08):
all to no purpose. He sat there with a fixed
sneer upon his handsome face, while every now and then
Sparrow maccoy would throw in a taunted me or some
word of encouragement to hold my brother to his resolutions.
Why don't you run a Sunday school, he would say
to me, And then in the same breath, he thinks
(34:28):
you have no will of your own. He thinks you
are just the baby brother, and that he can lead
you where he likes. He's only just finding out that
you are a man as well as he. It was
those words of his witch set me talking bitterly. We
had left Walesden, you understand, for all this took some time.
(34:49):
My temper got the better of me, and for the
first time in my life, I let my brother see
the rough side of me. Perhaps it would have been
better had I done so earlier and more often. A
man said, I, well, I'm glad to have your friend's
assurance of it, for no one would suspect it to
see you like a boarding school, missy. I don't suppose
(35:10):
in all this country there is a more contemptible looking
creature than you are, as you sit there with the
Dolly pinafore upon you. He colored up at that, for
he was a vain man, and he wins from ridicule.
It's only a dust cloak, he said, and he slipped
it off. One has to throw the coppers off one sand,
(35:32):
and I had no other way to do it. He
took his stalk off, with the veil attached, and he
put both in and the cloak into his brown bag. Anyway,
I don't need to wear it until the conductor comes round,
said he, Nor than either, said I, and taking the
(35:53):
bag I slugged it with all my force out of
the window. Now, said I. You'll never make a Mary
Jane of yourself while I can help it. If nothing
but that disguise stands between you and the goal, then
the goal you shall go. That was the way to
manage him. I felt my advantage at once. His supple
(36:15):
nature was one which yielded the roughness far more readily
than to entreaty. He flushed with shame, and his eyes
filled with tears. But mc coy saw my advantage also,
and was determined that I should not pursue it. He's
my part, and you shall not bully him, he cried.
(36:36):
He's my brother, and you shall not ruin him, said I.
I believe a spell of prison is the very best
way of keeping you apart, and you shall have it,
or it will be no fault of mine. Oh you
would squeal, would you? He cried? In an instant, he
weeped out his revolver. I sprang for his hand, but
(36:57):
saw that I was too late, and jumped aside. At
the same instant he fired, and the bullet which would
have struck me, passed through the heart of my unfortunate brother.
He dropped without a groan, upon the floor of the compartment,
and mac coy and I, equally horrified, knelt at each
side of him, trying to bring back some signs of life.
(37:20):
Mc coy still held the loaded revolver in his hand,
but his anger against me and my resentment towards him
had both for the moment been swallowed up in this
sudden tragedy. It was he who first realized the situation.
The train was for some reason going very slowly at
the moment, and he saw his opportunity for escape. In
(37:43):
an instant he had the door open, But I was
as quick as he, and jumping upon him. The two
of us fell off the footboard and rolled in each
other's arms down a steep embankment. At the bottom, I
struck my head against a stone, and I remembered nothing more.
When I came to myself, I was lying among some
(38:05):
low bushes, not far from the railroad track, and somebody
was baiting my head with a wet handkerchief. It was
Sparrow mac coy. I guess I couldn't leave you, said he.
I didn't want to have the blood of two of
you on my hands in one day. You loved your brother,
I've no doubt, but you didn't love him a cent
(38:25):
more than I loved him, though you'll say that I
took a queer way to show it. Anyhow, it seems
a mighty empty world now that he's gone, and I
don't care a continental whether you give me over to
the hangman or not. He had turned his ankle in
the fall, and there we sat, he with his useless foot,
(38:46):
and I with my troubing head, and we talked and talked,
until gradually my bitterness began to soften and to turn
into something like sympathy. What was the use of revenging
his death upon a man was as much stricken by
that death as I was. And then as my wits
gradually returned, I begin to realize also that I could
(39:09):
do nothing against McCoy which would not recoil upon my
mother and myself. How could we convict him without a
full account of my brother's career being made public, the
very thing which, of all others we wished to avoid.
It was really as much our interest as his to
cover the matter up. And from being an avenger of crime,
(39:32):
I found myself changed to a conspirator against justice. The
place in which we found ourselves was one of those
peasant preserves which are so common in the old country,
and as we groped our way through it, I found
myself consulting the slayer of my brother as to how
far it would be possible to hush it up. I
(39:54):
soon realized from what he said that unless there were
some papers of which we knew, not thinking, in my
brother's pockets, there was really no possible means by which
the police could identify him or learn how he had
got there. His ticket was in McCoy's pocket, and so
was the ticket for some baggage which they had left
at the depot. Like most Americans, he had found it
(40:17):
cheaper and easier to buy an outfit in London than
to bring one from New York, so that all his
linen and clothes were new and unmarked. The bag containing
the dust cloak, which I had thrown out of the window,
may have fallen among some bramble patch where it is
still concealed, or may have been carried off by some tramp,
(40:38):
or may have come into the possession of the police,
who kept the incident to themselves. Anyhow, I have seen
nothing about it in the London papers. As to the watches,
they were a selection from those which had been entrusted
to him for business purposes. It may have been for
the same business purposes that he was taking them to Manchester.
(41:00):
But well, it's too late to enter into that. I
don't blame the police for being at fault. I don't
see how it could have been otherwise. There was just
one little clue that might have followed up. But it
was a small one. I mean that small circular mirror
which was found in my brother's pocket. It isn't a
(41:20):
very common thing for young men to carry about with him,
is it. But a gambler might have told you what
such a mirror may mean to a card Sharper. If
you sit back a little from the table and lay
the mirror face upwards upon your lap, you can see
as you deal every card that you give to your adversary.
It is not hard to say whether you see a
(41:41):
man or raise him, when you know his cards as
well as your own. It was as much a part
of Sharper's outfit as the elastic clip upon Sporros mac
coy's arm, taking that, in connection with the recent frats
at the hotel's the police might have got hold of
one end of the string. I don't think there is
much more for me to explain. We got to a
(42:03):
village called Amersham that night in the character of two
gentlemen upon a walking tour, and afterwards we made our
way quietly to London, Whence mac coy went on to
Cairo and I returned to New York. My mother died
six months afterwards, and I am glad to say that
to the day of her death she never knew what happened.
(42:24):
She was always under the delusion that Edward was earning
and holnest living in London, and I never had the
heart to tell her the truth he never wrote, but
then he never did write it at any time, so
that made no difference. His name was the last upon
her lips. There's just one other thing that I have
to ask you, sir, and I should take it as
(42:45):
a kind return for all this explanation, if you could
do it for me. You remember the testament that was
picked up. I always carried it in my inside pocket,
and it must have come out in my fall. I
value it very highly, for it was the family book
with my birds and my brothers, marked by my father
in the beginning of it. I wish you would apply
(43:07):
at the proper place and have its sense to me.
It can be of no possible value to anyone else.
If you address it to ex Basenos Library, Broadway in
New York, it is sure to come to hand. And
of the Men with the Watches by Arthur Conan Doyle
recording by Marta Kornowsky
Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle, The
Men with the Watches. 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
Marta Kognowska Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle,
(00:22):
The Man with the Watches. There are many who will
still bear in mind the singular circumstances which, under the
heading of the Rugby Mystery, filled many columns of the
Daily Press in the spring of the year eighteen ninety two,
Coming as it did at a period of exceptional dullness.
It attracted perhaps rather more attention than it deserved, but
(00:46):
it offered to the public that mixture of the whimsical
and the tragic which is most stimulating to the popular imagination.
Interests drooped, however, when after weeks of ruthless investigation, it
was found that no final explanation of the facts was forthcoming,
and the tragedy seemed, from that time to the present
(01:06):
to have finally taken its place in the dark catalog
of inexplicable and unexpeated crimes. A recent communication, the authenticity
of which appears to be of both questioned, has however,
thrown some new and clear light upon the matter before
laying it, Before laying it before the public, it would
(01:27):
be as well, perhaps that I should refresh their memories
as to the singular facts upon which this commentary is founded.
These facts were briefly as follows. At five o'clock on
the evening of the eighteenth of March, in the year
already mentioned, a train left Houston Station for Manchester. It
was a rainy, squally day, which grew wilder as it progressed.
(01:50):
So it was by no means the weather in which
anyone would travel who was not driven to do so
by necessity. The train, however, is a favorite one among
Manchester businessmen who are returning from town, for it does
the journey in four hours and twenty minutes, with only
three stoppages upon the way, in spite of the inclement evening.
(02:12):
It was therefore fairly well filled upon the occasion of
which I speak. The guard of the train was a
tried servant of the company, a man who had worked
for twenty two years without a blemish or complaint. His
name was John Palmer. The station clock was upon the
stroke of five, and the guard was about to give
the customary signal to the engine driver when he observed
(02:35):
two belated passengers hurrying down the platform. The one was
an exceptionally tall man, dressed in a long black overcoat
with Astrakhan collar and calfs. I have already said that
the evening was an inclement one, and the tall traveler
had the high warm collar turned up to protect his
(02:55):
throat against the bitter march wind. He appeared, as far
as the guard could judge by so hurried an inspection,
to be a man between fifty and sixty years of age,
who had retained a good deal of the vigor and
activity of his youth. In one hand, he carried a
brown leather gladstone back. His companion was a lady, tall
(03:18):
and erect, walking with a vigorous step which outpaced the
gentleman beside her. She wore a long fawn colored dust cloak,
a black close fitting toque, and a dark veil which
concealed the greater part of her face. The two might
very well have passed as father and daughter. They walked
swiftly down the line of carriages, glancing in at the
(03:40):
windows until the guard, John Palmer, overtook them. Now then, sir,
look sharp, the train is going, said he first class,
the man answered. The guard turned the handle of the
nearest door in the carriage, which he had opened. There
sat a small man with a cigar in his mouth.
His appearance to have impressed itself upon the guard's memory,
(04:03):
for he was prepared afterwards to describe or to identify him.
He was a man of thirty four or thirty five
years of age, dressed in some gray material, sharp nosed, alert,
with a ruddy, weather beaten face, and a small, closely
cropped black bird. He glanced up as the door was opened.
(04:25):
The tall man paused with his foot upon the step.
This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes smoke, said he,
looking round at the guard. All right, here you are, sir,
said John Palmer. He slammed the door of the smoking carriage,
opened that of the next one, which was empty, and
thrust the two travelers in. At the same moment, he
(04:48):
sounded his whistle, and the wheels of the train began
to move. The man with the cigar was at the
window of his carriage and said something to the guard
as he rolled past. Him, but the the wards were
lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmer stepped into
the guard's van as it came up to him, and
thought no more of the incident. Twelve minutes after its departure,
(05:11):
the train reached Willesden Junction, where it stopped for a
very short interval. An examination of the tickets had made
it certain that no one either joined or left it
at this time, and no passenger was seen to alight
upon the platform. At five fourteen the journey to Manchester
was resumed, and Rugby was reached at six point fifty,
(05:34):
the express being five minutes late a Rugby. The attention
of the station officials was drawn to the fact that
the door of one of the first class carriages was open.
An examination of that compartment and of its neighbor disclosed
a remarkable state of affairs. The smoking carriage in which
the short, red faced man with the black bird had
(05:57):
been seen was now empty for a half smoked cigar.
There was no trace whatever of its recent occupant. The
door of this carriage was fastened. In the next compartment
to which attention had been originally drawn, there was no
sign either of the gentlemen with the Astrakhan collar or
(06:17):
of the young lady who accompanied him. All three passengers
had disappeared. On the other hand, there was found upon
the floor of this carriage, the one in which the
tall traveler and the lady had been, a young man,
fashionably dressed and of elegant appearance. He lay, with his
knees drawn up and his head resting against the farther door,
(06:41):
an elbow upon either seat. A bullet had penetrated his heart,
and his death must have been instantaneous. No one had
seen such a man enter the train, and no railway
ticket was found in his pocket. Neither were there any
markings upon his linen, nor papers, nor personal property which
might help to identify him. Who he was, whence he
(07:05):
had come, and how he had met his end were
each as great a mystery as what had occurred to
the three people who had started an hour and a
half before from Willesden. In those two compartments I have
said that there was no personal property which might help
to identify him. But it is true that there was
(07:27):
one peculiarity about this unknown young man, which was much
commented upon at the time. In his pockets were found
no fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in the
various pockets of his waistcoat, one in his ticket pocket
and one in his breast pocket, and one small one
(07:48):
set in a leather strap and fastened round his left wrist.
The obvious explanation that the man was a pickpocket and
that this was his plunder was discounted by the fact
that all six were of American make and of a
type which is rare in England. Three of them bore
the mark of the Rochester watchmaking Company, one was by
(08:11):
Mason of Elmira, one was unmarked, and the small one,
which was highly jeweled and ornamented, was from Tiffany of
New York. The other contents of his pocket consisted of
an ivory knife with a corkscrew by Rogers of Sheffield,
a small circular mirror one inch in diameter, a readmission
(08:35):
to slip to the Lyceum theater, a silver box full
of Vesta matches, and a brown leather cigar case containing
two cheiroots, also two pounds fourteen shillings in money. It
was clear then that whatever motives may have led to
his death, robbery was not among them. As already mentioned,
there were no markings upon the men's linen, which appeared
(08:58):
to be new, and no tailor's name upon his coat.
In appearance, he was young, short, smooth cheeked, and delicately featured.
One of his front teeth was conspicuously stopped with gold.
On the discovery of the tragedy, an examination was instantly
made of the tickets of all passengers, and the number
(09:18):
of the passengers themselves was counted. It was found that
only three tickets were unaccounted for, corresponding to the three
travelers who were missing. The express was then allowed to proceed,
but the new guard was sent with it, and John
Palmer was detained as a witness. At Rugby. The carriage,
(09:39):
which included the two compartments in question, was uncoupled and
side tracked. Then, on the arrival of Inspector Vane of
Scotland Yard and of mister Henderson, a detective in the
service of the railway Company, an exhaustive inquiry was made
into all the circumstances that crime had been committed. Was
(10:01):
certain the bullet, which appeared to have come from a
small pistol or revolver, had been fired from some little distance,
as there was no scorching of the clothes. No weapon
was found in the compartment, which finally disposed of the
theory of suicide, nor was there any sign of the
brown leather bag which the guard had seen in the
(10:23):
hand of the tall gentleman. A lady's parasol was found
upon the wreck, but no other trace was to be
seen of the travelers in either of the sections. Apart
from the crime, the question of how or why three passengers,
one of them a lady, could get out of the
train and one other get in during the unbroken run
(10:45):
between Willesden and Rugby was one which excited utmost curiosity
among the general public, and gave rise to much speculations
in the London press. John Palmer, the Guard, was able
at the inquest to give some evidence which threw a
little light upon the matter. There was a spot between
(11:05):
Tring and Cheddington, according to his statement, where on account
of some repairs to the line, the train had, for
a few minutes slowed down to a pace not exceeding
eight or ten miles an hour. At that place it
might be possible for a man, or even for an
exceptionally active woman, to have left the train without serious injury.
(11:28):
It was true that a gang of plate layers was there,
and that they had seen nothing, but it was their
custom to stand in the middle between the metals, and
the open carriage door was upon the far side, so
that it was conceivable that someone might have alighted unseen,
as the darkness would by that time be drawing in
(11:50):
a steep embankment would instantly screen anyone who sprang out.
From the observation of the navies. The guard also deposed
that there was a good deal of movement upon the
platform at Willsden junction, and that though it was certain
that no one had either joined or left the train there,
it was still quite possible that some of the passengers
(12:11):
might have changed unseen from one compartment to another. It
was by no means uncommon for a gentleman to finish
his cigar in a smoking carriage and then to change
to a clearer atmosphere. Supposing that the man with the
blackbird had done so at Willesden, and the half smoked
cigar upon the floor seemed to favor this position, he
(12:33):
would naturally go into the nearest section, which would bring
him into the company of the two other actress in
this drama. Thus, the first stage of the affair might
be surmised without any great breach of probability, But what
the second stage had been, or how the final one
had been arrived at, Neither the guard nor the experienced
(12:54):
detective officers could suggest. A Careful examination of the line
between when Willesden and Rugby resulted in one discovery which
might or might not have a bearing upon the tragedy.
Near Trying, at the very place where the train slowed down,
there was found, at the bottom of the embankment a
(13:15):
small pocket testament, very shaby and worn. It was printed
by the Bible Society of London and bore an inscription
from John to Ellis January thirteenth, eighteen fifty six. Upon
the fly leaf. Underneath was written James July the fourteenth,
(13:35):
eighteen fifty nine, and beneath that again Edward November first,
eighteen sixty nine, all the entries being in the same handwriting.
This was the only clue, if it could be called
a clue, which the police obtained, and the coroner's verdict
of murder by a person or persons unknown was the
(13:58):
unsatisfactory ending of a singular case. Advertisements, rewards and inquiris
proved equally fruitless. And nothing could be found which was
solid enough to form the basis for a profitable investigation.
It would be a mystake, however, to suppose that no
theories were formed to account for the facts. On the contrary,
(14:20):
the press, both in England and in America teemed with
suggestions and suppositions, most of which were obviously absurd. The
fact that the watches were of American make, and some
peculiarities in connection with the gold stopping of his front tooth,
appeared to indicate that the deceased was a citizen of
the United States, though his linen, clothes and boots were
(14:44):
undoubtedly of British manufacture. It was surmised by some that
he was concealed under the seat, and that being discovered,
he was for some reason, possibly because he had overheard
their guilty secrets put to death by his fellow passe.
When coupled with generalities as to the ferocity and cunning
(15:05):
of anarchical and other secret societies, this theory sounded as
plausible as any. The fact that he should be without
a ticket would be consistent with the idea of concealment,
and it was well known that women played a prominent
part in the a nihilistic propaganda. On the other hand,
(15:26):
it was clear from the guard's statement that the men
must have been hidden there before the others arrived, and
how unlikely the coincidence that conspirators should stray exactly into
the very compartment in which a spy was already concealed. Besides,
this explanation ignored the man in the smoking carriage and
(15:47):
gave no reason at all for his simultaneous disappearance. The
police had little difficulty in showing that such a theory
would not cover the facts, but they were unprepared, in
the absence of evidence, to advance any alternative explanation. There
was a letter in the Daily Gazette over the signature
of a well known criminal investigator, which gave rise to
(16:09):
considerable discussion. At the time, he had formed a hypothesis
which had at least ingenuity to recommend it, and I
cannot do better than append it in his own words.
Whatever may be the truth, said him, it must depend
upon some bizarre and rare combination of events. So we
(16:29):
need have no hesitation in postulating such events in our explanation.
In the absence of data, we must abandon the analytic
or scientific method of investigation, and must approach it in
the synthetic fashion. In a word, instead of taking known
events and deducing from them what has occurred, we must
(16:52):
build up a fanciful explanation. If it will only be
consistent with known events. We can then test this explanation
by any fresh facts which may arise. If they all
fit into their places, the probability is that we are
upon the right track, and with each fresh fact this
probability increases in a geometrical progression, until the evidence becomes
(17:17):
final and convincing. Now there is one most remarkable and
suggestive fact which has not met with the attention which
it deserves. There is a local train running through Harrow
and King's Langley, which is timed in such a way
that the express must have overtaken it at or about
(17:39):
the period when it eased down its speed to eight
miles an hour. On account of the repairs of the line.
The two trains would at the time be traveling in
the same direction, at a similar rate of speed, and
upon parallel lines. It is within everyone's experience how under
such circumstances the occupant of each carriage can see very
(18:01):
plainly the passengers in the other carriages opposite to him.
The lamps of the express had been lit at Willesden,
so that each compartment was brightly illuminated and most visible
to an observer from outside. Now the sequence of events,
as I reconstruct them, would be after this fashion. This
(18:22):
young man, with the abnormal number of watches was alone
in the carriage of the slow train. His ticket, with
his papers and gloves and other things, was we will suppose,
on the seat beside him. He was probably an American,
and also probably a man of weak intellect. The excessive
(18:43):
wearing of jewelry is an early symptom in some forms
of mania. As he sat watching the carriages of the express,
which were, on account of the state of the line,
going at the same pace as himself, he suddenly saw
some people in it whom he knew. He would suppose,
for the sake of our theory, that these people were
(19:05):
a woman whom he loved and the man whom he hated,
and who in return hated him. The young man was
excitable and impulsive. He opened the door of his carriage,
stepped from the footboard of the local train to the
footboard of the express, opened the other door, and made
his way into the presence of these two people, the
(19:27):
feat on the supposition that the trains were going at
the same pace, is by no means so perilous as
it might appear. Having now got our young man without
his ticket, into the carriage in which the elder man
and the young woman are traveling, it is not difficult
to imagine that the violen scene ensued. It is possible
(19:49):
that the pair were also Americans, which is the more
probable as the man carried a weapon, an unusual think
in England. If our supposition of incipient men is correct,
the young man is likely to have assaulted the other
as the upshot of the quarrel. The elder man shot
the intruder and then made his escape from the carriage,
(20:12):
taking the young lady with him. We will suppose that
all this happened very rapidly, and that the train was
still going at so slow a pace that it was
not difficult for them to leave it. A woman might
leave a train going at eight miles an hour. As
a matter of fact, we know that this woman did
do so. And now we have to fit in the
(20:34):
man in the smoking carriage. Presuming that we have up
to this point reconstructed the tragedy. Correctly, we shall find
nothing in this other man to cause us to reconsider
our conclusions. According to meteory, this man saw the young
fellow cross from one train to the other, saw him
open the door, heard the pistol shot, saw the two
(20:57):
fugitives spring out onto the line, really eyes that murder
had been done, and sprang out himself in pursuit. Why
he has never been heard of since whether he met
his own death in the pursuit, or whether, as is
more likely, he was made to realize that it was
not the case for his interference is a detail which
we have at present no means of explaining. I acknowledge
(21:20):
that there are some difficulties in the way. At first sight,
it might seem improbable that at such moment a murderer
would burden himself in his flight with a brown leather bag.
My answer is that he was well aware that if
the back were found, his identity would be established. It
was absolutely necessary for him to take it with him.
(21:41):
My theory stands or falls upon one point, and I
call upon the railway company to make strict inquiry as
to whether a ticket was found and claimed in the
local train through Harrow and King's Langley upon the eighteenth
of March. If such a ticket were found, my case
is proved. If not, my theory may still be the
(22:03):
correct one, for it is conceivable either that he traveled
without a ticket or that his ticket was lost. To
this elaborate and plausible hypothesis. The answer of the police
and of the company was first that no such ticket
was found, secondly that the slow train would never run
(22:23):
parallel to the express, and thirdly that the local train
had been stationary in King's Langley station when the express,
going at fifty miles an hour had flashed past it.
So perish the only satisfying explanation, and five years have
elapsed without supplying a new one. Now at last there
comes a statement which covers all the facts, and which
(22:46):
must be regarded as authentic. It took the shape of
a letter dated from New York and addressed to the
same criminal investigator whose theory I have quoted. It is
given here in extent, so with the exception of the
two opening paragraphs, which are personal in their nature. You'll
excuse me if I am not very free with names.
(23:09):
There's less reason now than there was five years ago,
when mother was still living but for all that I
had rather cover up our tracks all I can, but
I owe you an explanation, for if your idea of
it was wrong, it was a mighty ingenious one. All
the same, I'll have to go back a little so
as you may understand all about it. My people came
(23:33):
from bugs, England and emigrated to the States in the
early fifties. They settled in Rochester, in the state of
New York, where my father ran a large dry goods store.
There were only two sons, myself, James, and my brother Edward.
I was ten years older than my brother, and after
my father died, I sort of took the place of
(23:54):
a father to him, as an elder brother would. He
was a bright, spirited boy and just one of the
most beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there was always
a soft spot in him, and it was like mold
in cheese, for it spread and spread, and nothing that
you could do would stop it. Mother saw it just
as clearly as I did, but she went on spoiling
(24:18):
him all the same, for he had such a way
with him that you could refuse him. Nothing. I did
all I could to hold him in, and he hated
me for my pains. At last he fairly got his hat,
and nothing that we could do would stop him. He
got off into New York and went rapidly from bad
to wars. At first he was only fast, and then
(24:40):
he was criminal, and then at the end of a
year or two he was one of the most notorious
young crooks in the city. He had formed a friendship
with Sparrow maccoy, who was at the head of his
profession as a banko, steerer, green goodsman, and general rascal.
They took to card sharping and frequented some of the
(25:01):
best hotels in New York. My brother was an excellent actor.
He might have made an honest name for himself if
he had chosen. And he would take the parts of
a young englishman of title, of a simple lad from
the West, or of a college undergraduate, whichever suited Sparrow
McCoy's purpose. And then one day he dressed himself as
(25:21):
a girl, and he carried it off so well and
made himself such a valuable decoy that it was their
favorite game. Afterwards, they had made it right with Tammany
and with the police, so it seemed as if nothing
could ever stop them. For those were in the days
before the LEXU Commission, and if you only had a pull,
(25:42):
you could do pretty nearly everything you wanted, and nothing
would have stopped them if they had only stuck to
Cards and New York. But they must needs come up
Rochester Way and forge the name upon a check. It
was my brother that did it, though everyone knew that
it was under the influence Sparrow mac coy. I bought
up that check and a pretty sum it cost me.
(26:05):
Then I went to my brother, laid it before him
on the table, and swore to him that I would
prosecute if he did not clear out of the country.
At first, he simply left. I could not prosecute, he said,
without breaking our mother's heart, and he knew that I
would not do that. I made him understand, however, that
(26:25):
our mother's heart was being broken in any case, and
that I had set firm on the point that I
would rather see him in Rochester Go then in a
New York hotel. So at last he gave in, and
he made me a solemn promise that he would see
Sparrow mac coy no more, that he would go to Europe,
and that he would turn his hand to any honest
(26:47):
trade that I helped him to get. I took him
down right away to an old family friend, Joe Wilson,
who is an exporter of American watches and clocks, and
I got him to give Edward an agency in London
with a small salary and a fifteen percent commission on
all business. His manner and appearance were so good that
(27:08):
he won the old man over at once, and within
a week he was sent off to London with a
case full of samples. It seemed to me that his
business of the check had really given my brother a fright,
and that there was some chance of his settling down
into an honest line of life. My mother had spoken
with him, and what she said had touched him, for
(27:31):
she had always been the best of mothers to him,
and he had been the greatest sorrow of her life.
But I knew that this man Sparrow mac coy had
a great influence over Edward, and my chance of keeping
the land straight lay in breaking the connection between them.
I had a friend in the New York Detective Force,
and through him I kept the watch upon mc coy.
(27:54):
When within a fortnight of my brother's sailing, I heard
that mc coy had taken a burthe in the Etruria.
I was as certain as if he had told me
that he was going over to England for the purpose
of coaxing Edward back again into the ways that he
had left. In an instant I had resolved to go also,
(28:14):
and to pit my influence against McCoy's. I knew it
was a losing fight, but I thought, and my mother thought,
that it was my duty. We passed the last night
together in prayer for my success, and she gave me
her own testament that my father had given her on
the day of their marriage in the old Country, so
(28:35):
that I might always wear it next to my heart.
I was a fellow traveler on the steamship with Sparrow McCoy,
and at last I had the satisfaction of spoiling his
little game for the voyage. The very first night, I
went into the smoking room and found him at the
head of a card table with a half a dozen
(28:56):
young fellows who were carrying their full purses and their
empty skulls over to Europe. He was settling down for
his harvest, and a rich one it would have been.
But I soon changed all that, gentlemen, said, I are
you aware whom you are playing with. What's that to you?
(29:16):
You mind your own business, said he, with an oath.
Who is it anyway, asked one of the dudes. He's
Sparrow mac coy, the most notorious card sharper in the States.
Up he jumped with a bottle in his hand, but
he remembered that he was under the flag of the
affid old country where low and order run, and tammany
(29:40):
has no pull. Gaul and the gallows wait for the
violence and murder, and there's no slipping out by the
back door on board an ocean liner. Prove your words,
you said he. I will, said I, if you will
turn up your right shirt sleeve to the shoulder, I
will either prove my words or I will eat them.
(30:03):
He turned white and said not a word. You see,
I knew something of his ways, and I was aware
of that part of the mechanism which he and all
such sharpers use consists of an elastic down the arm
with a clip just above the wrist. It is by
means of this clip that they withdraw from the hands
the cards which they do not want, while they substitute
(30:27):
other cards from another hiding place. I reconed on it
being there, and it was he cursed me, slunk out
of the saloon, and was hardly seen again during the voyage.
For once, at any rate, I got level with mister
Sparrow mac coyl. But he soon had his revenge upon me,
for when it came to influencing my brother, he outweighed
(30:50):
me every time. Edward had kept himself straight in London
for the first few weeks and had done some business
with his American watches until this the villain came across
his path. Once more. I did my best, but the
best was little enough. The next thing I heard there
had been a scandal at one of the North Cumberland
(31:11):
Avenue hotels. A traveler had been fleeced of a large
sum by two Confederate card sharpers, and the matter was
in the hands of Scotland Yard. The first I learned
of it was in the evening paper, and I was
at once certain that my brother and McCoy were back
at their old games. I hurried at once to Edward's lodgings.
(31:32):
They told me that he and a tall gentleman whom
I recognized as McCoy, had gone off together, and that
he had left the lodgings and taken his things with him.
The landlady had heard them give several directions to the
cabmen ending with Euston station, and she had accidentally overheard
the tall gentleman saying something about Manchester. She believed that
(31:56):
that was their destination. A glance at the time table
showed me that the most likely train was at five,
though there was another at four thirty five, which they
might have caught. I had only time to get the
later one, but found no sign of them, either at
the depot or in the train. They must have gone
on by the earlier one, so I determined to follow
(32:19):
them to Manchester and search for them in the hotels there.
One last appeal to my brother, by all that he
owed to my mother might even now bit salvation of him.
My nerves were overstrung, and I lit a cigar to
steady them. At that moment, just as the train was
moving off, the door of my compartment was flung open,
(32:39):
and there were mc coy and my brother on the platform.
They were both disguised, and with good reason, for they
knew that the London police were after them. Mc coy
had a great Astrakhan color drawn up so that only
his eyes and nose were showing. My brother was dressed
like a woman, with a black veil half down his face,
(33:01):
but of course it did not deceive me for an instant,
nor would it have done so even if I had
not known that he had often used such a dress
before I started up, and as I did so, McCoy
recognized me. He said something. The conductor slammed the door,
and they were shown into the next compartment. I tried
(33:22):
to stop the train so as to follow them, but
the wheels were already moving at it, and it was
too late. When we stopped at Willesden, I instantly changed
my carriage. It appeared that I was not seen to
do so, which is not surprising, as the station was
crowded with people. McCoy of course was expecting me, and
he had spent the time between Euston and Willesden in
(33:45):
saying all he could to harden my brother's heart and
set him against me. That is what I fancied, for
I had never found him so impossible to soften or
to move. I tried this way, and I tried that
I pictured his future in an English goal. I described
the sorrow of his mother when I came back with
the news. I said everything to touch his heart, but
(34:08):
all to no purpose. He sat there with a fixed
sneer upon his handsome face, while every now and then
Sparrow maccoy would throw in a taunted me or some
word of encouragement to hold my brother to his resolutions.
Why don't you run a Sunday school, he would say
to me, And then in the same breath, he thinks
(34:28):
you have no will of your own. He thinks you
are just the baby brother, and that he can lead
you where he likes. He's only just finding out that
you are a man as well as he. It was
those words of his witch set me talking bitterly. We
had left Walesden, you understand, for all this took some time.
(34:49):
My temper got the better of me, and for the
first time in my life, I let my brother see
the rough side of me. Perhaps it would have been
better had I done so earlier and more often. A
man said, I, well, I'm glad to have your friend's
assurance of it, for no one would suspect it to
see you like a boarding school, missy. I don't suppose
(35:10):
in all this country there is a more contemptible looking
creature than you are, as you sit there with the
Dolly pinafore upon you. He colored up at that, for
he was a vain man, and he wins from ridicule.
It's only a dust cloak, he said, and he slipped
it off. One has to throw the coppers off one sand,
(35:32):
and I had no other way to do it. He
took his stalk off, with the veil attached, and he
put both in and the cloak into his brown bag. Anyway,
I don't need to wear it until the conductor comes round,
said he, Nor than either, said I, and taking the
(35:53):
bag I slugged it with all my force out of
the window. Now, said I. You'll never make a Mary
Jane of yourself while I can help it. If nothing
but that disguise stands between you and the goal, then
the goal you shall go. That was the way to
manage him. I felt my advantage at once. His supple
(36:15):
nature was one which yielded the roughness far more readily
than to entreaty. He flushed with shame, and his eyes
filled with tears. But mc coy saw my advantage also,
and was determined that I should not pursue it. He's
my part, and you shall not bully him, he cried.
(36:36):
He's my brother, and you shall not ruin him, said I.
I believe a spell of prison is the very best
way of keeping you apart, and you shall have it,
or it will be no fault of mine. Oh you
would squeal, would you? He cried? In an instant, he
weeped out his revolver. I sprang for his hand, but
(36:57):
saw that I was too late, and jumped aside. At
the same instant he fired, and the bullet which would
have struck me, passed through the heart of my unfortunate brother.
He dropped without a groan, upon the floor of the compartment,
and mac coy and I, equally horrified, knelt at each
side of him, trying to bring back some signs of life.
(37:20):
Mc coy still held the loaded revolver in his hand,
but his anger against me and my resentment towards him
had both for the moment been swallowed up in this
sudden tragedy. It was he who first realized the situation.
The train was for some reason going very slowly at
the moment, and he saw his opportunity for escape. In
(37:43):
an instant he had the door open, But I was
as quick as he, and jumping upon him. The two
of us fell off the footboard and rolled in each
other's arms down a steep embankment. At the bottom, I
struck my head against a stone, and I remembered nothing more.
When I came to myself, I was lying among some
(38:05):
low bushes, not far from the railroad track, and somebody
was baiting my head with a wet handkerchief. It was
Sparrow mac coy. I guess I couldn't leave you, said he.
I didn't want to have the blood of two of
you on my hands in one day. You loved your brother,
I've no doubt, but you didn't love him a cent
(38:25):
more than I loved him, though you'll say that I
took a queer way to show it. Anyhow, it seems
a mighty empty world now that he's gone, and I
don't care a continental whether you give me over to
the hangman or not. He had turned his ankle in
the fall, and there we sat, he with his useless foot,
(38:46):
and I with my troubing head, and we talked and talked,
until gradually my bitterness began to soften and to turn
into something like sympathy. What was the use of revenging
his death upon a man was as much stricken by
that death as I was. And then as my wits
gradually returned, I begin to realize also that I could
(39:09):
do nothing against McCoy which would not recoil upon my
mother and myself. How could we convict him without a
full account of my brother's career being made public, the
very thing which, of all others we wished to avoid.
It was really as much our interest as his to
cover the matter up. And from being an avenger of crime,
(39:32):
I found myself changed to a conspirator against justice. The
place in which we found ourselves was one of those
peasant preserves which are so common in the old country,
and as we groped our way through it, I found
myself consulting the slayer of my brother as to how
far it would be possible to hush it up. I
(39:54):
soon realized from what he said that unless there were
some papers of which we knew, not thinking, in my
brother's pockets, there was really no possible means by which
the police could identify him or learn how he had
got there. His ticket was in McCoy's pocket, and so
was the ticket for some baggage which they had left
at the depot. Like most Americans, he had found it
(40:17):
cheaper and easier to buy an outfit in London than
to bring one from New York, so that all his
linen and clothes were new and unmarked. The bag containing
the dust cloak, which I had thrown out of the window,
may have fallen among some bramble patch where it is
still concealed, or may have been carried off by some tramp,
(40:38):
or may have come into the possession of the police,
who kept the incident to themselves. Anyhow, I have seen
nothing about it in the London papers. As to the watches,
they were a selection from those which had been entrusted
to him for business purposes. It may have been for
the same business purposes that he was taking them to Manchester.
(41:00):
But well, it's too late to enter into that. I
don't blame the police for being at fault. I don't
see how it could have been otherwise. There was just
one little clue that might have followed up. But it
was a small one. I mean that small circular mirror
which was found in my brother's pocket. It isn't a
(41:20):
very common thing for young men to carry about with him,
is it. But a gambler might have told you what
such a mirror may mean to a card Sharper. If
you sit back a little from the table and lay
the mirror face upwards upon your lap, you can see
as you deal every card that you give to your adversary.
It is not hard to say whether you see a
(41:41):
man or raise him, when you know his cards as
well as your own. It was as much a part
of Sharper's outfit as the elastic clip upon Sporros mac
coy's arm, taking that, in connection with the recent frats
at the hotel's the police might have got hold of
one end of the string. I don't think there is
much more for me to explain. We got to a
(42:03):
village called Amersham that night in the character of two
gentlemen upon a walking tour, and afterwards we made our
way quietly to London, Whence mac coy went on to
Cairo and I returned to New York. My mother died
six months afterwards, and I am glad to say that
to the day of her death she never knew what happened.
(42:24):
She was always under the delusion that Edward was earning
and holnest living in London, and I never had the
heart to tell her the truth he never wrote, but
then he never did write it at any time, so
that made no difference. His name was the last upon
her lips. There's just one other thing that I have
to ask you, sir, and I should take it as
(42:45):
a kind return for all this explanation, if you could
do it for me. You remember the testament that was
picked up. I always carried it in my inside pocket,
and it must have come out in my fall. I
value it very highly, for it was the family book
with my birds and my brothers, marked by my father
in the beginning of it. I wish you would apply
(43:07):
at the proper place and have its sense to me.
It can be of no possible value to anyone else.
If you address it to ex Basenos Library, Broadway in
New York, it is sure to come to hand. And
of the Men with the Watches by Arthur Conan Doyle
recording by Marta Kornowsky
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