Dr. Thorndyke Omnibus Vol 6

by R. Austin Freeman

  "You can tell me who he is!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean that you can give him a name?"

  "I do," replied Thorndyke. "His name is Walter Hornby."

  The Superintendent was thunderstruck. "Walter Hornby!" he gasped in amazement. Then, suddenly, he brought his large hand down heavily on the little table, causing it to rock visibly, to the imminent peril of the whisky decanter. "Now," he exclaimed, "I understand how it happened. Badger told me, himself, that he thought he had seen Walter Hornby, and he was mighty pleased with himself for having spotted him. I gathered that Hornby was either very much changed or else disguised, though Badger didn’t actually say so. But I have no doubt that poor old Badger, in his secretive way, kept an eye on him, and probably shadowed him a bit too openly. Then Hornby got alarmed and, in his turn, shadowed Badger, and finally enticed him into that first-class carriage with the cigar all ready in his pocket. But, if you knew, Doctor, why on earth didn’t you tell me?"

  "My dear Miller," protested Thorndyke, "of course I didn’t know in time to prevent the prosecution. I have only just completed the case."

  "By the way, Doctor," said Miller, "I suppose I can take it that there is no mistake this time? You are quite sure of your man?"

  "I am prepared to sign a sworn information," Thorndyke replied, "and I will undertake to present a convincing case for the prosecution. Naturally, I cannot promise a conviction."

  "Of course you can’t," said Miller. "But a sworn information from you is good enough for me, to start with. We can go into the evidence another time. But I am hanged if I know how to go about looking for the beggar. I suppose you have no idea what he looks like nowadays?"

  "I can only guess," replied Thorndyke. "We can safely assume that he has not red hair or a red nose. Probably he has shaved off his beard and moustache, and, judging from what Badger told you and from the fact that he has certainly worn a wig when personating Dobey, it is likely that he habitually wears a wig of a colour different from the lightish brown of his own hair. But I must admit that those assumptions are not very helpful. Still, you have the finger-prints that I handed to you, so, if you make an arrest on suspicion you will know, at once, whether you have or have not got the right man. And now let us dismiss this case, and have a few words about another one that we want you to help us to work at."

  Here Thorndyke gave the Superintendent a brief outline of the mystery of Hartsden Manor House, dwelling principally on the testimony of the servants and, characteristically, keeping his own counsel about the "Automatic Watcher." Consequently, Miller, though deeply interested, was a little disposed to be sceptical.

  "It sounds a tall story," be remarked, "though it is by no means impossible. At any rate, it is worth looking into. Of course, if a party of crooks have managed to get in there, they have got ideal premises for some kinds of jobs. Just think of a bank-note forger, for instance, getting the use of a set of sealed rooms where he could work in perfect safety, and leave all his incriminating stuff about with the certainty that no one would stumble on it by chance! Or a maker of bombs, or any other kind of illicit artisan. Yes, I certainly think it is worth looking into. And you think the sportsmen are likely to turn up to-morrow night?"

  "That is merely a matter of probability," said Thorndyke. "Apparently, the visitor or visitors keep to regular days for their calls, and Friday is one of those days. So we shall take the chance and spend the night there. I think you had better come, Miller," he added, persuasively "Even if nobody turns up, it will be worth your while to look over the premises. You may be able to spot something that we might miss."

  "I don’t think you are likely to miss much, Doctor," said Miller, with a faint grin. "However, I’d like to come with you; in fact, the more I think of the job, the more it takes my fancy. There are all sorts of possibilities in it. But, if you don’t mind, I think I will bring a couple of spare men, or let them come on later. You see, we may want to post them in some cover outside, in case our sportsmen should happen to spot us first and nip off. They would know the place better than we should, and they might easily get away while we were trying to find the way out. In that case it would be very handy to have a couple of men outside who could hear the alarm and pounce on them as they came out."

  We both agreed heartily to this excellent arrangement; and, when we had discussed a few further details and settled the time for starting in the morning, Miller lighted a fresh cigar and took his departure quite revived in spirits by the prospect of the morrow’s adventure.

  XV. THE BREAKING OF THE SEALS

  During our journey down to Hartsden on the following morning, Superintendent Miller’s state of mind seemed to alternate between a rather extravagant optimism and a haunting fear of an anticlimax that might expose him to the derision of his subordinates. And such was his condition when we introduced him to Mr. Woodburn at Hartsden Station.

  "Well, sir," said he, "this is a very remarkable affair—if it isn’t a mare’s nest. I hope it isn’t."

  "I rather hope it is," replied Woodburn, "though that is not my expectation. But we shall soon know."

  He held open the door of the car, and, when we had taken our places, he drove off at a smart pace and soon covered the short distance between the station and the Manor House. There, at the open door, we found Mrs. Gibbins awaiting us, supported by Polton, who seemed to have established himself as the master of ceremonies, and who conveyed to Thorndyke, in a conspiratorial whisper, that the "Automatic Watcher" had been removed and put out of sight. Evidently, he did not intend that his patent should be infringed by the official investigators.

  "We may as well go straight to the gallery," said Woodburn. "I’ve got the key. Shall I show the way?"

  Without waiting for an answer, he passed through the narrow doorway that led into the corridor and the rest of the party followed, with the exception of the housekeeper, whose good manners were even greater than her curiosity, and who contented herself with a wistful observation of our departure, following us with her eyes until we were lost in the darkness of the corridor.

  "Now," said Woodburn, as we drew up before the massive door of the gallery, "we are going to clear up the mystery, if there is one. And, if there isn’t, we are going to catch it from Mr. Toke. At any rate, here goes."

  He opened his pocket knife and deliberately cut the stout tape that connected the two seals. Then he inserted the little flat key into the modern lock, grasped the handle of the door, and turned them both together. The door moved slightly, far enough to disengage both the latches, but no farther. He gave one or two vigorous pushes and then looked round at us with a somewhat mystified expression.

  "This is very odd," said he. "The door is free of the latches, but it won’t open. There seems to be something inside preventing it."

  The Superintendent laid his large hand on the door and gave a hearty shove. But still the door refused to move more than half an inch.

  "Rum," said he. "Doesn’t feel like a solid obstruction. There’s a distinct give in it. Shall I throw my weight against the door?"

  "Better not," said Woodburn. "There’s a flight of steps on the inside."

  Here Polton’s voice was heard enquiring meekly if it wouldn’t be better to lever the door open.

  "Certainly it would," replied Miller, "if you know where to find a lever."

  "I happen to have a case-opener in my pocket," said Polton, in the matter-of-fact tone of one announcing the possession of a lead pencil or a fountain pen. "I think it would answer the purpose."

  "I expect it would," Miller agreed, casting an inquisitive glance at our versatile artificer. "At any rate, you may as well try."

  Thus encouraged, Polton advanced to the door and unblushingly produced from a long inside pocket a powerful telescopic jemmy of the most undeniably felonious aspect. Quite unmoved by the Superintendent’s stare of astonishment, he first felt the door critically to locate the point of resistance, and then, skilfully insinuating the beak of the jemmy into the rebate of the door-jamb, gave
a firm wrench at the long handle of the lever. Immediately, there came a bursting sound from within, and the door swung open, disclosing a short flight of steps leading down to the gallery floor.

  The Superintendent tripped down the steps and turned to look for the obstruction.

  "Well, I’m jiggered!" he exclaimed. "Your Mr. Toke is a cautious man with a vengeance! He isn’t taking any risks. Just look at that."

  He pointed to the door-post, on which was a large seal, and, depending from it, a length of strong tape with a mass of sealing-wax adhering to its free end. We came down the steps and stood gazing at this singular phenomenon while Miller swung the door round and exhibited, near its edge, the broken seal from which the tape had torn out.

  "Now, why the deuce," demanded Miller, "should he have wanted to seal the door on the inside? And when he had done it, how the devil did he get out?"

  "Exactly," said Thorndyke, "that is what interests us. This inside seal gives a conclusive answer to our principal question. He couldn’t have got out by this door, so there must be some other way out. And a way out is a way in."

  "M’yes," Miller agreed in a reflective tone. "That is so. But it seems to raise another question. Is it quite certain that Mr. Toke has really gone abroad? Is it certain, for instance, that he is not just keeping out of sight for some private reasons?"

  "Of course," Woodburn replied, a trifle stiffly, "there is no absolute proof that he has gone abroad. But he said that he was going abroad; he locked and sealed his premises, and was seen thereafter to go away from his house. He put his car into storage, and he has not since been seen in any of his usual places of resort. I may say further that he is a gentleman of the highest character and repute, and that I can imagine no reasons that should induce him to keep out of sight."

  "Then," said Miller, apologetic—but unconvinced, as I suspected—"that settles it. You must excuse me, Mr. Woodburn, but I did not know Mr. Toke. We shall have to look for some other explanation. Probably we shall find it when we have made our examination of the premises; when we have ascertained, for instance, whether there is anything missing. Shall we take a look round and check the property? I suppose you know roughly what there was in these rooms when Mr. Toke went away?"

  "Yes," replied Woodburn; "I think I should know if anything of value had been taken away."

  With this, Miller and the solicitor proceeded to make a systematic tour of inspection, passing along the range of wall-cases and rapidly glancing at the objects on the shelves and apparently finding the collection intact.

  "It’s rather queer, you know," said Miller, when they had made the round, "that none of these things should have been taken. I imagine that they are pretty valuable pieces."

  "They are," replied Woodburn, "but they wouldn’t be much use to a thief, seeing that they could be so easily identified; at least, that was Mr. Toke’s opinion. He always considered the collection quite safe, so far as burglars were concerned."

  "To a certain extent he was right," said Miller. "This stuff would be no use to an ordinary burglar if there was a hue and cry and a description of the stolen property. But that doesn’t apply to the present conditions. If someone has been entering these rooms, he might have taken the whole boiling away and have offered it quite safely at a common auction, in small lots at a time. Because, you see, nobody would have known that it had been taken. And there’s plenty of demand for this sort of stuff. What is in this room?" he added, as their peregrinations brought them to a door near the entrance.

  "That is where the collection of bronzes is kept," replied Woodburn. "We may as well see if they are all right, too."

  Thereupon, he opened the door and entered the room with the Superintendent.

  Meanwhile, Thorndyke had been devoting his attention to the seals on the gallery door, making a minute comparison of the outside seal with that on the inside door-post. As Miller and the solicitor disappeared into the adjoining room (closely attended by Polton, who was apparently determined that the Superintendent should not steal a march on his employer), Thorndyke handed me his lens, remarking:

  "The seals appear to be identical. I should say that they were both made with the same matrix."

  "Is there any reason why they should not be?" I asked in some surprise.

  "No," he replied, "I don’t think there is." I made a somewhat perfunctory comparison—for Thorndyke’s opinion was good enough for me—and then remarked:

  "I am in the same case as Miller. I can’t imagine what object Toke can have had in sealing the inside of the door. Do you understand it?"

  "Not if the seals were affixed by Toke," he replied; "seeing that Toke had access to the whole of the house and could examine the sealed door from the outside to satisfy himself that the seals were intact. But it would be quite understandable if the inside seals were fixed by someone who had not access to the house, but who would wish to be assured that the outside seals had not been broken. Supposing, for instance, there had been no inside seals, and supposing that we made our inspection without disturbing anything and went away, locking the door behind us. There would be no trace of our visit, nor any evidence that the rooms had been entered. But now, if we should go away and our friends should return to-night, they would see at a glance that someone had been here, and, no doubt, they would discreetly clear off and abandon their tenancy."

  "Yes," said I. "That seems to be the explanation. It had not occurred to me, nor, apparently to Miller. But there is another point. If the visitors sealed the door on the inside, they must be in possession of the seal."

  "Obviously," he agreed. "That is the important point. If it is a fact, it is an extremely significant fact, especially when it is considered in connection with a certain ‘Ginger Lushington.’"

  At this critical stage, our conversation was interrupted by the Superintendent’s voice, hailing us from an adjoining room. At once we hurried into the room which we had seen him enter, but, finding it empty, passed through into a second room, with which it communicated, and so, by another communicating doorway, into a third. This also was empty, save for a company of bronze statuettes on its shelves, but, through the farther doorway, we could see into a fourth, larger room, and thither we made our way.

  As we entered, I looked round me with no little surprise. The three small rooms through which we had passed with their glazed wall-cases and rare and curious contents, had the trim, well-kept aspect of an art museum. This fourth room presented a startling contrast. Considerably larger than the others, it had the appearance of a goldsmith’s or metal-worker’s workshop. In one corner was a large, rectangular chemical sink, and, adjoining it a fixed wash-hand basin. At one side was a massive crucible-furnace, arranged to burn charcoal and fitted with a foot-bellows. Close by was a massive post, fitted with a flat stake and a jeweller’s "sparrowhawk." There were one or two cupboards and enclosed nests of drawers, and a strong bench provided with a serviceable vice. These details my eye took in rapidly, but there was no time for a complete survey, for my attention was instantly riveted on an object on the bench round which our three friends were gathered in a mighty ferment of excitement.

  "Here’s a discovery, if you like, Doctor!" the Superintendent exclaimed, gleefully. "You remember my telling you about those bogus sovereigns? Well, we’ve struck the sovereign factory! Just look at this!"

  He indicated the object on the bench—which I now recognized as the box that I had seen through the keyhole periscope, resting on the gallery table, and that had been shown in the "Tuesday" photograph.

  Polton’s diagnosis had been correct. It was a casting box, or "flask,"—an iron frame in two halves, held together in position by pins and eyes at the sides. The upper, or pin, half had now been lifted off, and the mould which filled the interior was displayed. And a very remarkable mould it was, and very illuminating as to the kind of industry that was being carried on in this room. In the smooth, flat surface of the matrix were twenty sunk impressions of sovereigns, each beautifully clear and shiny wi
th graphite. The impressions were connected with one another, and with the "pour" or inlet of the mould, by a deep groove, which was one-half of the channel along which the molten metal was conducted to the impressions.

  "Quite a workmanlike outfit," chuckled the delighted Superintendent. "Don’t you think so, Mr. Polton?"

  Polton crinkled approvingly. "Yes, sir," he replied; "and he knows how to use it. He’s no amateur. That is a wonderfully good matrix; hard enough to stand brushing with graphite, and to be used over and over again. I should like to know what it is. There’s bone-ash in it, but there’s something else on the surface."

  "Well," said Miller, "that’s more interesting to you than to me. Let us have a look at that other flask."

  He indicated a second, similar flask that had been pushed to the back of the bench. Reaching out, he drew it forward and passed it to Polton, who tenderly lifted off the top half and turned it over, laying it beside the lower half and thus exhibiting the two halves of the mould. As he laid it down, he bestowed a crinkly leer on the Superintendent.

  "Well, I’m jiggered!" the latter exclaimed. "Half-crowns, too! But I always suspected that the half-crowns and the sovereigns were made by the same man. It was the same idea in both cases. But now we have got to find out where the stuff came from—where he kept his bullion, I mean. We had better go through these cupboards and drawers."

  He gave a lead by throwing open a deep cupboard, and, as the door swung out, he uttered the single word, "Moses!" The relevancy of the exclamation was not obvious, but the cause was extremely so. For the deep shelves were occupied by an assemblage of silver articles—candle-sticks, tea-pots, spoons, and the like, mostly a good deal battered, and many of them reduced to small fragments, apparently by means of shears. A second cupboard made a similar sinister display, though the quantity was smaller. But of gold there was no trace.

  "He must have kept his gold in the drawers," said Miller. "He couldn’t have brought it with him."