BROTHER GRIFFITH'S STORY of THE BITER BIT.
_Extracted from the Correspondence of the London Police_.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE, OF THE DETECTIVE POLICE, TO SERGEANTBULMER, OF THE SAME FORCE.
London, 4th July, 18--.
SERGEANT BULMER--This is to inform you that you are wanted to assist inlooking up a case of importance, which will require all the attention ofan experienced member of the force. The matter of the robbery on whichyou are now engaged you will please to shift over to the young man whobrings you this letter. You will tell him all the circumstances of thecase, just as they stand; you will put him up to the progress you havemade (if any) toward detecting the person or persons by whom the moneyhas been stolen; and you will leave him to make the best he can of thematter now in your hands. He is to have the whole responsibility of thecase, and the whole credit of his success if he brings it to a properissue.
So much for the orders that I am desired to communicate to you.
A word in your ear, next, about this new man who is to take your place.His name is Matthew Sharpin, and he is to have the chance given himof dashing into our office at one jump--supposing he turns out strongenough to take it. You will naturally ask me how he comes by thisprivilege. I can only tell you that he has some uncommonly stronginterest to back him in certain high quarters, which you and I hadbetter not mention except under our breaths. He has been a lawyer'sclerk, and he is wonderfully conceited in his opinion of himself, aswell as mean and underhand, to look at. According to his own account, heleaves his old trade and joins ours of his own free will and preference.You will no more believe that than I do. My notion is, that he hasmanaged to ferret out some private information in connection withthe affairs of one of his master's clients, which makes him rather anawkward customer to keep in the office for the future, and which, at thesame time, gives him hold enough over his employer to make it dangerousto drive him into a corner by turning him away. I think the giving himthis unheard-of chance among us is, in plain words, pretty much likegiving him hush money to keep him quiet. However that may be, Mr.Matthew Sharpin is to have the case now in your hands, and if hesucceeds with it he pokes his ugly nose into our office as sure as fate.I put you up to this, sergeant, so that you may not stand in yourown light by giving the new man any cause to complain of you atheadquarters, and remain yours,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, 5th July, 18--.
DEAR SIR--Having now been favored with the necessary instructions fromSergeant Bulmer, I beg to remind you of certain directions which I havereceived relating to the report of my future proceedings which I am toprepare for examination at headquarters.
The object of my writing, and of your examining what I have writtenbefore you send it to the higher authorities, is, I am informed, to giveme, as an untried hand, the benefit of your advice in case I want it(which I venture to think I shall not) at any stage of my proceedings.As the extraordinary circumstances of the case on which I am now engagedmake it impossible for me to absent myself from the place where therobbery was committed until I have made some progress toward discoveringthe thief, I am necessarily precluded from consulting you personally.Hence the necessity of my writing down the various details, which mightperhaps be better communicated by word of mouth. This, if I am notmistaken, is the position in which we are now placed. I state my ownimpressions on the subject in writing, in order that we may clearlyunderstand each other at the outset; and have the honor to remain yourobedient servant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN.
London, 5th July, 18--.
SIR--You have begun by wasting time, ink, and paper. We both of usperfectly well knew the position we stood in toward each other when Isent you with my letter to Sergeant Bulmer. There was not the least needto repeat it in writing. Be so good as to employ your pen in future onthe business actually in hand.
You have now three separate matters on which to write me. First, youhave to draw up a statement of your instructions received from SergeantBulmer, in order to show us that nothing has escaped your memory, andthat you are thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances of thecase which has been intrusted to you. Secondly, you are to inform mewhat it is you propose to do. Thirdly, you are to report every inch ofyour progress (if you make any) from day to day, and, if need be, fromhour to hour as well. This is _your_ duty. As to what _my_ duty may be,when I want you to remind me of it, I will write and tell you so. In themeantime, I remain yours,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, 6th July, 18--.
SIR--You are rather an elderly person, and as such, naturally inclinedto be a little jealous of men like me, who are in the prime of theirlives and their faculties. Under these circumstances, it is my dutyto be considerate toward you, and not to bear too hardly on your smallfailings. I decline, therefore, altogether to take offense at the toneof your letter; I give you the full benefit of the natural generosity ofmy nature; I sponge the very existence of your surly communication outof my memory--in short, Chief Inspector Theakstone, I forgive you, andproceed to business.
My first duty is to draw up a full statement of the instructions I havereceived from Sergeant Bulmer. Here they are at your service, accordingto my version of them.
At Number Thirteen Rutherford Street, Soho, there is a stationer's shop.It is kept by one Mr. Yatman. He is a married man, but has no family.Besides Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, the other inmates in the house are alodger, a young single man named Jay, who occupies the front room onthe second floor--a shopman, who sleeps in one of the attics, and aservant-of-all-work, whose bed is in the back kitchen. Once a week acharwoman comes to help this servant. These are all the persons who, onordinary occasions, have means of access to the interior of the house,placed, as a matter of course, at their disposal. Mr. Yatman has been inbusiness for many years, carrying on his affairs prosperously enoughto realize a handsome independence for a person in his position.Unfortunately for himself, he endeavored to increase the amount of hisproperty by speculating. He ventured boldly in his investments; luckwent against him; and rather less than two years ago he found himself apoor man again. All that was saved out of the wreck of his property wasthe sum of two hundred pounds.
Although Mr. Yatman did his best to meet his altered circumstances, bygiving up many of the luxuries and comforts to which he and his wife hadbeen accustomed, he found it impossible to retrench so far as to allowof putting by any money from the income produced by his shop. Thebusiness has been declining of late years, the cheap advertisingstationers having done it injury with the public. Consequently, upto the last week, the only surplus property possessed by Mr. Yatmanconsisted of the two hundred pounds which had been recovered from thewreck of his fortune. This sum was placed as a deposit in a joint-stockbank of the highest possible character.
Eight days ago Mr. Yatman and his lodger, Mr. Jay, held a conversationon the subject of the commercial difficulties which are hampering tradein all directions at the present time. Mr. Jay (who lives by supplyingthe newspapers with short paragraphs relating to accidents, offenses,and brief records of remarkable occurrences in general--who is, inshort, what they call a penny-a-liner) told his landlord that he hadbeen in the city that day and heard unfavorable rumors on the subjectof the joint-stock banks. The rumors to which he alluded had alreadyreached the ears of Mr. Yatman from other quarters, and the confirmationof them by his lodger had such an effect on his mind--predisposed as itwas to alarm by the experience of his former losses--that he resolved togo at once to the bank and withdraw his deposit. It was then getting ontoward the end of the afternoon, and he arrived just in time to receivehis money before the bank closed.
He received the deposit in bank-notes of the following amounts: onefifty-pound note, three twenty-pound notes, six ten-pound notes, and sixfive-pound notes
. His object in drawing the money in this form wasto have it ready to lay out immediately in trifling loans, on goodsecurity, among the small tradespeople of his district, some of whomare sorely pressed for the very means of existence at the present time.Investments of this kind seemed to Mr. Yatman to be the most safe andthe most profitable on which he could now venture.
He brought the money back in an envelope placed in his breast pocket,and asked his shopman, on getting home, to look for a small, flat, tincash-box, which had not been used for years, and which, as Mr. Yatmanremembered it, was exactly of the right size to hold the bank-notes. Forsome time the cash-box was searched for in vain. Mr. Yatman called tohis wife to know if she had any idea where it was. The question wasoverheard by the servant-of-all-work, who was taking up the tea-tray atthe time, and by Mr. Jay, who was coming downstairs on his way outto the theater. Ultimately the cash-box was found by the shopman. Mr.Yatman placed the bank-notes in it, secured them by a padlock, andput the box in his coat pocket. It stuck out of the coat pocket a verylittle, but enough to be seen. Mr. Yatman remained at home, upstairs,all that evening. No visitors called. At eleven o'clock he went to bed,and put the cash-box under his pillow.
When he and his wife woke the next morning the box was gone. Payment ofthe notes was immediately stopped at the Bank of England, but no news ofthe money has been heard of since that time.
So far the circumstances of the case are perfectly clear. They pointunmistakably to the conclusion that the robbery must have been committedby some person living in the house. Suspicion falls, therefore, upon theservant-of-all-work, upon the shopman, and upon Mr. Jay. The two firstknew that the cash-box was being inquired for by their master, but didnot know what it was he wanted to put into it. They would assume, ofcourse, that it was money. They both had opportunities (the servant whenshe took away the tea, and the shopman when he came, after shutting up,to give the keys of the till to his master) of seeing the cash-boxin Mr. Yatman's pocket, and of inferring naturally, from its positionthere, that he intended to take it into his bedroom with him at night.
Mr. Jay, on the other hand, had been told, during the afternoon'sconversation on the subject of joint-stock banks, that his landlord hada deposit of two hundred pounds in one of them. He also knew that Mr.Yatman left him with the intention of drawing that money out; andhe heard the inquiry for the cash-box afterward, when he was comingdownstairs. He must, therefore, have inferred that the money was in thehouse, and that the cash-box was the receptacle intended to containit. That he could have had any idea, however, of the place in which Mr.Yatman intended to keep it for the night is impossible, seeing that hewent out before the box was found, and did not return till his landlordwas in bed. Consequently, if he committed the robbery, he must have goneinto the bedroom purely on speculation.
Speaking of the bedroom reminds me of the necessity of noticing thesituation of it in the house, and the means that exist of gaining easyaccess to it at any hour of the night.
The room in question is the back room on the first floor. In consequenceof Mrs. Yatman's constitutional nervousness on the subject of fire,which makes her apprehend being burned alive in her room, in case ofaccident, by the hampering of the lock if the key is turned in it, herhusband has never been accustomed to lock the bedroom door. Both he andhis wife are, by their own admission, heavy sleepers; consequently,the risk to be run by any evil-disposed persons wishing to plunder thebedroom was of the most trifling kind. They could enter the room bymerely turning the handle of the door; and, if they moved with ordinarycaution, there was no fear of their waking the sleepers inside. Thisfact is of importance. It strengthens our conviction that the money musthave been taken by one of the inmates of the house, because it tendsto show that the robbery, in this case, might have been committed bypersons not possessed of the superior vigilance and cunning of theexperienced thief.
Such are the circumstances, as they were related to Sergeant Bulmer,when he was first called in to discover the guilty parties, and, ifpossible, to recover the lost bank-notes. The strictest inquiry whichhe could institute failed of producing the smallest fragment of evidenceagainst any of the persons on whom suspicion naturally fell. Theirlanguage and behavior on being informed of the robbery was perfectlyconsistent with the language and behavior of innocent people. SergeantBulmer felt from the first that this was a case for private inquiryand secret observation. He began by recommending Mr. and Mrs. Yatman toaffect a feeling of perfect confidence in the innocence of the personsliving under their roof, and he then opened the campaign by employinghimself in following the goings and comings, and in discovering thefriends, the habits, and the secrets of the maid-of-all-work.
Three days and nights of exertion on his own part, and on that of otherswho were competent to assist his investigations, were enough to satisfyhim that there was no sound cause for suspicion against the girl.
He next practiced the same precaution in relation to the shopman.There was more difficulty and uncertainty in privately clearing up thisperson's character without his knowledge, but the obstacles were at lastsmoothed away with tolerable success; and, though there is not the sameamount of certainty in this case which there was in the case of thegirl, there is still fair reason for supposing that the shopman has hadnothing to do with the robbery of the cash-box.
As a necessary consequence of these proceedings, the range of suspicionnow becomes limited to the lodger, Mr. Jay.
When I presented your letter of introduction to Sergeant Bulmer, hehad already made some inquiries on the subject of this young man. Theresult, so far, has not been at all favorable. Mr. Jay's habits areirregular; he frequents public houses, and seems to be familiarlyacquainted with a great many dissolute characters; he is in debt to mostof the tradespeople whom he employs; he has not paid his rent to Mr.Yatman for the last month; yesterday evening he came home excited byliquor, and last week he was seen talking to a prize-fighter; inshort, though Mr. Jay does call himself a journalist, in virtue of hispenny-a-line contributions to the newspapers, he is a young man of lowtastes, vulgar manners, and bad habits. Nothing has yet been discoveredin relation to him which redounds to his credit in the smallest degree.
I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the particularscommunicated to me by Sergeant Bulmer. I believe you will not find anomission anywhere; and I think you will admit, though you are prejudicedagainst me, that a clearer statement of facts was never laid before youthan the statement I have now made. My next duty is to tell you what Ipropose to do now that the case is confided to my hands.
In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case atthe point where Sergeant Bulmer has left it. On his authority, I amjustified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself aboutthe maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are now to beconsidered as cleared up. What remains to be privately investigated isthe question of the guilt or innocence of Mr. Jay. Before we give upthe notes for lost, we must make sure, if we can, that he knows nothingabout them.
This is the plan that I have adopted, with the full approval of Mr. andMrs. Yatman, for discovering whether Mr. Jay is or is not the person whohas stolen the cash-box:
I propose to-day to present myself at the house in the character of ayoung man who is looking for lodgings. The back room on the second floorwill be shown to me as the room to let, and I shall establish myselfthere to-night as a person from the country who has come to London tolook for a situation in a respectable shop or office.
By this means I shall be living next to the room occupied by Mr. Jay.The partition between us is mere lath and plaster. I shall make a smallhole in it, near the cornice, through which I can see what Mr. Jay doesin his room, and hear every word that is said when any friend happensto call on him. Whenever he is at home, I shall be at my post ofobservation; whenever he goes out, I shall be after him. By employingthese means of watching him, I believe I may look forward tothe discovery of his secret--if he knows anything about the lostbank-notes--as to a dead certainty
.
What you may think of my plan of observation I cannot undertake tosay. It appears to me to unite the invaluable merits of boldnessand simplicity. Fortified by this conviction, I close the presentcommunication with feelings of the most sanguine description in regardto the future, and remain your obedient servant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
7th July.
SIR--As you have not honored me with any answer to my lastcommunication, I assume that, in spite of your prejudices against me, ithas produced the favorable impression on your mind which I venturedto anticipate. Gratified and encouraged beyond measure by the token ofapproval which your eloquent silence conveys to me, I proceed to reportthe progress that has been made in the course of the last twenty-fourhours.
I am now comfortably established next door to Mr. Jay, and I amdelighted to say that I have two holes in the partition instead of one.My natural sense of humor has led me into the pardonable extravaganceof giving them both appropriate names. One I call my peep-hole, and theother my pipe-hole. The name of the first explains itself; the name ofthe second refers to a small tin pipe or tube inserted in the hole,and twisted so that the mouth of it comes close to my ear while I amstanding at my post of observation. Thus, while I am looking at Mr. Jaythrough my peep-hole, I can hear every word that may be spoken in hisroom through my pipe-hole.
Perfect candor--a virtue which I have possessed from mychildhood--compels me to acknowledge, before I go any further, thatthe ingenious notion of adding a pipe-hole to my proposed peep-holeoriginated with Mrs. Yatman. This lady--a most intelligent andaccomplished person, simple, and yet distinguished in her manners, hasentered into all my little plans with an enthusiasm and intelligencewhich I cannot too highly praise. Mr. Yatman is so cast down by his lossthat he is quite incapable of affording me any assistance. Mrs. Yatman,who is evidently most tenderly attached to him, feels her husband'ssad condition of mind even more acutely than she feels the loss of themoney, and is mainly stimulated to exertion by her desire to assist inraising him from the miserable state of prostration into which he hasnow fallen.
"The money, Mr. Sharpin," she said to me yesterday evening, with tearsin her eyes, "the money may be regained by rigid economy and strictattention to business. It is my husband's wretched state of mind thatmakes me so anxious for the discovery of the thief. I may be wrong,but I felt hopeful of success as soon as you entered the house; and Ibelieve that, if the wretch who robbed us is to be found, you are theman to discover him." I accepted this gratifying compliment in thespirit in which it was offered, firmly believing that I shall be found,sooner or later, to have thoroughly deserved it.
Let me now return to business--that is to say, to my peep-hole and mypipe-hole.
I have enjoyed some hours of calm observation of Mr. Jay. Though rarelyat home, as I understand from Mrs. Yatman, on ordinary occasions, he hasbeen indoors the whole of this day. That is suspicious, to begin with.I have to report, further, that he rose at a late hour this morning(always a bad sign in a young man), and that he lost a great dealof time, after he was up, in yawning and complaining to himself ofheadache. Like other debauched characters, he ate little or nothing forbreakfast. His next proceeding was to smoke a pipe--a dirty clay pipe,which a gentleman would have been ashamed to put between his lips. Whenhe had done smoking he took out pen, ink and paper, and sat down towrite with a groan--whether of remorse for having taken the bank-notes,or of disgust at the task before him, I am unable to say. After writinga few lines (too far away from my peep-hole to give me a chance ofreading over his shoulder), he leaned back in his chair, and amusedhimself by humming the tunes of popular songs. I recognized "My MaryAnne," "Bobbin' Around," and "Old Dog Tray," among other melodies.Whether these do or do not represent secret signals by which hecommunicates with his accomplices remains to be seen. After he hadamused himself for some time by humming, he got up and began to walkabout the room, occasionally stopping to add a sentence to the paperon his desk. Before long he went to a locked cupboard and opened it. Istrained my eyes eagerly, in expectation of making a discovery. I sawhim take something carefully out of the cupboard--he turned round--andit was only a pint bottle of brandy! Having drunk some of the liquor,this extremely indolent reprobate lay down on his bed again, and in fiveminutes was fast asleep.
After hearing him snoring for at least two hours, I was recalled tomy peep-hole by a knock at his door. He jumped up and opened it withsuspicious activity.
A very small boy, with a very dirty face, walked in, said: "Please, sir,they're waiting for you," sat down on a chair with his legs a long wayfrom the ground, and instantly fell asleep! Mr. Jay swore an oath, tieda wet towel round his head, and, going back to his paper, began to coverit with writing as fast as his fingers could move the pen. Occasionallygetting up to dip the towel in water and tie it on again, he continuedat this employment for nearly three hours; then folded up the leavesof writing, woke the boy, and gave them to him, with this remarkableexpression: "Now, then, young sleepy-head, quick march! If you see thegovernor, tell him to have the money ready for me when I call forit." The boy grinned and disappeared. I was sorely tempted to follow"sleepy-head," but, on reflection, considered it safest still to keep myeye on the proceedings of Mr. Jay.
In half an hour's time he put on his hat and walked out. Of course I puton my hat and walked out also. As I went downstairs I passed Mrs.Yatman going up. The lady has been kind enough to undertake, by previousarrangement between us, to search Mr. Jay's room while he is out ofthe way, and while I am necessarily engaged in the pleasing duty offollowing him wherever he goes. On the occasion to which I now refer,he walked straight to the nearest tavern and ordered a couple ofmutton-chops for his dinner. I placed myself in the next box to him, andordered a couple of mutton-chops for my dinner. Before I had been in theroom a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and appearance,sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter in his hand andjoined Mr. Jay. I pretended to be reading the newspaper, and listened,as in duty bound, with all my might.
"Jack has been here inquiring after you," says the young man.
"Did he leave any message?" asks Mr. Jay.
"Yes," says the other. "He told me, if I met with you, to say that hewished very particularly to see you to-night, and that he would give youa look in at Rutherford Street at seven o'clock."
"All right," says Mr. Jay. "I'll get back in time to see him."
Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter, andsaying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his friend (perhapsI should not be wrong if I said his accomplice?), and left the room.
At twenty-five minutes and a half past six--in these serious cases itis important to be particular about time--Mr. Jay finished his chops andpaid his bill. At twenty-six minutes and three-quarters I finishedmy chops and paid mine. In ten minutes more I was inside the house inRutherford Street, and was received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage.That charming woman's face exhibited an expression of melancholy anddisappointment which it quite grieved me to see.
"I am afraid, ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any littlecriminating discovery in the lodger's room?"
She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, flutteringsigh--and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment I forgotbusiness, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman.
"Don't despair, ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness whichseemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious conversation--I know ofa guilty appointment--and I expect great things from my peep-hole andmy pipe-hole to-night. Pray don't be alarmed, but I think we are on thebrink of a discovery."
Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better part of mytender feelings. I looked--winked--nodded--left her.
When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting hismutton-chops in an armchair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his tablewere two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint bottle of brandy. It wasthen close upon seven o'clock. As the hour s
truck the person describedas "Jack" walked in.
He looked agitated--I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. Thecheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself (to use a strongexpression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interestI looked through my peep-hole, and saw the visitor--the "Jack" of thisdelightful case--sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the tableto Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in expression whichtheir countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandonedvillains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to theconclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and thebetter dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps,one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmostlimits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its redeeming point, I say,let Vice have its due--yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice haveits due.
"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay.
"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays aredangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the day afterto-morrow."
"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. "Well,I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is somebody else ready, too?Are you quite sure of that?"
He smiled as he spoke--a frightful smile--and laid a very strongemphasis on those two words, "Somebody else." There is evidently a thirdruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business.
"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in theRegent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at theturning that leads to the Avenue Road."
"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy-and-water? Whatare you getting up for? You're not going already?"
"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated that Ican't sit still anywhere for five minutes together. Ridiculous as it mayappear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of nervous flutter. I can't, forthe life of me, help fearing that we shall be found out. I fancy thatevery man who looks twice at me in the street is a spy--"
At these words I thought my legs would have given way under me. Nothingbut strength of mind kept me at my peep-hole--nothing else, I give youmy word of honor.
"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of aveteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and we willmanage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of brandy-and-water, and youwill feel as certain about it as I do."
Jack steadily refused the brandy-and-water, and steadily persisted intaking his leave.
"I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. "Remember to-morrowmorning--eleven o'clock, Avenue Road, side of the Regent's Park."
With those words he went out. His hardened relative laughed desperatelyand resumed the dirty clay pipe.
I sat down on the side of my bed, actually quivering with excitement.
It is clear to me that no attempt has yet been made to change the stolenbank-notes, and I may add that Sergeant Bulmer was of that opinion alsowhen he left the case in my hands. What is the natural conclusion todraw from the conversation which I have just set down? Evidently thatthe confederates meet to-morrow to take their respective shares in thestolen money, and to decide on the safest means of getting the noteschanged the day after. Mr. Jay is, beyond a doubt, the leading criminalin this business, and he will probably run the chief risk--that ofchanging the fifty-pound note. I shall, therefore, still make it mybusiness to follow him--attending at the Regent's Park to-morrow, anddoing my best to hear what is said there. If another appointment ismade for the day after, I shall, of course, go to it. In the meantime, Ishall want the immediate assistance of two competent persons (supposingthe rascals separate after their meeting) to follow the two minorcriminals. It is only fair to add that, if the rogues all retiretogether, I shall probably keep my subordinates in reserve. Beingnaturally ambitious, I desire, if possible, to have the whole credit ofdiscovering this robbery to myself.
8th July.
I have to acknowledge, with thanks, the speedy arrival of my twosubordinates--men of very average abilities, I am afraid; but,fortunately, I shall always be on the spot to direct them.
My first business this morning was necessarily to prevent possiblemistakes by accounting to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman for the presence of twostrangers on the scene. Mr. Yatman (between ourselves, a poor, feebleman) only shook his head and groaned. Mrs. Yatman (that superior woman)favored me with a charming look of intelligence.
"Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" she said, "I am so sorry to see those two men!Your sending for their assistance looks as if you were beginning to bedoubtful of success."
I privately winked at her (she is very good in allowing me to do sowithout taking offense), and told her, in my facetious way, that shelabored under a slight mistake.
"It is because I am sure of success, ma'am, that I send for them. I amdetermined to recover the money, not for my own sake only, but for Mr.Yatman's sake--and for yours."
I laid a considerable amount of stress on those last three words. Shesaid: "Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" again, and blushed of a heavenly red, andlooked down at her work. I could go to the world's end with that womanif Mr. Yatman would only die.
I sent off the two subordinates to wait until I wanted them at theAvenue Road gate of the Regent's Park. Half-an-hour afterward I wasfollowing the same direction myself at the heels of Mr. Jay.
The two confederates were punctual to the appointed time. I blush torecord it, but it is nevertheless necessary to state that the thirdrogue--the nameless desperado of my report, or, if you prefer it,the mysterious "somebody else" of the conversation between the twobrothers--is--a woman! and, what is worse, a young woman! and, whatis more lamentable still, a nice-looking woman! I have long resisted agrowing conviction that, wherever there is mischief in this world, anindividual of the fair sex is inevitably certain to be mixed up in it.After the experience of this morning, I can struggle against that sadconclusion no longer. I give up the sex--excepting Mrs. Yatman, I giveup the sex.
The man named "Jack" offered the woman his arm. Mr. Jay placed himselfon the other side of her. The three then walked away slowly among thetrees. I followed them at a respectful distance. My two subordinates, ata respectful distance, also, followed me.
It was, I deeply regret to say, impossible to get near enough to themto overhear their conversation without running too great a risk of beingdiscovered. I could only infer from their gestures and actions that theywere all three talking with extraordinary earnestness on some subjectwhich deeply interested them. After having been engaged in this way afull quarter of an hour, they suddenly turned round to retrace theirsteps. My presence of mind did not forsake me in this emergency. Isigned to the two subordinates to walk on carelessly and pass them,while I myself slipped dexterously behind a tree. As they came by me, Iheard "Jack" address these words to Mr. Jay:
"Let us say half-past ten to-morrow morning. And mind you come in a cab.We had better not risk taking one in this neighborhood."
Mr. Jay made some brief reply which I could not overhear. They walkedback to the place at which they had met, shaking hands there withan audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to see. They thenseparated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates paid the same delicateattention to the other two.
Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me tothe Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house, which,according to the inscription over the door, was a newspaper office,but which, in my judgment, had all the external appearance of a placedevoted to the reception of stolen goods.
After remaining inside for a few minutes, he came out whistling, withhis finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. Some men would now havearrested him on the spot. I remembered the necessity of catching the twoconfederates, and the importance of not interfering with the appointmentthat had been made for the next morning. Such coolness as this, undertrying circumstances, is rarely to be found, I should imagine, in ayoung beginner, whose reputation as a detective policeman is still
tomake.
From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to acigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. From the divan hestrolled to the tavern and had his chops. I strolled to the tavern andhad my chops. When he had done he went back to his lodging. When I haddone I went back to mine. He was overcome with drowsiness early in theevening, and went to bed. As soon as I heard him snoring, I was overcomewith drowsiness and went to bed also.
Early in the morning my two subordinates came to make their report.
They had seen the man named "Jack" leave the woman at the gate of anapparently respectable villa residence not far from the Regent's Park.Left to himself, he took a turning to the right, which led to a sort ofsuburban street, principally inhabited by shopkeepers. He stopped atthe private door of one of the houses, and let himself in with his ownkey--looking about him as he opened the door, and staring suspiciouslyat my men as they lounged along on the opposite side of the way. Thesewere all the particulars which the subordinates had to communicate.I kept them in my room to attend on me, if needful, and mounted to mypeep-hole to have a look at Mr. Jay.
He was occupied in dressing himself, and was taking extraordinary painsto destroy all traces of the natural slovenliness of his appearance.This was precisely what I expected. A vagabond like Mr. Jay knows theimportance of giving himself a respectable look when he is going torun the risk of changing a stolen bank-note. At five minutes past teno'clock he had given the last brush to his shabby hat and the lastscouring with bread-crumb to his dirty gloves. At ten minutes past tenhe was in the street, on his way to the nearest cab-stand, and I and mysubordinates were close on his heels.
He took a cab and we took a cab. I had not overheard them appoint aplace of meeting when following them in the Park on the previous day,but I soon found that we were proceeding in the old direction of theAvenue Road gate. The cab in which Mr. Jay was riding turned into thePark slowly. We stopped outside, to avoid exciting suspicion. I got outto follow the cab on foot. Just as I did so, I saw it stop, and detectedthe two confederates approaching it from among the trees. They got in,and the cab was turned about directly. I ran back to my own cab and toldthe driver to let them pass him, and then to follow as before.
The man obeyed my directions, but so clumsily as to excite theirsuspicions. We had been driving after them about three minutes(returning along the road by which we had advanced) when I looked outof the window to see how far they might be ahead of us. As I did this,I saw two hats popped out of the windows of their cab, and two faceslooking back at me. I sank into my place in a cold sweat; the expressionis coarse, but no other form of words can describe my condition at thattrying moment.
"We are found out!" I said, faintly, to my two subordinates. They staredat me in astonishment. My feelings changed instantly from the depth ofdespair to the height of indignation.
"It is the cabman's fault. Get out, one of you," I said, withdignity--"get out, and punch his head."
Instead of following my directions (I should wish this act ofdisobedience to be reported at headquarters) they both looked out of thewindow. Before I could pull them back they both sat down again. BeforeI could express my just indignation, they both grinned, and said to me:"Please to look out, sir!"
I did look out. Their cab had stopped.
Where?
At a church door!
What effect this discovery might have had upon the ordinary run of menI don't know. Being of a strong religious turn myself, it filled mewith horror. I have often read of the unprincipled cunning of criminalpersons, but I never before heard of three thieves attempting to doubleon their pursuers by entering a church! The sacrilegious audacity ofthat proceeding is, I should think, unparalleled in the annals of crime.
I checked my grinning subordinates by a frown. It was easy to see whatwas passing in their superficial minds. If I had not been able to lookbelow the surface, I might, on observing two nicely dressed men and onenicely dressed woman enter a church before eleven in the morning on aweek day, have come to the same hasty conclusion at which my inferiorshad evidently arrived. As it was, appearances had no power to impose on_me_. I got out, and, followed by one of my men, entered the church. Theother man I sent round to watch the vestry door. You may catch a weaselasleep, but not your humble servant, Matthew Sharpin!
We stole up the gallery stairs, diverged to the organ-loft, and peeredthrough the curtains in front. There they were, all three, sitting in apew below--yes, incredible as it may appear, sitting in a pew below!
Before I could determine what to do, a clergyman made his appearancein full canonicals from the vestry door, followed by a clerk. Mybrain whirled and my eyesight grew dim. Dark remembrances of robberiescommitted in vestries floated through my mind. I trembled for theexcellent man in full canonicals--I even trembled for the clerk.
The clergyman placed himself inside the altar rails. The threedesperadoes approached him. He opened his book and began to read. What?you will ask.
I answer, without the slightest hesitation, the first lines of theMarriage Service.
My subordinate had the audacity to look at me, and then to stuff hispocket-handkerchief into his mouth. I scorned to pay any attention tohim. After I had discovered that the man "Jack" was the bridegroom, andthat the man Jay acted the part of father, and gave away the bride, Ileft the church, followed by my men, and joined the other subordinateoutside the vestry door. Some people in my position would now have feltrather crestfallen, and would have begun to think that they had made avery foolish mistake. Not the faintest misgiving of any kind troubledme. I did not feel in the slightest degree depreciated in my ownestimation. And even now, after a lapse of three hours, my mind remains,I am happy to say, in the same calm and hopeful condition.
As soon as I and my subordinates were assembled together outside thechurch, I intimated my intention of still following the other cab inspite of what had occurred. My reason for deciding on this course willappear presently. The two subordinates appeared to be astonished at myresolution. One of them had the impertinence to say to me:
"If you please, sir, who is it that we are after? A man who has stolenmoney, or a man who has stolen a wife?"
The other low person encouraged him by laughing. Both have deserved anofficial reprimand, and both, I sincerely trust, will be sure to get it.
When the marriage ceremony was over, the three got into their cab andonce more our vehicle (neatly hidden round the corner of the church,so that they could not suspect it to be near them) started to followtheirs.
We traced them to the terminus of the Southwestern Railway. Thenewly-married couple took tickets for Richmond, paying their fare witha half sovereign, and so depriving me of the pleasure of arresting them,which I should certainly have done if they had offered a bank-note. Theyparted from Mr. Jay, saying: "Remember the address--14 Babylon Terrace.You dine with us to-morrow week." Mr. Jay accepted the invitation, andadded, jocosely, that he was going home at once to get off his cleanclothes, and to be comfortable and dirty again for the rest of the day.I have to report that I saw him home safely, and that he is comfortableand dirty again (to use his own disgraceful language) at the presentmoment.
Here the affair rests, having by this time reached what I may call itsfirst stage.
I know very well what persons of hasty judgment will be inclined to sayof my proceedings thus far. They will assert that I have been deceivingmyself all through in the most absurd way; they will declare that thesuspicious conversations which I have reported referred solely to thedifficulties and dangers of successfully carrying out a runaway match;and they will appeal to the scene in the church as offering undeniableproof of the correctness of their assertions. So let it be. I disputenothing up to this point. But I ask a question, out of the depths of myown sagacity as a man of the world, which the bitterest of my enemieswill not, I think, find it particularly easy to answer.
Granted the fact of the marriage, what proof does it afford me ofthe innocence of the three persons concerned in t
hat clandestinetransaction? It gives me none. On the contrary, it strengthens mysuspicions against Mr. Jay and his confederates, because it suggests adistinct motive for their stealing the money. A gentleman who is goingto spend his honeymoon at Richmond wants money; and a gentleman who isin debt to all his tradespeople wants money. Is this an unjustifiableimputation of bad motives? In the name of outraged Morality, I deny it.These men have combined together, and have stolen a woman. Why shouldthey not combine together and steal a cash-box? I take my stand on thelogic of rigid Virtue, and I defy all the sophistry of Vice to move mean inch out of my position.
Speaking of virtue, I may add that I have put this view of the caseto Mr. and Mrs. Yatman. That accomplished and charming woman found itdifficult at first to follow the close chain of my reasoning. I amfree to confess that she shook her head, and shed tears, and joinedher husband in premature lamentation over the loss of the two hundredpounds. But a little careful explanation on my part, and a littleattentive listening on hers, ultimately changed her opinion. She nowagrees with me that there is nothing in this unexpected circumstance ofthe clandestine marriage which absolutely tends to divert suspicion fromMr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack," or the runaway lady. "Audacious hussy" was theterm my fair friend used in speaking of her; but let that pass. It ismore to the purpose to record that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidencein me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example, and do hisbest to look hopefully for future results.
I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to awaitadvice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all the composureof a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I traced the threeconfederates from the church door to the railway terminus, I had twomotives for doing so. First, I followed them as a matter of officialbusiness, believing them still to have been guilty of the robbery.Secondly, I followed them as a matter of private speculation, with aview of discovering the place of refuge to which the runaway coupleintended to retreat, and of making my information a marketable commodityto offer to the young lady's family and friends. Thus, whatever happens,I may congratulate myself beforehand on not having wasted my time. Ifthe office approves of my conduct, I have my plan ready for furtherproceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take myself off, withmy marketable information, to the genteel villa residence in theneighborhood of the Regent's Park. Anyway, the affair puts money into mypocket, and does credit to my penetration as an uncommonly sharp man.
I have only one word more to add, and it is this: If any individualventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates are innocent ofall share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in return, defy thatindividual--though he may even be Chief Inspector Theakstone himself--totell me who has committed the robbery at Rutherford Street, Soho.
Strong in that conviction, I have the honor to be your very obedientservant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER.
Birmingham, July 9th.
SERGEANT BULMER--That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin, has madea mess of the case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I expected he would.Business keeps me in this town, so I write to you to set the matterstraight. I inclose with this the pages of feeble scribble-scrabblewhich the creature Sharpin calls a report. Look them over; and when youhave made your way through all the gabble, I think you will agree withme that the conceited booby has looked for the thief in every directionbut the right one. You can lay your hand on the guilty person in fiveminutes, now. Settle the case at once; forward your report to me at thisplace, and tell Mr. Sharpin that he is suspended till further notice.
Yours, FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM SERGEANT BULMER TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, July 10th.
INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE--Your letter and inclosure came safe to hand. Wisemen, they say, may always learn something even from a fool. By the timeI had got through Sharpin's maundering report of his own folly, I saw myway clear enough to the end of the Rutherford Street case, just as youthought I should. In half an hour's time I was at the house. The firstperson I saw there was Mr. Sharpin himself.
"Have you come to help me?" says he.
"Not exactly," says I. "I've come to tell you that you are suspendedtill further notice."
"Very good," says he, not taken down by so much as a single peg in hisown estimation. "I thought you would be jealous of me. It's very naturaland I don't blame you. Walk in, pray, and make yourself at home. I'm offto do a little detective business on my own account, in the neighborhoodof the Regent's Park. Ta--ta, sergeant, ta--ta!"
With those words he took himself out of the way, which was exactly whatI wanted him to do.
As soon as the maid-servant had shut the door, I told her to inform hermaster that I wanted to say a word to him in private. She showed me intothe parlor behind the shop, and there was Mr. Yatman all alone, readingthe newspaper.
"About this matter of the robbery, sir," says I.
He cut me short, peevishly enough, being naturally a poor, weak,womanish sort of man.
"Yes, yes, I know," says he. "You have come to tell me that yourwonderfully clever man, who has bored holes in my second floorpartition, has made a mistake, and is off the scent of the scoundrel whohas stolen my money."
"Yes, sir," says I. "That _is_ one of the things I came to tell you. ButI have got something else to say besides that."
"Can you tell me who the thief is?" says he, more pettish than ever.
"Yes, sir," says I, "I think I can."
He put down the newspaper, and began to look rather anxious andfrightened.
"Not my shopman?" says he. "I hope, for the man's own sake, it's not myshopman."
"Guess again, sir," says I.
"That idle slut, the maid?" says he.
"She is idle, sir," says I, "and she is also a slut; my first inquiriesabout her proved as much as that. But she's not the thief."
"Then, in the name of Heaven, who is?" says he.
"Will you please to prepare yourself for a very disagreeable surprise,sir?" says I. "And, in case you lose your temper, will you excuse myremarking that I am the stronger man of the two, and that if you allowyourself to lay hands on me, I may unintentionally hurt you, in pureself-defense."
He turned as pale as ashes, and pushed his chair two or three feet awayfrom me.
"You have asked me to tell you, sir, who has taken your money," I wenton. "If you insist on my giving you an answer--"
"I do insist," he said, faintly. "Who has taken it?"
"Your wife has taken it," I said, very quietly, and very positively atthe same time.
He jumped out of the chair as if I had put a knife into him, and struckhis fist on the table so heavily that the wood cracked again.
"Steady, sir," says I. "Flying into a passion won't help you to thetruth."
"It's a lie!" says he, with another smack of his fist on the table--"abase, vile, infamous lie! How dare you--"
He stopped, and fell back into the chair again, looked about him in abewildered way, and ended by bursting out crying.
"When your better sense comes back to you, sir," says I, "I am sure youwill be gentleman enough to make an apology for the language you havejust used. In the meantime, please to listen, if you can, to a word ofexplanation. Mr. Sharpin has sent in a report to our inspector of themost irregular and ridiculous kind, setting down not only all his ownfoolish doings and sayings, but the doings and sayings of Mrs. Yatmanas well. In most cases, such a document would have been fit only for thewaste paper basket; but in this particular case it so happens that Mr.Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain conclusion, which thesimpleton of a writer has been quite innocent of suspecting from thebeginning to the end. Of that conclusion I am so sure that I willforfeit my place if it does not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has beenpracticing upon the folly and conceit of this young man, and that shehas tried to shield herself from discovery by purposely encouraging himto suspect the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; a
nd I willeven go further. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to whyMrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or with apart of it. Nobody can look at that lady, sir, without being struck bythe great taste and beauty of her dress--"
As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his powers ofspeech again. He cut me short directly as haughtily as if he had been aduke instead of a stationer.
"Try some other means of justifying your vile calumny against mywife," says he. "Her milliner's bill for the past year is on my file ofreceipted accounts at this moment."
"Excuse me, sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I musttell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within the dailyexperience of our office. A married lady who wishes it can keep twoaccounts at her dressmaker's; one is the account which her husbandsees and pays; the other is the private account, which contains all theextravagant items, and which the wife pays secretly, by installments,whenever she can. According to our usual experience, these installmentsare mostly squeezed out of the housekeeping money. In your case,I suspect, no installments have been paid; proceedings have beenthreatened; Mrs. Yatman, knowing your altered circumstances, has feltherself driven into a corner, and she has paid her private account outof your cash-box."
"I won't believe it," says he. "Every word you speak is an abominableinsult to me and to my wife."
"Are you man enough, sir," says I, taking him up short, in order to savetime and words, "to get that receipted bill you spoke of just now offthe file, and come with me at once to the milliner's shop where Mrs.Yatman deals?"
He turned red in the face at that, got the bill directly, and put on hishat. I took out of my pocket-book the list containing the numbers of thelost notes, and we left the house together immediately.
Arrived at the milliner's (one of the expensive West-End houses, as Iexpected), I asked for a private interview, on important business, withthe mistress of the concern. It was not the first time that she and Ihad met over the same delicate investigation. The moment she set eyes onme she sent for her husband. I mentioned who Mr. Yatman was, and what wewanted.
"This is strictly private?" inquires the husband. I nodded my head.
"And confidential?" says the wife. I nodded again.
"Do you see any objection, dear, to obliging the sergeant with a sightof the books?" says the husband.
"None in the world, love, if you approve of it," says the wife.
All this while poor Mr. Yatman sat looking the picture of astonishmentand distress, quite out of place at our polite conference. The bookswere brought, and one minute's look at the pages in which Mrs. Yatman'sname figured was enough, and more than enough, to prove the truth ofevery word that I had spoken.
There, in one book, was the husband's account which Mr. Yatman hadsettled; and there, in the other, was the private account, crossed offalso, the date of settlement being the very day after the loss of thecash-box. This said private account amounted to the sum of a hundredand seventy-five pounds, odd shillings, and it extended over a periodof three years. Not a single installment had been paid on it. Under thelast line was an entry to this effect: "Written to for the third time,June 23d." I pointed to it, and asked the milliner if that meant "lastJune." Yes, it did mean last June; and she now deeply regretted to saythat it had been accompanied by a threat of legal proceedings.
"I thought you gave good customers more than three years' credit?" saysI.
The milliner looks at Mr. Yatman, and whispers to me, "Not when a lady'shusband gets into difficulties."
She pointed to the account as she spoke. The entries after the time whenMr. Yatman's circumstances became involved were just as extravagant,for a person in his wife's situation, as the entries for the yearbefore that period. If the lady had economized in other things, she hadcertainly not economized in the matter of dress.
There was nothing left now but to examine the cash-book, for form'ssake. The money had been paid in notes, the amounts and numbers of whichexactly tallied with the figures set down in my list.
After that, I thought it best to get Mr. Yatman out of the houseimmediately. He was in such a pitiable condition that I called a cab andaccompanied him home in it. At first he cried and raved like a child;but I soon quieted him; and I must add, to his credit, that he made mea most handsome apology for his language as the cab drew up at hishouse door. In return, I tried to give him some advice about how toset matters right for the future with his wife. He paid very littleattention to me, and went upstairs muttering to himself about aseparation. Whether Mrs. Yatman will come cleverly out of the scrapeor not seems doubtful. I should say myself that she would go intoscreeching hysterics, and so frighten the poor man into forgiving her.But this is no business of ours. So far as we are concerned, the caseis now at an end, and the present report may come to a conclusion alongwith it.
I remain, accordingly, yours to command,
THOMAS BULMER.
_P.S_.--I have to add that, on leaving Rutherford Street, I met Mr.Matthew Sharpin coming to pack up his things.
"Only think!" says he, rubbing his hands in great spirits, "I've been tothe genteel villa residence, and the moment I mentioned my business theykicked me out directly. There were two witnesses of the assault, andit's worth a hundred pounds to me if it's worth a farthing."
"I wish you joy of your luck," says I.
"Thank you," says he. "When may I pay you the same compliment on findingthe thief?"
"Whenever you like," says I, "for the thief is found."
"Just what I expected," says he. "I've done all the work, and now youcut in and claim all the credit--Mr. Jay, of course."
"No," says I.
"Who is it then?" says he.
"Ask Mrs. Yatman," says I. "She's waiting to tell you."
"All right! I'd much rather hear it from that charming woman than fromyou," says he, and goes into the house in a mighty hurry.
What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone? Would you like to standin Mr. Sharpin's shoes? I shouldn't, I can promise you.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN.
July 12th.
SIR--Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself suspendeduntil further notice. I have now authority to add that your servicesas a member of the Detective police are positively declined. You willplease to take this letter as notifying officially your dismissal fromthe force.
I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended to castany reflections on your character. It merely implies that you are notquite sharp enough for our purposes. If we _are_ to have a new recruitamong us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs. Yatman.
Your obedient servant,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
NOTE ON THE PRECEDING CORRESPONDENCE, ADDED BY MR. THEAKSTONE.
The inspector is not in a position to append any explanations ofimportance to the last of the letters. It has been discovered that Mr.Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street five minutes afterhis interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer, his manner expressingthe liveliest emotions of terror and astonishment, and his left cheekdisplaying a bright patch of red, which looked as if it might have beenthe result of what is popularly termed a smart box on the ear. He wasalso heard by the shopman at Rutherford Street to use a very shockingexpression in reference to Mrs. Yatman, and was seen to clinch his fistvindictively as he ran round the corner of the street. Nothing more hasbeen heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has left London withthe intention of offering his valuable services to the provincialpolice.
On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still lessis known. It has, however, been positively ascertained that the medicalattendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry on the day whenMr. Yatman returned from the milliner's shop. The neighboring chemistreceived, soon afterward, a prescription of a soothing nature to make upfor Mrs. Yatman. The day after, Mr. Yatman purchased some smelling-saltsat the shop, and afterward appeared at the
circulating library to askfor a novel descriptive of high life that would amuse an invalid lady.It has been inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought itdesirable to carry out his threat of separating from his wife, at leastin the present (presumed) condition of that lady's sensitive nervoussystem.
THE SEVENTH DAY.
FINE enough for our guest to go out again. Long, feathery lines of whitecloud are waving upward in the sky, a sign of coming wind.
There was a steamer telegraphed yesterday from the West Indies. When thenext vessel is announced from abroad, will it be George's ship?
I don't know how my brothers feel to-day, but the sudden cessation of myown literary labors has left me still in bad spirits. I tried to occupymy mind by reading, but my attention wandered. I went out into thegarden, but it looked dreary; the autumn flowers were few and farbetween--the lawn was soaked and sodden with yesterday's rain. Iwandered into Owen's room. He had returned to his painting, but was notworking, as it struck me, with his customary assiduity and his customarysense of enjoyment.
We had a long talk together about George and Jessie and the future. Owenurged me to risk speaking of my son in her presence once more, onthe chance of making her betray herself on a second occasion, and Idetermined to take his advice. But she was in such high spirits when shecame home to dinner on this Seventh Day, and seemed so incapable, forthe time being, of either feeling or speaking seriously, that I thoughtit wiser to wait till her variable mood altered again with the next wetday.
The number drawn this evening was Eight, being the number of the storywhich it had cost Owen so much labor to write. He looked a littlefluttered and anxious as he opened the manuscript. This was the firstoccasion on which his ability as a narrator was to be brought to thetest, and I saw him glance nervously at Jessie's attentive face.
"I need not trouble you with much in the way of preface," he said. "Thisis the story of a very remarkable event in the life of one of my brotherclergymen. He and I became acquainted through being associated with eachother in the management of a Missionary Society. I saw him for the lasttime in London when he was about to leave his country and his friendsforever, and was then informed of the circumstances which have affordedthe material for this narrative."
BROTHER OWEN'S STORY of THE PARSON'S SCRUPLE.
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