The Arthur Morrison Mystery

by Arthur Morrison

  I told him the tale of the man who had been knocked down in Moorgate Street, and I explained exactly how the paper, the key and the envelope were found in relation to each other, and why I had brought them.

  “And when was the man knocked over?” Hewitt asked.

  “Some time between one and two o’clock, I should say,” I replied. “They brought him in well before two, at any rate.”

  Hewitt stared into vacancy for a moment, thinking hard. Then he said, “Brett, I believe you’ve saved my reputation—not that it could have suffered much, perhaps, in such a desperate case. But as a fact I had already advised the calling in of the police, and should, perhaps, even have given up the part of the case still left me. But this ought to put me on the proper track. You see, every one of these patent lever locks differs in some slight degree from all the rest, and only its own key will fit it; and here, by this amazing piece of good luck, is the one key for this very lock, and the man who had it is detained in hospital. Come, I’m off to see him. Insensible, you say, when you left?”

  “Yes,” I answered, “and likely to be so for some time, McCarthy thinks; so you probably won’t get much information out of him just yet. But the cypher—”

  “I’ll examine the cypher as I go along, I think. But I should like to take a look at the man, at any rate, even if he can’t tell me anything. Will you give me a note to your friend McCarthy?”

  “Of course,” I answered, readily, and sat down to scribble the few lines necessary to introduce Hewitt.

  When I had finished, Hewitt, who had been examining the cryptogram meanwhile, remarked: “This cypher is something out of the common, Brett. I certainly don’t expect to be able to read it in the cab-journey—perhaps not in a week of study. The man who devised this is a man of abilities altogether beyond the average.”

  “I have had my best try at it,” I said, “but it beats me wholly. I brought it purely as a matter of curiosity, to show you; it was the merest chance that I brought the key as well.”

  “And if you hadn’t I should probably have put the cypher aside until the case was over, and so have missed the whole thing. Another lesson never to despise what seem like trifles. If you have studied the cypher you have no doubt observed—but there, we’ll talk that over afterwards, and the whole case if you like. I’ll go now, and I’ll tell you all about the business when time permits.”

  II

  Here is the case of the bond robbery as it had been presented to Martin Hewitt that morning, while I was at St. Augustine’s Hospital, and as I learned it from him later. I had been a little puzzled to hear Hewitt say that the case had seemed so desperately hopeless that he advised the calling in of the police, because my experience had rather been that it was Hewitt who was commonly called in—often too late—when the police were beaten, and I had never before heard of a case in which this order of things was reversed. It turned out, however, as will be seen, that in the state of the matter as it first presented itself the only measures that seemed possible were such as it was in the power of the police alone to adopt.

  Messrs. Kingsley, Bell, and Dalton were an old-established firm of brokers whose operations were not enormous nor much in the eye of the public, but who carried on a steady and reputable business in a set of offices high up in a great building in Broad Street—a building so large that the notice “Offices to let” was a permanent fixture in the front porch. The firm’s clients were chiefly steady-going investors of the old-fashioned sort, who wished to avoid all speculative fireworks, and to deal through a firm whose habits were conformable to their own. The last Kingsley had left the firm and soon afterward died, some few years back, and now the head of the firm was Mr. Robert Stanstead Bell, a gentleman of some sixty years of age. There were a couple of sleeping partners—relations—but the one other active partner was Mr. Clarence Dalton, a young man but recently advanced to partnership, and, it was said, likely to become Mr. Bell’s son-in-law whenever the old gentleman’s daughter Lilian should be married.

  The steady, even round of business to which Kingsley, Bell, and Dalton, and their clerks were accustomed was suddenly interrupted by an appalling loss. It was discovered that bonds were missing from the safe, bonds to the amount of some £25,000; and whence, how, or when they were taken was an utter mystery. It was this loss which had occasioned the urgent message to Hewitt.

  When Hewitt reached the spot he was shown at once into an inner office, where Mr. Bell sat waiting. The old gentleman was in a sad state of agitation, and it was with some difficulty that Hewitt got from him a reasonably connected account of the trouble.

  “The loss comes at such a time, Mr. Hewitt,” the senior partner explained, “that I don’t know but it may ruin us utterly, unless my clients’ property can be recovered. We have had to pay out heavy sums of late to the representatives of dead or retiring partners, and other circumstances combine with these to make the matter in this way even more terribly serious than the very large amount of the loss would seem to suggest. So I beg you will do what you can.”

  “That of course,” responded Hewitt. “But please tell me, as clearly as you can, the precise circumstances of the case. Where were the bonds taken from?”

  “This safe,” Mr. Bell answered, turning toward a very large and heavy one, which might almost have been called a small strong room. “They were kept, together with others, in this box, one of several, as you see. The box was fastened, like the rest, with a Tripp’s patent lever padlock, the only key of which I kept, together with the key of the safe.”

  The box indicated was one of ordinary thin sheet iron, japanned black—something like what is called a deed box.

  “The padlock has been broken open, I see,” Hewitt observed.

  “Yes, but I did that myself this morning. It had been blocked up in some way, so that the key wouldn’t turn—doubtless in order to cause delay when next the box should come to be opened. As it was I might have desisted and put off opening it till later, but I had a reason for wishing to refer at once to a list which was in the box, and so I decided to break the padlock. It was more difficult than one might expect, with such a small padlock.”

  “And then you discovered your loss?”

  “Then I discovered the loss, Mr. Hewitt, though it was a mere chance even then. For see! All the bonds have not been taken, and those left are placed on the top, while the space below is filled with dummies. I hardly know why I turned them over—for the list was at the top—but I did, and then—” Mr. Bell finished with a despairing gesture.

  “And this was some time this morning?”

  “At about half-past eleven.”

  “And when did you last open the box before that?”

  “Ten days ago at least, I should think—and even then the bonds may have been gone, for I only opened it to refer to the same list, and I examined nothing else.”

  “You say that some bonds are left and others are gone. I presume those taken are such as would be easy to negotiate, and those left are such as would be difficult. Is that the fact?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Then the thief evidently knows the ropes, and altogether the matter would seem awkward. For anything short of ten days, you see, and quite possibly for even a longer time than that, these bonds have been in the undisturbed possession of some person who could easily dispose of them, and would certainly do so without a moment’s delay.”

  Mr. Bell nodded sadly. “Quite true,” he said.

  “But now tell me a little more. You say you yourself keep the only key of the padlock, as well as the key of the safe. So that you open the safe every morning yourself and close it at night?”

  “Just so.”

  “And do you never entrust the keys to anybody else?”

  “The key of the safe is on a separate bunch from the key of the box. This second bunch, with the key of the box, is always in my pocket, and not a soul el
se ever touches it. The other bunch, with the outer key of the safe, I sometimes hand to my partner, or to the head clerk, Mr. Foster, if something is wanted from the safe when I am busy. Though, as a rule, the safe door is open so long as I am about the place. Nothing but the books can be taken out without the use of other keys for the drawers and boxes, which I keep on the private bunch.”

  “And would it be possible for anybody—anybody at all, mind—to get at that private bunch of keys in such a way, for instance, as to be able to take a wax impression of the key of that bond-box?”

  “No, certainly not,” Mr. Bell answered with decision. “Certainly not. At any rate, not in this office,” he added.

  “Ah, not in this office. Anywhere else?”

  “No, nor anywhere else, I should think,” the other replied, though this time a little more thoughtfully. “There’s only my own family at home and the servants and—”

  “Anybody who has access to this room of the office?” Hewitt asked keenly.

  Mr. Bell seemed a little startled.

  “Why, no,” he said, “nobody at home comes to the office—not even a visitor, except, of course, my junior partner, who visits the room pretty frequently.”

  “Very well. You don’t remember ever mislaying the keys temporarily, I suppose, either here or at home?”

  “No-o,” Mr. Bell replied slowly. “I can’t say that I do remember anything of the sort. No—and I believe I should be sure to remember if I had.”

  “Ah! And when you realised your loss what did you do? Told your partner first, I suppose?”

  “No—he doesn’t know of the discovery. He went out just before I made it, and I don’t expect him in again today.” But as Mr. Bell spoke there grew plain in his face the pallor of a new fear.

  Martin Hewitt observed it, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Well,” he said, “you didn’t tell your partner. Nor the police?”

  “No, Mr. Hewitt. You see, of course, the first thing the police attempt is to catch and punish the thief, and they make the recovery of the property a subsidiary object. But for me, Mr. Hewitt, the recovery of the property, as I have explained, is the one great consideration. Punish the thief by all means, but first save me from ruin, Mr. Hewitt! That is why I sent for you; for that, and because I thought it might be advisable to keep the matter quiet, till you had taken some steps.”

  “There is something in that consideration, certainly. So you have told nobody of the loss, except me?”

  “Nobody but Foster, my head clerk—an old and faithful servant. It was he, in fact, who suggested sending for you. As he put it very forcibly, you can act for me and my interests, while the police act for themselves, and—very properly, of course, as police—in the interest of the community.”

  “Very well. I see you have several clerks in the outer office. Do they ever come into this room?”

  “Never, unless they are sent for.”

  “If you and your partner were out, and one of the clerks came in without being sent for, the rest would know it, of course?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I observe three private rooms opening out of this. What are they?”

  “This is a sort of extra inner room where I have private interviews with clients—I was in there with a client for half an hour this morning before I discovered the loss. The next is a mere little box of a room where the correspondence clerk sits and works. The other is a larger place—it is shared between my partner, Mr. Clarence Dalton, and the head clerk, Mr. Foster.”

  “Now let me have your broken padlock—and the key. I see you have forced up the front plate with a screw-driver. I will borrow that screw-driver, if you please, and force it off completely.”

  Hewitt’s client produced a screw-driver from a drawer, and in a very few moments the interior of the little padlock lay uncovered. Hewitt examined the lock attentively for some few minutes, trying the key several times against the levers. Then he stood up and said—

  “Mr. Bell, you have made a mistake. This is not your lock at all!”

  “Not my lock!” exclaimed the broker. “What do you mean? I tell you it is the lock of that box, and I broke it open myself!”

  “Yes,” answered Hewitt calmly, “it was on that box, and you broke it open yourself; but all the same it is not your lock. Let me explain. These are very good little padlocks, with an excellent lever action, ‘dogged against detent,’ as the technical phrase goes; so that only the key properly made for each lock will open it. They are so good, indeed, as locks, that it would be a waste of time to try picking them, when, because of their small size, it is so very easy to break them apart, just as you have done yourself, and just as I could probably have done in half the time, having had rather more experience. Now that is what has been done with your lock by the person who has your bonds. But of course a broken lock has one disadvantage as compared with a skilfully picked lock—it shows at the first glance what has happened. In this case, Mr. Bell, your lock has been broken and taken away, and the thief, having first provided himself with another padlock of precisely the same make and size, has substituted that, locked it with its proper key and so left it!”

  “What! Then that was why—”

  “That, of course, was why you supposed it to be out of order when you attempted to open it with your key. As a matter of fact, it is even now in perfectly good order, except for the damage we have jointly committed with the screw-driver. And now, observe! That lock was shut by another key; if the man that did that is as sharp as I suppose he is, he will have got rid of that key at once. But perhaps he hasn’t; and if not, then the man who has that key is the thief. At any rate, the key is the clue we must hunt for. Let us have your clerks in one by one, and look at their keys. Some are out at lunch by this time, probably?”

  “No—I said they might be wanted, so kept them. I thought you might prefer to see them before they went out.”

  “Very well thought of, but perhaps scarcely judicious, on the whole. Because if there is a guilty person among them it may give him a hint; and the odds are rather against its being very useful, considering the possibility—even probability—that the bonds and the collateral evidence left here days ago. But we’ll look at their keys, by all means, and then they may go to lunch as soon as you please. Let me do the talking, or perhaps you’ll start a scare. Send for the nearest clerks first, then the others. As each comes in, mention his name, so that I can hear it. Say, ‘Oh, Mr. Brown’—or Jones, or what not—‘have you some keys about you?’ Don’t mention my name, and I will do the rest. Push to the door of the safe, and lock this drawer in the table.”

  Mr. Bell did as Hewitt directed, and then called the head clerk, Mr. Foster, from his room, with the prescribed inquiry about keys.

  “Yes, Mr. Foster,” Hewitt added pleasantly, “I’m not sure that the lock is quite in order, but I promised to open it for Mr. Bell, so we’ll try.”

  Mr. Foster, a slim, active old gentleman, grown grey in the firm’s service, pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket, and Hewitt scrutinised each narrowly. “No,” he said, “I’m afraid none of these will do. Stay,” he added suddenly, and turning his back, carried the bunch to the window. “No,” he concluded, as he came back to the table and tried one of the keys fruitlessly. “No, I’m afraid none of those will do. Thank you, Mr. Foster. You don’t happen to have any more, do you?”

  No, Mr. Foster hadn’t any more, and he retired to his room. Then Mr. Bell called the correspondence clerk, Mr. Henning. Mr. Henning was a much younger man than the head clerk—twenty-six or so—pale and blue-eyed, with weak whiskers and a straggling moustache. His keys were just as readily produced as Mr. Foster’s, but again Hewitt’s examination was unsuccessful. The only other key he had belonged to the typewriter, and that did not fit.

  Then came Mr. Potter, the book-keeper, round, and tubby, and puffy, and his keys went under inspection in the same
way, taking a little longer this time, with two separate dashes to the light of the window. Then there was Mr. Robson, young and spruce, Mr. Clancy, older and less tidy, and four or five more. All the keys were examined, all with the same lack of success, and all the clerks were sent away to take their turns at lunch.

  “No,” Hewitt reported, as soon as he and Mr. Bell were alone again, “it was certainly none of those keys. Though indeed, my little attempt was desperate at best. A man would be a fool to keep that key longer than he needed it, and especially to string it with his others. Still, of course, it is by just such blunders as that that nine criminals out of ten are discovered. And now let me take a good look at that box and its contents.”

  He lifted the box from the safe to the table, and narrowly scrutinised its exterior, especially about the hasp, where the padlock had been. “Either the thief was an experienced hand,” he said, “or he took some steady practice with a few such padlocks as this before setting to work. There are no signs of banging about or slipping of tools anywhere.”

  “But, of course, banging or anything violent would have been noticed in a place like this,” Mr. Bell remarked.

  “In office hours, yes,” responded Hewitt. “But we mustn’t forget that office hours are only seven or eight out of the twenty-four.”

  “But you don’t suspect burglary, do you?”

  “I’m afraid, as yet, I’ve precious little ground for suspecting anything definite,” Hewitt answered; “but we must keep awake to every possibility. Now let us see the dummies.” He turned them over, and loosened them wherever they were tied. “Yes,” he remarked, “quite neatly done. Filled in with ordinary blank foolscap, such as, no doubt, you have in your office—but, then, it is in every other office, too; every stationer has it by the ream. No marks anywhere—no old newspapers, nothing that could give the shadow of a clue.” He dropped the last of the papers, and turned to his client. “Mr. Bell,” he said, “this thing has been thought out to the last inch. There is something like genius in this robbery—if genius is the capacity for taking pains. My advice to you is to call in the Scotland Yard people at once.”