The Detective Megapack

by Various Writers

  Mr. Hornby, looking wild and agitated, stepped into the witness-box, and the usher, having handed him the Testament, sang out—

  “The evidence you shall give to the court and jury sworn, between our Sovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; so help you God!”

  Mr. Hornby kissed the Book, and, casting a glance of unutterable misery at his nephew, turned towards the counsel.

  “Your name is John Hornby, is it not?” asked Sir Hector.

  “It is.”

  “And you occupy premises in St. Mary Axe?”

  “Yes. I am a dealer in precious metals, but my business consists principally in the assaying of samples of ore and quartz and bars of silver and gold.”

  “Do you remember what happened on the ninth of March last?”

  “Perfectly. My nephew Reuben—the prisoner—delivered to me a parcel of diamonds which he had received from the purser of the Elmina Castle, to whom I had sent him as my confidential agent. I had intended to deposit the diamonds with my banker, but when the prisoner arrived at my office, the banks were already closed, so I had to put the parcel, for the night, in my own safe. I may say that the prisoner was not in any way responsible for the delay.”

  “You are not here to defend the prisoner,” said Sir Hector. “Answer my questions and make no comments, if you please. Was anyone present when you placed the diamonds in the safe?”

  “No one was present but myself.”

  “I did not ask if you were present when you put them in,” said Sir Hector (whereupon the spectators sniggered and the judge smiled indulgently). “What else did you do?”

  “I wrote in pencil on a leaf of my pocket memorandum block, ‘Handed in by Reuben at 7:30 P.M., 9.3.01,’ and initialled it. Then I tore the leaf from the block and laid it on the parcel, after which I closed the safe and locked it.”

  “How soon did you leave the premises after this?”

  “Almost immediately. The prisoner was waiting for me in the outer office—”

  “Never mind where the prisoner was; confine your answers to what is asked. Did you take the keys with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you next open the safe?”

  “On the following morning at ten o’clock.”

  “Was the safe locked or unlocked when you arrived?”

  “It was locked. I unlocked it.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about the safe?”

  “No.”

  “Had the keys left your custody in the interval?”

  “No. They were attached to a key-chain, which I always wear.”

  “Are there any duplicates of those keys?—the keys of the safe, I mean.”

  “No, there are no duplicates.”

  “Have the keys ever gone out of your possession?”

  “Yes. If I have had to be absent from the office for a considerable time, it has been my custom to hand the keys to one of my nephews, whichever has happened to be in charge at the time.”

  “And never to any other person?”

  “Never to any other person.”

  “What did you observe when you opened the safe?”

  “I observed that the parcel of diamonds had disappeared.”

  “Did you notice anything else?”

  “Yes. I found the leaf from my memorandum block lying at the bottom of the safe. I picked it up and turned it over, and then saw that there were smears of blood on it and what looked like the print of a thumb in blood. The thumb-mark was on the under-surface, as the paper lay at the bottom of the safe.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I closed and locked the safe, and sent a note to the police station saying that a robbery had been committed on my premises.”

  “You have known the prisoner several years, I believe?”

  “Yes; I have known him all his life. He is my eldest brother’s son.”

  “Then you can tell us, no doubt, whether he is left-handed or right-handed?”

  “I should say he was ambidextrous, but he uses his left hand by preference.”

  “A fine distinction, Mr. Hornby; a very fine distinction. Now tell me, did you ascertain beyond all doubt that the diamonds were really gone?”

  “Yes; I examined the safe thoroughly, first by myself and afterwards with the police. There was no doubt that the diamonds had really gone.”

  “When the detective suggested that you should have the thumb-prints of your two nephews taken, did you refuse?”

  “I refused.”

  “Why did you refuse?”

  “Because I did not choose to subject my nephews to the indignity. Besides, I had no power to make them submit to the proceeding.”

  “Had you any suspicions of either of them?”

  “I had no suspicions of anyone.”

  “Kindly examine this piece of paper, Mr. Hornby,” said Sir Hector, passing across a small oblong slip, “and tell us if you recognise it.”

  Mr. Hornby glanced at the paper for a moment, and then said—

  “This is the memorandum slip that I found lying at the bottom of the safe.”

  “How do you identify it?”

  “By the writing on it, which is in my own hand, and bears my initials.”

  “Is it the memorandum that you placed on the parcel of diamonds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there any thumb-mark or blood-smear on it when you placed it in the safe?”

  “No.”

  “Was it possible that there could have been any such marks?”

  “Quite impossible. I tore it from my memorandum block at the time I wrote upon it.”

  “Very well.” Sir Hector Trumpler sat down, and Mr. Anstey stood up to cross-examine the witness.

  “You have told us, Mr. Hornby,” said he, “that you have known the prisoner all his life. Now what estimate have you formed of his character?”

  “I have always regarded him as a young man of the highest character—honourable, truthful, and in every way trustworthy. I have never, in all my experience of him, known him to deviate a hair’s-breadth from the strictest honour and honesty of conduct.”

  “You regarded him as a man of irreproachable character. Is that so?”

  “That is so; and my opinion of him is unchanged.”

  “Has he, to your knowledge, any expensive or extravagant habits?”

  “No. His habits are simple and rather thrifty.”

  “Have you ever known him to bet, gamble, or speculate?”

  “Never.”

  “Has he ever seemed to be in want of money?”

  “No. He has a small private income, apart from his salary, which I know he does not spend, since I have occasionally employed my broker to invest his savings.”

  “Apart from the thumb-print which was found in the safe, are you aware of any circumstances that would lead you to suspect the prisoner of having stolen the diamonds?”

  “None whatever.”

  Mr. Anstey sat down, and as Mr. Hornby left the witness-box, mopping the perspiration from his forehead, the next witness was called.

  “Inspector Sanderson!”

  The dapper police officer stepped briskly into the box, and having been duly sworn, faced the prosecuting counsel with the air of a man who was prepared for any contingency.

  “Do you remember,” said Sir Hector, after the usual preliminaries had been gone through, “what occurred on the morning of the tenth of March?”

  “Yes. A note was handed to me at the station at 10:23 A.M. It was from Mr. John Hornby, and stated that a robbery had occurred at his premises in St. Mary Axe. I went to the premises and arrived there at 10:31 A.M. There I saw the prosecutor, Mr. John Hornby, who told me that a parcel of diamonds had been stolen from the safe. At his request I examined the safe. There were no signs of its having been forced open; the locks seemed to be quite uninjured and in good order. Inside the safe, on the bottom, I found two good-sized drops
of blood, and a slip of paper with pencil-writing on it. The paper bore two blood-smears and a print of a human thumb in blood.”

  “Is this the paper?” asked the counsel, passing a small slip across to the witness.

  “Yes,” replied the inspector, after a brief glance at the document.

  “What did you do next?”

  “I sent a message to Scotland Yard acquainting the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department with the facts, and then went back to the station. I had no further connection with the case.”

  Sir Hector sat down, and the judge glanced at Anstey.

  “You tell us,” said the latter, rising, “that you observed two good-sized drops of blood on the bottom of the safe. Did you notice the condition of the blood, whether moist or dry?”

  “The blood looked moist, but I did not touch it. I left it undisturbed for the detective officers to examine.”

  The next witness called was Sergeant Bates, of the Criminal Investigation Department. He stepped into the box with the same ready, business-like air as the other officer, and, having been sworn, proceeded to give his evidence with a fluency that suggested careful preparation, holding an open notebook in his hand but making no references to it.

  “On the tenth of March, at 12:08 P.M., I received instructions to proceed to St. Mary Axe to inquire into a robbery that had taken place there. Inspector Sanderson’s report was handed to me, and I read it in the cab on my way to the premises. On arriving at the premises at 12:30 P.M., I examined the safe carefully. It was quite uninjured, and there were no marks of any kind upon it. I tested the locks and found them perfect; there were no marks or indications of any picklock having been used. On the bottom of the inside I observed two rather large drops of a dark fluid. I took up some of the fluid on a piece of paper and found it to be blood. I also found, in the bottom of the safe, the burnt head of a wax match, and, on searching the floor of the office, I found, close by the safe, a used wax match from which the head had fallen. I also found a slip of paper which appeared to have been torn from a perforated block. On it was written in pencil, ‘Handed in by Reuben at 7:30 P.M. 9.3.01. J.H.’ There were two smears of blood on the paper and the impression of a human thumb in blood. I took possession of the paper in order that it might be examined by the experts. I inspected the office doors and the outer door of the premises, but found no signs of forcible entrance on any of them. I questioned the housekeeper, but obtained no information from him. I then returned to headquarters, made my report and handed the paper with the marks on it to the Superintendent.”

  “Is this the paper that you found in the safe?” asked the counsel, once more handing the leaflet across.

  “Yes; this is the paper.”

  “What happened next?”

  “The following afternoon I was sent for by Mr. Singleton, of the Finger-print Department. He informed me that he had gone through the files and had not been able to find any thumb-print resembling the one on the paper, and recommended me to endeavour to obtain prints of the thumbs of any persons who might have been concerned in the robbery. He also gave me an enlarged photograph of the thumb-print for reference if necessary. I accordingly went to St. Mary Axe and had an interview with Mr. Hornby, when I requested him to allow me to take prints of the thumbs of all the persons employed on the premises, including his two nephews. This he refused, saying that he distrusted finger-prints and that there was no suspicion of anyone on the premises. I asked if he would allow his nephews to furnish their thumb-prints privately, to which he replied, ‘Certainly not.’”

  “Had you then any suspicion of either of the nephews?”

  “I thought they were both open to some suspicion. The safe had certainly been opened with false keys, and as they had both had the real keys in their possession it was possible that one of them might have taken impressions in wax and made counterfeit keys.”

  “Yes.”

  “I called on Mr. Hornby several times and urged him, for the sake of his nephews’ reputations, to sanction the taking of the thumb-prints; but he refused very positively and forbade them to submit, although I understood that they were both willing. It then occurred to me to try if I could get any help from Mrs. Hornby, and on the fifteenth of March I called at Mr. Hornby’s private house and saw her. I explained to her what was wanted to clear her nephews from the suspicion that rested on them, and she then said that she could dispose of those suspicions at once, for she could show me the thumb-prints of the whole family: she had them all in a ‘Thumbograph.’”

  “A ‘Thumbograph’?” repeated the judge. “What is a ‘Thumbograph’?”

  Anstey rose with the little red-covered volume in his hand.

  “A ‘Thumbograph,’ my lord,” said he, “is a book, like this, in which foolish people collect the thumb-prints of their more foolish acquaintances.”

  He passed the volume up to the judge, who turned over the leaves curiously and then nodded to the witness.

  “Yes. She said she had them all in a ‘Thumbograph.’”

  “Then she fetched from a drawer a small red-covered book which she showed to me. It contained the thumb-prints of all the family and some of her friends.”

  “Is this the book?” asked the judge, passing the volume down to the witness.

  The sergeant turned over the leaves until he came to one which he apparently recognised, and said—

  “Yes, m’lord; this is the book. Mrs. Hornby showed me the thumb-prints of various members of the family, and then found those of the two nephews. I compared them with the photograph that I had with me and discovered that the print of the left thumb of Reuben Hornby was in every respect identical with the thumb-print shown in the photograph.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I asked Mrs. Hornby to lend me the ‘Thumbograph’ so that I might show it to the Chief of the Finger-print Department, to which she consented. I had not intended to tell her of my discovery, but, as I was leaving, Mr. Hornby arrived home, and when he heard of what had taken place, he asked me why I wanted the book, and then I told him. He was greatly astonished and horrified, and wished me to return the book at once. He proposed to let the whole matter drop and take the loss of the diamonds on himself; but I pointed out that this was impossible as it would practically amount to compounding a felony. Seeing that Mrs. Hornby was so distressed at the idea of her book being used in evidence against her nephew, I promised her that I would return it to her if I could obtain a thumb-print in any other way.

  “I then took the ‘Thumbograph’ to Scotland Yard and showed it to Mr. Singleton, who agreed that the print of the left thumb of Reuben Hornby was in every respect identical with the thumb-print on the paper found in the safe. On this I applied for a warrant for the arrest of Reuben Hornby, which I executed on the following morning. I told the prisoner what I had promised Mrs. Hornby, and he then offered to allow me to take a print of his left thumb so that his aunt’s book should not have to be used in evidence.”

  “How is it, then,” asked the judge, “that it has been put in evidence?”

  “It has been put in by the defence, my lord,” said Sir Hector Trumpler.

  “I see,” said the judge. “‘A hair of the dog that bit him.’ The ‘Thumbograph’ is to be applied as a remedy on the principle that similia similibus curantur. Well?”

  “When I arrested him, I administered the usual caution, and the prisoner then said, ‘I am innocent. I know nothing about the robbery.’”

  The counsel for the prosecution sat down, and Anstey rose to cross-examine.

  “You have told us,” said he, in his clear musical voice, “that you found at the bottom of the safe two rather large drops of a dark fluid which you considered to be blood. Now, what led you to believe that fluid to be blood?”

  “I took some of the fluid up on a piece of white paper, and it had the appearance and colour of blood.”

  “Was it examined microscopically or otherwise?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”r />
  “Was it quite liquid?”

  “Yes, I should say quite liquid.”

  “What appearance had it on paper?”

  “It looked like a clear red liquid of the colour of blood, and was rather thick and sticky.”

  Anstey sat down, and the next witness, an elderly man, answering to the name of Francis Simmons, was called.

  “You are the housekeeper at Mr. Hornby’s premises in St. Mary Axe?” asked Sir Hector Trumpler.

  “I am.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual on the night of the ninth of March?”

  “I did not.”

  “Did you make your usual rounds on that occasion?”

  “Yes. I went all over the premises several times during the night, and the rest of the time I was in a room over the private office.”

  “Who arrived first on the morning of the tenth?”

  “Mr. Reuben. He arrived about twenty minutes before anybody else.”

  “What part of the building did he go to?”

  “He went into the private office, which I opened for him. He remained there until a few minutes before Mr. Hornby arrived, when he went up to the laboratory.”

  “Who came next?”

  “Mr. Hornby, and Mr. Walter came in just after him.”

  The counsel sat down, and Anstey proceeded to cross-examine the witness.

  “Who was the last to leave the premises on the evening of the ninth?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Why are you not sure?”

  “I had to take a note and a parcel to a firm in Shoreditch. When I started, a clerk named Thomas Holker was in the outer office and Mr. Walter Hornby was in the private office. When I returned they had both gone.”

  “Was the outer door locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had Holker a key of the outer door?”

  “No. Mr. Hornby and his two nephews had each a key, and I have one. No one else had a key.”

  “How long were you absent?”

  “About three-quarters of an hour.”

  “Who gave you the note and the parcel?”

  “Mr. Walter Hornby.”

  “When did he give them to you?”

  “He gave them to me just before I started, and told me to go at once for fear the place should be closed before I got there.”