‘I pressed on.
‘“Is it possible that this woman could have attended your church before last Sunday?”
‘He considered this question with grave attention and seemed about to deny it when I, fearful of losing the initiative, continued, “Perhaps wearing different clothing or sitting behind a pillar where she might not have easily been seen?”
‘“Yes, that is possible, I suppose,” he grudgingly agreed, “But the child …”
‘“She may not have had the child with her on these other occasions.”
‘“Oh!” He seemed put out by the idea. “Well, I suppose that is possible but I did not particularly notice anybody, although, now you have mentioned it, there was a woman who seemed young and who was wearing a veil, but not widow’s weeds. She sat at the back of the church and slipped out before the rest of the congregation left. I certainly did not shake hands with her and neither did my curate. He was detained at the door.”
‘“Was he indeed? By whom?” I asked, aware suddenly of a more complex plot than I had at first imagined.
‘“By a man; not one of my regular congregation, for I had never seen him before. He was middle-aged, stockily built, wearing spectacles, with grey hair and a moustache. I noticed him particularly because he kept Mr Thorogood talking in the porch for several moments, about what, I have no idea, but I remember being annoyed at the time. It meant the people behind him were delayed in leaving. I said to Thorogood afterwards, ‘Never let them chat. Just shake hands and wish them good morning or evening, whichever applies. We are not a Friendly Society.’ In fact, I thought I saw him again last Sunday. Seen from the back, he resembled the man who kept Thorogood talking, but as soon as I saw his face, I realised I had been mistaken.”
‘“Really? May I ask what was the difference?”
‘“The second man was much younger. He had dark hair and was clean-shaven. There was also a most distinctive mole on his face which I am sure I would have noticed before. I am rather proud of my ability to remember faces. One has to learn the skill when one has large congregations.”
‘There was an exasperated note in his voice when he made the last remark as if he suspected me of doubting his word and, aware that I was treading on dangerous ground, I changed the subject.
‘“Tell me,” I said, “was last Sunday a special occasion?”
‘“Special? Of course it was! It was our saint’s feast day. That was why there were so many people in church.”
‘“And this special feast day was known about in the parish?”
‘“Certainly! There were announcements posted on the churchyard gates and in the porch itself.” He spoke sharply as if I had accused him of neglecting his parochial duties.
‘I decided to leave it there, Watson, at least for the time being.’
‘You did not interview the curate again?’
‘No. I thought I had enough information to be going on with for the time being. If more were needed, I could always call back at the rectory when I was more sure of my ground.’
‘What ground?’ I asked, a little puzzled by his reply.
‘The whole of it, of course! Remember, I was then a young man and, to be frank, a little overconfident of my detective skills whereas, in fact, I was very much a greenhorn when it came to certain aspects of crime, especially those connected with the professional criminal and the underworld he, or she, inhabits. Take fraud as an example. I had very little idea of its complexity, the training of its perpetrators, the myriad subterfuges, the countless tricks of the trade. It even had its own language, “magsman”, for example, or “neddy”, or “shofulman”. These are just a few instances of the variety of its vocabulary.2
‘The same applies to pickpockets, or “dippers” as they are known in the trade. In my ignorance, I had assumed they were all young street urchins, like the Artful Dodger,3 and, although I realised there was more to it than that, at the time I was quite unaware of how much more I had to learn, and quickly, too, if I were to solve the case of the stolen purse to the satisfaction of the Rev. Samuel Whittlemore. And I had to succeed. It would have hurt my amour propre exceedingly if I had been forced to admit defeat.
‘So I went back to my lodgings in Montague Street, shut the door firmly and sat down to think over what action I could take to bring the inquiry to a successful conclusion.
‘The facts of the case were easily established. “Lady Dee”, or whatever her real identity might be, had been robbed of a purse containing three guineas in the porch of St Matthias’ Church virtually under the noses of two clergymen and members of the congregation. The “dipper” was apparently a young and attractive widow with a three-year-old child, who had cleverly slit open “Lady Dee’s” reticule and removed the purse.
‘But how had she contrived to carry out this theft? She was holding the child by one hand and carrying her own reticule on the wrist of the other. It seemed impossible.
‘As for apprehending the thief, it seemed quite out of the question. I had no idea who she was or where she came from, although some aspects of the crime seemed significant and might lead eventually to an arrest. For example, the theft had been carried out in a public place – a church – and among a crowd of people. Was it possible that the thief had deliberately chosen that place and that time? I then remembered that the Rev. Whittlemore had pointed out that the service was a special occasion and had been advertised in the neighbourhood.
‘In addition, there was the stockily built man who was seen among the congregation on both occasions. The changes in his appearance – the moustache, the spectacles, the large mole on his face – suggested theatrical disguises and these alone intrigued me. As a young consulting detective, I was becoming increasingly aware of the usefulness of wigs and greasepaint and all the other paraphernalia that actors use to change their appearance.4 Although I was at the time ignorant of all the tricks “dippers” used, I was aware they frequently acted in pairs, one to carry out the actual theft, the other to take the stolen item when it was passed to him, or her, by the “dipper” and then to disappear from the scene as quickly as possible.
‘I must admit, Watson, that by the time I had thoroughly thought the matter over, I was extremely pleased with the results. I now knew the method that was used by the thief, or rather, thieves, and this knowledge in turn gave me a brilliantly inspired notion of how I might bring about their arrest.
‘I therefore went to Scotland Yard and put my plan before Inspector Lestrade who, I felt, was in my debt as I had assisted him in solving several inquiries while I was living in Montague Street, the first being a case of forgery.5 We came to an arrangement on a quid pro quo basis, that I would help him over a recent investigation into a burglary while he, in turn, would provide me with the services of a constable, a certain Herbert Pound, a young, intelligent officer who later moved quickly up the ranks and became an inspector. Incidentally, to jump forward in time, it was Pound who arrested Dawkins, the notorious blackmailer who murdered Jenny McBride and threw her body into the Thames. You may recall the case, Watson. The papers were full of it at the time.
‘However, to revenir à nos moutons, as the French say, my plan was this. I had no doubt my suspects would strike again using the same method. Criminals on the whole are the most conservative of creatures. They live and operate in the same districts, pursue the same illegal activities, use the same modus operandi to commit the same types of crime. Once you have identified these similarities, you can follow the criminal’s spoor like that of a wild beast in the jungle, visit his watering holes, identify his lairs and the places where he lies in wait for his prey.
‘The same precept applied to my pickpockets who, for convenience’s sake, I christened the Widow and her Beau, for I was convinced the relationship between the two of them was more than a mere professional fraternity. They would hunt out their prey, not in the streets but in crowded public places, and their preferred choice of victim would be found among the middle classes, who were more likely t
o be wearing or carrying on their persons objects worth stealing such as gold watches and well-stocked purses and notecases.
‘So, following this theory, I searched the newspapers looking for advertisements for special events that would interest a well-heeled clientele, such as bazaars, charity fairs and fund-raising concerts. You would be amazed, Watson, at how often these events were held, many of them for charitable causes, and how the better class of citizens flocked to them to spend their money on homemade cakes or hand-painted bookmarkers for the sake of benighted natives in Borneo, shipwrecked mariners or destitute seamstresses in Shadwell.
‘Knowing that the Widow and her Beau would find such events a valuable source of well-to-do victims, I also surmised that they would almost certainly follow the same procedure as they had at St Matthias the Less. In other words, they would make a preliminary visit to these places to size up the situation; for example, to discover where the exits were placed and how tight was the general security. They would then return later to carry out the actual robbery. As Pound had other duties beside assisting me, I usually carried out these preliminary forays on my own.
‘Oh, it was such a lonely and dispiriting business, my dear fellow! I cannot tell you the number of times I called in at the various venues where these bazaars were held, usually church halls or similar premises, and how I would wander about for hours at a time, trying to look interested in the goods for sale and occasionally buying something in order not to make myself conspicuous by my miserliness. At the end of five days, I had nothing to show for my trouble except half a dozen handkerchiefs embroidered with the letters S.H. in one corner and a shelf full of hand-painted pots for holding collar studs and small change.
‘I was on the point of abandoning the whole project when, on the last Wednesday of the month, I ran them to earth in an assembly room in Kensington. I was so jubilant that I almost danced a hornpipe on the spot but managed to restrain myself. For there they were! The Beau was grey-haired on this occasion, wearing spectacles and a trim, little moustache. He had the respectable air of a senior bank clerk or the manager of a superior gentlemen’s outfitters. No one in their right mind would have picked him out as anyone of disrepute, let alone a professional thief.
‘Having discovered the Beau, I now set about finding the Widow among the crowds of eager customers and I soon ran her to earth quietly examining a display of bunches of lavender sold for the benefit of the widows of impecunious missionaries.
‘She was a young woman, petite of figure and modest of bearing, although I could understand why Thorogood was attracted to her. There was something very appealing about her – a shy vulnerability that the black widow’s weeds she was wearing emphasised in a most charming manner, as no doubt they were intended to do. She was accompanied by a little girl of three years, I estimated, who was also dressed completely in black from the top of her dear little bonnet down to the toes of her dainty boots.
‘I stood back and studied them from a distance, trying to solve the riddle of how she had managed to slit open Lady Dee’s reticule and steal the purse it contained when both her black-mittened hands were fully occupied, the left with a reticule of her own, the right with one of the little girl’s hands, which she was holding tightly as if to make sure they were not separated in the crowds that jostled between the stalls.
‘Together they formed a charming pair: a mother and daughter, recently bereaved by the death, no doubt, of a husband and father, standing there, hand in hand, examining the bunches of lavender with such captivating innocence.
‘For a moment, I too was seduced by the sight of them. How could they possibly be guilty of any misdemeanour? They were the personification of virtue and honesty. And then common sense prevailed. I believe I have mentioned to you before, Watson, that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance money.6
‘So I hardened my heart and left in search of a cab to take me to Herbert Pound at Scotland Yard, with whom I made arrangements there and then to meet him at the Kensington Assembly Rooms the following afternoon, trusting to luck that the Widow and her Beau would keep to their usual schedule.
‘In the event, it was three days later before they reappeared and, having given up hope of seeing them again that day, I was in the middle of apologising profusely to Pound for the waste of his and police time, when we saw them; or rather, Pound saw them first, having recognised them from my description of them. Giving me a nudge with his elbow, he indicated them with a nod of his head. And there they were, the Widow and the child, hand in hand as before, but not examining the goods for sale on this occasion. Instead, they were following purposefully a few paces behind an elderly lady and her younger companion who were walking slowly between the rows of stalls, the old lady leaning on a stick, an old-fashioned reticule in her other hand, her companion carrying several small parcels, no doubt purchases they had already made.
‘Several seconds later, I caught sight of the Beau as well, keeping a discreet distance from the two ladies, his appearance slightly altered from the last time I saw him, the moustache replaced by a neatly clipped goatee beard.
‘There was an air of purpose about the two of them which convinced me that they had chosen their victim and would carry out the theft within a very short space of time.
‘When, a few seconds later, they actually performed the crime, I had to admire their skill. Their timing and coordination were impeccable. They hung back until they were within yards of the exit doors and only then made their move when other people were either entering or leaving the building so that the area round the doors was crowded. The only warning Pound and I had was the Beau’s sudden change of pace. Instead of tagging along behind the Widow and her chosen victim, he stepped smartly forward so that he was ahead of them.
‘The next second, the Widow had also moved forward so that she was alongside the elderly lady and her companion. It was then that she pounced. Brushing past her victim, she seemed to lose her balance momentarily, as if someone had pushed against her. In that moment, something was passed to the Beau who, picking up speed, hurried towards the exit doors, thrusting whatever he had been given into the pocket of his ulster.
‘The theft was carried out with such audacity and professionalism that the old lady seemed unaware that her reticule was no longer hanging on her arm. Then the truth dawned on her and she gave a little cry of alarm, but rather too ladylike to arouse much response in the people milling about in the aisles. By the time her lady-companion was aware of the incident, the Beau had left the building and the Widow and the little girl were also about to disappear through the swing doors.
‘I had already arranged with Constable Pound that we would split forces when it came to making an arrest: he would tackle the Beau while I would take on the Widow. Therefore the two of us sprinted off on our separate missions, he in close chase of the man, I following hard on the heels of the woman who, aware by now that they had been “rumbled”, to use the slang term they themselves would have employed, was struggling to rid herself of the little girl who was still clinging to her hand and was impeding her progress, as the child was having difficulty in keeping up with her.
‘It was only later that I realised what the Widow was doing as she plunged about under her cloak. All I saw was the child’s sudden release and the Widow who, lifting up her skirts, was running ahead of me like a black hare into the crowds, leaving the little girl standing alone on the pavement and, to my utter bewilderment, still holding the woman’s hand.
‘That, of course, was impossible!
‘If I was confused, so, too, was the child. For a moment or two she remained standing hand in hand with what I now realised as I drew nearer was an artificial arm and hand, the latter wearing a black mitten, the whole contraption attached to a sort of shoulder harness. As soon as I saw it, light dawned.
‘So that was how the theft was carried out! What a fool I had been not to realise it before!
‘Before
setting out to commit the crime, the Widow had strapped on a shoulder harness to which a false arm and hand were attached. These were then passed down through her mantle, the child taking hold of the fake hand when it emerged from the sleeve. The Widow’s real hand and arm were then allowed to hang loose inside this outer garment which had an opening at the side through which the Widow could either snatch at the victim’s reticule or cut it loose with a knife or a pair of scissors.
‘When the theft had been accomplished, the Beau would then move forward and the Widow would pass the stolen reticule to him, which he would swiftly conceal in his own pocket. In the meantime, the Widow and the child, still apparently hand in hand, would walk away from the scene of the crime, looking the very picture of innocence.
‘It was unlikely she would be arrested, for there would be few, if any, witnesses to the theft. It was over in a matter of seconds and who would be callous enough to accuse a young, widowed mother of such a felony, let alone lay hands on her and proceed to stop and search her?
‘The whole affair was devilishly cunning, Watson, and, in a perverse way, I had to admire the sheer ingenuity of the crime. A false arm! A widowed mother! A pretty, young child! And the choice of venue and victim were also inspired. The crime took place in a middle-class setting and the victim herself looked respectable. People from that social category do not expect to be robbed by three-handed widows and, should they suspect that such a crime had taken place, they are unlikely to make a scene in public.’
‘So the Widow and her Beau were not arrested?’ I said, assuming that was the end of the story. Holmes quickly corrected me.
‘Certainly not, Watson! The law had to be allowed to run its course and I had to follow it to the very end. Pray allow me to finish.
‘Once the theft had taken place and the reticule had been handed over to the Beau, it was Constable Pound’s turn to bring the curtain down on part of this little drama. As I have already explained, Pound and I had come to an agreement. He was to arrest the Beau, I the Widow. So, as soon as the Beau made off for the exit doors with the stolen reticule concealed in his ulster, Pound acted. Shouting “Stop thief!”, he bounded forward. I, too, made ready to seize the Widow. But she was an extremely slippery fish. Dropping the false hand and arm, she, too, made a run for the doors.’
Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes, The, The Page 9