X. Jones—Of Scotland Yard

by Harry Stephen Keeler

  In the meantime, let us rest on our oars!

  Sincerely,

  X. J.

  DOCUMENT XXXIX

  Advertisement, clipped from the Amusement Columns in an issue of the Brisbane, Australia, “Morning Observer” of date October 28, 1931, delivered via boy, December 1, 1936, by Rommick and Custin, Shoe Lane, to Aleck Snide, Hotel Russell, Russell Square, London.

  DOCUMENT XL

  Excerpts, from letter of date November 5, 1936, from Thaddeus Romaskiewicz, Secretary of “La Société des Lilliputiens” at Gdanska 107, Lodz, Poland, addressed to “Doctor Alexander Snide,” Hotel Russell, Russell Square, London, England.

  “However, concerning Guy Ezekiah who was, as I am at least able to confirm, a member of the Société des Lilliputiens, I greatly regret to inform you that he perished in a rooming-house fire on Great Ormond Street, London, on April 28, 1935. And his remains lie today, according to our records, in Brompton Cemetery, London...

  “Guy Ezekiah’s card, filled out by him in his own handwriting, and dated Melbourne, Australia, March 17, 1933 (this, of course, was 2 years before he came to England), renders only the following information with respect to his past and forebears: BIRTHPLACE: ‘Western Australia’—no town given. PARENTS: ‘Both dead.’ BROTHERS AND SISTERS: ‘None.’ CLOSEST LIVING RELATIVE: ‘A half-half-uncle (half-brother of a half-sister of my mother’s).’ NAME OF SAME—not given. WHEREABOUTS OF SAME: ‘New Orleans, U.S.A.’ STREET AND NUMBER—not given. As to ‘ANY INJURIES TO MOTHER BEFORE YOUR BIRTH’ the answer filled out is ‘Yes, Severe.’ Under ‘THEATRICAL AGENTS, IF ANY’ is set down ‘Messrs. Isenkind and Levinthal, 360 Little Collins Street, Melbourne, Australia...’

  “...I shall forward to you, in a few days, Messrs. Isenkind and Levinthal’s original letter from our files... It is at this moment locked in a correspondence file to which my wife—my clerical assistant—has the only key, and she is in Szczebryeszyn, Poland...”

  DOCUMENT XLI

  Excerpts, from registered letter of date December 7, 1936, from Aleck Snide, at Hotel Russell, London, to Gilbert Whittimore, at Hotel Kincardine, Aberdeen, Scotland.

  “I finally dug up that billing on Little Lucas. It seems he billed himself that way for exactly 3 weeks—and no more—way back in late 1931. In Brisbane, Australia. Probably trying out a new billing of himself to see how it pulled. After which he probably discarded it as n.g.

  “...was entered in the book there, with his right name set down alongside as Guy Lucas Ezekiah. No residence but some rooming-house on North Terrace, Brisbane.

  “...and having caught the info in the meanwhile, by a roundabout way, that there was a midge society with headquarters in Europe who keep track to some extent of all the midges in the world, I wrote smack there. And, as it turned out, cut down my trail-chasing puhlenty. And how!

  “For Guy Ezekiah, Whittimore, was one ‘King Peewee,’ who came to England in early April of 1935 to do his juggling act on a British music-hall circuit—but who died in a rooming-house fire on Great Ormond Street, on April 28, 1935. The site of the fire—No. 62—isn’t a very long walk from Russell Square—as you would know—and I’ve been over and looked it over; it looks, amidst all those fronts that are exactly like one another, like a missing tooth in a hag’s mouth. It was a pip of a fire, too; the whole inside burned out—at least nearly so, what was left crashing in finally. The former inmates of the house are all scattered now, but from what I glean concerning King Peewee, he kept an exceedingly tight mouth in his little head—and none of ’em would probably know as much about him as I do right now. Or am in line to know...

  “When Marceau sat himself down and wrote the first of those two manuscripts I told you about in my last letter, coding into it the manner and mode of his bump-off in case his murderer ever sent him for the long one-way ride, he’d just been informed the day before, via a letter in a tiny green envelope, the manner and mode of that possible passing!... And when Marceau sat himself down 3 days later, and coded into the next script the name of his murderer—‘Little Lucas’—he knew the name because he’d just received a threat that morning from him. (That is, to Marceau, either a threat, or a joke from somebody trying to get his nanny.)

  “But, Whittimore, the first tiny green envelope came on May 4th... The second on May 8th.

  “And Guy L. Ezekiah, alias Little Lucas, alias King Peewee, Whittimore, was dead when both of those missives arrived. Had been dead 6 days when the first arrived. And 10 days when the second arrived...

  “See the significance of it all?

  “It means that Guy Ezekiah, alias King Peewee, alias Little Lucas, didn’t die in that rooming-house fire! Some other midge died there, Whittimore. And by murder, probably. And that midge lies today in Brompton Cemetery. While Little Lucas lived to kill Marceau...

  “Well, baby, is Aleck delivering—or is Aleck delivering? I’ve taken 5 paychecks from you to date—and already in your mitt lies a story. But wait! This is only the olive in the martini.

  “For it’s now up to me to work it all further out: to find out exactly what basis was used for identifying the burned midget carcass found.

  “Maybe I’m reaching the very story Jones has in his mitt.

  “And maybe, Whittimore, I’m reaching one twice as big.

  “But I’ll report as I go along, and probably will be reporting to you in person shortly.

  “Yours—for husbands who work nights.

  “Aleck.

  “P. S.: The barmaid’s works days.”

  DOCUMENT XLII

  Copy of poem, found scrawled in blue chalk December 8, 1936, 8 a.m. across wall of cell in Matteawan Insane Asylum, New York State, occupied by Sylvester Epps.

  MADHOUSE MUSE!

  (As the World Without Believes it to be)

  “A centipede with scads of legs is eating parsnip pie;

  “An ossified cat with a plume in his hat

  “Is singing a psalm to a button-eyed bat—

  “Oh whither, O whither am I?

  “The vacuous moon, like a scarlet baboon,

  “Will dance while the jews-harps are thrumming,

  “As a finicky flea, with the pantrymaid’s knee

  “Doth carouse in the house of the silly Spondee—

  “Let us hide! For the keeper is coming!”

  DOCUMENT XLIII

  Quotation from Spitzka’s “Manual of Insanity” by E. C. Spitka, M.D., “President of the New York Neurological Society; formerly Physician to the Department of Nervous Diseases of the Metropolitan Throat Hospital; Consulting Neurologist of the North-Eastern Dispensary; Neurologist to the German Poliklinik; W. & S. Tuke Prize Essayist,” etc.

  “...The mind of an insane person may be, and in some instances is, a more elaborate mechanism, one with more individual components, and of consequent wider scope as to its combinations, than the mind of many a sane person.”

  DOCUMENT XLIV

  Excerpts, from letter of August 7, 1935, from Isenkind and Levinthal, Theatrical Booking Agents for Australia and New Zealand, Little Collins House, Melbourne, Australia, to Thaddeus Romaskiewicz, Gdanska 107, Lodz, Poland, enclosed in an envelope bearing corner return card reading “La Société des Lilliputiens, Lodz, Poland,” and bearing Polish postmark of December 8, 1936, addressed to “Dr. Alexander Snide, Hotel Russell, Russell, London, England.”

  “All I know of Ezekiah’s family history is what he stated to us, plus some additional brief facts picked up separately by both Mr. Levinthal and myself. Ezekiah told us that he was an orphan. Moreover, an only child. And born at Coolgurlie Springs, Western Australia. His father died, he said, before his birth. And he lived, he said, in Western Australia with his mother till he was 18, and then removed, with her, to Churchill Crossroads, New Zealand...

  “...This, Mr. Levinthal told me confidentially, was the standard and inevitable disposition of the knives in all Chinese juggling. Mr. Levinthal naturally queried Ezekiah on this, and the latter, perceiving that Mr. Levinthal
knew a little about all this, stated that it came from the basic training he had had, and which, he said, had been from a crippled Chinese servant (an ex-professional juggler) of a half-half-uncle (whatever that is!) of his who lived in New Orleans...

  “...The neighbor, however—Mr. Rutwick Chisholm was his name—remembered Mrs. Ezekiah well, though chiefly, I regret to say, with respect to the fact that neither she nor Guy ever talked of themselves or their people—but Mr. Chisholm did say that Guy had made a number of trips to New Orleans, America ‘to visit a half-half-uncle’ in that city.

  “...A record exists, of course, of several visés—but to America only!—and in each case the same reason is set down: i.e., ‘in order to visit relative of mother.’ This, manifestly, is the half-half-uncle with the Chinese servant, to whom Guy has referred. A New Orleans, U.S.A., directory, however, available to us here, does not show any ‘Ezekiahs.’ As would be expected, however, since this relative, if he is but a ‘half-half’ uncle, might be said in that, case to be at least two names removed!

  “This, Mr. Romaskiewicz, is about all we—and in all probability anyone else—can furnish you on Guy Ezekiah, unless, perchance, you can find this New Orleans ‘half-half-uncle.’”

  DOCUMENT XLV

  Photograph appearing on page 6 of the December, 1936, issue of “The Author and Journalist,” published at 1835 Champa Street, Denver, Colorado.

  DOCUMENT XLVI

  Excerpts from combination report and letter, of date December 11, 1936, from Barron Alwyn, Chief Inspector, Department of Fire Hazards, London Fire Department, now at Cannes, France, to Aleck Snide, Hotel Russell, London.

  “...Reverting however to the bones, their identifiable sections consisted of a small vertebral column with a number of charred and partly burned-off ribs still attached, the head of a tiny femur and the entire upper shaft of a right femur, the back of a diminutive pelvic bone, and a left humerus. Shortly after, we came upon a small skull. With lower part—including the jaw, of course, burned away. Good teeth in the upper part, however. And with a full square inch of seared scalp miraculously adhering to it in one spot yet. Scalp skin with brunette hairs in it...

  “...However, an examination of the bones was made by Doctor Randall Clarnes, the famous anthropologist of London, who resides on Kensal Green... Clarnes proclaimed, over his own signature, that the bones were not only human bones—but that the proportions of the partly burned cranium and the position of the femur head sockets in the tiny pelvic bone established that the bones were those of a midget. (You will note, Mr. Snide, that I have emphasized the exceedingly salient fact of Doctor Clarnes’ declaration.)

  “The whole host of circumstances and reports, detailed in the foregoing paragraphs—into which, Mr. Snide, I have gone at great length so that you may know where to go to obtain copies of any papers which might clarify your insurance problem—plus the fused bolt, which is now the property of the London Fire Hazards Department... render it 100 per cent certain, for purposes of payment of life insurance to anyone, or for any other purposes, that Guy Ezekiah died in a fire at 61 Great Ormond Street, London, upon April 28, 1935, somewhere between 11:30 p.m. and midnight.”

  DOCUMENT XLVII

  Letter, bearing postmarked date-of-receipt, at London, of December 12, 1936, addressed to “Xenius Jones, Esq., 136 Grey’s Inn Road, London, England.”

  Dear Xen:

  Watch out for a chap named Aleck Snide. American. A tip drifted in to me this morning that he has definitely stated, in a letter to a party in New York, that he has the Marceau Case solution as good as in his mitt (“hand,” to you, Englishman!) if only he can build up a few connecting points. The tip came to me via one, Harry Stephen Keeler, a chap who has, as I understand it, written one or two fiction books, and who resides in this city not far from Diversey Boulevard where I happen to camp. Anyway, Keeler knows a fellow named Cutterman in New York with whom this Snide corresponds. And talked with Cutterman only day before yesterday in New York, while there on a visit to his publishers, E. P. Dutton and Company. The tip, of course, might easily be hooey (“bunkalorum,” to you, Englishman!) or stuff spouted by this Snide just to impress his friend. Or, again, he might only be out on what looks like an exceedingly promising branch, i.e., Oliver Edward Marceau, the American nephew!—in which case he’ll only do a nose dive (“come a cropper,” to you, Englishman!). Or what he has might be the McCoy (the “real stuff,” to you, Englishman!). It might easily be that Snide is working sub-rosa for this chap Whittimore whose complimentary write-up of your methods in the A-A papers over here I never felt were altogether genuine. Particularly since Whittimore’s stories on the Huntley trunk murder trial in Aberdeen have been appearing over here daily, showing that Whittimore himself has not been in any position to handle any investigation in or about London. Now that the jury’s ready to go out (and bring back an acquittal, too) as I see by this morning’s papers, Whittimore presumably will go back to London—and may take up anything Snide has, and follow it—or Snide may pursue it himself.

  Anyway, Xen, the point is this: If this Snide is going to beat you to the draw (a Western expression over here, meaning to “get there first”) jettison everything and let the story fly “as is”—and forget my angle entirely. I know, of course, how you are: no matter how completely you illuminate a case, you always are devising more piercing lights to illuminate it still deeper—and to find further and more bizarre facts under the apparent solution. In fact, I shudder to think of all you can dig out, in the passing of one André Marceau—between now and February 25th! But you may have to forget all this, in case this Snide is on your tail. Which, of course, he may not at all be. You alone can judge, Xen, how near he is to what you have—or, worse, yet can get.

  I enclose a page—Page 6—torn from this month’s issue of a certain American writers’ trade journal called The Author and Journalist, carrying the Keeler pan (“face” to you, Englishman!); each month a different writer’s phiz (“pan” to you, Englishman, now that you’ve been wised up in the 2nd line preceding!) appears on this page. And I enclose it for the salient reason that its subject has hinted to me that he has an itch of sorts to do some kind of a non-fiction work for a change—in short, to create a permanent record of certain facts to be known as “The Marceau Case,” and that he expects to go to England himself within a few months to see his British publishers, Ward Lock and Company on, I presume, the same idea. Now if he does, he is more than certain to approach both Snide and yourself, to try to dig up any crumbs that either of you might drop for his proposed work; if he does, he undoubtedly will approach you under some fictitious name, and on some more or less spurious business. Now, thanks to this enclosed “pic” you’ll know him instanter—and can dry up on the subject of Marceau like a square rod of Sahara Desert sand lying beneath the nose of the Sphinx itself. In short, give him nothing—until such day as what you have can be given anywhere. At which time, of course, he can have, for his fool book—at least so far as we are concerned, I guess—every letter, picture, cablegram, clipping and whatnot else concerned with the Marceau Case.

  I also enclose a clipping (“cutting” of course to you, Englishman!) from a column run by a chap over here called Winchell, and widely syndicated all over the U.S.A. I should have sent this on long ago, since it appeared a full 3 weeks ago—the day before, in fact, that Whittimore’s story on you appeared in all the papers which rival those carrying this column. The clipping contains, as you’ll note, a reference to your honorable self!—and a few forecasts as to what is to be eventually revealed by all the “higher-dimensional” lights you will be turning on!

  Cable me at once, of course, in case you decide not to risk further dalliance.

  S.

  DOCUMENT XLVIII

  Punctuated cablegram, received at Chicago, December 13, 1936, and addressed “C. Chelsing Satterlee, Care No. 664 Diversey Boulevard, Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A.”

  While I do not know what or how much this “A. S.” has, I will ga
mble that, since he knows my own release date, he will not cut off his own salary with Double-A by springing anything whatsoever at this early juncture. Later, of course, they will undoubtedly force him to hand over all that he may have worked out. If subsequently I conclude his work threatens our plan, I shall, of course, jettison everything on the spot, and spring what I have. Which I should regret to do, I assure you, since I am forging on into most curious depths in the M. C.

  DOCUMENT XLIX

  Excerpts from letter of date December 16, 1936, addressed to “Professor Allessandros Snide, T.V., P.Q., Hotel Russell, Russell Square, London, England,” and sent from Pontypridd, Merioneth County, Wales, by Llewellyn Llandreth, D.A., Fellow of the Royal Archaeological Society, and Curator of Egyptology, London Museum of Antiquities, on Montague Street, London.

  “The answer to both queries, Professor Snide, is ‘yes’—for there have been midgets in all times, and amidst all races. Not by any means omitting the Ancient Egyptian. Quite a number of midget mummies have come to light, and are to be found today amongst various collections...

  “Concerning your third inquiry, Professor, namely re Egyptological Goods Dealers in England, probably the chief—and indeed only—one in London, is Dodson Throgmorton, of Mile End Road, whom you may have located via other channels. In Liverpool, the most comprehensive dealer is...”

  DOCUMENT L

  Excerpt, from air-mail letter of date December 19, 1936, from Dodson Throgmorton, Dealer in Egyptological Goods, of 60 Mile End Road, London, now at the Hotel Rosetta, 157 Emad El Dinc, Cairo, Egypt, addressed to “A. Snide, Manager of Snide’s Royal Midget Musicians, Hotel Russell, London, England.”