The Uttermost Farthing

by R. Austin Freeman

  VI

  THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT

  Hitherto, in my transcriptions from Humphrey Challoner's "MuseumArchives" I have taken the entries in their order, omitting only suchtechnical details as might seem unsuitable for the lay reader. Now,however, I pass over a number of entries. The capture of Numbers 7, 8and 9 exhibits the methods to which Challoner, in the main, adheredduring his long residence in East London; and, though there wereoccasional variations, the accounts of the captures present a generalsimilarity which might render their recital tedious. The last entry butone, on the other hand, is among the most curious and interesting. Apartfrom the stirring incidents that it records, the new light that itthrows on a hitherto unsolved mystery makes it worth extracting entire,which I now proceed to do, with the necessary omissions alluded toabove.

  "Circumstances connected with the acquirement of Numbers 23 and 24 inthe Anthropological Series.

  "The sand of my life ran out with varying speed--as it seemed to me--inthe little barber's shop in Saul Street, Whitechapel. Now would mypulses beat and the current of my blood run swift. Those were the timeswhen I had visitors; and presently a new skeleton or two would maketheir appearance in the long wall-case. But there were long intervals ofsordid labor and dull inaction when I would cut hair--and examine itthrough my lens--day after day and wonder whether, in electing to live,rather than pass voluntarily into eternal repose, I had, after all,chosen the better part. For in all those years no customer with ringedhair ever came to my shop. The long pursuit seemed to bring me no nearerto that unknown wretch, the slayer of my beloved wife. Still was hehidden from me amidst the unclean multitude that seethed around; orperchance some sordid grave had already offered him an everlastingsanctuary, leaving me wearily to pursue a phantom enemy.

  "But I am digressing. This is not a record of my emotions, but ahistory of the contents of my museum. Let me proceed to specimens 23 and24 and the very remarkable circumstances under which I had the goodfortune to acquire them. First, however, I must describe an incidentwhich, although it occurred some time before, never developed itsimportance until this occasion arose.

  "One drowsy afternoon there came to my shop a smallish, shabby-lookingman, quiet and civil in manner and peculiarly wooden as to hiscountenance; in short, a typical 'old lag.' I recognized the type at aglance; the 'penal servitude face' had become a familiar phenomenon. Hespread himself out to be shaved and to have the severely official styleof his coiffure replaced by a less distinctive mode; and as I worked heconversed affably.

  "'Saw old Polensky a week or two ago.'

  "'Did you indeed?' said I.

  "'Yus. Portland. Got into 'ot water, too, 'e did. Tried to fetch thefarm and didn't pull it orf.' ('The farm,' I may explain, is the prisoninfirmary.) 'Got dropped on for malingering. That's the way with thesebloomin' foreigners.'

  "'He didn't impose on the doctor, then?'

  "'Lor', no! Doctor'd seen that sort o' bloke before. Polensky said he'dgot a pain in 'is stummik, so the doctor says it must be becos 'is dietwas too rich, and knocks orf arf 'is grub. I tell yer, Polensky wassorry 'e'd spoke.'

  "Here, my client showing a disposition to smile, I removed the razor toallow him to do so. Presently he resumed, discursively:

  "'I knoo this 'ouse years ago, before Polensky's time, when old Durdlerhad it. Durdler used to do the smashin' lay up on the second floor andme and two or three nippers used to work for 'im--plantin' the snide,yer know. 'E was a rare leery un, was Durdler. It was 'im what made thatslidin' door in the wall in the second floor front.'

  "I pricked up my ears at this. 'A sliding door? In this house?'

  "'Gawblimy!' exclaimed my client. 'Meantersay you don't know about thatdoor?'

  "I assured him most positively that I had never heard of it.

  "'Well, well,' he muttered. 'Sich a useful thing, too. Durdler used tokeep 'is molds and stuff up there, and then, when there was a scare ofthe cops, he used to pop the thing through into the next 'ouse--Mrs.Jacob 'ad the room next door--and the coppers used to come and sniffround, but of course there wasn't nothin' to see. Regler suck in forthem. And it was useful if you was follered. You could mizzle in throughthe shop, run upstairs, pop through the door, downstairs next door andout through the back yard. I've done it myself. 'Oo's got the secondfloor front now?'

  "'I have,' said I. 'I keep the whole of the house.'

  "'My eye!' exclaimed my friend, whose name I learned to be Towler, 'youare a bloomin' toff. Like me to show you that door?'

  "I said that I should like it very much, and accordingly, when thetrimming operations were concluded and I had secured a wisp of Mr.Towler's hair for subsequent examination, we ascended to the secondfloor front and he demonstrated the hidden door.

  "'It's in this 'ere cupboard, under that row of pegs. That pegunderneath at the side is the 'andle. You catches 'old of it, so, andyou gives a pull to the right.' He suited the action to the words, and,with a loud groan, the middle third of the back of the cupboard slidbodily to the right, leaving an opening about three feet square, beyondwhich was a solid-looking panel with a small knob at the left-hand side.

  "'That,' whispered Towler, 'is the back of a cupboard in the next 'ouse.If you was to pull that 'andle to the right, it would slide along sameas this one. Only I expect there's somebody in the room there.'

  "I rewarded Mr. Towler with half a sovereign, which he evidently thoughtliberal, and he departed gleefully. Shortly afterwards I learned that hehad 'got a stretch' in connection with a 'job' at Camberwell; and hevanished from my ken. But I did not forget the sliding doors. No specialuse for them suggested itself, but their potentialities were so obviousthat I resolved to keep a sharp eye on the second floor front nextdoor.

  "I had not long to wait. Presently the whole floor was advertised by acard on the street door as being to let and I seized the opportunity ofa quiet Sunday to reconnoiter and put the arrangements in going order. Islid back the panel on my own side and then, dragging at the handle,pushed back the second panel. Both moved noisily and would requirecareful treatment. I passed through the square opening into the vacantroom and looked round, but there was little to see, though a good dealto smell, for the windows were hermetically sealed and a closed stovefitted into the fireplace precluded any possibility of ventilation. Thearoma of the late tenants still lingered in the air.

  "I returned through the opening and began my labors. First, with a hardbrush I cleaned out both sets of grooves, top and bottom. Then, intoeach groove I painted a thick coating of tallow and black lead, mixedinto a paste and heated. By moving the panels backwards and forwards agreat number of times I distributed the lubricant and brought the blacklead to such a polish that the doors slid with the greatest ease andwithout a sound. I was so pleased with the result that I was tempted toengage the room next door, but as this might have arousedsuspicion--seeing that I had a whole house already--I refrained; andshortly afterwards the floor was taken by a family of Polish Jews, whoapparently supplemented their income by letting part of it furnished.

  "I now pass over an intervening period and come to the circumstances ofone of my most interesting and stirring experiences. It was about thistime that some misbegotten mechanician invented the automatic magazinepistol, and thereby rendered possible a new and execrable type ofcriminal. It was not long before the appropriate criminal arrived. Thescene of the first appearance was the suburb of Tottenham, where twoRussian Poles attempted, and failed in, an idiotic street robbery. Theattempt was made in broad daylight in the open street, and the twowretches, having failed, ran away, shooting at every human being theymet. In the end they were both killed--one by his own hand--but notuntil they had murdered a gallant constable and a poor little child andinjured in all, twenty-two persons.

  "I read the newspaper account with deep interest and the conviction thatthis was only a beginning. Those two frenzied degenerates belonged to acommon enough type; the type of the Slav criminal who has not senseenough to take precautions nor courage enough to a
bide the fortune ofwar. The automatic pistol, I felt sure, would bring him into view; and Iwas not mistaken.

  "One night, returning from a tour of inspection, I met a small excitedcrowd accompanying a procession of three police ambulances. I joined thethrong and presently turned into a small blind thoroughfare in which hadgathered a small and nervous-looking crowd and a few flurried policemen.Several of the windows were shattered and on the ground were threeprostrate figures. One was dead, the others were badly wounded, and allthree were members of the police force.

  "I watched the ambulances depart with their melancholy burdens and thenturned for information to a bystander. He had not much to give, but thesubstance of his account--confirmed later by the newspapers--was this:The police had located a gang of suspected burglars and three officershad come to the house to make arrests. They had knocked at the door,which, after some delay, was opened. Some person within had immediatelyshot one of the officers dead and the entire gang of four or five hadrushed out, fired point blank at the other two officers, and then racedup the street shooting right and left like madmen. Several people hadbeen wounded and, grievous to relate, the whole gang of miscreants hadmade their escape into the surrounding slums.

  "I was profoundly interested and even excited for several reasons. Inthe first place, here at last was the real Lombroso criminal, thesub-human mattoid, devoid of intelligence, devoid of the faintestglimmering of moral sense, fit for nothing but the lethal chamber;compared with whom the British 'habitual' was a civilized gentleman.Without a specimen or two of this type, my collection was incomplete.Then there was the evident applicability of my methods to this class ofoffender; methods of quiet extermination without fuss, public disorderor risk to the precious lives of the police. But beyond these there wasanother reason for my interest. The murder of my wife had been apurposeless, unnecessary crime, committed by some wretch to whom humanlife was a thing of no consideration. There was an analogy in thecircumstances that seemed to connect that murder with this type ofmiscreant. It was even possible that one of these very villains might bethe one whom I had so patiently sought through the long and weary years.

  "The thought fired me with a new enthusiasm. Forthwith I started topursue the possible course of the fugitives, threading countlessby-streets and alleys, peering into squalid courts and sending many adoubtful-looking loiterer shuffling hastily round the nearest corner. Ofcourse it was fruitless. I had no clue and did not even know the men. Iwas merely walking off my own excitement.

  "Nevertheless, every night as soon as I had closed my shop, I set forthon a voyage of exploration, impelled by sheer restlessness; and duringthe day I listened eagerly to the talk of my customers in Yiddish--alanguage of which I was supposed to be entirely ignorant. But I learnednothing. Either the fugitives were unknown, or the natural secretivenessof an alien people forbade any reference to them, even among themselves;and meanwhile, as I have said, I tramped the streets nightly into thesmall hours of the morning.

  "Returning from one of these expeditions a little earlier than usual, Ifound a small party of policemen and a sprinkling of idlers gatheredopposite the house next door. There was no need to ask what was doing.The suppressed excitement of the officers and the service revolvers intheir belts told the story. There was going to be another slaughter; andI was probably too late for any but a spectator's part.

  "The street door was open and the house was being quietly emptied of itshuman occupants. They came out one by one, shivering and complaining,with little bundles of their possessions hastily snatched up, andcollected in a miserable group on the pavement. I opened my shop doorand invited them to come in and rest while their messengers went to lookfor a harbor of refuge; but I stayed outside to see the upshot of theproceedings.

  "When the last of the tenants had come out, a sergeant emerged andquietly closed the street door with a latch-key. The rest of thepolicemen took up sheltered positions in doorways after warning theidlers to disperse and the sergeant turned to me.

  "'Now, Mr. Vosper, you'd better keep your nose indoors if you don't wantit shot off. There's going to be trouble presently.' He pushed me gentlyinto the shop and shut the door after me.

  "I found the evicted tenants chattering excitedly and very unhappy. Butthey were not rebellious. They were mostly Jews, and Jews are a patient,submissive people. I boiled some water in my little copper and made somecoffee, which they drank gratefully--out of shaving mugs; my outfit ofcrockery being otherwise rather limited. And meanwhile they talkedvolubly and I listened.

  "'I vunder,' said a stout, elderly Jewess, 'how der bolice know doseshentlemens gom to lotch mit me. Zumpotty must haf toldt dem.'

  "'Yus,' agreed an evicted tenant of doubtful occupation, 'some bloomin'nark has giv 'em away. Good job too. Tain't playin' the game for to gopottin' at the coppers like that there. Coppers 'as got their job to dosame as what we 'ave. You know that, Mrs. Kosminsky.'

  "'Ja, dat is droo,' said the Jewess; 'but dey might let me bring mydings mit me. Do-morrow is Ky-fox-tay. Now I lose my money.'

  "'How is that, Mrs. Kosminsky?' I asked.

  "'Pecause I shall sell dem not, de dings vot I buy for Ky-fox-tay; defireworks, de gragers, de masgs and oder dings vor de chiltrens.Dvendy-vaive shillings vort I buy. Dey are in my room on ze zecondfloor. I ask de bolice to let me vetch dem, hot dey say no; I shalldisturb de chentlemens in de front room. Zo I lose my money pecause Isell dem not.' Here the unfortunate woman burst into tears and I was somuch affected by her distress that I instantly offered to buy the wholeconsignment for two pounds, whereat she wept more copiously than ever,but collected the purchase-money with great promptitude and stowed itaway in a very internal pocket, displaying in the process as many layersof clothing as an old-fashioned pen-wiper.

  "'Ach! Mizder Fosper, you are zo coot to all de boor beebles, dough youare only a boor man yourzelf. Bot it is de boor vot is de vriendts of deboor;' and in her gratitude she would have kissed my hands if I had notprudently stuck them in my trousers pockets.

  "A messenger now arrived to say that a refuge had been secured for thenight, and my guests departed with many thanks and benedictions. Thestreet, as I looked out, was now quite deserted save for one or twoprowling policemen, who, apparently bored with their hiding-places, hadcome forth to patrol in the open. I did not stay to watch them, forMrs. Kosminsky's remarks had started a train of thought which requiredto be carried out quickly. Accordingly I went in and fell to pacing theempty shop.

  "The police, I assumed, were waiting for daylight to rush the house. Itwas a mad plan and yet I was convinced that they had no other. And whenthey should enter, in the face of a stream of bullets from thoseterrible automatic pistols, what a carnage there would be! It wasfrightful to think of. Why does the law permit those cowards' tools tobe made and sold? A pistol is the one weapon that has no legitimate use.An axe, a knife--even a rifle, has some lawful function. But a pistol isan appliance for killing human beings. It has no other purpose whatever.A man who is found with house-breaking tools in his possession isassumed to be a house-breaker. Surely a man who carries a pistolconvicts himself of the intention to kill somebody.

  "But perhaps the police had some reasonable plan. It was possible, butit was very unlikely. The British policeman is a grand fellow, brave asa lion and ready to march cheerfully into the mouth of hell if dutycalls. But he knows no tactics. His very courage is almost adisadvantage, leading him to disdain reasonable caution. I felt that ourguardians were again going to sacrifice themselves to these vermin. Itwas terrible. It was a wicked waste of precious lives. Could nothing bedone to prevent it?

  "According to Mrs. Kosminsky, the 'chentlemens' were in the second floorfront--the room with the sliding panel. Then I could, at least, keep awatch on them. I walked slowly upstairs gnashing my teeth withirritation. The sacrifice was so unnecessary. I could think, offhand, ofhalf a dozen ways of annihilating these wretches without risking asingle hair of any decent person's head. And here were the police, withall the resources of sci
ence at their disposal and practically unlimitedtime in which to work, actually contemplating a fight with all the oddsagainst them!

  "I stole into the second floor front and, by the light of a match, foundthe cupboard. The inside panel--as I will call the one on my side--slidback without a sound. There was now only the second panel between meand the next room, and I could plainly hear the murmur of voices andsounds of movement. But I could not distinguish what was being said; andas this was of some importance, I determined to try the other panel.Grasping the handle, I gave a firm but gradual pull, and felt the panelslide back quite silently for a couple of inches. Instantly the voicesbecame perfectly distinct and a whiff of foul, stuffy air came through,with a faint glimmer of light; by which I knew that the cupboard ontheir side was at least partly open.

  "'I tell you, Piragoff,' a voice said in Russian, 'you are nervous aboutnothing. The police are looking for us, but they know none of us bysight. We can go about quite safely.'

  "'I am not so sure,' replied another voice--presumably Piragoff's. 'Thebabbling fool who let us the house may talk more; and who knows but someof our own people may betray us. That woman Kosminsky looked veryqueerly at us, I thought.'

  "'Bah!' exclaimed the other. 'Come and lie down, Piragoff. Tomorrow wewill leave this place and separate. We shall go away for a time and theywill forget us. Put some more coke in the stove and let us go to sleep.'

  "How incalculable are the groupings of factors that evolve the causationof events! Those last words of the invisible ruffian seemed quitetrivial and inconsequent; and yet they framed his death warrant. I didnot myself realize it fully at the moment. As I closed the slide andstepped back, I was conscious only that a useful train of thought hadbeen started. 'Put some more coke in the stove and let us go to sleep.'Yes; there was a clear connection between the idea of 'stove' and thatof 'sleep,' a sleep of infinite duration. Therein lay the solution ofthe problem.

  "I walked slowly down the stairs tracing the connection between theideas of 'stove' and 'sleep.' The nauseous air that had filtered throughfrom that room spoke eloquently of sealed windows and stopped crevices.It was a frosty night and the murderers were chilly. A back-draught inthe stovepipe would fill the room with poisonous gases and probablysuffocate these wretches slowly and quietly. But how was it to bebrought about? For a moment I thought of climbing to the roof andstopping the chimney from above. But the plan was a bad one. The policemight see me and make some regrettable mistake with a revolver. Besidesit would probably fail. The stoppage of the draught would extinguish thefire and the pungent coke-fumes would warn the villains of their danger.Still closely pursuing the train of thought, I stepped into my bedroomand lit the gas; I turned to glance round the room; and, behold! theproblem was solved.

  "In the fireplace stood a little brass stove of Russian make; a tinyaffair, too small to burn anything but charcoal; but, as charcoal waseasily obtainable in East London, I had bought it and fixed it myself.It was perfectly safe in a well-ventilated room, though otherwise verydangerous; for the fumes of charcoal, consisting of nearly pure carbondioxide, being practically inodorous, give no warning.

  "My course was now quite clear. The stove was fitted withasbestos-covered handles; a box of charcoal stood by the hearth, and inthe corner was an extra length of stovepipe for which I had had no use.But I had a use for it now.

  "I lit the charcoal in the stove, and, while it was burning up, carriedthe stovepipe and the box of fuel upstairs. Then I returned for thestove, inside which the charcoal was now beginning to glow brightly. Ifixed on the extra length of pipe and, with my hand, felt the stream ofhot air--or rather hot carbon dioxide gas--pouring out of its mouth. Itried the pipe against the opening and found that it would restcomfortably on the lower edge; and then, very slowly and cautiously, Idrew back the sliding panel about six inches. The ruffians were stillwrangling on the same subject, for I heard one exclaim:

  "'Don't be a fool, Piragoff. You'll only attract attention if you gonosing about downstairs.'

  "'I don't care,' was the answer; 'I feel uneasy. I must go down and seethat all is quiet before I go to sleep.' Here the sound of the openingand shutting of the door put an end to the discussion, save for atorrent of curses and maledictions from the two remaining men. But in afew moments the door opened noisily and Piragoff shouted:

  "'Come out! Come out! The house is empty! We are betrayed.'

  "A howl of dismay was the answer. The two wretches burst into agrotesque mixture of weeping and cursing, and I heard them literallydancing about the room in the ecstasy of their terror.

  "'Come out!' repeated Piragoff. 'We will kill them all! We will shootthose pigs, every one of them! Some of us shall get away. Come!'

  "'It is of no use, Piragoff,' whimpered one of his comrades. 'They arein the house. It is an ambush.'

  "'Yes,' cried the third man, 'it is as Boris says. The house is dark andthey are hiding in it. Bolt the door and let them come up to us; and wewill kill them--kill!--kill!--_kill_!' he ended with an unearthly shriekand a burst of hysterical sobs.

  "'I shall go,' said Piragoff. 'There is a chance.'

  "'There is none,' shrieked the other. 'Come back, madman!'

  "The door slammed, the key turned in the lock and a heavy bolt was shot.I quietly closed the slide and ran down to the open window of the firstfloor front room.

  "The street appeared to be empty save for two constables who stood at acorner conversing in low tones. A profound silence reigned--an unusualsilence, as it seemed!--through which the subdued murmur of theconstables' voices was faintly audible. I looked out anxiously, debatingwhether I ought not to warn the unconscious sentinels even at the riskof defeating my plans. Suddenly two sharp reports in quick successionrang out from below; both constables fell, and a figure darted out ofthe doorway and raced madly up the street.

  "One of the fallen constables lay motionless; the other grasped his hipwith one hand and with the other fired his revolver repeatedly at theretreating murderer, but apparently missed him every time. In a fewseconds a sergeant and another constable came flying round the corner;police whistles began to sound their warning in all directions; and theprevious silence gave place to a very Babel of noise. But Piragoff hadshot up a side turning before the sergeant arrived, and the persistentclamor of the whistles told me that he had, for the moment, at least,escaped. I turned away. Piragoff was out of my hands, and what I hadseen only made it more imperative that I should prevent furtherbloodshed.

  "As, once more, I softly opened the slide, the voices of the miserablewretches within came to me in a strange and unpleasant mixture ofcurses, blasphemies and hysterical sobs. They cursed Piragoff, theycursed the police, they invoked death and destruction on every man,woman and child in this nation of pigs; and between the curses they weptand lamented. I had shut the damper of the stove before going down, butthe charcoal was still alight, though dull. I now arranged the stove inposition, resting the long pipe on the bottom edge of the opening sothat its end projected a few inches into the room; moving quitesilently and assisted by the hubbub from without and the noise producedby the two craven villains. When it was fixed, I opened the damper, andpresently, holding my hand opposite the mouth of the pipe, felt a strongcurrent of hot gas pouring out. That gas would cool rapidly on meetingthe cold air, and then would fall by its own weight and collect aboutthe floor.

  "My apparatus was now in full going order and there was nothing for itbut to wait. The noise in the street had subsided, but the two ruffiansshowed no signs of settling down. They were now engaged in barricadingthe door so that it could be forced open only a few inches, thusexposing the attackers to a deadly fire. I was much obliged to them.Their movements would help to diffuse the gas and prevent it fromsettling too densely on the floor. Also, their exertions would make thembreathe more deeply and so come more rapidly under the influence of thepoison.

  "The time crept on; the police made no sign; the murderers rested fromtheir labors, sometimes talking excitedly, sometimes silent for
minutesat a time, and at intervals yawning like overstrung women. And all thetime the invisible stream of heavy, deadly gas was pouring out of thestovepipe and trickling unseen along the floor. Even now it must beeddying about the murderers' feet and slowly diffusing upwards. If onlythe police would remain quiescent for an hour or two more, the dangerwould be over.

  "The long hours of the winter's night dragged out their weary length.Yet not weary to me. For, as I kept my vigil by the pipe and fed thestove silently at intervals, I was on the very tip-toe of expectation.Every moment I dreaded to hear the disastrous crash on the door thatshould herald a fresh slaughter; and, as the minutes passed and allremained still, hope rose higher and higher. Sometimes I caught aglimpse of my quarry through the chink of their cupboard door; for I hadopened the slide fully a foot, finding that the clothes that hung fromthe pegs would screen me, even if the darkness on my side had not doneso already. So I saw one of them sit down on a low chair and crouch,shuddering, over the coke stove, while the other restlessly paced theroom.

  "And still the stream of deadly gas trickled unceasingly from the pipe.

  "Presently the former rose and yawned heavily. 'Bah!' he growled, 'I amtired. I shall lie down. If I fall asleep, Boris, do you watch, and wakeme if you hear them coming.'

  "By craning my neck through the opening I could just continue to get aglimpse of him as he threw himself on a mattress that was spread on thefloor. The other man continued for a while to pace the room; then he satdown on the chair and spread his hands out over the stove, muttering tohimself. I watched him as well as I could through the chink of thecupboard doors by the dim light of the stinking paraffin lamp; a greasy,unwholesome-looking wretch, sallow, pallid and unshorn; and thought howstriking he would look in the form of a reduced, dry preparation.

  "But that was impossible. I was now working only for the police.Regrettable as it was, I should have to surrender these two specimensto the coroner and the gravedigger. A deplorable waste of material, butunavoidable--even if one of them should prove to be my long-soughtenemy.

  "At this thought I started; and at that moment the man on the mattressgave a strange, snorting cry. The ruffian, Boris, looked round, rose,went over to the mattress and stirred the other with his foot. 'Louis!Louis!' he cried angrily, 'what the devil are you making that noisefor?'

  "The other man scrambled up with a cry of terror, pistol in hand. 'Ah!it is you, Boris! I was dreaming. I thought they had come.' He sat downagain on the mattress and yawned. 'Bah! I am sleepy. I must lie downagain. Watch a little longer, Boris.'

  "'Why should I watch?' demanded Boris. 'They will make enough noiseopening that door. I shall lie down a little, too.'

  "He flung himself down beside his comrade, but in a minute or twostarted up, taking deep breaths. 'My God!' he exclaimed. 'I can'tbreathe lying down. I feel as if I should choke. And you, too, Louis;you are snorting like a pig. Get up, man.'

  "He shook the prostrate man roughly, but eliciting only a few drowsycurses, resumed his restless pacing of the room. But not for long. Yawnafter yawn told me that the gas was already in his blood; and the loudsnoring of the other man indicated plainly the state of the air in thelower part of the room. Presently Boris halted in his walk and sat downby the stove, muttering as before. Soon he began to nod; then he nearlyfell forward on the stove. Finally he rose heavily, staggered across tothe mattress and once more flung himself down.

  "I breathed more freely, notwithstanding that the gas, having partiallydiffused upwards to the level of the opening, now began to filterthrough to my side. I waited a minute or two listening to the breathingof the two murderers as it grew moment by moment more stertorous andirregular, and then, having filled up the stove, went down to the firstfloor and sat awhile by the open window to breathe the relatively freshair.

  "All was now quiet in the street. No doubt the guard had beenstrengthened, but I did not look out. It was as well not to be seen atthat hour in the morning. As I sat by the window, I thought about thetwo men in that deadly room. It was a thousand pities that they shouldbe lost to science. Yet there was no help for it. Even if I had decidedto acquire them I could not have done so, for, by the very worst ofluck, I had used up my last barrel and had neglected to lay in a freshstock. Besides, of course, the police knew they were there.

  "I rested for half an hour or so and then went upstairs to see howmatters were progressing. No light now came through the opening in thewall, for the paraffin lamp had either burned out or been extinguishedby the accumulating gas. I listened attentively. The harsh, metallicticking of a cheap American clock was plainly, even intrusively,audible; otherwise no sound came from that chamber of death.

  "I drew the sliding panel right back, held aside the dangling garments,and, climbing through into the cupboard, pushed open the doors. A faintglimmer of light from the street made dimly visible the mattress on thefloor and two indistinct dark shapes stretched on it. I stepped quicklyacross the room, breathing as little as possible of the unspeakably foulair, and struck a wax match. It burned dimly and smokily, but showed methe two murderers, lying in easy postures, their faces livid and ghastlyin hue but peaceful enough in expression. When I lowered the match, itsflame dwindled and turned blue, and at eighteen inches from the floor itwent out as if dipped in water. At that height the heavy gas must havebeen nearly pure. The room was a veritable Grotto del Cane.

  "I stooped quickly, holding my breath, and felt the wrists of the twomen. They were chilly to the touch and no vestige of pulse wasperceptible. I shook them both vigorously, but failed to elicit anyresponsive movement. They were quite limp and inert and I had no doubtthat they were dead. My work was done. The policemen were now safe,whatever follies they might commit; and it only remained for me toremove the traces of the fairy godmother who had labored through thenight to save them from their own exuberant courage.

  "Passing back through the opening, I drew away the now unnecessary pipe,closed the two panels, and carried the little stove down to my bedroom.I looked at the unruffled bed--mute but eloquent witness to the night'sactivity--and deciding as a measure of prudence to give it theappearance of having been slept in, took off my boots and crept inbetween the sheets. But I was not in the least degree drowsy. Quite thecontrary. I was all agog to see the end of the comedy in which I had,all unknown, taken the leading part; so that after tossing about for afew minutes I sprang out of bed, resumed my boots and poured out a basinfull of water to refresh myself by a wash.

  "And now once more observe the strangely indirect lines of causation.The towels on the horse were damp and none too clean. I flung them intothe dirty-linen basket and dragged open the drawer in which the cleanones were kept. It was the bottom drawer of a cheap pine chest that Ihad bought in Whitechapel High Street. That chest of drawers was ofunusual size; it was four feet wide by nearly five feet high, and thetwo bottom drawers were each fully eighteen inches deep, and were farlarger than was necessary for my modest stock of household linen.

  "I pulled out the bottom drawer, then, and as its great cavity yawnedbefore me, it offered a not unnatural suggestion. The length of anaverage man's head and trunk is under thirty-six inches. Allowing a fewinches more for his feet and ankles, a cavity forty-eight inches long isamply sufficient for his accommodation. Flinging out the towels andsheets that lay in the drawer, I got in and lay down with my knees drawnup. Of course there was room and to spare.

  "It was an interesting fact but not very applicable to presentcircumstances. Still, it set me thinking. I went into the front room andglanced out of the open window. A faint lightening of the murky skyheralded the approach of dawn, and from afar came the murmur ofcommencing traffic out in High Street. I was about to turn away when myear caught a new and unusual sound rising above that distant murmur; themeasured tread of feet mingling with the clatter of horses' hoofs and aheavy, metallic rumbling. I looked out cautiously in the directionwhence the sounds came and was positively stupefied with amazement. Atthe end of the street I saw, by the light of the lamps,
a company ofsoldiers appearing round the corner and taking up a position across theroad. I watched breathlessly. Soon, at a sign from the officer, the menspread mats on the muddy ground and lay down on them, and then appeareda train of horses, dragging a field-piece or quick-firing gun, which washalted behind the infantry and unlimbered. A minute later the blackshapes of a number of soldiers appeared on the sky-line as they creptalong the parapets of the opposite houses where, save for their headsand the barrels of their rifles, they presently disappeared.

  "It seemed that I had misjudged the police in the matter of caution. Italmost seemed that my labors had been useless; for surely theseportentous preparations indicated some masterpiece of strategy. What ananticlimax it would be when the defenders of the fort were found to bedead! But what a still greater anticlimax if they were not there at all!

  "At this moment a police sergeant strolled down the middle of the roadand, observing me, motioned to me with his hand to get inside out ofharm's way. I obeyed with grim amusement, thinking of that absurdanticlimax; and somehow this idea began to connect itself with those twobottom drawers. But the casks were the difficulty. The cooper from whomI had obtained them sometimes kept me waiting nearly a week beforesupplying them--for I was only a small customer; and that would never doeven at this time of year. Besides, the police would make a rigidsearch; not that that would have mattered if I could have made properarrangements for the concealment and removal of the specimens. Butunfortunately I could not. The specimens would have to go; to be borneout ingloriously in the face of the besieging force, limp and passive,like a couple of those very helpless guys that are wont to be producedby what Mrs. Kosminsky would call 'der chiltrens.' There would be acertain grim appropriateness in the incident. For this was the fifth ofNovember.

  "The generation of new ideas is chiefly a matter of association. Theideas 'guys,' 'Mrs. Kosminsky' and 'the fifth of November' unconsciouslyformed themselves into a group from which in an instant there wasevolved a new and startling train of thought. At first it seemed wildenough; but when the two bottom drawers joined in the synthetic process,a complete and consistent scheme began to appear. A flush of pleasurableexcitement swept over me, and as I raced upstairs fresh details addedthemselves and fresh difficulties were propounded and disposed of. Islid open the panels, stepped through and, holding my breath, strodeacross the poisoned room with only one quick glance at the two stillforms on the mattress. Removing the barricading chair, I unlocked andunbolted the door and passed out, closing it after me.

  "Mrs. Kosminsky's room was at the back; a dreadful nest of dirt andsqualor, piled almost to the ceiling with unclassifiable rubbish. Theair was so stifling that I was tempted to raise the heavily-curtainedwindow a couple of inches; and thereby got a useful idea when, bypeeping over the curtain, I saw the flat leads of a projecting lowerstory. The merchandise piled on all sides, and even under the bed,included very secondhand wearing apparel, sheets, blankets, crockery andtoys. Among them were the fireworks, the masks and other appliances forcommemorating the never-to-be-forgotten 'Gunpowder treason,' and acouple of large balls of a dark-colored cord sometimes used by costersfor securing their loads. That gave me an idea, too, as did thefrowsily-smart female garments. I appropriated four of the largest masksand a quantity of oakum for wigs; some colored-paper streamers andhat-frills; two huge and disreputable dresses--Mrs. Kosminsky's own, Isuspected--the skirts of which I crammed with straw from a hamper; twolarge-sized and ragged suits of clothes, a woman's straw hat, four pairsof men's gloves and the biggest top-hat that I could find. These I putapart in a heap with one of the balls of cord. From the other ball Icut off some eight fathoms of cord, and, poking it out through theopening of the window, let it drop on the leads beneath. Then I conveyedmy spoil in one or two journeys across the murderers' room, passed itthrough the opening, and closed the panel after me.

  "Prudence suggested that I should dispose of these things first, andaccordingly I stowed two masks, two pairs of gloves, one suit of clothesand one dress in the large chest of drawers. The rest I carried down tothe back yard, where already was a quantity of lumber belonging to aneighboring green grocer. Returning upstairs, I called in at the bedroomto transfer the scanty contents of the two large drawers into the upperones and then proceeded once more to the second floor front. Time waspassing and the glimmer of the gray dawn was beginning to struggle infaintly through the dirty windows.

  "As I drew back the slide I became aware of a sound which, soft as itwas, rang the knell of my newly-formed hopes. I had closed the door ofthe murderers' room and locked it, but had not shot the bolt. Now Icould distinctly hear someone fumbling gently at the keyhole, apparentlywith a picklock. It was most infuriating. At the very last moment, whensuccess was within my grasp, I was to be foiled and all my neatly-laidplans defeated. And to make it a thousand times worse, I had not eventaken the precaution to examine the dead miscreants' hair!

  "With an angry and foolish exclamation, I reached through the openingand drew the cupboard doors to, leaving only a small chink. Then I shutmyself in my own cupboard, to exclude the dim light, and closing thepanel to within an inch, waited on events with my hand on the knob,ready to shut it at a moment's notice. The great strategic move wasabout to begin and I was curious to see what it would be.

  "The bolt of the lock shot back; the door creaked softly. There was apause, and then a voice whispered:

  "'Why, they seem to be asleep! Keep them covered, Smith, and shoot ifthey move.'

  "Soft footsteps advanced across the room. Someone gave a choking coughand then a brassy voice fairly shouted, 'Why, man, they're dead! MyLord! What a let-off!'

  "An unsteady laugh told of the effort it had cost the worthy officer totake this frightful risk.

  "'Yes,' said another voice, 'they're dead enough. They've cheated usafter all. Not that I complain of that. But, my eye, sir; what a sell!Think of all those Tommies and that machine gun. Ha! ha! Oh! Lord! Isuppose the beggars poisoned themselves when they saw the game was up.'He laughed again and the laugh ended in a fit of coughing.

  "'Not they, Sergeant,' said the other. 'It was that coke stove that gavethem their ticket. Can't you smell it? And, by Jove, it will give us ourticket if we don't clear out. We'll just run down and report and sendfor a couple of stretchers.'

  "'Hadn't I better wait here, sir, while you're gone?' asked thesergeant.

  "'Lord, no, man. What for? We shall want three stretchers if you do.Come along. Pooh! Leave the door open.'

  "I listened incredulously to their retreating footsteps. It seemedhardly possible that they should be so devoid of caution. And yet, whynot? The men were dead. And dead men are not addicted to suddendisappearances.

  "But this case was going to be an exception. I had given the specimensup for lost when I heard the police enter; but now--

  "I opened the slide, sprang through the opening, and strode over to themattress. One after the other, I picked up the prostrate ruffians,carried them across and bundled them through the aperture. Then I camethrough myself, shut the cupboard doors, closed both panels carefully,shut up my own cupboard and carried the specimens down to my bedroom.With their knees drawn up, they packed quite easily in the largedrawers. I shut them in, locked the drawers, pocketed the key, washed myhands and went down to the parlor, where I rapidly laid the breakfasttable. At any moment now, the police might come to inspect, andwhenever they came, they would find me ready.

  "I did not waste time on breakfast. That could wait. Meanwhile I fell towork with the materials in the yard. In addition to the hand-cart, therewas now a coster's barrow, the property of a greengrocer, to whom alsobelonged a quantity of lumber, including some bundles of stakes andseveral hampers filled with straw. With these materials, and those thatI had borrowed from Mrs. Kosminsky, I began rapidly to build up a pairof life-sized guys--one male and one female. I put them together veryroughly and sat them side by side in the barrow, leaning against thewall; and to each I attached a large ticket on which I had scrawled thename of
the person it represented; one being the highly unpopularminister, Mr. Todd-Leeks, and the other the notorious Mrs. Gamway.

  "They were very sketchily built and would have dropped to pieces at atouch. But that was of no consequence. The time factor was the importantone; and I had worked at such speed that I had huddled them into apretty plausible completeness when the inevitable peal at the house belldisturbed my labors. I darted into the parlor, crammed a piece of breadinto my mouth and rushed out to the shop door, chewing frantically. As Iopened the door, an agitated police inspector burst in, followed by asergeant.

  "'Good morning, gentlemen,' I said suavely. 'Hair-cutting or shaving?'

  "I shall not record the inspector's reply. I was really shocked. I hadno idea that responsible officials used such language. In effect, theywished to look over the premises. Of course I gave instant permission,and followed them in their tour of inspection on the pretext of showingthem over the house.

  "The inspector was in a very bad temper and the sergeant was obviouslydepressed. They conversed in low tones as they stumped up the stairs andI heard the sergeant say something about 'an awful suck in.'

  "'Oh, don't talk of it,' snapped the inspector. 'It's enough to make acat sick. But what beats me is how those devils could have stuck theair of that room. It would have settled my hash in five minutes.'

  "'Yes,' agreed the sergeant; 'and how they could have let themselvesdown from that window without being spotted. I wouldn't have believed itif I hadn't seen the cord. The constables must have been asleep.'

  "'Yes,' grunted the inspector; 'thickheaded louts. Let's have a look outhere.' He strode into the second floor back and threw up the window.'Now you see,' he continued, 'what I mean. This house has no connectionwith the next one. That projecting wing cuts it off. This back yardopens into Bell's Alley; the yard next door opens into Kosher Court.That's the way they went. They couldn't have got to this house exceptingby the roof, and we've seen that they went down, not up.' He stuck hishead out of the window and looked down sourly at the guys.

  "'Those things yours?' he asked gruffly, pointing at the effigies.

  "'No,' I answered. 'I think one of Piper's men is getting them ready totake round.'

  "The inspector grunted and moved away. He walked into the front room,looked in the cupboard, glanced round and went downstairs. On the firstfloor, he made a perfunctory inspection of the rooms, glancing in at mybedroom, and then went down to the ground floor. From thence the twoofficers descended to the cellar, which they examined more thoroughly,even prodding the sawdust in the bin, and so up to the back yard. Here,at the sight of the guys, the sergeant's woeful countenance brightenedsomewhat.

  "'Ha!' he exclaimed; 'Mrs. Gamway! I saw a good deal of her when I wasin the Westminster division. I've often thought I'd like to--and, byJimini! I will!' He squared up fiercely at the helpless-looking effigyof the lady, and, with a vicious, round-arm punch, sent its unstablehead flying across the yard.

  "The blow and its effect seemed to rouse his destructive instincts, forhe returned to the attack with such ferocity that in a few seconds hehad reduced, not only the factitious Mrs. Gamway, but the RightHonorable Todd-Leeks also, to a heap of ruin.

  "'Stop that foolery, Smith,' snarled the inspector; 'you'll give thepoor devil the trouble of building them up all over again. Come along.'He unlocked the gate and stood for a moment looking back at me.

  "'I suppose you've heard nothing in the night?' he said.

  "'Not a sound,' I answered, adding, 'I shan't open the shop until theevening, and I shall probably go out for the day. Would you like to havethe key?'

  "The inspector shook his head. 'No, I don't want the key. I've seen allI want to see. Good morning,' and he stumped out, followed by hissubordinate.

  "I drew a deep breath as I re-locked the gate. I was glad he had refusedthe key, though I had thought it prudent to make the offer. Now I was atliberty to complete my arrangements at leisure.

  "My first proceeding, after locking up the shop, was to rig up, with thegreen grocer's stakes and Mrs. Kosminsky's cord, a firm pair ofstandards to support the guys. Then I took a hearty breakfast, afterwhich I repaired to my bedroom with a hamper of straw, a bundle ofsmall stakes and a quantity of odd rags. The process of converting thespecimens into quite convincing guys was not difficult. Tying up theheads in large pieces of rag, I fastened the big masks to the fronts ofthe globular bundles and covered in the remainder with masses of oakumto form appropriate wigs. Each figure was then clothed in the bulkygarments borrowed from Mrs. Kosminsky's stock and well stuffed withstraw, portions of which I allowed to protrude at all the apertures. Asuitable stiffness was imparted to the limbs by pieces of stick poked upinside the clothing, and smaller sticks gave the correct, starfish-likespread to the gloved hands. When they were finished, the illusion wasperfect. As the two effigies sat on the floor with their backs againstthe wall, stiff, staring, bloated and grotesquely horrible, not a soulwould have suspected them.

  "I carried the male guy down to the yard, sat him on the barrow and puton his hat; and taking with me the remains of the ruined guys, which Idecided to put away in the drawers, I returned for the second effigy. Ilashed the two figures very securely to the standards, fixed on theirhats firmly, and attached their name-cards. Then I went into the shop toattend to my own appearance.

  "I had brought back from my Bloomsbury house the shabby overcoat andbattered hat that I had worn on the last few expeditions. These I nowassumed; and having fixed on my cheek a large cross ofsticking-plaster--which pulled down my eyebrow and pulled up the cornerof my mouth--begrimed my face, reddened my nose, and carefully tinted ina not too emphatic black eye, I was sufficiently transmogrified todeceive even my intimate friends. Now I was ready to start; and now wasthe critical moment.

  "I went out into the yard, unlocked the gate, trundled the barrow outinto the alley, and locked the gate behind me. At the moment there wasnot a soul in sight, but from the street close by came the unmistakablemurmur of a large crowd. I must confess that I felt a little nervous.The next few minutes would decide my fate.

  "I grasped the handles of the barrow and started forward resolutely. AsI rounded the curve of the alley, a densely-packed throng appearedahead. Faces turned towards me and broke into grins; the murmur roseinto a dull roar, and, as the people drew aside to make way for me, Iplunged into the heart of the throng and raised my voice in a huskychant:

  "'Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot.'

  "Through the interstices of the crowd I could see the soldiers stilldrawn up by the curb and even the machine gun was yet in position.Suddenly the inspector and the sergeant appeared bustling through thecrowd. The former caught sight of me and, waving his hand angrily,shouted:

  "'Take that thing away from here! Move him out of the crowd, Moloney;'and a gigantic constable pounced on me with a broad grin, snatched thebarrow-handles out of my hands, and started off at a trot that made theeffigies rock in the most alarming manner.

  "'Holler, bhoys!' shouted the grinning constable; and the 'bhoys'complied with raucous enthusiasm.

  "At the outskirts of the crowd Constable Moloney resigned in my favor,and it was at this moment that I noticed a manifest plain-clothesofficer observing my exhibits with undue attention. But here fortunefavored me; for at the same instant I saw a man attempt to pick a pocketunder the officer's very nose. The pickpocket caught my eye and movedoff quickly. I pulled up, and, pointing at the thief, bawled out, 'Stopthat man! Stop him!' The pickpocket flung himself into the crowd andmade off. The startled loafers drew hastily away from him. Men shouted,women screamed, and the plain-clothes officer started in pursuit; and inthe whirling confusion that followed, I trundled away briskly intoMiddlesex Street and headed for Spitalfields.

  "My progress through the squalid streets was quite triumphal. A largejuvenile crowd attended me, with appropriate vocal music, and adultscheered from the pavements, though no one embarrassed me with gifts.But, for all my outward
gaiety, I was secretly anxious. It was barelyten o'clock and many hours of the dreary November day had yet to runbefore it would be safe for me to approach my destination. The prospectof tramping the streets for some ten or twelve hours with this veryconspicuous appendage was far from agreeable, to say nothing of theincreasing risk of detection, and I looked forward to it with gloomyforebodings. If a suspicion arose, I could be traced with the greatestease, and in any case I should be spent with fatigue before evening.Reflecting on these difficulties, I had decided to seek some retiredspot where I could dismount the effigies, cover them with the tarpaulinthat was rolled up in the barrow and take a rest, when once morecircumstances befriended me.

  "All through the night and morning the ordinary winter haze had hungover the town; but now, by reason of a change of wind, the haze beganrapidly to thicken into a definite fog. I set down the barrow andwatched with thankfulness the mass of opaque yellow vapor filling thestreet and blotting out the sky. As it thickened and the darknessclosed in, the children strayed away and only one solitary loaferremained.

  "''Ard luck for you, mate, this 'ere fog,' he remarked, 'arter you'vetook all that trouble, too.' (He little knew how much.) 'But it's no go.You'd better git 'ome whilst you can find yer way. This is goin' to be ablack 'un.'

  "I thanked him for his sympathy and moved on into the darkening vapor.Close to Spital Square I found a quiet corner where I quickly dismountedthe guys, covered them with the tarpaulin and, urged by a new anxietyfrom the rapidly-growing density of the fog, groped my way into NortonFolgate. Here I moved forward as quickly as I dared, turned up GreatEastern Street and at length, to my great relief, came out into OldStreet.

  "It was none too soon. As I entered the well-known thoroughfare, the fogclosed down into impenetrable obscurity. The world of visible objectswas extinguished and replaced by a chaos of confused sounds. Even theend of my barrow faded away into spectral uncertainty, and the curbagainst which I kept my left wheel grinding looked thin and remote.

  "Opportune as the fog was, it was not without its dangers; of which themost immediate was that I might lose my way. I set down the barrow, and,detaching the little compass that I always carry on my watch-guard, laidit on the tarpaulin. My course, as I knew, lay about west-southwest, andwith the compass before me, I could not go far wrong. Indeed, itsguidance was invaluable; without it I could never have found my waythrough those miles of intricate streets. When a stationary wagon orother obstruction sent me out into the road, it enabled me to pick upthe curb again unerringly. It mapped out the corners of intersectingstreets, it piloted me over the wide crossings of the City Road andAldersgate Street, and kept me happily confident of my direction as Igroped my way like a fogbound ship on an invisible sea.

  "I went as quickly as was safe, but very warily, for a collision mighthave been fatal. Listening intently, with my eye on the compass and mywheel at the curb, I pushed on through the yellow void until a shadowypost at a street corner revealed itself by its parish initials as thatat the intersection of Red Lion Street and Theobald's Row.

  "I was nearly home. Another ten minutes' careful navigation brought meto a corner which I believed to be the one opposite my own house. Iturned back a dozen paces, put down the barrow and crossed thepavement--with the compass in my hand, lest I should not be able to findthe barrow again. I came against the jamb of a street door, I gropedacross to the door itself, I found the keyhole of the familiar Yalepattern, I inserted my key and turned it; and the door of the museumentrance opened. I had brought my ship into port.

  "I listened intently. Someone was creeping down the street, hugging therailings. I closed the door to let him pass, and heard the groping handssweep over the door as he crawled by. Then I went out, steered across tothe barrow, picked up one of the specimens and carried it into the hall,where I laid it on the floor, returning immediately for the other. Whenboth the specimens were safely deposited, I came out, softly closingthe door after me with the key, and once more took up thebarrow-handles. Slowly I trundled the invaluable little vehicle up thestreet, never losing touch of the curb, flinging the stakes and cordageinto the road as I went, until I had brought it to the corner of astreet about a quarter of a mile from my house; and there I abandonedit, making my way back as fast as I could to the museum.

  "My first proceeding on my return was to carry my treasures to thelaboratory, light the gas and examine their hair. I had really somehopes that one of them might be the man I sought. But, alas! It was theold story. They both had coarse black hair of the mongoloid type. Myenemy was still to seek.

  "Having cleaned away my 'make-up,' I spent the rest of the day pushingforward the preliminary processes so that these might be completedbefore 'decay's effacing fingers' should obliterate the details of theintegumentary structures. In the evening I returned to Whitechapel andopened the shop, proposing to purchase the dummy skeletons on thefollowing day and to devote the succeeding nights and early mornings tothe preparation of the specimens.

  "The barrow turned up next day in the possession of an undeniable trampwho was trying to sell it for ten shillings and who was accused ofhaving stolen it but was discharged for want of evidence. I compensatedthe green grocer for the trouble occasioned by my carelessness inleaving the back gate open; and thus the incident came to an end. Withone important exception, for there was a very startling sequel.

  "On the day after the expedition, I had the curiosity to open the panelsand go through into the room that the murderers had occupied, which hadnow been locked up by the police. Looking round the room, my eye lightedon a shabby cloth cap lying on the still undisturbed mattress just belowthe pillow. I picked it up and looked it over curiously, for by its sizeI could see that it did not belong to either of the men whom I hadsecured. I took it over to the curtained window and carefully inspectedits lining; and suddenly I perceived, clinging to the coarse cloth, asingle short hair, which, even to the naked eye, had a distinctlyunusual appearance. With a trembling hand, I drew out my lens to examineit more closely; and, as it came into the magnified field, my heartseemed to stand still. For, even at that low magnification, itscharacter was unmistakable--it looked like a tiny string of pale graybeads. Grasping it in my fingers, I dashed through the opening, slammedthe panels to, and rushed down to the parlor where I kept a smallmicroscope. My agitation was so intense that I could hardly focus theinstrument, but at last the object on the slide came into view: a broad,variegated stripe, with its dark medulla and the little rings of airbubbles at regular intervals. It was a typical ringed hair! And what wasthe inference?

  "The hair was almost certainly Piragoff's. Piragoff was a burglar, aruthless murderer, and he had ringed hair. The man whom I sought was aburglar, a ruthless murderer, and had ringed hair. Then Piragoff was myman. It was bad logic, but the probabilities were overwhelming. And Ihad had the villain in the hollow of my hand and he had gone forthunscathed!

  "I ground my teeth with impotent rage. It was maddening. All the oldpassion and yearning for retribution surged up in my breast once more.My interest in the new specimens almost died out. I wanted Piragoff; andit was only the new-born hope that I should yet lay my hand on him thatcarried me through that time of bitter disappointment."