The blue scarab
train robbery. But as soon as we saw Mr. Montague it was evident that
he corresponded exactly with the owner of the dressing-wallet; and
when we saw the bag that had been found on the line--a shoddy,
imitation leather bag--it was practically certain that it was not his,
while the roughly-stitched leather pockets exactly suited to the
dimensions of house-breaking tools, strongly suggested that it was a
burglar’s bag. But if this were so, then Mr. Montague’s bag had been
stolen, and the robber’s effects stuffed into it.
“With this working hypothesis we were now able to take up the case
from the other end. The Scotland Yard bag was Montague’s bag. It had
been taken from Chiswick to the Hammersmith towpath, where--judging
from the clay smears on the bottom--it had been laid on the ground,
presumably close to a willow tree. The use of the grass as packing
suggested that something had been removed from the bag at this
place--something that had wedged the tools together and prevented them
from rattling; and there appeared to be half a towel missing. Clearly,
the towpath was our next field of exploration.
“But, small as this area was geographically, it would have taken a
long time to examine in detail. Here, however, the stick gave us
invaluable aid. It had a perfectly distinctive tip, and it showed
traces of having been stuck about three inches into earth similar to
that on the bag. What we had thus to look for was a hole in the ground
about three inches deep, and having at the bottom the impression of a
half-worn boot-stud. This hole would probably be close to a willow.
“The search turned out even easier than I had hoped. Directly we
reached the towpath I picked up the track of the stick, and not one
track only, but a double track, showing that our friend had returned
to the bridge. All that remained was to follow the track until it came
to an end and there we were pretty certain to find the hole in the
ground, as, in fact, we did.”
“And why,” I asked, “do you suppose he buried the stuff?”
“Probably as a precaution, in case he had been seen and described.
This morning’s papers will have told him that he had not been.
Probably, also, he wanted to make arrangements with a fence and didn’t
want to have the booty about him.”
There is little more to tell. When the case was heard on the following
morning, Thorndyke’s uncannily precise and detailed description of the
course of events, coupled with the production of the stolen property,
so unnerved the prisoner that he pleaded guilty forthwith.
As to Mr. Montague, he recovered completely in a few days, and a
handsome pair of Georgian silver candlesticks may even to this day be
seen on our mantel-piece testifying to his gratitude and appreciation
of Thorndyke’s brilliant conduct of the case.
VI.
THE STOLEN INGOTS
“In medico-legal practice,” Thorndyke remarked, “one must be
constantly on one’s guard against the effects of suggestion, whether
intentional or unconscious. When the facts of a case are set forth by
an informant, they are nearly always presented, consciously or
unconsciously, in terms of inference. Certain facts, which appear to
the narrator to be the leading facts, are given with emphasis and in
detail, while other facts, which appear to be subordinate or trivial,
are partially suppressed. But this assessment of evidential value must
never be accepted. The whole case must be considered and each fact
weighed separately, and then it will commonly happen that the leading
fact turns out to be the one that had been passed over as negligible.”
The remark was made apropos of a case, the facts of which had just
been stated to us by Mr. Halethorpe, of the Sphinx Assurance Company.
I did not quite perceive its bearing at the time, but looking back
when the case was concluded, I realized that I had fallen into the
very error against which Thorndyke’s warning should have guarded me.
“I trust,” said Mr. Halethorpe, “that I have not come at an
inconvenient time. You are so tolerant of unusual hours----”
“My practice,” interrupted Thorndyke, “is my recreation, and I welcome
you as one who comes to furnish entertainment. Draw your chair up to
the fire, light a cigar and tell us your story.”
Mr. Halethorpe laughed, but adopted the procedure suggested, and
having settled his toes upon the kerb and selected a cigar from the
box, he opened the subject of his call.
“I don’t quite know what you can do for us,” he began, “as it is
hardly your business to trace lost property, but I thought I would
come and let you know about our difficulty. The fact is that our
company looks like dropping some four thousand pounds, which the
directors won’t like. What has happened is this:
“About two months ago the London House of the Akropong Gold Fields
Company applied to us to insure a parcel of gold bars that were to be
consigned to Minton and Borwell, the big manufacturing jewellers. The
bars were to be shipped at Accra and landed at Bellhaven, which is the
nearest port to Minton and Borwell’s works. Well, we agreed to
underwrite the risk--we have done business with the Akropong people
before--and the matter was settled. The bars were put on board the
_Labadi_ at Accra, and in due course were landed at Bellhaven, where
they were delivered to Minton’s agents. So far, so good. Then came the
catastrophe. The case of bars was put on the train at Bellhaven,
consigned to Anchester, where Mintons have their factory. But the line
doesn’t go to Anchester direct. The junction is at Garbridge, a small
country station close to the river Crouch, and here the case was put
out and locked up in the station-master’s office to wait for the
Anchester train. It seems that the station-master was called away and
detained longer than he had expected, and when the train was signalled
he hurried back in a mighty twitter. However, the case was there all
right, and he personally superintended its removal to the guard’s van
and put it in the guard’s charge. All went well for the rest of the
journey. A member of the firm was waiting at Anchester station with a
closed van. The case was put into it and taken direct to the factory,
where it was opened in the private office--and found to be full of
lead pipe.”
“I presume,” said Thorndyke, “that it was not the original case.”
“No,” replied Halethorpe, “but it was a very fair imitation. The label
and the marks were correct, but the seals were just plain wax.
Evidently the exchange had been made in the station-master’s office,
and it transpires that although the door was securely locked, there
was an unfastened window which opened on to the garden, and there were
plain marks of feet on the flower-bed outside.”
“What time did this happen?” asked Thorndyke.
“The Anchester train came in at a quarter past seven, by which time,
of course, it was quite dark.”
“And when did it happen?”
“The day before yesterday. We heard of it yesterday morning.”
“Are you contesting the claim?”
“We don’t want to. Of course, we could plead negligence, but in that
case I think we should make a claim on the railway company. But,
naturally, we should much rather recover the property. After all, it
can’t be so very far away.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Thorndyke. “This was no impromptu theft.
The dummy case was prepared in advance, and evidently by somebody who
knew what the real case was like, and how and when it was to be
despatched from Bellhaven. We must assume that the disposal of the
stolen case has been provided for with similar completeness. How far
is Garbridge from the river?”
“Less than half a mile across the marshes. The
detective-inspector--Badger, I think you know him--asked the same
question.”
“Naturally,” said Thorndyke. “A heavy object like this case is much
more easily and inconspicuously conveyed by water than on land. And
then, see what facilities for concealment a navigable river offers.
The case could be easily stowed away on a small craft, or even in a
boat; or the bars could be taken out and stowed amongst the ballast,
or even, at a pinch, dropped overboard at a marked spot and left until
the hue and cry was over.”
“You are not very encouraging,” Halethorpe remarked gloomily. “I take
it that you don’t much expect that we shall recover those bars.”
“We needn’t despair,” was the reply, “but I want you to understand the
difficulties. The thieves have got away with the booty, and that booty
is an imperishable material which retains its value even if broken up
into unrecognizable fragments. Melted down into small ingots, it would
be impossible to identify.”
“Well,” said Halethorpe, “the police have the matter in
hand--Inspector Badger, of the C.I.D., is in charge of the case--but
our directors would be more satisfied if you would look into it. Of
course we would give you any help we could. What do you say?”
“I am willing to look into the case,” said Thorndyke, “though I don’t
hold out much hope. Could you give me a note to the shipping company
and another to the consignees, Minton and Borwell?”
“Of course I will. I’ll write them now. I have some of our stationery
in my attaché case. But, if you will pardon my saying so, you seem to
be starting your inquiry just where there is nothing to be learned.
The case was stolen after it left the ship and before it reached the
consignees--although their agent had received it from the ship.”
“The point is,” said Thorndyke, “that this was a preconcerted robbery,
and that the thieves possessed special information. That information
must have come either from the ship or from the factory. So, while we
must try to pick up the track of the case itself, we must seek the
beginning of the clue at the two ends--the ship and the factory--from
one of which it must have started.”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Halethorpe. “Well, I’ll write those two notes
and then I must run away; and we’ll hope for the best.”
He wrote the two letters, asking for facilities from the respective
parties, and then took his departure in a somewhat chastened frame of
mind.
“Quite an interesting little problem,” Thorndyke remarked, as
Halethorpe’s footsteps died away on the stairs, “but not much in our
line. It is really a police case--a case for patient and intelligent
inquiry. And that is what we shall have to do--make some careful
inquiries on the spot.”
“Where do you propose to begin?” I asked.
“At the beginning,” he replied. “Bellhaven. I propose that we go down
there to-morrow morning and pick up the thread at that end.”
“What thread?” I demanded. “We know that the package started from
there. What else do you expect to learn?”
“There are several curious possibilities in this case, as you must
have noticed,” he replied. “The question is, whether any of them are
probabilities. That is what I want to settle before we begin a
detailed investigation.”
“For my part,” said I, “I should have supposed that the investigation
would start from the scene of the robbery. But I presume that you have
seen some possibilities that I have overlooked.”
Which eventually turned out to be the case.
“I think,” said Thorndyke as we alighted at Bellhaven on the following
morning, “we had better go first to the Customs and make quite
certain, if we can, that the bars were really in the case when it was
delivered to the consignees’ agents. It won’t do to take it for
granted that the substitution took place at Garbridge, although that
is by far the most probable theory.” Accordingly we made our way to
the harbour, where an obliging mariner directed us to our destination.
At the Custom House we were received by a genial officer, who, when
Thorndyke had explained his connection with the robbery, entered into
the matter with complete sympathy and a quick grasp of the situation.