The blue scarab
“Yes, sir. To the mortuary. But I have got all the effects here.”
He led the way to the office--a wooden hut on low wheels--and
unlocking the door, invited us to enter. “Here are the things that we
have salved,” he said, indicating a table covered with white paper on
which the various articles were neatly set out, “and I think it’s
about the lot. We haven’t come on anything fresh for the last hour or
so.”
Thorndyke looked over the collection thoughtfully; picked up and
examined successively the two clay pipes--each with the initials
“R.R.” neatly incised on the bowl--the absurd little mascot figure, so
incongruous with its grim surroundings and the tragic circumstances,
the distorted keys, the platinum chain-links to several of which
shapeless blobs of gold adhered, and the crystal seal; and then,
collecting the artificial teeth, arranged them in what appeared to be
their correct order, and compared them with the dental plate.
“I think,” said he, holding the latter in his fingers, “that as the
body is not here, I should like to secure the means of comparison of
these teeth with the skull. There will be no objection to that, I
presume?”
“What did you wish to do?” the inspector asked.
“I should like to take a cast of the plate and a wax impression of the
loose teeth. No damage will be done to the originals, of course.”
The inspector hesitated, his natural, official tendency to refuse
permission apparently contending with a desire to see with his own
eyes how the famous expert carried out his mysterious methods of
research. In the end the latter prevailed and the official sanction
was given, subject to a proviso. “You won’t mind my looking on while
you do it?”
“Of course not,” replied Thorndyke. “Why should I?”
“I thought that perhaps your methods were a sort of trade secret.”
Thorndyke laughed softly as he opened the research-case. “My dear
Inspector,” said he, “the people who have trade secrets are those who
make a profound mystery of simple processes that any schoolboy could
carry out with once showing. That is the necessity for the secrecy.”
As he was speaking he half-filled a tiny aluminium saucepan with
water, and having dropped into it a couple of cakes of dentist’s
moulding composition, put it to heat over a spirit-lamp. While it was
heating he greased the dental plate and the loose teeth, and prepared
the little rubber basin and the other appliances for mixing the
plaster.
The inspector was deeply interested. With almost ravenous attention he
followed these proceedings, and eagerly watched Thorndyke roll the
softened composition into the semblance of a small sausage and press
it firmly on the teeth of the plate; peered into the plaster tin, and
when the liquid plaster was mixed and applied, first to the top and
then to the lower surface of the plate, not only observed the process
closely but put a number of very pertinent questions.
While the plaster and composition were setting Thorndyke renewed his
inspection of the salvage from the rick, picking out a number of iron
boot protectors which he placed apart in a little heap.
Then he proceeded to roll out two flat strips of softened composition,
into one of which he pressed the loose teeth in what appeared to be
their proper order, and into the other the boot protectors--eight in
number--after first dusting the surface with powdered French chalk. By
this time the plaster had set hard enough to allow of the mould being
opened and the dental plate taken out. Then Thorndyke, having painted
the surfaces of the plaster pieces with knotting, put the mould
together again and tied it firmly with string, mixed a fresh bowl of
plaster and poured it into the mould.
While this was setting Thorndyke made a careful inventory, with my
assistance, of the articles found in the ashes and put a few discreet
questions to the inspector. But the latter knew very little about the
case. His duty was merely to examine and report on the rick for the
information of the coroner. The investigation of the case was
evidently being conducted from head-quarters. There being no
information to be gleaned from the officer we went out and inspected
the site of the rick. But here, also, there was nothing to be learned;
the surface of the ground was now laid bare and the men who were
working with the sieves reported no further discoveries. We
accordingly returned to the hut, and as the plaster had now set hard
Thorndyke proceeded with infinite care to open the mould. The
operation was a complete success, and as my colleague extracted the
cast--a perfect replica, in plaster, of the dental plate--the
inspector’s admiration was unbounded. “Why,” he exclaimed, “excepting
for the colour you couldn’t tell one from the other; but all the same,
I don’t quite see what you want it for.”
“I want it to compare with the skull,” replied Thorndyke, “if I have
time to call at the mortuary. As I can’t take the original plate with
me, I shall need this copy to make the comparison. Obviously, it is
most important to make sure that this is Reed’s plate and not that of
some other person. By the way, can you show us the spot where the
plate was picked up?”
“Yes,” replied the inspector. “You can see the place from here. It was
just by that gate at the crossing of the ditch.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” said Thorndyke. “I think we will walk down and
have a look at the place.” He wrapped the new cast in a soft cloth,
and having repacked his research case, shook hands with the officer
and prepared to depart.
“You will notice, Jervis,” he remarked as we walked towards the gate,
“that this denture was picked up at a spot beyond the rick--farther
from the town, I mean. Consequently, if the plate is Reed’s, he must
have dropped it while he was approaching the rick from the direction
of the river. It will be worth while to see if we can find out whence
he came.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But the dropping of the plate is a rather mysterious
affair. It must have happened when he took the poison--assuming that
he really did poison himself; but one would have expected that he
would wait until he got to the rick to take his dose.”
“We had better not make too many assumptions while we have so few
facts,” said Thorndyke. He put down his case beside the gate, which
guarded a bridge across a broad ditch, or drainage dyke, and opened
his map.
“The question is,” said he, “did he come through this gate or was he
only passing it. This dyke, you see, opens into the creek about
three-quarters of a mile farther down. The probability is, therefore,
that if he came up from the river across the marshes he would be on
this side of the ditch and would pass the gate. But we had better try
both sides. Let us leave our things by the gate and explore the ground
for a few hundred yards, one on either side of the ditch. Which side
will you take?”
I elected to take the side nearer the creek and, having put my camera
down by the research case, climbed over the padlocked gate and began
to walk slowly along by the side of the ditch, scanning the ground for
footprints showing the impression of boot-protectors. At first the
surface was far from favourable for imprints of any kind, being, like
that immediately around the gate, covered with thick turf. About a
hundred and fifty yards down, however, I came upon a heap of
worm-casts on which was plainly visible the print of a heel with a
clear impression of a kidney-shaped protector such as I had seen in
the hut. Thereupon I hailed Thorndyke and, having stuck my stick in
the ground beside the heel-print, went back to meet him at the gate.
“This is rather interesting, Jervis,” he remarked, when I had
described my find. “The inference seems to be that he came from the
creek--unless there is another gate farther down. We had better have
our compo impressions handy for comparison.” He opened his case and
taking from it the strip of composition--now as hard as bone--on which
were the impressions of the boot-protectors, slipped it into his outer
pocket. We then took up the case and the camera and proceeded to the
spot marked by my stick.
“Well,” said Thorndyke, “it is not very conclusive, seeing that so
many people use boot-protectors, but it is probably Reed’s footprint.
Let us hope that we shall find something more distinctive farther on.”
We resumed our march, keeping a few yards apart and examining the
ground closely as we went. For a full quarter of a mile we went on
without detecting any trace of a footprint on the thick turf. Suddenly
we perceived ahead of us a stretch of yellow mud occupying a slight
hollow, across which the creek had apparently overflowed at the last
spring tide. When we reached it we found that the mud was nearly dry,
but still soft enough to take an impression; and the surface was
covered with a maze of footprints.
We halted at the edge of the patch and surveyed the complicated
pattern; and then it became evident that the whole group of prints had
been produced by two pairs of feet, with the addition of a row of
sheep-tracks.
“This seems to raise an entirely new issue,” I remarked.
“It does,” Thorndyke agreed. “I think we now begin to see a definite
light on the case. But we must go cautiously. Here are two sets of
footprints, of which one is apparently Reed’s--to judge by the
boot-protectors--while the other prints have been made by a man, whom
we will call X, who wore boots or shoes with rubber soles and heels.
We had better begin by verifying Reed’s.” He produced the composition
strip from his pocket, and, stooping over one pair of footprints,
continued: “I think we may assume that these are Reed’s feet. We have
on the compo strip impressions of eight protectors from the rick, and
on each footprint there are four protectors. Moreover, the individual
protectors are the same on the compo and on the footprints. Thus the
compo shows two pairs of half-protectors, two single edge-pieces, and
two kidney-shaped protectors; while each footprint shows a pair of
half-protectors on the outside of the sole, a single one on the inside
and a kidney-shaped piece on the heel. Furthermore, in both cases the
protectors are nearly new and show no appreciable signs of wear. The
agreement is complete.”
“Don’t you think,” said I, “that we ought to take plaster records of
them?”
“I do,” he replied, “seeing that a heavy shower or a high tide would
obliterate them. If you will make the casts I will, meanwhile, make a
careful drawing of the whole group to show the order of imposition.”
We fell to work forthwith upon our respective tasks, and by the time I
had filled four of the clearest of the footprints with plaster,
Thorndyke had completed his drawing with the aid of a set of coloured
pencils from the research case. While the plaster was setting he
exhibited and explained the drawing.
“You see, Jervis, that there are four lines of prints and a set of
sheep-tracks. The first in order of time are these prints of X, drawn
in blue. Then come the sheep, which trod on X’s footprints. Next comes
Reed, alone and after some interval, for he has trodden both on the
sheep-tracks and on the tracks of X. Both men were going towards the
river. Then we have the tracks of the two men coming back. This time
they were together, for their tracks are parallel and neither treads
into the prints of the other. Both tracks are rather sinuous as if the
men were walking unsteadily, and both have trodden on the sheep-tracks
and on the preceding tracks. Next, we have the tracks of X going alone
towards the river and treading on all the others excepting number
four, which are the tracks of X coming from the river and turning off
towards that gate, which opens on to the road. The sequence of events
is therefore pretty clear.