Isaac Asimov

THE

Presents

BEST

CRIME
S T O R I E S
OF THE 19 CENTURY

Edited by
Isaac Asimov, Charles G. Waugh,
and Martin H. Greenberg

JAICO

PUBLISHING

HOUSE

Murnbai Delhi Bangalore Kolkata

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Nightfall, Inc., Martin H. Greenberg,
and Charles G. Waugh
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Barricade Books Inc.
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T H E BEST CRIME STORIES O F T H E 19 CENTURY
ISBN 81-7992-037-2
First Jaico Impression: 2002
Third Jaico Impression: 2005
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CONTENTS

Introduction
Mr. Higginbotham's Catastrophe, Nathaniel Hawthorne

vii
1

The Purloined Letter, Edgar Allan Poe

14

A Terribly Strange Bed, Wilkie Collins

34

Murder Under the Microscope, William Russell

51

The Three Strangers, Thomas Hardy

72

Gallegher, Richard Harding Davis

96

The Red-Headed League, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

126

Cheating the Gallows, Israel Zangwill

151

The Chemistry of Anarchy, Robert Barr

165

The Sheriff of Gullmore, Melville Davisson Post

177

The Episode of the Mexican Seer, Grant Allen

202

The Affair of the "Avalanche Bicycle and

Tyre Co., Ltd.," Arthur Morrison

217

The Nameless Man, Rodriguez Ottolengui

241

His Defense, Harry Stillwell Edwards

253

The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg, Mark Twain

266

About the Authors

316

INTRODUCTION

From the earliest days of civilization, two chief motifs have

r u n through fiction.
O n e motif is that of the strong m a n , the hero, the person
w h o solves p r o b l e m s a n d achieves victories by m e a n s of
muscular superiority. That is a surefire way of winning a n
audience, w h o never tired of hearing or reading tales of
Gilgamesh, of Hercules, of Achilles, of Rustem, of Chuchulain,
of Sir Lancelot. Nor do w e tire of such things today, for
contempory fiction gives us our fill of mindless musclemen f r o m
Tarzan a n d C o n a n to S u p e r m a n a n d Rambo.
Second to this, however, is the motif of the clever m a n , the
shrewd a n d (perhaps) devious m a n w h o solves problems a n d
achieves victories by m e a n s of mental superiority. Such are the
tales of O d y s s e u s (Ulysses) and Sinbad the Sailor. These stories
are more h u m a n a n d offer us a higher ideal.
After all, w h a t right have we to glory in muscular superiority, w h e n H o m o sapiens is not by any means s u p r e m e in
strength? A m a t u r e chimpanzee, smaller than ourselves, nevertheless h a s a m u c h stronger musculature. Tarzan may be able (in
fiction) to defeat apes a n d lions with his bare hands, but even h e
has no choice but to make friends with elephants.
O n the other h a n d , w h e n it comes to cleverness, h u m a n
beings bear the prize as compared with all other species, so that
the supremely clever person is the true gem of creation.
Of course, one expects a clever person to win out over those
w h o are more muscular than himself, more powerful. He m a y
do this by clever lies, by indirection, even by treachery.
Audiences, untroubled by considerations of morality and ethics,
applaud. Thus, the great heroes, Achilles, Ajax, a n d Diomed,
could not take Troy with all their martial strength, but O d y s s e u s
succeeded by the stratagem of a w o o d e n horse filled with
soldiers that the Trojans were talked into bringing into their city.
vii

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

Edgar Allen Poe, w h o wrote three stories of C. Auguste Dupin.

Two of these (in my opinion) are long and quite tedious, but the
third "The Purloined Letter" is, in every way, a modern story.
(You'll find it in this anthology.) The point it makes may not
startle you, if only because the story itself has become so f a m o u s
and has been used as a springboard for so many other stories
making use of some variant of Poe's idea but, to my way of
thinking, it is the first literary production that unquestionably
raises the clever man w h o supports society above the clever m a n
w h o fights it.
And a half century after Poe, there came Arthur C o n a n
Doyle, w h o clinched the victory once and for all. He invented
Sherlock Holmes, who, for all time since, has been the quintessential detective, and, many maintain, the most famous fictional
character of all time. (Included in this anthology is "The RedH e a d e d League," viewed by most to be his best short story.)?
The Sherlock Holmes stories, all by themselves, p e r s u a d e d
many that there is something admirable in supporting a n d
stabilizing the structure of society. It has not stopped crime
(probably nothing ever will) and it doesn't entirely wipe out our
sneaking admiration for the one w h o dares to fight society
which, after all, is never entirely justbut it has probably d o n e
more to rally support for the machinery of justice than all the
preaching by all the ministers and philosophers in the world.
And that is not a bad accomplishment for a variety of fiction
often derided as something suited for an occasional idle hour,
and nothing more.
Isaac Asimov

1834

Mr. Higginbotham's
Catastrophe
NATHANIEL

HAWTHORNE

A y o u n g fellow, a tobacco pedlar by trade, w a s on his w a y

from Morristown, w h e r e he had dealt largely with the Deacon of
the Shaker settlement, to the village of Parker's Falls, on Salmon
River. He h a d a neat little cart, painted green, with a box of
cigars depicted on each side panel, a n d an Indian chief, holding
a pipe a n d a golden tobacco stalk, on the rear. The pedlar d r o v e
a smart little mare, a n d was a y o u n g m a n of excellent character,
keen at a bargain, but n o n e the worse liked by the Yankees;
who, as I have heard thgm say, would rather be shaved with a
sharp razor than a dull one. Especially was he beloved by the
pretty girls along the Connecticut, w h o s e favor he used to court
by presents of the'best smoking tobacco in his stock; k n o w i n g
well that the country lasses of N e w England are generally great
performers on pipes. Moreover, as will be seen in the course of
my story, the pedlar was inquisitive, a n d something of a tattler,
always itching to hear the news a n d anxious to tell it again.
After an early breakfast at Morristown, the tobacco pedlar,
whose n a m e was Dominicus Pike, had travelled seven miles
through a solitary piece of woods, without speaking a w o r d to
anybody b u t himself and his little gray mare. It being nearly
>even o'clock, he was as eager to hold a morning gossip as a city
shopkeeper to read the morning paper. An opportunity seemed
hand w h e n , after lighting a cigar with a sun-glass, he looked
sp and perceived a man coming over the brow of the hill, at the
ot of which the pedlar had stopped his green cart. Dominicus
1

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

watched him as he descended, a n d noticed that he carried a

b u n d l e over his shoulder on the e n d of a stick, a n d travelled
with a weary, yet determined pace. He did not look as if he h a d
started in the freshness of the morning, but h a d footed it all
night, a n d m e a n t to do the same all day.
"Good morning, mister," said Dominicus, w h e n within
speaking distance. "You go a pretty good jog. What's the latest
n e w s at Parker's Falls?"
The m a n pulled the broad brim of a gray hat over his eyes,
a n d a n s w e r e d , rather sullenly, that h e did not come from
Parker's Falls, which, as being the limit of his o w n day's journey,
the pedlar had naturally mentioned in his inquiry.
"Well, t h e n , " rejoined Dominicus Pike, "let's have the latest
news w h e r e you did come from. I'm not particular about
Parker's Falls. Any place will answer."
Being t h u s importuned, the travellerwho w a s as illlooking a fellow as one would desire to meet in a solitary piece
of w o o d s a p p e a r e d to hesitate a little, as if he w a s either
searching his m e m o r y for news, or weighing the expediency of
telling it. At last, mounting on the step of the cart, he w h i s p e r e d
in the ear of Dominicus, though he might have shouted aloud
a n d n o other mortal would have heard him.
"I d o remember one little trifle of n e w s , " said he. "Old Mr.
Higginbotham, of Kimballton, w a s m u r d e r e d in his orchard, at
eight o'clock last night, by an Irishman and a nigger. They
strung him u p to the branch of a St. Michael's pear tree, w h e r e
nobody would find him till the m o r n i n g . "
As soon as this horrible intelligence w a s communicated, the
stranger betook himself to his journey again, with more speed
than ever, not even turning his head w h e n Dominicus invited
him to smoke a Spanish cigar and relate all the particulars. The
pedlar whistled to his mare and went u p the hill, pondering on
the doleful fate of Mr. Higginbotham, w h o m he had k n o w n in
the way of trade, having sold him many a bunch of long nines,
and a great deal of pigtail, lady's twist, and fig tobacco. H e w a s
rather astonished at tht rapidity with which the news had
-pread. Kimballton w , b .-iMriv sixty miles distant in a straight
'me; the m u r d e r held bo. - perpetrated only at eight o'clock the

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

preceding night; yet Dominicus h a d heard of it at seven in the

morning, w h e n , in all probability, poor Mr. Higginbotham's o w n
family h a d but just discovered his corpse, h a n g i n g on the St.
Michael's pear tree. The stranger o n foot m u s t have w o r n sevenleague boots to travel at such a rate.
"Ill n e w s flies fast, they say," t h o u g h t Dominicus Pike; "but
this beats railroads. The fellow o u g h t to be hired to go express
with the President's Message."
The difficulty w a s solved by s u p p o s i n g that the narrator
h a d m a d e a mistake of one day in the date of the occurrence; so
that our friend did not hesitate to introduce the story at every
tavern arid country store along the road, expending a w h o l e
b u n c h of Spanish w r a p p e r s a m o n g at least twenty horrified
audiences. H e f o u n d himself invariably the first bearer of the
intelligence, a n d w a s so pestered with questions that h e could
not avoid filling u p the outline, till it became quite a respectable
narrative. H e met with one piece of corroborative evidence. Mr.
Higginbotham w a s a trader; a n d a former clerk of his, to w h o m
Dominicus related the facts, testified that the old gentleman w a s
accustomed to return h o m e t h r o u g h the orchard about nightfall,
with the m o n e y a n d valuable p a p e r s of the store in his pocket.
The clerk manifested but little grief at Mr. Higginbotham's
catastrophe, hinting, w h a t the pedlar h a d discovered in his o w n
dealings with him, that he w a s a crusty old fellow, as close as a
vise. His property would descend to a pretty niece, w h o w a s
n o w k e e p i n g school in Kimballton.
What with telling the n e w s for the public good, a n d driving
bargains for his o w n , Dominicus w a s so m u c h delayed on the
road that h e chose to p u t u p at a tavern about five miles short of
Parker's Falls. After supper, lighting one of his prime cigars, he
seated himself in the barroom, a n d w e n t t h r o u g h the story of
f
h e murder, which h a d grown so fast that it took him half a n
hour to tell. There w e r e as m a n y as twenty people in the room,
nineteen of w h o m received it all for gospel. But the twentieth
was an elderly farmer, w h o had arrived on horseback a short
time before, a n d w a s n o w seated in a corner smoking his pipe.
W h e n the story w a s concluded, h e rose up very deliberately,
brought his chair right in front of Dominicus, and stared him full

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

in the face, puffing out the vilest tobacco smoke the pedlar h a d
ever smelt.
"Will you m a k e affidavit," d e m a n d e d he, in the tone of a
country justice taking an examination, "that old Squire Higginbotham of Kimballton w a s m u r d e r e d in his orchard the night
before last, a n d f o u n d hanging on his great pear tree yesterday
morning?"
"I tell the story as I heard it, mister," answered Dominicus,
d r o p p i n g his half-burnt cigar; "I don't say that I saw the thing
done. So I can't take my oath that h e w a s m u r d e r e d exactly in
that way."
"But I can take mine," said the farmer, "that if Squire
Higginbotham w a s m u r d e r e d night before last, I drank a glass of
bitters with his ghost this morning. Being a neighbor of mine, h e
called m e into his store, as I was riding by, a n d treated me, a n d
t h e n asked m e to d o a little business for him on the road. H e
didn't seem to k n o w any more about his o w n m u r d e r t h a n I
did."
"Why, t h e n it can't be a fact!" exclaimed Dominicus Pike.
"I guess h e ' d have mentioned, if it w a s , " said the old
farmer; a n d h e removed his chair back to the corner, leaving
Dominicus quite d o w n in the m o u t h .
Here w a s a sad resurrection of old Mr. Higginbotham! The
pedlar h a d n o heart to mingle in the conversation any more, b u t
comforted himself with a glass of gin a n d water, a n d w e n t to
bed, where, all night long, he d r e a m e d of h a n g i n g on the St.
Michael's pear tree. To avoid the old farmer (whom he so
detested that his suspension would have pleased him better
than Mr. Higginbotham's), Dominicus rose in the gray of the
morning, p u t the little mare into the green cart, a n d trotted
swiftly away t o w a r d s Parker's Falls. The fresh breeze, the d e w y
road, a n d the pleasant s u m m e r d a w n revived his spirits, a n d
might have encouraged him to repeat the old story, h a d there
been a n y b o d y awake to hear it. But h e met neither ox-team,
light w a g o n chaise, h o r s e m a n , nor foot traveller, till, just as h e
crossed Salmon River, a m a n came trudging d o w n to the bridge
with a b u n d l e over his shoulder, on the e n d of a stick.
"Good m o r n i n g , mister," said the pedlar, reining in his

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

mare. "If you come from Kimballton or that neighborhood, may

be you can tell me the real fact about this affair of old Mr.
Higginbotham. Was the old fellow actually m u r d e r e d t w o or
three nights ago by an Irishman a n d a nigger?"
Dominicus h a d spoken in too great a hurry to observe, at
first, that the stranger himself h a d a d e e p tinge of negro blood.
O n hearing this s u d d e n question, the Ethiopian a p p e a r e d to
change his skin, its yellow h u e becoming a ghastly white, while,
shaking a n d stammering, he t h u s replied:
"No! no! There w a s no colored man! It was an Irishman that
h a n g e d him last night, at eight o'clock. I came away at seven!
His folks ca'n't have looked for him in the orchard yet."
Scarcely h a d the yellow m a n s p o k e n , w h e n he i n t e r r u p t e d
himself, a n d t h o u g h he seemed weary e n o u g h before, continued his journey at a pace which w o u l d have kept the pedlar's
mare on a smart trot. Dominicus stared after him in great
perplexity. If the m u r d e r had not been committed till Tuesday
night, w h o w a s the p r o p h e t that h a d foretold it, in all circumstances, on Tuesday morning? If Mr. Higginbotham's corpse
were not yet discovered by his o w n family, h o w came the
mulatto, at above thirty miles' distance, to know that h e w a s
h a n g i n g in the orchard, especially as he h a d left Kimballton
before the u n f o r t u n a t e m a n w a s h a n g e d at all? These ambiguous circumstances, with the stranger's surprise a n d terror, m a d e
Dominicus think of raising a h u e a n d cry after him, as a n
accomplice in the murder; since a murder, it seemed, h a d really
been p e r p e t r a t e d .
"But let the poor devil go," t h o u g h t the pedlar. "I d o n ' t
w a n t his black blood on my head; a n d h a n g i n g the nigger
w o u l d n ' t u n h a n g Mr. Higginbotham. U n h a n g the old gentleman! It's a sin, I know; but I should hate to have him come to life
a second time, and give me the lie!"
With these meditations, Dominicus Pike drove into the
street of Parker's Falls, which, as everybody k n o w s , is as
thriving a village as three cotton factories a n d a slitting mill can
make it. The machinery w a s not in motion, a n d b u t a few of the
shop doors u n b a r r e d , w h e n he alighted in the stable yard of the
avern, a n d m a d e it his first business to order the mare four

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

quarts of oats. His second duty, of course, w a s to impart Mr.

Higginbotham's catastrophe to the hostler. H e d e e m e d it advisable, however, not to be too positive as to the date of the direful
fact, a n d also to be uncertain w h e t h e r it w e r e perpetrated by an
Irishman a n d a mulatto, or by the son of Erin alone. Neither did
he profess to relate it on his o w n authority, or that of any o n e
person; b u t m e n t i o n e d it as a report generally diffused.
The story ran t h r o u g h the t o w n like fire a m o n g girdled
trees, a n d became so m u c h the universal talk that nobody could
tell w h e n c e it originated. Mr. Higginbotham w a s as well k n o w n
at Parker's Falls as any citizen of the place, being part o w n e r of
the slitting mill, a n d a considerable stockholder in the cotton
factories. The inhabitants felt their o w n prosperity interested in
his fate. Such w a s the excitement, that the Parker's Falls Gazette
anticipated its regular day of publication, a n d came out with half
a form of blank p a p e r a n d a column of double pica emphasized
with capitals; a n d h e a d e d HORRID MURDER OF MR. HIGGINBOTHAM!
A m o n g other d r e a d f u l details, the printed account described the
mark of the cord r o u n d the dead man's neck, a n d stated the
n u m b e r of t h o u s a n d dollars of which he h a d been robbed; there
w a s m u c h p a t h o s also about the affliction of his niece, w h o h a d
gone from one fainting fit to another, ever since her uncle w a s
f o u n d h a n g i n g or. the St. Michael's pear tree with his pockets
inside out. The village poet likewise c o m m e m o r a t e d the y o u n g
lady's grief in seventeen stanzas of a ballad. The selectmen held
a meeting, a n d , in consideration of Mr. Higginbotham's claims
on the town, determined to issue handbills, offering a reward of
five h u n d r e d dollars for the a p p r e h e n s i o n of his murderers, a n d
the recovery of the stolen property.
Meanwhile the whole population of Parker's Falls, consisting of shop-keepers, mistresses of boarding houses, factory
girls, millmen, a n d schoolboys, rushed into the street, a n d kept
u p such a terrible loquacity as more than c o m p e n s a t e d for the
silence of the cotton machines, which refrained from their usual
din out of respect to the deceased. H a d Mr. Higginbotham cared
about p o s t h u m o u s r e n o w n , his untimely ghost would have
exulted in this tumult. O u r friend Dominicus, in his vanity of

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

heart, forgot his intended precautions, a n d m o u n t i n g on t h e

town p u m p , a n n o u n c e d himself as the bearer of the authentic
intelligence which h a d caused so w o n d e r f u l a sensation. H e
immediately became the great m a n of the m o m e n t , a n d h a d just
b e g u n a n e w edition of the narrative, with a voice like a field
preacher, w h e n the mail stage drove into the village street. It
h a d travelled all night, a n d m u s t h a v e shifted horses at
Kimballton, at three in the morning.
" N o w w e shall hear all the particulars," shouted the crowd.
The coach rumbled u p to the piazza of the tavern, followed
by a t h o u s a n d people; for if any m a n h a d been minding his o w n
business till then, he n o w left it at sixes a n d sevens, to hear the
news. The pedlar, foremost in the race, discovered two passengers, b o t h of w h o m h a d been startled f r o m a comfortable n a p to
find themselves in the centre of a mob. Every m a n assailing
them with separate questions, all p r o p o u n d e d at once, the
couple w e r e struck speechless, t h o u g h one w a s a lawyer a n d the
other a y o u n g lady.
"Mr. Higginbotham! Mr. Higginbotham! Tell us the particulars about old Mr. Higginbotham!" bawled the mob. " W h a t is
the coroner's verdict? Are the m u r d e r e r s a p p r e h e n d e d ? Is Mr.
Higginbotham's niece come out of her fainting fits? Mr. Higginbotham! Mr. Higginbotham!!"
The coachman said not a w o r d , except to swear awfully at
the hostler for not bringing him a fresh team of horses. The
lawyer inside h a d generally his wits about him even w h e n
asleep; the first thing he did, after learning the cause of the
excitement, w a s to produce a large red pocket-book. M e a n t i m e
Dominicus Pike, being an extremely polite y o u n g m a n , a n d also
suspecting that a female tongue w o u l d tell the story as glibly as
a lawyer's, h a d h a n d e d the lady out of the coach. She w a s a fine,
smart girl, n o w wide awake a n d bright as a button, a n d h a d
such a sweet pretty m o u t h , that Dominicus w o u l d almost as lief
have h e a r d a love tale from it as a tale of murder.
" G e n t l e m e n a n d ladies," said the lawyer to the s h o p keepers, the millmen, a n d the factory girls, "I can assure you
that some unaccountable mistake, or, more probably, a wilful

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

falsehood, maliciously contrived to injure Mr. Higginbotham's

credit, has excited this singular uproar. We passed t h r o u g h
Kimballton at three o'clock this morning, a n d most certainly
should have been informed of the murder, h a d any been
perpetrated. But I have proof nearly as strong as Mr. Higginbotham's o w n oral testimony, in the negative. Here is a note
relating to a suit of his in the Connecticut courts, which was
delivered me from that gentleman himself. I find it dated at ten
o'clock last evening."
So saying, the lawyer exhibited the date and signature of
the note, which irrefragably proved, either that this perverse
Mr. Higginbotham w a s alive w h e n he wrote it, oras some
d e e m e d the more probable case, of two doubtful onesthat h e
was so absorbed in worldly business as to continue to transact it
even after his death. But unexpected evidence w a s forthcoming.
The y o u n g lady, after listening to the pedlar's explanation,
merely seized a m o m e n t to smooth her gown a n d p u t her curls
in order, a n d then appeared at the tavern door, making a m o d e s t
signal to be heard.
"Good p e o p l e , " said she, "I am Mr. Higginbotham's niece."
A w o n d e r i n g m u r m u r passed t h r o u g h the crowd on beholding her so rosy a n d bright; that same u n h a p p y niece, w h o m
they had s u p p o s e d , on the authority of the Parker's Falls
Gazette, to be lying at death's door in a fainting fit. But some
s h r e w d fellows h a d doubted, all along, w h e t h e r a y o u n g lady
would be quite so desperate at the h a n g i n g of a rich old uncle.
"You see," continued Miss Higginbotham, with a smile,
"that this strange story is quite u n f o u n d e d as to myself; a n d I
believe I m a y affirm it to be equally so in regard to my dear uncle
Higginbotham. H e has the kindness to give me a h o m e in his
house, t h o u g h I contribute to my o w n s u p p o r t by teaching a
school. I left Kimballton this morning to spend the vacation of
c o m m e n c e m e n t week with a friend, about five miles from
Parker's Falls. My generous uncle, w h e n he heard me on the
stairs, called m e to his bedside, a n d gave me two dollars a n d
fifty cents to pay my stage fare, and another dollar for my extra
expenses. He then laid his pocket-book u n d e r his pillow, shook
h a n d s with me, a n d advised me to take some biscuit in my bag,

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

instead of breakfasting on the road. I feel confident, therefore,

that I left m y beloved relative alive, a n d trust that I shall find
him so on m y r e t u r n . "
The y o u n g lady curtsied at the close of her speech, which
w a s so sensible a n d well w o r d e d , a n d delivered with such grace
a n d propriety, that everybody t h o u g h t her fit to be preceptress
of the best academy in the State. But a stranger w o u l d h a v e
s u p p o s e d that Mr. Higginbotham was an object of abhorrence at
Parker's Falls, a n d that a thanksgiving h a d been proclaimed for
his m u r d e r ; so excessive w a s the w r a t h of the inhabitants on
learning their mistake. The millmen resolved to bestow public
honors o n Dominicus Pike, only hesitating w h e t h e r to tar a n d
feather him, ride him on a rail, or refresh him with an ablution at
the t o w n p u m p , o n the top of which h e h a d declared himself the
bearer of the news. The selectmen, by advice of the lawyer,
spoke of prosecuting him for a misdemeanor, in circulating
u n f o u n d e d reports, to the great disturbance of the peace of the
C o m m o n w e a l t h . N o t h i n g saved Dominicus, either f r o m m o b
law or a court of justice, b u t an eloquent appeal m a d e by the
y o u n g lady in his behalf. Addressing a few w o r d s of heartfelt
gratitude to his benefactress, he m o u n t e d the green cart a n d
rode out of t o w n , u n d e r a discharge of artillery from the
schoolboys, w h o f o u n d plenty of a m m u n i t i o n in the neighboring clay pits a n d m u d holes. As he turned his h e a d to
exchange a farewell glance with Mr. Higginbotham's niece, a
ball, of the consistence of hasty p u d d i n g , hit him slap in the
mouth, giving him a most grim aspect. His whole person w a s so
bespattered with the like filthy missiles, that he had almost a
mind to ride back, and supplicate for the threatened ablution at
the t o w n p u m p ; for, t h o u g h not m e a n t in kindness, it w o u l d
now have been a deed of charity.
However, the sun shone bright on poor Dominicus, a n d the
m u d , an emblem of all stains of u n d e s e r v e d opprobrium, w a s
easily b r u s h e d off w h e n dry. Being a f u n n y rogue, his heart soon
cheered u p ; nor could he refrain from a hearty laugh at the
uproar which his story h a d excited. The handbills of the
selectmen w o u l d cause the commitment of all the v a g a b o n d s in
the State; the paragraph in the Parker's Falls Gazette w o u l d be

10

I H F NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

reprinted from Maine to Florida, a n d p e r h a p s form an item in

the London n e w s p a p e r s ; and many a miser would tremble for
his m o n e y bags a n d life, on learning the catastrophe of Mr.
Higginbotham. The pedlar meditated with much fervor on the
charms of the y o u n g schoolmistress, a n d swore that Daniel
Webster never spoke nor looked so like an angl as Miss
Higginbotham, while defending him from the wrathful p o p u lace at Parker's Falls.
Dominicus w a s now on the Kimballton turnpike, having all
along d e t e r m i n e d to visit that place, t h o u g h business had d r a w n
him out of the most direct road from Morristown. As he
approached the scene of the s u p p o s e d murder, he continued to
revolve the circumstances in his mind, and was astonished at
the aspect which the whole case a s s u m e d . Had nothing occurred to corroborate the story of the first traveller, it might n o w
have been considered as a hoax; but the veliow man w a s
evidently acquainted either with the report or ihe fact; and there
was a mystery in his dismayed and guilty look on being abruptly
questioned. W h e n , to this singular combination of incidents, it
w a s a d d e d that the rumor tallied exactly with Mr. Higginbotham's character and habits of life; and that he had an
orchard, a n d a St. Michael's pear tree, near which h e always
passed at nightfall: the circumstantial evidence appeared so
strong that Dominicus doubted w h e t h e r the autograph produced by the lawyer, or even the niece's direct testimony, o u g h t
to be equivalent. Making cautious inquiries along the road, the
pedlar f u r t h e r learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service
an Irishman of d o u b t f u l character, w h o m he had hired w i t h o u t a
r e c o m m e n d a t i o n , on the score of economy.
"May I be h a n g e d myself," exclaimed Dominicus Pike
aloud, on reaching the top of a lonely hill, "if I'll believe old
Higginbotham is u n h a n g e d till I see him with my own eyes, a n d
hear it from his o w n mouth! A n d as he's a real shaver, I'll have
the minister or some other responsible m a n for an endorser."
It w a s g r o w i n g d u s k w h e n he reached the tollhouse 01
Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile from the village o
tnis n a m e
little mare was fast bringing him u p with a man

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

11

on horseback, w h o trotted t h r o u g h the gate a few rods in

advance of him, n o d d e d to the toll gatherer, a n d kept on
towards the village. Dominicus w a s acquainted with the toll
man, a n d , while making change, the usual remarks on the
weather passed between them.
"I s u p p o s e , " said the pedlar, throwing back his w h i p l a s h ,
to bring it d o w n like a feather on the mare's flank, "you have not
seen a n y t h i n g of old Mr. Higginbotham within a day or two?"
"Yes," a n s w e r e d the toll gatherer. "He passed the gate just
before you drove up, and yonder he rides now, if you can see
him t h r o u g h the dusk. He's been to Woodfield his a f t e r n o o n ,
attending a sheriff's sale there. The old man generally s h a k e s
h a n d s a n d has a little chat with me; but tonight, he n o d d e d a s
if to say, 'Charge my toll,' and jogged on; for wherever he goes,
he must always be at home bv eight o'clock."
"So they tell me," said Dominicus.
"I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the squire
does," continued the toll gatherer. "Says I to myself, tonight,
he's more like a ghost or an old m u m m y than good flesh a n d
blood."
The pedlar strained his eyes through the twilight, and could
just discern the horseman now far ahead on the village road. H e
seemed to recognize the rear of Mr. Higginbotham; but t h r o u g h
the evening shadows, and amid the dust from the horse's feet,
the figure appeared dim and unsubstantial; as if the s h a p e of the
mysterious old man were faintly m o u l d e d of darkness a n d gray
light. Dominicus shivered.
"Mr. Higginbotham has come back from the other world, by
wav of the Kimballton turnpike," thought he.
He shook the reins and rode forward, keeping about the
same distance in the rear of the gray old shadow, till the latter
was concealed by a bend of the road. O n reaching this point, the
pedlar n o longer saw the man on horseback, but f o u n d himself
at the head of the village street, not far from a n u m b e r of stores
and t'vo taverns, clustered / o u n d the meeting-house steeple.
On his left w a- a s'one wall and a gate, the boundary of a wood
!'>t. bevond winch lav n p-ch.ird, farther ;till, a mowing field.

12

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

a n d last of all, a house. These w e r e the premises of Mr.

Higginbotham, w h o s e dwelling stood beside the old highway,
but h a d been left in the background by the Kimballton turnpike.
Dominicus k n e w the place; and the little mare stopped short by
instinct; for he w a s not conscious of tightening the reins.
"For the soul of me, I cannot get by this gate!" said he,
trembling. "I never shall be my o w n m a n again, till I see
w h e t h e r Mr. Higginbotham is hanging on the St. Michael's pear
tree!"
He leaped from the cart, gave the rein a turn r o u n d the gate
post, a n d ran along the green path of the w o o d lot as if Old Nick
were chasing behind. Just then the village clock tolled eight, a n d
as each d e e p stroke fell, Dominicus gave a fresh b o u n d a n d flew
faster than before, till, dim in the solitary centre of the orchard,
h e saw the fated pear tree. O n e great branch stretched f r o m the
old contorted trunk across the path, a n d threw the darkest
s h a d o w o n that one spot. But something seemed to struggle
beneath the branch!
The pedlar h a d never pretended to more courage than befits
a m a n of peaceable occupation, nor could he account for his
valor on this a w f u l emergency. Certain it is, however, that he
r u s h e d forward, prostrated a sturdy Irishman with the butt e n d
of his w h i p , a n d f o u n d n o t i n d e e d h a n g i n g on the St.
Michael's pear tree, but trembling beneath it, with a halter
r o u n d his neckthe old, identical Mr. Higginbotham!
"Mr. Higginbotham," said Dominicus tremulously, " y o u ' r e
an honest m a n , a n d I'll take your w o r d for it. Have you b e e n
h a n g e d or not?"
If the riddle be not already guessed, a few w o r d s will
explain the simple machinery by which this "coming event" w a s
m a d e to "cast its s h a d o w before." Three m e n had plotted the
robbery a n d m u r d e r of Mr. Higginbotham; two of them,
successively, lost courage and fled, each delaying the crime one
night by their disappearance; the third w a s in the act of
perpetration, w h e n a champion, blindly obeying the call of fate,
like the heroes of old romance, appeared in the person of
Dominicus Pike.
It only remains to say, that Mr. Higginbotham took the

Mr. Higginbotham's

Catastrophe

13

pedlar into high favor, sanctioned his addresses to the pretty

schoolmistress, and settled his whole property on their children, allowing themselves the interest. In d u e time, the old
gentleman capped the climax of his favors by dying a Christian
death, in bed, since which melancholy event Dominicus Pike
has r e m o v e d from Kimballton, a n d established a large tobacco
manufactory in my native village.

1844

The Purloined
Letter
EDGAR ALLAN POE

Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio.Seneca

At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the a u t u m n of
18-, I w a s enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation a n d a
m e e r s c h a u m , in company with my friend, C. Auguste D u p i n , in
his little back library, or book closet, au troisieme No. 33 Rue
Dundt, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we had maintained a p r o f o u n d silence; while each, to any casual observer,
might have seemed intently and exclusively occupied with the
curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the a t m o s p h e r e of the
chamber. For myself, however, I was mentally discussing certain
topics which h a d formed matter for conversation between us at
an earlier period of the evening; 1 m e a n the affair of the Rue
Morgue, a n d the mystery attending the m u r d e r of Marie Roget.
I looked u p o n it, therefore, as something of a coincidence, w h e n
the door of our a p a r t m e n t was thrown o p e n and admitted our
old acquaintance, Monsieur G
, the Prefect of the Parisian
police.
We gave him a hearty welcome; for there w a s nearly half as
much of the entertaining as of the contemptible about the m a n ,
and w e h a d not seen him for several years. We had been sitting
in the dark, a n d Dupin now arose for the p u r p o s e of lighting a
lamp, but sat d o w n agairv without doing so, u p o n G 's saying
that he had called to consult us, or rather to ask the opinion of
14

The Purloined

Letter

15

my friend, about some official business which had occasioned a

great deal of trouble.
"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed D u p i n , as
he forebore to enkindle the wick, " w e shall examine it to better
p u r p o s e in the dark."
"That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, w h o
had the fashion of calling everything " o d d " that w a s b e y o n d his
comprehension, a n d t h u s lived amid an absolute legion of
"oddities."
"Very t r u e , " said Dupin, as he supplied his visitor with a
pipe, a n d rolled toward him a comfortable chair.
" A n d w h a t is the difficulty n o w ? " I asked. " N o t h i n g more
in the assassination way I hope?"
" O h , no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the business is
very simple indeed, a n d I make no d o u b t that w e can m a n a g e it
sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought Dupin w o u l d like
to hear the details of it, because it is so excessively odd."
"Simple a n d o d d , " said D u p i n .
"Why, yes; and not exactly that either. The fact is, w e have
all been a good deal puzzled because the affair is so simple, a n d
yet baffles us altogether."
" P e r h a p s it is the very simplicity of the thing which p u t s
you at fault," said my friend.
"What n o n s e n s e you do talk!" replied the Prefect, laughing
heartily.
"Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain," said D u p i n .
" O h , good heavens! w h o ever heard of such an idea?"
"A little too self-evident."
"Ha! ha! ha!ha! ha! ha!ho! ho! ho!" roared our visitor,
profoundly a m u s e d , "oh, Dupin, you will be the d e a t h of me
yet!"
" A n d what, after all, is the matter on h a n d ? " I asked.
"Why, I will tell you," replied the Prefect, as he gave a long,
steady, a n d contemplative puff, a n d settled himself in his chair.
"I will tell you in a few words; but, before I begin, let me caution
you that this is an affair d e m a n d i n g the greatest secrecy, a n d
that I should most probably lose the position I now hold, were it
k n o w n that I confided it to any o n e . "

16

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Proceed," said I.
"Or n o t , " said Dupin.
"Well, then; I have received personal information, f r o m a
very high quarter, that a certain d o c u m e n t of the last importance
has been purloined from the royal apartments. The individual
w h o purloined it is k n o w n ; this beyond a doubt; he was seen to
take it. It is k n o w n , also, that it still remains in his possession."
" H o w is this k n o w n ? " asked Dupin.
"It is clearly inferred," replied the Prefect, "from the n a t u r e
of the d o c u m e n t , a n d from the non-appearance of certain results
which w o u l d at once arise from its passing out of the robber's
possessionthat is to say, from his employing it as he m u s t
design in the end to employ it."
"Be a little more explicit," I said.
"Well, I may venture so far as to say that the paper gives its
holder a certain p o w e r in a certain quarter w h e r e such p o w e r is
immensely valuable." The Prefect w a s fond of the cant of
diplomacy.
"Still I d o not quite u n d e r s t a n d , " said Dupin.
"No? Well; the disclosure of the d o c u m e n t to a third person,
w h o shall be nameless, would bring in question the h o n o r of a
personage of most exalted station; a n d this fact gives the holder
of the d o c u m e n t an ascendancy over the illustrious p e r s o n a g e
w h o s e h o n o r a n d peace are so jeopardized."
"But this ascendancy," I interposed, "would d e p e n d u p o n
the robber's k n o w l e d g e of the loser's k n o w l e d g e of the robber.
Who would dare"
"The thief," said G., "is the Minister D
, w h o dares all
things, those unbecoming as well as those becoming a man. The
m e t h o d of the theft w a s not less ingenious than bold. The document in questiona letter, to be frankhad been received by
the personage robbed while alone in the royal boudoir. During its
perusal she w a s suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the
other exalted personage from w h o m especially it w a s her wish
to conceal it. After a hurried and vain endeavor to thrust it in a
drawer, she w a s forced to place it, o p e n it was, u p o n a table. The
address, however, w a s uppermost, and, the contents t h u s
unexposed, the letter escaped notice. At this juncture enters the
Minister D
. His lynx eye immediately perceives the paper,

The Purloined

Letter

17

recognizes the handwriting of the address, observes the confusion of the personage addressed, and fathoms her secret. After
s o m e business transactions, hurried through in his ordinary
manner, he produces a letter s o m e w h a t similar to the one in
question, o p e n s it, pretends to read it, a n d then places it in close
juxtaposition to the other. Again he converses, for some fifteen
minutes, u p o n the public affairs. At length, in taking leave, he
takes also from the table the letter to which he had n o claim. Its
rightful o w n e r saw, but, of course, dared not call attention to the
act, in the presence of the third personage w h o stood at her
elbow. The minister decamped; leaving his o w n letterone of
no importanceupon the table."
"Here, t h e n , " said Dupin to me, "you have precisely w h a t
you d e m a n d to make the ascendancy completethe robber's
knowledge of the loser's knowledge of the robber."
"Yes," replied the Prefect; "and the power t h u s attained
has, for some m o n t h s past, been wielded, for political p u r p o s e s ,
to a very dangerous extent. The personage robbed is more
thoroughly convinced, every day, of the necessity of reclaiming
her letter. But this, of course, cannot be d o n e openly. In fine,
driven to despair, she has committed the matter to m e . "
"Than w h o m , " said Dupin, amid a perfect whirlwind of
smoke, " n o more sagacious agent could, I suppose, be desired,
or even imagined."
"You flatter m e , " replied the Prefect; "but it is possible that
some such opinion may have been entertained."
"It is clear," said I, "as you observe, that the letter is still in
the possession of the minister; since it is this possession, a n d
not any e m p l o y m e n t of the letter, which bestows the power.
With the employment the p o w e r departs."
"True," said G.; "and u p o n this conviction I proceeded. My
first care was to make thorough search of the minister's hotel;
and here my chief embarrassment lay in the necessity of
searching without his knowledge. Beyond all things, I have
been w a r n e d of the danger which would result from giving h i m
reason to suspect our design."
"But," said I, "you are quite au fait in these investigations.
The Parisian police have d o n e this thing often before."
"Oh, yes; a n d for this reason I did not despair. The habits of

18

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

the minister gave me, too, a great advantage. He is frequently

absent f r o m h o m e all night. His servants are by n o m e a n s
n u m e r o u s . They sleep at a distance from their master's apartment, a n d , being chiefly Neapolitans, are readily m a d e d r u n k . I
have keys, as you know, with which I can o p e n any chamber or
cabinet in Paris. For three m o n t h s a night has not p a s s e d ,
during the greater part of which I have not been e n g a g e d ,
personally, in ransacking the D
Hotel. My honor is interested, a n d , to mention a great secret, the reward is e n o r m o u s .
So I did not a b a n d o n the search until I h a d become fully satisfied
that the thief is a more astute man than myself. I fancy that I
have investigated every nook a n d corner of the premises in
which it is possible that the paper can be concealed."
"But it is not possible," I suggested, "that although the
letter may be in possession of the minister, as it unquestionably
is, he may have concealed it elsewhere than u p o n his o w n
premises?"
"This is barely possible," said Dupin. "The present peculiar
condition of affairs at court, and especially of those intrigues in
which D
is k n o w n to be involved, would render the instant
availability of the documentits susceptibility of being produced at a moment's noticea point of nearly equal importance
with its possession."
"Its susceptibility of being p r o d u c e d ? " said I.
"That is to say, of being destroyed," said Dupin.
"True," I observed; "the p a p e r is clearly then u p o n the
premises. As for its being u p o n the person of the minister, w e
may consider that as out of the question."
"Entirely," said the Prefect. " H e has been twice waylaid, as
if by footpads, a n d his person rigidly searched u n d e r my o w n
inspection."
"You might have spared yourself this trouble," said Dupin.
"D
, I p r e s u m e , is not altogether a fool, and, if not, m u s t
have anticipated these waylayings, as a matter of course."
"Not altogether a fool," said G., "but then he is a poet, which
I take to be only one remove from a fool."
"True," said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful whiff f r o m

The Purloined

Letter

19

his m e e r s c h a u m , "although I have been guilty of certain

doggerel myself."
" S u p p o s e you detail," said I, "the particulars of your
search."
"Why, the fact is, we took our time, and we searched
everywhere. I have had long experience in these affairs. 1 took the
entire building, room by room; devoting the nights of a w h o l e
week to each. We examined, first, the furniture of each apartment. We o p e n e d every possible drawer; and I p r e s u m e you
know that, to a properly trained police agent, such a thing as a
'secret' d r a w e r is impossible. Any m a n is a dolt w h o permits a
'secret' drawer to escape him in a search of this kind. The thing
is so plain. There is a certain a m o u n t of bulkof spaceto be
accounted for in every cabinet. Then w e have accurate rules.
The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. After the ca ninets
we took the chairs. The cushions w e probed with the fine long
needles you have seen me employ. From the tables we removed
the t o p s . "
" W h y so?"
"Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged
piece of furniture, is removed by the person wishing to conceal
an article; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within
the cavity, a n d the top replaced. The bottoms a n d tops of
bedposts are employed in the same way."
"But could not the cavity be detected by s o u n d i n g ? " I
asked.
"By n o means, if, w h e n the article is deposited, a sufficient
w a d d i n g of cotton be placed a r o u n d it. Besides, in our case, w e
were obliged to proceed without noise."
"But you could not have removedyou could not have
taken to pieces all articles of furniture in which it would have
been possible to make a deposit in the m a n n e r you mention. A
letter may be compressed into a thin spiral roll, not differing
much in s h a p e or bulk from a large knitting needle, a n d in this
form it might be inserted into the r u n g of a chair, for example.
You did not take to pieces all the chairs?"
"Certainly not; but w e did betterwe examined the r u n g s
of every chair in the hotel, and, indeed, the jointings of every

20

IHF NEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

description of furniture, by the aid of a most powerful microscope. Had there been any traces of recent disturbance w e
should not have failed to detect it instantly. A single grain of
gimlet dust, for example, would have been as obvious as an
apple. Any disorder in the gluingany u n u s u a l gaping in the
jointswould have sufficed to insure detection."
"I p r e s u m e you looked to the mirrors, between the b o a r d s
a n d the plates, and you probed the beds and the bedclothes, as
well as the curtains and carpets."
"That of course; and w h e n w e had absolutely completed
every particle of the furniture in this way, then we examined the
house itself. We divided its entire surface into compartments,
which we n u m b e r e d , so that n o n e might be missed; then w e
scrutinized each individual square inch throughout the premises, including the two houses immediately adjoining, with the
microscope, as before."
"The two houses adjoining!" I exclaimed; "you m u s t have
had a great deal of trouble."
"We had; but the reward offered is prodigious."
"You include the grounds about the houses?"
"All the g r o u n d s are paved with brick. They gave us
comparatively little trouble. We examined the moss b e t w e e n the
bricks, a n d f o u n d it u n d i s t u r b e d . "
"You looked a m o n g D
's papers, of course, a n d into the
books of the library?"
"Certainly; w e opened every package a n d parcel; w e not
only o p e n e d every book, but w e t u r n e d over every leaf in each
volume, not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according
to the fashion of some of our police officers. We also m e a s u r e d
the thickness of every book-cover, with the most accurate
a d m e a s u r e m e n t , and applied to each the most jealous scrutiny
of the microscope. Had any of the bindings been recentlymeddled with, it would have been utterly impossible that the
fact should have escaped observation. Some five to six volumes,
just f r o m the h a n d s of the binder, w e carefully p r o b e d ,
longitudinally, with the needles."
"You explored the floors beneath the carpets?"

The Purloined

Letter

21

"Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined

the boards with the microscope."
" A n d the paper on the walls?"
"Yes."
"You looked into the cellars?"
"We did."
" T h e n , " I said, "you have been making a miscalculation,
and the letter is not u p o n the premises, as vou s u p p o s e . "
"I fear you are right there," said the Prefect. " A n d now,
Dupin, w h a t would you advise me to do?"
"To make a thorough research of the premises."
"That is absolutely needless," replied G
. "I am not
more sure that I breathe than I am that the letter is not at the
hotel."
"I have n o better advice to give you," said Dupin. "You
have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?"
" O h , yes!"And here the Prefect, producing a m e m o r a n d u m book, proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the
internal, a n d especially of the external, appearance of the
missing document. Soon after finishing the perusal of this
description, he took his departure, more entirely depressed in
spirits than I had ever k n o w n the good gentlemen before.
In about a m o n t h afterward he paid us another visit, a n d
tound us occupied very nearly as before. He took a pipe a n d a
chair a n d entered into some ordinary conversation. At length I
said:
"Well, but G., what of the purloined letter? I p r e s u m e you
have at last m a d e u p your mind that there is no such thing as
overreaching the Minister?"
" C o n f o u n d him, say Iyes; I m a d e the re-examination,
however, as Dupin suggestedbut it was all labor lost, as I
knew it would be."
" H o w much was the reward offered, did vou say?" asked
Dupin.
"Why, a very great deala very liberal rewardI don't like
to say h o w much, precisely; but one thing I will sav, that I
wouldn't mind giving my individual check for fifty t h o u s a n d
francs to any one w h o could obtain me that letter. The fact is, it

22

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

is becoming of more and more importance every day; a n d the

reward has been lately doubled. If it were trebled, however, I
could d o n o more than I have d o n e . "
"Why, yes," said Dupin, drawlingly, between the whiffs of
his meerschaum, "I reallythink, G., you have not exerted
yourselfto the utmost in this matter. You mightdo a little
more, I think, eh?"
"How?in w h a t way?"
" W h y p u f f , puffyou m i g h t p u f f , puffemploy counsel
in the matter, e h ? p u f f , puff, puff. Do you remember the story
they tell of Abernethy?"
"No; h a n g Abernethy!"
"To be sure! h a n g him and welcome. But, once u p o n a time,
a certain rich miser conceived the design of spunging u p o n this
Abernethy for a medical opinion. Getting up, for this p u r p o s e ,
an ordinary conversation in a private company, he insinuated
his case to the physician, as that of an imaginary individual.
" ' W e will suppose,' said the miser, 'that his s y m p t o m s are
such a n d such; now, doctor, w h a t would you have directed him
to take?'
"'Take!' said Abernethy, 'why, take advice to be s u r e . ' "
"But," said the Prefect, a little discomposed, "I am perfectly
willing to take advice, and to pay for it. I would really give fifty
thousand francs to any one w h o would aid me in the matter."
"In that case," replied Dupin, opening a drawer, a n d
producing a checkbook, "you may as well fill me u p a check for
the a m o u n t mentioned. When you have signed it, I will h a n d
you the letter.''
I w a s a s t o u n d e d . The Prefect appeared absolutely t h u n d e r stricken. For some minutes he remained speechless a n d motionless, looking incredously at my friend with open m o u t h , and
eyes that seemed starting from their sockets; then apparently
recovering himself in some measure, he seized a pen, a n d after
several pauses and vacant stares, finally filled u p a n d signed a
check for fifty thousand francs, and h a n d e d it across the table to
Dupin. The latter examined it carefully and deposited it in his
pocket-book; then, unlocking an escritoire, took thence a letter
and gave it to the Prefect. This functionary grasped it in a perfect

The Purloined

Letter

23

agony of joy, o p e n e d it with a trembling h a n d , cast a rapid

glance at its contents, a n d then, scrambling a n d struggling to
the door, rushed at length unceremoniously from the room a n d
from the house, without having uttered a syllable since Dupin
had requested him to fill u p the check.
W h e n he had gone, my friend entered into some explanations.
"The Parisian police," he said, "are exceedingly able in their
way. They are persevering, ingenious, cunning, a n d thoroughly
versed in the knowledge which their duties seem chiefly to
demand. Thus, when G
detailed to us his m o d e of
searching the premises at the Hotel D
, I felt entire confidence in his having m a d e a satisfactory investigationso far as
his labors e x t e n d e d . "
"So far as his labors extended?" said I.
"Yes," said Dupin. "The measures a d o p t e d were not only
the best of their kind, but carried out to absolute perfection. H a d
the letter been deposited within the range of their search, these
fellows would, beyond a question, have f o u n d it."
I merely laughedbut he seemed quite serious in all that h e
said.
"The measures, t h e n , " he continued, "were good in their
kind, a n d well executed; their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious
resources are, with the Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed, to
which he forcibly adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs by
being too d e e p or too shallow for the matter in h a n d ; a n d m a n y
a schoolboy is a better reasoner t h a n he. I k n e w one a b o u t eight
years of age, w h o s e success at guessing in the g a m e of 'even a n d
o d d ' attracted universal admiration. This g a m e is simple, a n d is
played with marbles. O n e player holds in his h a n d a n u m b e r of
these toys, a n d d e m a n d s of a n o t h e r w h e t h e r that n u m b e r is
even or o d d . If the guess is right, the guesser wins one; if
wrong, he loses one. The boy to w h o m I allude w o n all the
marbles of the school. Of course he h a d some principle of
guessing; a n d this lay in m e r e observation a n d a d m e a s u r e m e n t
of the a s t u t e n e s s of his o p p o n e n t s . For example, an arrant
simpleton is his o p p o n e n t , a n d , holding u p his closed h a n d ,

24

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

asks, 'Are they even or odd?' O u r school-boy replies, ' O d d , ' a n d

loses; but u p o n the second trial he wins, for he then says to
himself: 'The simpleton had t h e m even u p o n the first trial, a n d
his a m o u n t of c u n n i n g is just sufficient to make him have t h e m
odd u p o n the second; I will therefore guess odd';he guesses
odd, a n d wins. Now, with a simpleton a degree above the first,
ne would have reasoned thus: 'This fellow finds that in the first
instance I guessed odd, and, in the second, he will propose to
himself, u p o n the first impulse, a simple variation from even to
odd, as did the first simpleton; but then a second t h o u g h t will
suggest that this is too simple a variation, and finally he will
decide u p o n putting it even as before. I will therefore guess
even';he guesses even, a n d wins. N o w this m o d e of reasoning in the schoolboy, w h o m his fellows termed 'lucky,'
what, in its last analysis, is it?"
"It is merely," I said, "an identification of the reasoner's
intellect with that of his o p p o n e n t . "
"It is," said Dupin; " a n d , u p o n inquiring of the boy by w h a t
m e a n s h e effected the thorough identification in which his
success consisted, I received a n s w e r as follows: 'When I wish to
find out h o w wise, or h o w stupid, or h o w good, or h o w wicked
is any one, or w h a t are his t h o u g h t s at the m o m e n t , I fashion the
expression of m y face, as accurately as possible, in accordance
with the expression of his, a n d t h e n wait to see w h a t t h o u g h t s
or sentiments arise in my mind or heart, as if to match or
correspond w i t h the expression.' This response of the schoolboy
lies at the b o t t o m of all the spurious p r o f u n d i t y which h a s been
attributed to Rochefoucault, to La Bougive, to Machiavelli, a n d
to C a m p a n e l l a . "
" A n d the indentification," I said, "of the reasoner's intellect
with that of his o p p o n e n t , d e p e n d s , if I u n d e r s t a n d you aright,
u p o n t h e accuracy with which the opponent's intellect is
admeasured."
"For its practical value it d e p e n d s u p o n this," replied
Dupin; " a n d the Prefect a n d his cohort fail so frequently, first, by
default of this identification, a n d , secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather t h r o u g h n o n a d m e a s u r e m e n t , of the intellect
with w h i c h they are engaged. They consider only their own

The Purloined

Letter

25

ideas of ingenuity; and, in searching for any thing h i d d e n ,

advert only to the modes in which they would have h i d d e n it.
They are right in this m u c h t h a t their o w n ingenuity is a
faithful representative of that of the mass; b u t w h e n the c u n n i n g
of the individual felon is diverse in character from their o w n , the
felon foils them, of course. This always h a p p e n s w h e n it is
above their o w n , and very usually w h e n it is below. They have
no variation of principle in their investigations; at best, w h e n
urged by some unusual emergencyby some extraordinary
rewardthey extend or exaggerate their old m o d e s of practice,
without touching their principles. What, for example, in this
case of D
, has been d o n e to vary the principle of action?
What is all this boring, a n d probing, a n d s o u n d i n g , a n d
scrutinizing with the microscope, a n d dividing the surface of the
Duilding into registered square incheswhat is it all b u t an
exaggeration of the application of the one principle or set of
principles of search, which are based u p o n the o n e set of
notions regarding h u m a n ingenuity, to which the Prefect, in the
long routine of his duty, has been accustomed? Do you not see
he h a s taken it for granted that all m e n proceed to conceal a
letter, not exactly in a gimlet hole bored in a chair leg, but, at
least, in some out-of-the-way hole or corner suggested by the
same tenor of thought which w o u l d urge a m a n to secrete a
letter in a gimlet hole bored in a chair-leg? A n d d o you not see
also, that such recherches nooks for concealment are a d a p t e d
only for ordinary occasions, a n d w o u l d be a d o p t e d only by
ordinary intellects; for, in all cases of concealment, a disposal of
the article concealeda disposal of it in this recherche m a n n e r ,
'S, in the very first instance, presumable a n d p r e s u m e d ; a n d
thus its discovery d e p e n d s , not at all u p o n the a c u m e n , b u t
altogether u p o n the mere care, patience, and determination of
the seekers; a n d w h e r e the case is of importanceor, w h a t
i m o u n t s to the same thing in the political eyes, w h e n the
r
eward is of m a g n i t u d e , t h e qualities in question have never
-H-en k n o w n to fail. You will n o w u n d e r s t a n d w h a t I m e a n t in
suggesting that, had the purloined .etter been h i d d e n a n y w h e r e
vithm the limits of the Prefect's examinationin other words,
nad the principle of its concealment been c o m p r e h e n d e d within

26

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

the principles of the Prefectits discovery would have b e e n a

matter altogether beyond question. This functionary, however,
has been thoroughly mystified; a n d the remote source of his
defeat lies in the supposition that the Minister is a fool, because
he has acquired r e n o w n as a poet. All fools are poets; this the
Prefect feels; a n d he is merely guilty of a non distributio medii in
thence inferring that all poets are fools."
"But is this really the poet?" I asked. "There are two
brothers, I k n o w ; and both have attained reputation in letters.
The Minister I believe has written learnedly on the Differential
Calculus. H e is a mathematician, a n d n o poet."
"You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. As poet and
mathematician, h e would reason well; as mere mathematician,
he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at
the mercy of the Prefect."
"You surprise m e , " I said, "by these opinions, which have
been contradicted by the voice of the world. You do not m e a n to
set at n a u g h t the well-digested idea of centuries. The m a t h e m a t ical reason has long been regarded as the reason par excellence."
"'II y a a parier/" replied Dupin, quoting from Chamfort,
" 'que toute idee publique, toute convention regue, est une sottise, car
elle a convenue au plus grand nombre.' The mathematicians, I grant
you, have d o n e their best to promulgate the popular error to
which you allude, a n d which is n o n e the less an error for its
promulgation as truth. With an art w o r t h y a better cause, for
example, they have insinuated the term 'analysis' into application to algebra. The French are the originators of this particular
deception; b u t if a term is of any importanceif w o r d s derive
any value f r o m applicabilitythen 'analysis' conveys 'algebra'
about as m u c h as, in Latin, 'ambitus' implies 'ambition,' 'religio'
'religion,' or 'homines honesti' a set of honorable m e n . "
"You have a quarrel on h a n d , I see," said I, "with some of
the algebraists of Paris; but proceed."
"I d i s p u t e the availability, a n d t h u s the value, of that reason
which is cultivated in any especial form other than the abstractly
logical. I dispute, in particular, the reason educed by m a t h e m a t ical study. The mathematics are the science of form a n d quantity;
mathematical reasoning is merely logic applied to observation

The Purloined

Letter

27

u p o n form a n d quantity. The great error lies in s u p p o s i n g that

even the truths of w h a t is called pure algeora are abstract or
general truths. And this error is so egregious that I am
c o n f o u n d e d at the universality with which it has been received.
Mathematical axioms are not axioms of general truth. What is
true of relationor form a n d quantityis often grossly false in
regard to morals, for example. In this latter science it is very
usually untrue that the aggregated parts are equal to the whole.
In chemistry also the axiom fails. In consideration of motive it
fails; for t w o motives, each of a given value, have not,
necessarily, a value w h e n united, equal to the s u m of their
values apart. There are n u m e r o u s other mathematical t r u t h s
which are only truths within the limits of relation. But the
mathematician argues from his finite truths, through habit, as if
they were of an absolutely general applicabilityas the world
indeed imagines them to be. Bryant, in his very learned
'Mythology,' mentions an analogous source of error, w h e n h e
says that 'although the pagan fables are not believed, yet w e
forget ourselves continually, a n d make inferences from t h e m as
existing realities.' With the algebraists, however, w h o are
pagans themselves, the 'pagan fables' are believed, a n d the
inferences are made, not so m u c h t h r o u g h lapse of m e m o r y as
through an unaccountable addling of the brains. In short, I
never yet encountered the mere mathematician w h o w o u l d be
trusted out of equal roots, or one w h o did not clandestinely hold
it as a point of his faith that x2 + px w a s absolutely a n d
unconditionally equal to q. Say to o n e these gentlemen, by w a y
of experiment, if you please, that you believe occasions m a y
occur w h e r e x 2 + px is not altogether equal to q, a n d , having
m a d e h i m u n d e r s t a n d w h a t you m e a n , get out of his reach as
speedily as convenient, for, b e y o n d doubt, he will e n d e a v o r to
knock you d o w n .
"I m e a n to say," continued Dupin, while I merely l a u g h e d
at his last observations, "that if the Minister h a d been n o more
than a mathematician, the Prefect w o u l d have been u n d e r n o
necessity of giving m e this check. I k n e w him, however, as b o t h
mathematician and poet, a n d my measures were a d a p t e d to his

28

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

capacity, w i t h reference to the circumstances by w h i c h he w a s

s u r r o u n d e d . I k n e w him as a courtier, too, a n d as a bold
intriguant. Such a m a n , I considered, could not fail to be a w a r e
of the o r d i n a r y policial m o d e s of action. H e could n o t h a v e
failed to anticipateand e v e n t s h a v e p r o v e d that h e did n o t fail
to anticipatethe waylayings to w h i c h he w a s subjected. H e
m u s t h a v e foreseen, I reflected, the secret investigations of his
premises. H i s f r e q u e n t absences f r o m h o m e at night, w h i c h
w e r e hailed by the Prefect as certain aids to his success, I
r e g a r d e d only as ruses, to afford o p p o r t u n i t y for t h o r o u g h
search to the police, a n d t h u s t h e sooner to i m p r e s s t h e m w i t h
the conviction to w h i c h G
, in fact, did finally arrivethe
conviction that the letter w a s n o t u p o n the premises. I felt, also,
that t h e w h o l e train of t h o u g h t , w h i c h i w a s at s o m e p a i n s in
detailing to y o u just now, concerning the invariable principle of
policial action in searches for articles concealedI felt that this
w h o l e train of t h o u g h t w o u l d necessarily pass t h r o u g h the m i n d
of the minister. It w o u l d imperatively lead him to d e s p i s e all the
ordinarv nooks of concealment. He could not, I reflected, be so
w e a k as not to see that the most intricate a n d r e m o t e recess of
his hotel w o u l d be as o p e n as his c o m m o n e s t closets to t h e eyes,
to the p r o b e s , to the gimlets, a n d to the microscopes of the
Prefect. I saw, in fine, that h e w o u l d be driven, as a m a t t e r of
course, to simplicity, if not deliberately i n d u c e d to it as a m a t t e r
of choice. You will remember, p e r h a p s , h o w d e s p e r a t e l y t h e
Prefect l a u g h e d w h e n I s u g g e s t e d , u p o n our first interview, that
it w a s just possible this m y s t e r y troubled h i m so m u c h o n
account of its being so very self-evident."
"Yes," said I, "I r e m e m b e r h i s m e r r i m e n t well. I really
t h o u g h t h e w o u l d h a v e fallen into convulsions."
" T h e material w o r l d , " c o n t i n u e d D u p i n , " a b o u n d s w i t h
very strict analogies to the immaterial; a n d t h u s s o m e color of
t r u t h h a s b e e n given to the rhetorical d o g m a , that m e t a p h o r , or
simile, m a y be m a d e to s t r e n g t h e n an a r g u m e n t as well as to
embellish a description. T h e principle of the vis inertias, for
example, s e e m s to be identical in physics a n d m e t a p h y s i c s . It is
not m o r e t r u e in the former, that a large b o d y is w i t h m o r e

The Purloined

Letter

29

difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, a n d that its

subsequent momentum is c o m m e n s u r a t e with this difficulty, that
it is, in the latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while more
forcible, more constant, and more eventful in their m o v e m e n t s
:han those of inferior grade, are yet the less readily moved, a n d
more embarrassed, and full of hesitation in the first few steps of
;heir progress. Again: have you ever noticed which of the street
jigns, over the shop doors, are the most attractive of attention?"
"I have never given the matter a t h o u g h t , " I said.
'There is a game of puzzles," h e resumed, "which is played
upon a m a p . O n e party playing requires another to find a given
wordthe n a m e of town, river, state, or empireany w o r d , in
;hort, u p o n the motley a n d perplexed surface of the chart. A
novice in the game generally seeks to embarrass his o p p o n e n t s
,)v giving t h e m the most minutely lettered names; b u t the a d e p t
elects such w o r d s as stretch, in large characters, from one e n d
)f the chart to the other. These, like the over-largely lettered
signs a n d placards of the street, escape observation by dint of
L>eing excessively obvious; a n d here the physical oversight is
precisely analogous with the moral inapprehension by w h i c h
;ne intellect suffers to pass unnoticed those considerations
vhich are too obtrusively a n d too palpably self-evident. But this
; a point, it appears, s o m e w h a t above or beneath the u n d e r tanding of the Prefect. H e never once t h o u g h t it probable, or
ossible, that the minister h a d deposited the letter immediately
eneath the nose of the whole world, by w a y of best preventing
any portion of that world from perceiving it.
But the more I reflected u p o n the daring, dashing, a n d discriminating ingenuity of D
; u p o n the fact that the d o c u m e n t
nust always have been at hand, if he intended to use it to good
purpose; a n d u p o n the decisive evidence, obtained by the
Prefect, that it w a s not h i d d e n within the limits of that
"agnitary's ordinary searchthe m o r e satisfied I became that, to
onceal this letter, the minister h a d resorted to the c o m p r e h e n sive a n d sagacious expedient of not attempting to conceal it at
-.il.

Full of these ideas, I p r e p a r e d myself with a pair of green

30

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

spectacles, a n d called one fine morning, quite by accident, at the

Ministerial hotel. I found D
at h o m e , yawning, lounging,
and dawdling, as usual, a n d p r e t e n d i n g to be in the last
extremity of ennui. He is, perhaps, the most really energetic
h u m a n being n o w alivebut that is only w h e n nobody sees
him.
"To be even with him, I complained of my weak eyes, a n d
lamented the necessity of the spectacles, u n d e r cover of which I
cautiously and thoroughly surveyed the whole a p a r t m e n t ,
while seemingly intent only u p o n the conversation of m y host.
"I paid especial attention to a large writing table near which
h e sat, a n d u p o n which lay confusedly, some miscellaneous
letters a n d other papers, with one or two musical i n s t r u m e n t s
a n d a few books. Here, however, after a long and very deliberate
scrutiny, I saw nothing to excite particular suspicion.
"At length m y eyes, in going the circuit of the room, fell
u p o n a t r i u m p h e r y filigree card-rack of pasteboard, that h u n g
dangling by a dirty blue ribbon, from a little brass k n o b just
b e n e a t h the middle of the mantelpiece. In this rack, w h i c h h a d
three or four compartments, were five or six visiting cards a n d a
solitary letter. This last w a s m u c h soiled a n d crumpled. It w a s
torn nearly in two, across the middleas if a design, in the first
instance, to tear it entirely u p as worthless,, h a d been altered,
or stayed, in the second. It h a d a large black seal, bearing the
D
cipher very conspicuously, a n d w a s a d d r e s s e d , in a
diminutive female h a n d , to D
, the minister, himself. It w a s
thrust carelessly, a n d even, as it seemed, contemptuously, into
one of the u p p e r m o s t divisions of the rack.
" N o sooner had I glanced at this letter than I concluded it to
be that of which I was in search. To be sure, it was, to all
appearance, radically different from the one of which the Prefect
h a d read us so minute a description. Here the seal w a s large a n d
black, with the D
cipher; there it w a s small and red, with the
ducal a r m s of the S^
family. Here, the address, to the
minister, w a s diminutive a n d feminine; there the superscription, to a certain royal personage, w a s markedly bold a n d
decided; the size alone formed a point of correspondence. But,

The Purloined

Letter

31

then, the radicalness of these differences, which w a s excessive;

the dirt; the soiled and torn condition of the paper, so inconsistent with the true methodical habits of D
, a n d so suggestive
of a d e s i g n to d e l u d e t h e b e h o l d e r into an idea of the
worthlessness of the document;these things, together with
the hyperobtrusive situation of this document, full in the view
of every visitor, a n d t h u s exactly in accordance with the
conclusions to which I h a d previously arrived; these things, I
say, were strongly corroborative of suspicion, in one w h o came
with the intention to suspect.
"I protracted my visit as long as possible, a n d , while I
maintained a most animated discussion with the minister, u p o n
a topic which I k n e w well h a d never failed to interest a n d excite
him, I kept my attention really riveted u p o n the letter. In this
examination, I committed to m e m o r y its external appearance
a n d arrangement in the rack; a n d also fell, at length, u p o n a
discovery which set at rest w h a t e v e r trivial doubt I might have
entertained. In scrutinizing the edges of the paper, I observed
them to be more chafed than seemed necessary. They p r e s e n t e d
the broken appearance which is manifested w h e n a stiff paper,
l a v i n g been once folded a n d pressed with a folder, is refolded in
a reversed direction, in the same creases or edges which h a d
formed the original fold. This discovery was sufficient. It w a s
clear to m e that the letter h a d been turned, as a glove, inside
out, redirected and resealed. I bade the minister good morning,
and took my departure at once, leaving a gold snuff box u p o n
the table.
"The next morning I called for the snuff box, w h e n w e
resumed, quite eagerly, the conversation of the preceding day.
While t h u s engaged, however, a loud report, as if of a pistol,
was heard immediately b e n e a t h the w i n d o w s of the hotel, a n d
was succeeded by a series of fearful screams, and the shoutings
of a terrified mob. D
r u s h e d to a casement, threw it open,
a n d looked out. In the meantime I stepped to the card-rack, took
the letter, p u t it in my pocket, a n d replaced it by a facsimile, (so
tar as regards externals) which I h a d carefully prepared at my
;
odgingsimitating the D
cipher, very readily, by means of a
seal formed of bread.

32

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

" T h e d i s t u r b a n c e in the street h a d been occasioned by t h e

frantic b e h a v i o r of a m a n with a m u s k e t . He h a d fired it a m o n g a
crowd of w o m e n a n d children. It p r o v e d , however, to h a v e b e e n
w i t h o u t ball, a n d the fellow w a s suffered to go his w a y as a
lunatic or a d r u n k a r d . W h e n he h a d gone, D
came from the
w i n d o w , w h i t h e r I h a d followed him immediately u p o n securing the object in view. Soon a f t e r w a r d I b a d e him farewell. T h e
p r e t e n d e d lunatic w a s a m a n in m y o w n pay."
"But w h a t p u r p o s e h a d y o u , " I asked, "in replacing t h e
letter by a facsimile? Would it not h a v e been better, at t h e first
visit, to h a v e seized it openly, a n d d e p a r t e d ? "
"D
," replied D u p i n , "is a d e s p e r a t e m a n , a n d a m a n of
nerve. His hotel, too, is not w i t h o u t a t t e n d a n t s d e v o t e d to his
interests. H a d I m a d e the wild a t t e m p t vou suggest, I m i g h t
never h a v e left the Ministerial p r e s e n c e alive. The g o o d p e o p l e
of Paris m i g h t h a v e heard of m e n o more. But I h a d a n object
apart f r o m these considerations. You k n o w m y political p r e p o s sessions. In this matter, I act as a partisan of the lady c o n c e r n e d .
For eighteen m o n t h s the Minister has had her in his power. S h e
has n o w him in herssince, being u n a w a r e that the letter is n o t
in his p o s s e s s i o n , he will proceed with his exactions as if it w a s .
T h u s will he inevitably commit himself, at once, to his political
destruction. His downfall, too, will not be more precipitate t h a n
a w k w a r d . It is all very well to talk a b o u t the facilis descensus
Averni; b u t in all k i n d s of climbing, as Catalani said of singing, it
is far m o r e easy to get u p t h a n to come d o w n . In the p r e s e n t
instance I h a v e n o s y m p a t h y a t least n o pityfor h i m w h o
d e s c e n d s . H e is that monstrum horrendum, an u n p r i n c i p l e d m a n
of genius. I confess, however, that I s h o u l d like very well to
k n o w t h e precise character of his t h o u g h t s , w h e n , being defied
by her w h o m the Prefect terms 'a certain p e r s o n a g e , ' he is
r e d u c e d to o p e n i n g the letter which I left for him in the cardrack."
" H o w ? did you p u t any thing particular in it?"
" W h y i t did not seem altogether right to leave the interior
blankthat would have been insuiting. D
, at Vienna once,
did mt

an evil t a r n , w h i c h 1 told bins, q u i t e

good-humoredly,

The Purloined

Letter

33

hat I should remember. So, as I k n e w he would feel some

uriosity in regard to the identity of the person w h o h a d
utwitted him, I t h o u g h t it a pity not to give him a clue. H e is
veil acquainted with my MS., a n d I just copied into the middle
)f the blank sheet the w o r d s
'"

Un dessein si funeste,
S'il n'est digne d'Atree, est digne de Thyeste.'

They are to be f o u n d in Crebillon's ' A t r e e . ' "

1852

A Terribly Strange Bed

WILKIE C O L L I N S

Shortly after my education at college w a s finished, I

h a p p e n e d to be staying at Paris with an English friend. We were
both y o u n g men then, and lived, I am afraid, rather a wild life,
in the delightful city of our sojourn. O n e night we were idling
about the neighborhood of the Palais Royal, doubtful to w h a t
a m u s e m e n t we should next betake ourselves. My friend proposed a visit to Frascati's, but his suggestion w a s not to my
taste. I k n e w Frascati's, as the French saying is, bv heart; had
lost a n d won plenty of five-franc pieces there, merely for
amusement's sake, until it was a m u s e m e n t no longer, a n d w a s
thorougly tired, in fact, of all the ghastly respectabilities of such
a social anomaly as a respectable gambling-house. "For heaven's
sake," said I to my friend, "let us go somewhere w h e r e w e can
see a little genuine, blackguard, poverty-stricken gaming with
no false gingerbread glitter thrown over it at all. Let us get away
from fashionable Frascati's, to a house where they don't mind
letting in a m a n with a ragged coat, or a man with no coat,
ragged or otherwise.""Very well," said my friend, "we
needn't go out of the Palais Royal to find the sort of c o m p a n y
you want. Here's the place just before us; as blackguard a place,
by all report, as you could possibly wish to see." In another
m i n u t e we arrived at the door, and entered the house.
W h e n w e got u p stairs, a n d had left our hats and sticks with
the doorkeeper, we were admitted into the chief gambling room.
We did not find many people assembled there. But, few as the
men were w h o looked u p at us on our entrance, they were all
tvpes, lamentaolv true types, of their respective classes.
34

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

35

We had come to see blackguards; but these m e n w e r e something worse. There is a comic side, more or less appreciable, in
all blackguardism. Here there w a s nothing but tragedymute,
weird tragedy. The quiet in the room w a s horrible. The thin,
haggard, long-haired y o u n g m a n , w h o s e s u n k e n eyes fiercely
watched the turning-up of the cards, never spoke; the flabby,
fat-faced, pimply player, w h o picked his piece of pasteboard
perseveringly, to register h o w often black w o n , a n d h o w often
red, never spoke; the dirty, wrinkled old man, with the vulture
eyes, a n d the d a r n e d greatcoat, w h o had lost his last sou, a n d
still looked on desperately, after he could play n o longer, never
spoke. Even the voice of the croupier s o u n d e d as if it were
strangely dulled and thickened in the a t m o s p h e r e of the room. I
h a d entered the place to laugh; but the spectacle before me w a s
something to w e e p over. I soon f o u n d it necessary to take
refuge, in excitement, from the depression of spirits which w a s
fast stealing on me. Unfortunately I sought the nearest excitem e n t by going to the table, and beginning to play. Still more
unfortunately, as the event will show, I w o n w o n prodigiously;
w o n incredibly; w o n at such a rate, that the regular players at
the table crowded r o u n d me, a n d staring at my stakes w i t h
hungry, superstitious eyes, whispered to one another, that the
English stranger w a s going to break the bank.
The game was Rouge et Noir. I had played at it in every city
in Europe, without, however, the care or the wish to study the
theory of chances, that philosopher's stone of all gamblers. A n d
a gambler, in the strict sense of the word, I had never been. I
w a s heart-whole from the corroding passion for play. My
gaming was a mere idle a m u s e m e n t . I never resorted to it by
necessity, because I never knew w h a t it was to w a n t money. I
never practised it so incessantly as to lose more than I could
afford, or to gain more than 1 could coolly pocket without being
thrown off my balance by my good luck. In short, I had hitherto
frequented gambling tables, just as I frequented ball rooms and
opera houses, because they a m u s e d me, and because I h a d
nothing better to do with my leisure hours.
But on this occasion it w a s very different. Now, for the first
time in my life, I felt what the passion for play really was. Mv

36

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

success first bewildered, and then, in the most literal m e a n i n g of

the wo*d, intoxicated me. Incredible as it may appear, it is
nevertheless true, that I only lost w h e n I attempted to estimate
chances, a n d played according to previous calculation. If I left
everything to hick, and staked without any care or consideration, I w a s sure to winto win in the face of every recognized
probability in favor of the bank. At first some of the m e n p r e s e n t
ventured their m o n e y safely e n o u g h on m y color; b u t I speedily
increased m y stakes to s u m s which they dared not risk. O n e
after another, they left off playing, a n d breathlessly looked o n at
m y game.
Still, time after time, I staked higher a n d higher, a n d still
w o n . The excitement in the room rose to fever pitch. The silence
w a s interrupted by a deep, m u t t e r e d chorus of oaths a n d
exclamations in different languages, every time the gold w a s
shovelled across to my side of the table. Even the imperturbable
croupier d a s h e d his rake on the floor in a (French) f u r y of
astonishment at my success. But one m a n present preserved his
self-possession; and that m a n w a s m y friend. H e came to m y
side, a n d , whispering in English, begged me to leave t h e place
satisfied with w h a t I h a d already gained. I m u s t d o h i m the
justice to say that he repeated his warnings a n d entreaties
several times; a n d only left me, a n d w e n t away, after I h a d
rejected his advice (I was, to all intents a n d purposes, gamblingdrunk) in terms which rendered it impossible for him to a d d r e s s
m e again that night.
Shortly after he h a d gone, a hoarse voice behind m e cried,
"Permit me, my dear sir, permit m e to restore to their p r o p e r
place t w o Napoleons which you have d r o p p e d . Wonderful luck,
sir! I pledge you m y word of honor as an old soldier, in the
course of my long experience in this sort of thing, I never saw
such luck as yours, never! Go on, sir; sacre mille bombes! Go on
boldly, a n d break the bank!"
I t u r n e d r o u n d , a n d saw, n o d d i n g and smiling at m e with
inveterate civility, a tall man, dressed in a frogged a n d braided
surtout.
If I h a d been in my senses, I should have considered him,
personally, as being rather a suspicious specimen of an old

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

37

soldier. H e h a d goggling, bloodshot eyes, m a n g y mustachios,

a n d a b r o k e n nose. His voice betrayed a barrack-room intonation of the worst order; a n d h e h a d the dirtiest pair of h a n d s 1
ever saw, even in France. These little personal peculiarities
exercised, however, n o repelling influence on me. In the m a d
excitement, the reckless t r i u m p h , of that m o m e n t , I w a s ready
to "fraternize" with a n y b o d y w h o encouraged m e in m y game. I
accepted the old soldier's proffered pinch of snuff, clapped him
on the back, a n d swore h e w a s the honestest fellow in the
worldthe most glorious relic of the Grand A r m y that I h a d
ever met with. "Go on!" cried my military friend, s n a p p i n g his
fingers in ecstasy"go on, a n d win! Break the bank; mille
tonnerres! My gallant English comrade, break the bank!"
A n d I did go o n w e n t on at such a rate, that in another
quarter of an hour the croupier called out, "Gentlemen, the
bank has discontinued for tonight!" All the notes, a n d all the
gold in that "bank," n o w lay in a h e a p u n d e r m y h a n d s ; the
whole floating capital of the gambling h o u s e w a s waiting to
pour into m y pockets.
"Tie u p the money in y o u r pocket-handkerchief, m y worthy
sir," said the old soldier, as I wildly p l u n g e d my h a n d s into m y
heap of gold. "Tie it u p as w e used to tie u p a bit of d i n n e r in the
Grand Army: your w i n n i n g s are too heavy for a n y breechespockets that ever were sewed. There, that's it. Shovel t h e m in,
notes and all. Credie! w h a t luck! Stop! another N a p o l e o n on the
floor! Ah! sacre petit polisson de Napoleon! have I f o u n d thee at last?
Now then, sir, two tight double-knots each way, with your
honorable permission, a n d the money's safe. Feel it! feel it,
fortunate sir! hard and r o u n d as a cannon-ball. Ah, bah! if they
had only fired si ch cannon-balls at us at Austerlitz! nom d'une
pipe! if they only had! A n d now, as an ancient grenadier, as an
ex-brave of the French army, w h a t remains for m e to do? I ask
what? Simply this: to entreat my valued English friend to drink a
bottle of c h a m p a g n e with me, a n d toast the goddess Fortune in
foaming goblets before w e part!"
"Excellent ex-brave! Convivial ancient grenadier! C h a m pagne by all means! An English cheer for an old soldier! Hurrah!
n
u r r a h ! Another English cheer for the goddess Fortune! Hurrah!
hurrah! hurrah!"

38

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Bravo! the Englishman; the amiable, gracious Englishman,

in w h o s e veins circulates the vivacious blood of France! A n o t h e r
glass? Ah, bah! the bottle is empty. Never mind! Vive le viti! I, the
old soldier, order another bottle, and half a p o u n d of bonbons
with it!"
"No, no, ex-brave; never, ancient grenadier! Your bottle last
time; my bottle this. Behold it! Toast away! The French army! the
great Napoleon! the present company! the croupier! the h o n e s t
croupier's wife a n d daughtersif h e has any! the ladies generally! Everybody in the world!"
By the time the time the second bottle of c h a m p a g n e w a s
emptied, I felt as if I h a d been drinking liquid fire: m y brain
seemed all aflame. N o excess in wine h a d ever h a d this effect on
m e before in m y life. Was it the result of a stimulant acting u p o n
my system w h e n I was in a highly excited state? Was m y
stomach in a particularly disordered condition? Or w a s the
c h a m p a g n e amazingly strong?
"Ex-brave of the French army!" cried I, in a m a d state of
exhilaration, "I am on fire! h o w are you? You have set m e on fire!
Do you hear, my hero of Austerlitz? Let us have a third bottle of
c h a m p a g n e to p u t the flame out!"
The old soldier wagged his head, rolled his goggle eyes,
until I expected to see t h e m slip out of their sockets; placed his
dirty forefinger by the side of his broken nose; solemnly
ejaculated "Coffee!" and immediately ran off into an inner room.
The w o r d p r o n o u n c e d by the eccentric veteran seemed to
have a magical effect on the rest of the company present. With
one accord they all rose to depart. Probably they h a d expected to
profit by my intoxication; but, finding that my n e w friend w a s
benevolently bent on preventing me from getting dead d r u n k ,
h a d n o w a b a n d o n e d all h o p e of thriving pleasantly on my
winnings. Whatever their motive might be, at any rate they
w e n t away in a body. W h e n the old soldier returned, a n d sat
d o w n again opposite me at the table, w e had the room to
ourselves. I could see the croupier, in a sort of vestibule which
o p e n e d out of it, eating his s u p p e r in solitude. The silence w a s
now d e e p e r than ever.
A s u d d e n change, too, had come over the "ex-brave." He

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

39

a s s u m e d a portentously solemn look; a n d , w h e n h e spoke to m e

again, his speech w a s o r n a m e n t e d by n o oaths, enforced by n o
finger-snapping,
enlivened by n o a p o s t r o p h e s or exclamations.
"Listen, m y dear sir," h e said, in mysteriously confidential
tones"listen to an old soldier's advice. I have been to the
mistress of this h o u s e (a very charming w o m a n , with a genius
for cookery), to impress o n her the necessity of m a k i n g us s o m e
particularly strong a n d good coffee. You m u s t drink this coffee
in order to get rid of your little amiable exaltation of spirits
before you think of going h o m e y o u must, m y good a n d
gracious friend! With all that m o n e y to take h o m e tonight, it is a
sacred d u t y to yourself to have your wits about y o u . You are
k n o w n to be a winner, to an e n o r m o u s extent, by several
gentlemen present tonight, w h o , in a certain point of view, are
very w o r t h y a n d excellent fellows; but they are mortal m e n , m y
dear sir, a n d they have their amiable weaknessess! N e e d I say
more? Ah, no, no! you u n d e r s t a n d me. Now, this is w h a t you
m u s t d o , s e n d for a cabriolet w h e n you feel quite well again,
d r a w u p all the w i n d o w s w h e n you get into it, a n d tell the driver
to take you h o m e only t h r o u g h the large a n d well-lighted
thoroughfares. Do this, a n d you a n d yor m o n e y will be safe. Do
this, a n d tomorrow you will t h a n k an old soldier for giving you
a w o r d of honest advice."
Just as the ex-brave e n d e d his oration in very lachrymose
tones, the coffee came in, ready poured out in t w o cups. My
attentive friend h a n d e d m e ne of the cups with a bow. I w a s
parched with thirst, a n d drank it off at a d r a u g h t . Almost
instantly afterwards, I w a s seized with a fit of giddiness, a n d felt
more completely intoxicated than ever. The room whirled r o u n d
a n d r o u n d furiously; the old soldier seemed to be regularly
bobbing u p a n d d o w n before m e like the piston of the steamengine. I w a s half deafened by a violent singing in my ears; a
feeling of utter bewilderment, helplessness, idiocy, overcame
me. I rose from my chair, holding o n by the table to keep m y
balance; a n d stammered out, that I felt dreadfully unwellso
unwell that I did not k n o w h o w I w a s to get h o m e .
"My dear friend " a n s w e r e d the old soldier, a n d even his
voice seemed to be bobbing u p a n d d o w n as he spoke, " m y dear

40

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

friend, it would be m a d n e s s to go h o m e in your state; you w o u l d

be sure to lose your money; you might be robbed a n d m u r d e r e d
with the greatest ease. I am going to sleep here: do you sleep
here too. They m a k e u p capital beds in this house: take one,
sleep off the effects of the wine, a n d go home safely with your
winnings tomorrowtomorrow, in broad daylight."
I h a d b u t two ideas leftone, that I must never let go hold
of m y handkerchief full of money; the other, that I m u s t lie
d o w n s o m e w h e r e immediately, a n d fall off into a comfortable
sleep. So I agreed to the proposal about the bed, a n d took the
offered arm of the old soldier, carrying my m o n e y with my
disengaged h a n d . Preceded by the croupier, w e passed along
some passages, and u p a flight of stairs, into the b e d r o o m which
I w a s to occupy. The ex-brave shook me warmly by the h a n d ,
proposed that we should breakfast together, arid then, followed
by the croupier, ieft me for the night.
I ran to the wash-stand; drank some of the water in m y jug;
poured the rest out, and plunged my face into it; then sat d o w n
in a chair, a n d tried to compose myself. I soon felt better. The
change for m y lungs, from the fetid atmosphere of the gambling-room to the cool air of the apartment I now occupied; the
almost equally refreshing change for my eyes, from the glaring
gas lights of the "salon" to the dim, quiet flicker of one b e d r o o m
candleaided wonderfully the restorative effects of cold water.
The giddiness left me, and I began to feel a little like a
reasonable being again. My first t h o u g h t was of the risk of
sleeping all night in a gambling house; my second, of the still
greater risk of trying to get out after the house was closed, a n d
of going h o m e alone at night, through the streets of Paris, with a
large s u m of money about me. I h a d slept in worse places than
this on my travels: so I determined to lock, bolt, a n d barricade
my door, a n d take my chance till the next morning.
Accordingly, I secured myself against all intrusion; looked
u n d e r the bed, and into the cupboard; tried the fastening of the
window; a n d then, satisfied that I had taken every p r o p e r
precaution, pulled off my u p p e r clothing, put my light, which
was a dim one, on the hearth a m o n g a feathery litter of w o o d ashes, and got into bed, with the handkerchief full of m o n e v
under my pillow.

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

41

I soon felt not only that I could not go to sleep, but that I
could not even close my eyes. I was wide awake, a n d in a high
fever. Every nerve in my body trembled; every one of my senses
seemed to be preternaturally sharpened. I tossed and rolled,
and tried every kind of position, a n d perseveringly sought out
the cold corners of the bed, a n d all to n o purpose. N o w I thrust
my arms over the clothes; n o w I poked them u n d e r the clothes.
N o w 1 violently shot my legs straight out d o w n to the bottom of
the bed; n o w I convulsively coiled t h e m u p as near my chin as
they would go. N o w I shook out m y crumpled pillow, changed
it to the cool side, patted it flat, a n d lay d o w n quietly on m y
back; n o w I fiercely doubled it in two, set it u p o n e n d , thrust it
against the board of the bed, a n d tried a sitting-posture. Every
effort w a s in vain. I groaned with vexation, as I felt that I w a s in
for a sleepless night.
What could I do? I h a d n o book to read. A n d yet, unless I
f o u n d out some m e t h o d of diverting my mind, I felt certain that
I w a s in the condition to imagine all sorts of horror, to rack m y
brain with forebodings of every possible a n d impossible danger,
in short, to pass the night in suffering all conceivable varieties of
nervous terror.
I raised myself on m y elbow, and looked about the room,
which w a s brightened by a lovely moonlight p o u r i n g straight
through the window, to see if it contained a n y pictures or
o r n a m e n t s that I could at all clearly distinguish. While m y eyes
w a n d e r e d from wall to wall, a remembrance of Le Maistre's
delightful little book, "Voyage autour de ma C h a m b r e , " occurred to me. I resolved to imitate the French author, a n d find
occupation a n d a m u s e m e n t e n o u g h to relieve the t e d i u m of m y
wakefulness, by making a mental inventory of every article of
furniture I could see, a n d by following u p to their sources the
multitude of associations which even a chair, a table, or a washh a n d stand may be m a d e to call forth.
In the nervous, unsettled state of my mind at that m o m e n t ,
I f o u n d it m u c h easier to m a k e m y inventory than to m a k e m y
reflections, a n d thereupon soon gave u p all h o p e of thinking in
Le Maistre's fanciful track, or, indeed, of thinking at all. I looked
about the room at the different articles of furniture, a n d did
nothing more.

42

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

There was, first, the bed I w a s lying ina four-post bed, of

all things in the world, to meet with in Paris! yes, a t h o r o u g h ,
clumsy British four-poster, with the regular top lined with
chintz, the regular fringed valance all a r o u n d , the regular
stifling, u n w h o l e s o m e curtains, which I r e m e m b e r e d having
mechanically d r a w n back against the post, without particularly
noticing the bed, w h e n I first got into the room. Then there w a s
the marble-topped w a s h - h a n d stand, from which the water I
h a d spilt, in my hurry to p o u r it out, w a s still dripping, slowly
a n d m o r e slowly, on to the brick floor. Then two small chairs
with m y coat, waistcoat, a n d trousers flung on them. Then a
large elbow-chair, covered with dirty white dimity, with m y
cravat a n d shirt-collar t h r o w n over the back. Then a chest of
d r a w e r s with t w o of the brass h a n d l e s off, and a tawdry, b r o k e n
china inkstand placed on it by w a y of ornament for the top.
Then the dressing table, a d o r n e d by a very small looking glass,
a n d a very large pincushion. Then the window, an u n u s u a l l y
large window. Then a dark old picture, which the feeble candle
dimly s h o w e d me. It w a s the picture of a fellow in a high
Spanish hat, crowned with a p l u m e of towering feathers. A
swarthy, sinister ruffian, looking u p w a r d , shading his eyes with
his h a n d , a n d looking intently u p w a r d , it might be at s o m e tall
gallows at which h e was going to be h a n g e d . At a n y rate, h e h a d
the a p p e a r a n c e of thoroughly deserving it.
T h e picture p u t a kind of constraint u p o n m e to look
u p w a r d , too, at the top of the bed. It w a s a gloomy, a n d not an
interesting object; a n d I looked back at the picture. I c o u n t e d the
feathers in the man's hat: they stood out in reliefthree white,
two green. I observed the crown of his hat, which w a s of a
conical s h a p e , according to t h e fashion s u p p o s e d to have been
favored by G u i d o Fawkes. I w o n d e r e d w h a t he w a s looking at.
It couldn't be at the star: such a d e s p e r a d o w a s neither
astrologer n o r astronomer. It m u s t be at the high gallows, a n d
he w a s going to be h a n g e d presently. Would the executioner
come into possession of his conical crowned hat, and p l u m e of
feathers? I counted the feathers againthree white, t w o green.
While I still lingered over this very improving a n d intellectual e m p l o y m e n t , my t h o u g h t s insensibly began to w a n d e r . The

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

43

moonlight shining into the room reminded m e of a certain

moonlight night in England, the night after a picnic party in a
Welsh valley. Every incident of the drive h o m e w a r d t h r o u g h
lovely scenery, which the moonlight m a d e lovelier t h a n ever,
came back to my remembrance, t h o u g h I h a d never given the
picnic a thought for years; though, if I had tried to recollect it, I
could certainly have recalled little or nothing of that scene long
past. Of all the w o n d e r f u l faculties that help to tell u s w e are
immortal, which speaks the sublime truth more eloquently t h a n
memory? Here was I, in a strange house of the most suspicious
character, in a situation of uncertainty, and even of peril, which
might seem to make the cool exercise of my recollection almost
out of the question; nevertheless remembering, quite involuntarily, places, people, conversations, minute circumstances of
every kind, which I h a d t h o u g h t forgotten forever, which I could
not possibly have recalled at will, even u n d e r the most favorable
auspices. A n d w h a t cause had produced, in a m o m e n t , the
w h o l e of this strange, complicated, mysterious effect? N o t h i n g
but s o m e rays of moonlight shining in at mv b e d r o o m window.
I w a s still thinking of the picnic, of our merriment o n the
drive h o m e , of the sentimental y o u n g lady w h o would quote
Childe Harold because it w a s moonlight; 1 w a s absorbed by
these past scenes a n d past a m u s e m e n t s , w h e n , in an instant,
the thread on which m y memories h u n g s n a p p e d asunder; my
attention immediately came back to present things m o r e vividly
than ever; a n d I f o u n d myself, I neither k n e w w h y nor wherefore, looking hard at the picture again.
Looking for what?
Good God! the m a n h a d pulled his hat d o w n on his orows!
No, the hat itself w a s gone! Where was the conical crown?
W h e r e the feathersthree white, two green? Not there. In place
of the hat a n d feathers, w h a t d u s k y object w a s it that n o w hid
his forehead, his eyes, his shading h a n d ?
Was the bed moving?
I t u r n e d on my back, a n d looked u p . Was I mad? d r u n k ?
dreaming? giddy again? O r w a s the top of the bed really m o v i n g
d o w n , sinking slowly, regularly, silently, horribly, right d o w n
t h r o u g h o u t the whole of its length and breadth, right d o w n
u p o n me, as I lay u n d e r n e a t h ?

44

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

My blood seemed to stand still. A deadly, paralyzing

coldness stole all over me, as I t u r n e d my head r o u n d o n the
pillow, a n d determined to test w h e t h e r the bed-top w a s really
moving or not, by keeping m y eye on the m a n in the picture.
The next look in that direction w a s e n o u g h . The dull, black,
frowzy outline of the valance above me w a s within an inch of
being parallel w i t h his waist. I still looked breathlessly; a n d
steadily, a n d slowly, very slowly, I saw the figure, a n d the line of
f r a m e below the figure, vanish, as the valance m o v e d d o w n
before it.
I a m , constitutionally, a n y t h i n g b u t timid. I have b e e n , o n
more t h a n o n e occasion, in peril of my life, a n d have n o t lost m y
self-possession for an instant; b u t w h e n the conviction first
settled on m y m i n d that the bed-top w a s really moving, w a s
steadily a n d continuously sinking d o w n u p o n me, I looked u p
s h u d d e r i n g , helpless, panic-stricken, beneath the h i d e o u s machinery for murder, which w a s advancing closer a n d closer to
suffocate m e w h e r e I lay.
I looked u p motionless, speechless, breathless. The candle,
fully s p e n t , w e n t out; b u t the moonlight still brightened the
room. D o w n a n d d o w n , w i t h o u t p a u s i n g a n d without s o u n d ing, came the bed-top; a n d still m y panic-terror seemed to b i n d
m e faster a n d faster to the mattress on which I lay. D o w n a n d
d o w n it sank, till the dusty odor from the lining of the canopy
came stealing into my nostrils.
At that final m o m e n t , the instinct of self-preservation
startled m e out of m y trance, a n d I m o v e d at last. There w a s just
room for m e to roll myself sideways off the bed. As I d r o p p e d
noiselessly to the floor, the e d g e of the m u r d e r o u s c a n o p y
touched m e o n the shoulder.
Without stopping to d r a w m y breath, without w i p i n g the
cold sweat f r o m m y face, I rose instantly on my knees to watch
the bed-top. I w a s literally spellbound by it. If I h a d h e a r d
footsteps b e h i n d me, I could n o t have t u r n e d round; if a m e a n s
of escape h a d b e e n miraculously provided for me, I could not
have m o v e d to take advantage of it. The whole life in m e was, at
that m o m e n t , concentrated in m y eyes.
It d e s c e n d e d ; the whole canopy, with the fringe a r o u n d it,

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

45

came d o w n , d o w n , close d o w n , so close that there w a s not

room n o w to squeeze m y finger between the bed-top a n d the
bed. I felt at the sides, a n d discovered that w h a t h a d a p p e a r e d
to me, from beneath, to be the ordinary light canopy of a fourpost bed, w a s in reality a thick, broad mattress, the substance of
which w a s concealed by the valance a n d its fringe. I looked u p ,
a n d saw the four posts rising hideously bare. In the middle of
the bed-top w a s a h u g e w o o d e n screw that h a d evidently
worked it d o w n t h r o u g h a hole in the ceiling, just as ordinary
presses are worked d o w n on the substance selected for compression. The frightful a p p a r a t u s moved w i t h o u t making the
faintest noise. There h a d been no creaking as it came d o w n :
there w a s n o w not the faintest s o u n d from the r o o m above.
Amid a dead a n d a w f u l silence, I beheld before me, in the
n i n e t e e n t h century, a n d in the civilized capital of France, such a
machine for secret m u r d e r by suffocation as might have existed
in the worst days of the Inquisition, in the lonely i n n s a m o n g
the Harz Mountains, in the mysterious tribunals of Westphalia!
Still, as I looked on it, I could not move; I could hardly breathe;
but I began to recover the p o w e r of thinking, a n d in a m o m e n t I
discovered the m u r d e r o u s conspiracy framed against me, in all
its horror.
My cup of coffee h a d been drugged, a n d d r u g g e d too
strongly. I had been saved from being s m o t h e r e d by having
taken an overdose of s o m e narcotic. H o w I h a d chafed a n d
fretted at the fever-fit which h a d preserved my life by keeping
me awake! H o w recklessly I h a d confided myself to the two
wretches w h o h a d led m e into this room, d e t e r m i n e d , for the
sake of m y winnings, to kill me in my sleep by the surest a n d
most horrible contrivance for secretly accomplishing m y destruction! H o w m a n y m e n , w i n n e r s like me, had slept, as I h a d
p r o p o s e d to sleep, in that bed, and had never been seen or
h e a r d of more! I s h u d d e r e d at the bare idea of it.
But, ere long, all t h o u g h t w a s again s u s p e n d e d by the sight
of the m u r d e r o u s canopy moving once more. After it h a d
remained on the bed, as nearlv as I could guess, about ten
minutes, it began to move u p again. The villains w h o w o r k e d it
f r o m above evidently believed that their p u r p o s e w a s n o w

46

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

accomplished. Slowly a n d silently, as it h a d d e s c e n d e d , that

horrible bed-top rose towards its former place. W h e n it reached
the u p p e r extremities of the four posts, it reached the ceiling
too. Neither hole nor screw could be seen; the bed became, in
appearance, an ordinary b e d again, the canopy an ordinary
canopy, even to the most suspicious eyes.
Now, for the first time, I w a s able to move, to rise f r o m m y
knees, to dress myself in my u p p e r clothing, a n d to consider of
h o w I should escape. If I betrayed, by the slightest noise, that
the a t t e m p t to suffocate m e h a d failed, I w a s certain to be
m u r d e r e d . H a d I m a d e any noise already? I listened intently,
looking t o w a r d s the door.
No! n o footsteps in the passage outside; n o s o u n d of a
tread, light or heavy, in the room above: absolute silence
everywhere. Besides locking a n d bolting my door, I h a d m o v e d
an old w o o d e n chest against it, which I h a d f o u n d u n d e r the
bed. To remove this chest (my blood ran cold as I t h o u g h t w h a t
its contents might be), without making some disturbance, w a s
impossible; and, moreover, to think of escaping t h r o u g h the
h o u s e , n o w barred u p for the night, w a s sheer insanity. Only
o n e chance w a s left for methe window. I stole to it o n tiptoe.
My r o o m w a s on the second floor, above an entresol, a n d
looked into the back street. I raised my h a n d to o p e n the
window, k n o w i n g that on that action h u n g , by the merest hair's
breadth, m y chance of safety. They keep vigilant w a t c h in a
h o u s e of murder. If any part of the frame cracked, if the hinge
creaked, I w a s a lost man! It m u s t have occupied m e at least five
minutes, reckoning by timefive hours, reckoning by susp e n s e t o o p e n that window. I succeeded in doing it silently, in
doing it w i t h all the dexterity of a housebreaker, a n d t h e n looked
d o w n into the street. To leap the distance beneath m e w o u l d be
almost certain destruction. Next I looked r o u n d at the sides of
the h o u s t . D o w n the left side ran a thick water-pipe: it passed
close by the outer edge of the window. The m o m e n t I saw the
pipe, I k n e w I w a s saved. My breath came a n d w e n t freely for
the first time since I h a d seen the canopy of the bed m o v i n g
d o w n u p o n me.
To some m e n , the m e a n s of escape which I h a d discovered

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

47

might have seemed difficult a n d d a n g e r o u s e n o u g h : to me, the

prospect of slipping d o w n the pipe into the street did not
suggest even a t h o u g h t of peril. I had always been accustomed,
by the practice of gymnastics, to keep u p my schoolboy p o w e r s
as a daring and expert climber; and k n e w that m y head, h a n d s ,
a n d feet would serve me faithfully in any h a z a r d s of ascent or
descent. I h a d already got one leg over the w i n d o w sill, w h e n I
r e m e m b e r e d the handkerchief filled with m o n e y u n d e r my
pillow. I could well have afforded to leave it b e h i n d me; but
I w a s revengefully d e t e r m i n e d that the miscreants of the gambling h o u s e should miss their plunder, as well as their victim. So
I w e n t back to the bed, a n d tied the heavy handkerchief at my
back by my cravat.
Just as I h a d m a d e it tight, and fixed it in a comfortable
place, I t h o u g h t I heard a s o u n d of breathing outside the door.
The chill feeling of horror ran t h r o u g h m e again as I listened.
No! d e a d silence still in the passage: I h a d only h e a r d the night
air blowing softly into the room. The next m o m e n t I w a s o n the
w i n d o w sill; a n d the next I had a firm grip on the water-pipe
with m y h a n d s a n d knees.
I slid d o w n into the street easily a n d quietly, as I t h o u g h t I
s h o u l d , a n d immediately set off, at the top of m y s p e e d , to a
b r a n c h "prefecture" of police, which I k n e w w a s situated in the
immediate neighborhood. A "sub-prefect," a n d several picked
m e n a m o n g his subordinates, h a p p e n e d to be u p , m a t u r i n g , I
believe, some scheme for discovering the perpetrator of a
mysterious m u r d e r which all Paris w a s talking of just then.
W h e n I began m y story in a breathless hurry, a n d in very bad
French, I could see that t h e sub-prefect suspected m e of being a
d r u n k e n Englishman w h o h a d robbed somebody; b u t he soon
altered his opinion as I w e n t on; a n d , before I h a d a n y t h i n g like
concluded, h e shoved all the p a p e r s before him into a drawer,
p u t on his hat, supplied m e with another (for I w a s bareh e a d e d ) , ordered a file of soldiers, desired his expert followers
to get ready all sorts of tools for breaking o p e n doors, a n d
ripping u p brick flooring, a n d took my arm, in the m o s t friendly
a n d familiar m a n n e r possible, to lead m e with him out of the
h o u s e . I will v e n t u r e to say, that w h e n the sub-prefect w a s a

48

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

little boy, a n d w a s taken for the first time to the play, h e w a s not
half as m u c h pleased as h e w a s i\ow at the job in prospect for
him at t h e gambling-house.
Away w e w e n t t h r o u g h the streets, the sub-prefect crossexamining a n d congratulating m e in the same breath, as w e
marched at the head of our formidable posse comitatus. Sentinels
w e r e placed at the back a n d front of the house the m o m e n t w e
got to it. A t r e m e n d o u s battery of knocks w a s directed against
the door; a light appeared at the w i n d o w ; I w a s told to conceal
myself b e h i n d the police. Then came more knocks, a n d a cry of
" O p e n , in the n a m e of the law!" At that terrible s u m m o n s , bolts
a n d locks gave w a y before an invisible h a n d ; and, the m o m e n t
after, t h e sub-prefect w a s in the passage, confronting a waiter,
half-dressed, a n d ghastly pale. This was the short dialogue
w h i c h immediately took place:
"We w a n t to see the Englishman w h o is sleeping in this
house."
" H e w e n t a w a y hours ago."
" H e did n o such thing. His friend w e n t away: he r e m a i n e d .
S h o w u s to his b e d r o o m . "
"I swear to you, M. le Sous-prefet, h e is not here. H e "
"I swear to you, M. le Gargon, he is. H e slept here; h e d i d n ' t
find y o u r b e d comfortable; he came to us to complain of it; h e r e
h e is, a m o n g m y men; a n d here a m I, ready to look for a flea or
two in his bedstead. Renaudin!" (calling to o n e of the subordin a t e s a n d pointing to the waiter), "collar that m a n , a n d tie his
h a n d s b e h i n d him. Now, then, gentlemen, let u s walk u p s t a i r s . "
Every m a n a n d w o m a n in the h o u s e w a s securedthe "old
soldier" the first. T h e n I identified the bed in which I h a d slept;
a n d t h e n w e w e n t into the r o o m above.
N o object that w a s at all extraordinary a p p e a r e d in a n y part
of it. The sub-prefect looked r o u n d the place, c o m m a n d e d
everybody to be silent, s t a m p e d twice on the floor, called for a
candle, looked attentively at the spot he h a d s t a m p e d on, a n d
o r d e r e d the flooring there to be carefully taken u p . This was
d o n e in n o time. Lights were produced; a n d w e saw a d e e p ,
raftered cavity b e t w e e n the floor of this room, a n d the ceiling of
the r o o m b e n e a t h . T h r o u g h this cavity, there ran perpendicular-

A Terribly

Strange

Bed

49

ly a sort of case of iron, thickly greased; a n d inside the case

a p p e a r e d the screw, which communicated with the bed-top
below. Extra lengths of screw, freshly oiled; levers, covered with
felt; all the complete u p p e r works of a heavy press, constructed
with infernal ingenuity so as to join the fixtures below, a n d
w h e n taken to pieces again, to go into the smallest possible
compasswere next discovered, a n d pulled out u p o n the floor.
After some little difficulty, the sub-prefect succeeded in putting
the machinery together, and, leaving his m e n to work it,
d e s c e n d e d with me to the bedroom. The s m o t h e r i n g canopy
w a s then lowered, but not so noiselessly as I h a d seen it
lowered. W h e n I m e n t i o n e d this to the sub-prefect, his answer,
simple as it was, had a terrible significance. "My m e n , " said he,
"are working d o w n the bed-iup Tor the first time: the m e n w h o s e
m o n e y you w o n were in better practice."
We left the house in the sole possession of t w o policeagents, every one of the inmates being removed to prison o n the
spot. The sub-prefect, after taking d o w n my proces verbal in his
office, returned with me to my hotel to get my passport. "Do
vou think," I asked, as I gave it to him, "that any m e n have
really been smothered in that bed, as they tried to smother me?"
"I have seen d o z e n s of d r o w n e d m e n laid out at the
M o r g u e , " answered the sub-prefect, "in w h o s e pocket-books
were f o u n d letters, stating that they had committed suicide in
the Seine, because they h a d lost everything at the gaming table.
Do I k n o w h o w m a n y of those m e n entered the same gambling
h o u s e that you entered, w o n as you w o n , took that bed as you
took it, slept in it, w e r e s m o t h e r e d in it, a n d w e r e privately
t h r o w n into the river, with a letter of explanation written by the
m u r d e r e r s , a n d placed in their pocket-books? N o m a n can say
now many, or h o w few, have suffered the fate f r o m which you
nave escaped. The people of the gambling h o u s e kept their
oedstead-machinery a secret f r o m us, even from the police. The
d e a d kept the rest of the secret from them. Good night, or,
rather, good morning, Mr. Faulkner! Be at my office again at nine
o'clock. In the m e a n t i m e , au revoir!"
The rest of my story is soon told. I was examined and reexamined; the gambling h o u s e w a s strictly searched all t h r o u g h ,

50

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

from top to bottom; the prisoners were separately interrogated;

a n d t w o of the less guilty a m o n g t h e m m a d e a confession. I
discovered that the old soldier was the master of the gambling
house: justice discovered that he h a d been d r u m m e d out of the
army, as a vagabond, years ago; that h e had been guilty of all
sorts of villainies since, that he w a s in possession of stolen
property, which the owners identified; and that he, the croupier,
another accomplice, and the w o m a n w h o h a d m a d e m y c u p of
coffee, were all in the secret of the bedstead. There a p p e a r e d
some reason to d o u b t w h e t h e r the inferior persons attached to
the h o u s e k n e w anything of the suffocating machinery; a n d they
received the benefit of that doubt, by being treated simply as
thieves a n d vagabonds. As for the old soldier a n d his t w o h e a d m y r m i d o n s , they w e n t to the galleys; the w o m a n w h o h a d
d r u g g e d my coffee w a s imprisoned for I forget h o w m a n y years;
the regular attendants at the gambling house were considered
"suspicious," a n d placed u n d e r "surveillance"; a n d I became,
for o n e whole week (which is a long time), the head "lion" in
Parisian society. My a d v e n t u r e w a s dramatized by three illustrious playmakers, b u t never saw theatrical daylight; for the
censorship forbade the introduction, on the stage, of a correct
copy of the gambling house bedstead.
O n e good result w a s p r o d u c e d by my a d v e n t u r e , w h i c h
any censorship m u s t have a p p r o v e d : it cured me of ever again
trying Rouge et Noir as an a m u s e m e n t . The sight of a green cloth,
with packs of cards a n d h e a p s of m o n e y o n it, will h e n c e f o r t h be
forever associated, in m y m i n d , with the sight of a b e d c a n o p y
d e s c e n d i n g to suffocate me in the silence a n d d a r k n e s s of the
night.

1862

Murder Under
the Microscope
W I L L I A M RUSSEL"

In a straggling, sandy district k n o w n as Stape Hill, not far

from Poole, Dorsetshire, there dwelt in 1844, a m a n not more
than forty years of age, if so m u c h , but so b o w e d , withered by
care a n d disappointment that he looked to be sixty at the very
least. His n a m e w a s Joseph Gibson, and he had once carried on
business as an oil and colorman, in High-street, Islington. He
failed in 1843, but m a n a g e d , by effecting a compromise with his
chief creditors, to save about four h u n d r e d p o u n d s from the
wreck. H e h a d been some years separated from his wife, ah
attractive w o m a n , by w h o m he h a d one pretty, delicate girl at
the time of the failure. His o w n life was w r a p p e d u p in that of
Catherine; a n d medical authority w a r n e d him only country air,
a n d that for some years to come, could permanently establish
her health. Whilst earnestly pondering h o w their f u t u r e lives
could be shaped so as to secure that primary object, his eye hit
u p o n an advertisement in the Times, a n n o u n c i n g to agriculturists a n d others that a farm of one h u n d r e d acres, partly arable,
partly pasture, with convenient dwelling-house, out-buildings,
&c, situate at Stape Hill, market t o w n of Poole, w a s to be let on
lease, at the low rental of fifty p o u n d s per a n n u m . The stock,
implements, &c, were to be taken at a valuation, which w o u l d
certainly not exceed three h u n d r e d p o u n d s , including the
g r o w i n g crops, the season being late in the year; possession to
be given on Michaelmas-day, t h e n ten d a y s distant only.
Satisfactory reasons for the throwing u p of so desirable a
51

52

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 NINETEENTH CENTURY

homestead by the last tenant would be given, and so on after the

m a n n e r of such schemes for gulling the unwary. A transparent
trap like that could not have imposed u p o n the least intelligent
of practical farmers. He would have known that you might as
well have attempted to cultivate seashore sand as arable and
pasture land near a populous English market town, inclusive of
a convenient dwelling-house a n d requisite out-buildings, which
the proprietor was willing to let at ten shillings a n n u a l rent per
acre. But to town folk there is a fascination in the prospect of
occupying land which blinds them to the most self-evident facts.
Application in person only was to be m a d e to Mr. Arthur
Blagden, of Finsbury-square. This gentleman was a solicitor
retired from business, and a native of Dorsetshire, in which
county he possessed large property, especially in Poole a n d its
vicinitv. He was a man of s o m e w h a t eccentric habits, a n d very
close, almost penurious, in his expenditure. The Dorsetshire
rents he always collected twice a year in person.
The Stape Hill Farm appeared to be precisely suited to
Gibson; it being, the advertisement stated, one of the healthiest
places in the United Kingdom, and apparently requiring no
more capital than he possessed for adequate cultivation. As to
not being himself a practical agriculturist, that deficiency the
diligent study of books as "Farming for the million," &c., would
quickly s u p p l y Joseph Gibson having so resolved, betook
himself to Finsbury-square without delay, saw Mr. Blagden,
w h o , w h e n informed that the applicant really possessed four
h u n d r e d p o u n d s in cash, readily accepted him as a tenant for
Stape Hill Farm, a coloured drawing of which he placed before
Gibson, w h o was so delighted with the picture of rural felicity
which it presented that he carried it away to show his child. A
lease for fourteen years was to be immediately p r e p a r e d at the
tenant's cost, a n d on the twenty-eighth of September Mr.
Blagden would go d o w n with him to Dorsetshire to give
possession of the estate a n d stock.
The preceding tenant, Mr. Blagden candidly i n f o r m e d
Gibson, h a d not prospered at the farmwas, in fact, at that
m o m e n t a prisoner for debt; but he was an idle, dissolute fellow,
e n c u m b e r e d , too, with a large, idle family, and a slatternly wife,

Murder

Under

the

Microscope

53

w h o would never do well anywhere. Mr. Blagden had gladly

taken the farm and stock off his handspleased to be shut of
Edward Ridges, even at a considerable sacrifice.
Possession was givenJoseph Gibson installed in his rural
domainmonarch of all he surveyed; spavined horses; lean and
for the most part, barren cows, a score of decent pigs; and
growing crops, such as thev were; inclusive. Three labourers
(one of them of the n a m e of Somers) on the farm; and Jane
Somers (an elderly maid-of-all-work a n d dairy-woman) were
retained. Somers and his wife slept on the premises.
A very short time sufficed to dissipate the fond illusions
which the swindled oil a n d colorman had indulged in. Staple
Hill Farm would have consigned any man to a debtor's prison
w h o could not afford to lose at least one h u n d r e d p o u n d s per
a n n u m u p o n it. It w a s a sad awakening from a pleasant dream.
His eyes were s u d d e n l y opened to the bare-faced fraud practised u p o n him by Mr. Blagden on the verv next market day, in
Poole, after that gentleman, having collected his rents, left for
London. The poor victim, w h o zealously falling in at once with
market habits, d r o p p e d in at the Roebuckan inn patronised bv
the bulk of the farmers, to not one of w h o m he w a s personally
k n o w n h a d the pleasure of listening to a very enlightening
conversation, carried on in u n d e r t o n e by two or three of the
guests. O n e asked w h o it w a s that that c u n n i n g devil, Blagden,
had let Stape Hill Farm to? To which the reply was: "A Cockney
tailor, or something of the sort, w h o h a d got a few h u n d r e d s ,
w h i c h the avaricious old leech w o u l d soon suck him dry of. He
h a d taken h a n d s o m e hansel already, by making out that the
stock on the place w a s worth three h u n d r e d p o u n d s , a n d had
got the rhino, so at least Jem Somers saidthe covetous old
hawk's factotum, sly as his master, a n d a sweet n u t for the devil
to crack some day or other." "Three h u n d r e d p o u n d s ! " says
another; "the unconscionable, thieving skinflint. Why it w a s all
valleyed to Blagden by poor Ridge's creditors for as h u n d r e d
a n d forty pounds! a n d m o n e y e n o u g h too. Ah, well! the London
tailor must soon take to his goose again; t h o u g h he be goose
e n o u g h himself, for that matter. Well if folks will m e d d l e with
things they don't u n d e r s t a n d , they must pay their account with

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

being d o n e u n c o m m o n brown, especially if they come in old

Blagden's way."
This w a s something like the substance of the conversation,
as related to me about a twelvemonth after it occurred, by
Nicholas Price, one of the interlocutors; my business in Poole
being to ascertain if any ill-blood had existed by Gibson a n d
Blagden, h o w e n g e n d e r e d , a n d how hotinflamed. "Something t u r n e d the talk," Price said, "to other matters, a n d about
two h o u r s passedthe silent stranger, as he a n d others noticed,
drinking hot brandy-and-water as if it were so m u c h water
w h e n , all in a minute, u p the said stranger speaks, says he's the
Cockney tailor they had been talking about, a n d w a n t s to k n o w
if it w a s positive true that Blagden was such a swindling
blackguard as they m a d e out. 'If so,' said the excited stranger, 'I
a m a ruined man! My n a m e is Joseph Gibson. It is I w h o have
taken the Stape Hill Farm; a n d if w h a t you have said is true, may
G o d d o so to me and more also but I will have the villain's heart's
blood before m a n y m o n t h s have p a s s e d ! ' " G e n u i n e fury,
earnest passion always impresses, rebukes m e n for a time to
silence, a n d no one spoke in answer. Price and his c o m p a n i o n s
w e r e n o t desirous that their confidential chat with each other
should be m a d e a town-talk of. Everybody disliked Blagden, but
few w o u l d have chosen to make him their personal enemy.
" W h a t I w a n t to k n o w is," continued Gibson, w h o did not
a p p e a r to be exactly d r u n k , t h o u g h he had really tossed d o w n
his throat during those two h o u r s nine shilling glasses of
brandy-and-waterhis speech, his legs being steady, firm (the
devil of drink, as frequently h a p p e n s , was mastered by the far
mightier d e m o n of revengeful rage)"what I w a n t to know, a n d
will know, is, w h e t h e r or not the stock a n d growing crops at
Stape Hill Farm were valued to Blagden at one h u n d r e d a n d
forty p o u n d s ? " This fierce query w a s replied to by Mr. Philips, a
master-harness-maker at Poole, w h o had before s p o k e n u p o n
the subject. "That is Gospel-truth," said he. "I am o n e of Ridge's
creditors, u n d e r the assignment which he m a d e for the benefit
of all (though some haven't accepted it), a n d my n a m e is to the
receipt for the one h u n d r e d a n d forty p o u n d s paid by Blagden,
just three weeks agone, for the stock a n d crops u p o n t h e m acres

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of h u n g r y sand which he calls Stape Hill Farms. A precious

farm! It was plenty of money too. Let me advise the gentleman
from London," continued Mr. Phillips, in the very w o r d s he
u s e d , as well as his m e m o r y served him, "that if he have given
three h u n d r e d p o u n d s , as some say he have, for w h a t will not
bring in more than a h u n d r e d odd, to throw u p the place at
once, and let first loss be last loss. As for taking Blagden's heart's
blood, that is very wild, foolish talk."
At hearing that, Gibson d r o p p e d back into his chair without
speaking a word, motioned a person near a bell to ring it, signed
to the answering waiter for another glass of brandy-and-water,
a n d sat drinking till he fell, helplessly d r u n k , u p o n the floor, a n d
w a s carried to bed. It w a s late the next day w h e n he left the
Rocbuck, and he w a s never again seen in the house.
Gibson h a d never been addicted to drink; a n d in ordinary
circumstances, till of late years, w h e n misfortunes gathering
thickly about him cankered his temper as it b o w e d his form, as it
blanched his hairhad been a man of generally placid demeanour, t h o u g h capable, w h e n roused, of rushing into the
most violent extremes. This I ascertained from his former
neighbors in Islington. It must not be forgotten either, that he
had set his lifemcyre t h a n his o w n , his child's lifeupon the
desperate cast of success in the farming experiment. To play
falsely with such a m a n , in such a mood of m i n d , w a s playing
with fire.
Somers a n d his wife managed to pacify him for a time by
confident assertions that the land w a s very fair land, a n d the
stock, properly t e n d e d , w o u l d realize a profit u p o n the three
h u n d r e d p o u n d s . W h a t h e h a d heard at the Roebuck w a s m e r e
malicious gossip; n o t h i n g more. T h u s h e a r t e n e d , Gibson persevered; working, at such labor as he w a s fit for, like a slave. H e
h a d one prime source of consolation, w h i c h could be n o
deceptionCatherine's health improved w o n d e r f u l l y at Stape
Hill; a n d could h e b u t m a n a g e to make b o t h e n d s meet, h e
should be well content with his bargain.
That he soon f o u n d to be impossible. Wages, m a n u r e ,
horse-keep, his o w n domestic expensestrifling as w a s the last
itemquickly ate u p his ridiculously insufficient capital. Stock,

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S O F THE 7 NINETEENTH CENTURY

half-fattened, w a s sold at r u i n o u s prices; and two m o n t h s before

Michaelmas 1845, he, after looking carefully and boldly into the
state of his affairs, was fain to recognize the terrible fact, that h e
m u s t give u p the farm; a n d , with scarcely a sovereign in his
pocket, return to dingy, stifling London, with his n o w blooming
daughter; to seek there m e a n s of eking out miserable life, a n d
die there. Catherine soon as he, p e r h a p s sooner; The slightest
hint of leaving Stape Hill pales the newly blown roses on her
cheeks, o n e of the reasons w h y being that she, on most fine
evenings met "William d o w n at the stile," the said William being
the blithe-looking, well-respected son of a building carpenter
a n d timber-merchant, w h o s e place of business w a s less than a
mile distant from Stape Hill Farm.
This success induced Gibson to again go minutely over his
accounts, a n d the result this time was, that if Mr. Blagden could
be p e r s u a d e d to let the rentthe whole twelve m o n t h s ' rent
s t a n d over to the following year, he might r u b on, a n d
eventually by growing only root crops, pull t h r o u g h . But if the
retired attorney would insist u p o n being paid the fifty p o u n d s ,
the a m a t e u r agriculturist did not see h o w it would be possible to
get t h r o u g h the year whilst the crops were growing; hardly
then. Still, it might be barely possible to d o so.
O n the thirtieth of September 1845, Blagden, (arrived f r o m
L o n d o n o n the previous day) called at Stape Hill for the year's
rent. H e came in a one-horse gig, which, as he was in the habit
of doing, h e h a d hired at the Roebuck, Poole. It w a s growing
d u s k w h e n h e reached the place; he stayed about t w o h o u r s ,
a n d it w a s quite dark, except for a faint starlight, w h e n he left in
high d u d g e o n .
There h a d been a stormy scene b e t w e e n him a n d Joseph
Gibson, at which w e r e p r e s e n t Catherine Gibson a n d James
Somers, w h o h a d cleverly or cunningly, m a n a g e d to k e e p well
b o t h with t h e tenant a n d the proprietor.
Blagden flatly refused to wait o n e d a y longer for his rent.
The terrified tenant's beseeching remonstrances; the d a u g h t e r ' s
tears; even the pretty positive opinion of Somers that w e r e the
time asked for granted, Mr. Gibson might come r o u n d h a d
n o effect u p o n the retired lawyer. To e n d the matter, h e took

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his pocket-book, which being stuffed with Bank of England

notes, he ostentatiously spread open, selected a ready-drawn,
stamped receipt for fifty p o u n d s from a n u m b e r of others,
placed it u p o n the table, drew forth his watch, a n d said h e
would just wait half an h o u r for the money; if it w e r e not t h e n
forthcoming, he should leave, and on the m o r r o w an execution
for the a m o u n t a n d costs would be p u t in. Furious, m a d d e n e d
with rage a n d disappointment, Gibson leapt at his landlord, a n d
inflicted a severe blow u p o n his face, at the same time howling
forth threats of direst vengeance.
The m i d g u i d e d m a n w a s forcibly separated from Blagden
by his daughter a n d James Somers. The landlord (Catherine
afterward told me) remained quite cool; a n d but for the quiver of
his ashen lips, the calm, deadly ferocity which gleamed in his
gray eyes, any o n e might have believed that t h e assault w a s a
trifling matter, of n o importance whatever.
There was a slight lull after the storm a n d Catherine, taking
advantage of it, said:"I will go a n d ask Mr. Finch to advance
my father forty p o u n d s u p o n the piece of carrots h e has bought.
They will be digged next week. We have quite ten p o u n d s in the
house, a n d shall t h e n be able to pay the rent in full."
"You have just twenty minutes, Miss Gibson," said the
inperturbable lawyer. "Just twenty minutesnot one more or
less. The cowardly assault committed u p o n m e , " h e a d d e d , with
a flash of hell-fire at his tenants, "a court of law shall p r o n o u n c e
u p o n ! Somers, see the horse is p u t into the t r a p . "
Somers said that should be done, a n d left the room to d o it.
Miss Gibson left at the same time. She w a s gone b u t a quarter of
an hour. Mr. Finch w a s out, and Mrs. Finch said he never paid
m o n e y till he w a s in possession of the goods purchased. Mr.
Blagden took no a p p a r e n t notice of w h a t Catherine Gibson said,
waited till the half-hour w a s exactly expired, took u p his watch,
w r a p p e d his long fur-collar about him, a n d left.
Soon after it w a s light the next morning, t w o sailors on their
w a y to join a vessel in the harbor of Poole came u p o n the d e a d
body of Mr. Blagden, lying across the n a r r o w b u t high road. A
little distance off w a s the horse a n d gig; the animal, one of its
forelegs broken, w a s suffering grea. torture; a n d both shafts of

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 NINETEENTH CENTURY

the gig were broken. Immediate alarm was given, a n d before

long a n u m b e r of people came up, by w h o m it w a s at first
s u p p o s e d that Mr. Blagden had met his death by accident. The
horse, a high-spirited animal, had p e r h a p s bolted, a n d the gig
coming in contact with one of the trees, which dotted each side
of the road, h a d been turned over with great violence, a n d Mr.
Blagden, hurled u p o n the hard road, had probably been killed
instantaneously. A very cursory examination sufficed to s h o w
the fallacy of that surmise. There was a deep w o u n d in the back
of the dead man's neckapparently delivered by a s h a r p axe,
which h a d cut through the s t a n d - u p collar of t h e cloak he wore.
N o question that he had been struck from behind. Robbery had
been a d d e d to murder; the deceased gentleman's pocket-book,
purse, a n d gold watch were gone. There was another w o u n d in
the crown scalp, sufficient in itself to cause death, a n d which
m u s t have been inflicted w h e n the head was bare, as there was
not the slightest cut visible in the texture of the hat, which w a s
f o u n d some yards off. The murdered man's clenched h a n d s
were filled with the gravel of the road, grasped no d o u b t in his
agony, a n d suggestive that he must have been either forced
u p o n the g r o u n d or kneeling w h e n the mortal blow w a s dealt.
But h o w had the gig been s t o p p e d t h e horse flung d o w n , a n d
reduced to so pitiable state? A question that not very readily
a n s w e r e d . Two or three days subsequently a clothesline, almost
new, one e n d of which had been recently cut, was f o u n d by a
w o m a n , buried u n d e r the h e d g e of a cottage, situated b e t w e e n
the spot w h e r e the m u r d e r w a s committed and Stape Hill Farm.
O n e of the woman's hens, in scratching u n d e r the hedge, h a d
b r o u g h t it to the surface. The circumstance w a s spoken of, b u t
no importance was attached to it. The m u r d e r e d m a n h a d not
been strangled. The buried cord could not therefore have been
the instrument or one of the instruments, of death! Still, it w a s
odd that the full half of a long, n e w clothesline should have
been carefully buried near the scene of the awful crime!
N o sooner was the murder, a n d the circumstances connected with it, k n o w n at Poole, than every finger pointed to
Joseph Gibson, the tenant of the Stape Hill Farm, as the
murderer. His savage threat at the Roebuck was r e m e m b e r e d ;

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a n d it was k n o w n to several persons that his sole chance,

admitted to be so by himself, was that Blagden should let the
year's rent then d u e stand over till the following Michaelmas!
O n e person, of the n a m e of Frost, w h o had d o n e some smith's
work for Gibson, having told him he was trusting to a brokenreed in relying u p o n lawyer Blagden's generosity, received for
reply, that "Blagden would be very unwise to provoke him too
far!" This expression w a s held to indicate a settled determination in Gibson's m i n d io kill his landlord, should the required
favor be refused. A skilled detective would have d r a w n an
inference just the reverse of that. No man, unless he be delirious
with drink or rage, hints of his intention, u n d e r certain
contingencies, to commit murder!
Joseph Gibson, u n p r o v i d e d with professional aid, was
taken before the coroner's inquest, and the cumulative evidence
brought against him was certainly staggering. The scene at
Stape Hill, already giventhe assault by Gibson u p o n the
attorney, and his ferocious menacesBlagden's threat to distrain early in the next daythe vain attempt by Catherine
Gibson to borrow m o n e y of Mr. Finch to make u p the rent
were capped by the discovery, in Gibson's bureau in his
bedroom, Stape Hill, by the Poole police, of the genuine
stamped receipt for the money, which Blagden had placed
tauntingly u p o n the table, and taken away with him. Unceremonious verdict of wilful m u r d e r against Joseph Gibson, w h o
was forthwith committed on the coroner's warrant to Dorchester
jail!
This narrative I heard from the daughter, with exception of
the conversation at the Roebuck, of which she herself h a d heard
but a vague, indistinct report from her father.
It has been stated that Mr. Joseph Gibson was a n d had been
long separated from his wife, a person of remarkable personal
attractions. Neither her maiden n a m e nor that which she has
since the separation passed under need be printed in these
pages. It is sufficient to say she was an o r p h a n girl a n d a
milliner's assistant w h e n Gibson foolishly fell in love with a n d
married her. As often h a p p e n s in such cases, the disappointment was mutual. Gibson at the time had quite a splendid shop,

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 NINETEENTH CENTURY

was in the first flush of a year's promising business, kept two

servants; which items s u m m e d u p meant, of course, nothing to
do, a well-furnished table, silk and satin dresses, cabs to
theatres, &c. In short, the life of a ladyship, minus only the title.
A n d the bridegroom, no doubt, expected to be imparadised in
the smiles and e n d e a r m e n t s of the entrancing milliner's assistant to the full end and term of his natural life. Well, the
business did not answer so well as might have been reasonably
expectedone servant was first lopped off, omnibus m u s t serve
for a cab, with the rest of such disagreeable declines in life. The
h u s b a n d (time and familiarity are such disenchanters) discovered that his wife was not quite the angel he had s u p p o s e d ,
a n d a n d the young lady w a s frail. A separation took place, and
the guilty wife had since continued to live in splendid sin.
Twenty years ago only a rich man could obtain a divorcethe
matrimonial chain yielded only to a golden fileand Mr. and
Mrs. Gibson were still of course, in legal parlance, man and
wife. The w o m a n , however, was not all bad; few areneither
m a n nor w o m a n , none that I have known; and having read the
report, copied into the London papers from the Poole HeraB, of
the proceedings at the inquest of Blagden's death, she forw a r d e d to her daughter Catherine, a draft, in a feigned name,
for o n e h u n d r e d p o u n d s ; a n d at the same time, so influenced
n o t directly, of courseinfluential persons, that I w a s comm a n d e d to proceed to Poole and Stape Hill, a n d minutely
investigate the case. A letter from "the friend" w h o had
f o r w a r d e d the one h u n d r e d p o u n d draft, addressed to Miss
Gibson, preceded me; a n d I was welcomed with tears of
trembling hope. I think that Catherine guessed that " t h e friend"
w a s her fallen mother; but she hinted nothing of the kind, and
indeed it w a s not till all w a s over that I myself h a d any notion
a matter after all of s u p r e m e indifferenceas to w h o pulled the
strings by which I w a s set in motion.
It w a s a very, very ugly affair. Before going into the business
with Miss Gibson, I, in accordance with invariable tactics, m a d e
myself thoroughly acquainted with the case against usin this
instance the case for the Crown. A sight of your adversary's
cards is a good step towards winning the game. The sight,

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however, of the formidable cards held by the C r o w n in "Regina

v. Gibson" did not at all reassure me.
The Poole police h a d not only deposed that the 'prisoner,
w h e n surprised in his bed on the morning of the murder, so late
as eleven o'clockhe that usually rose by six at latest
exclaimed w h e n he saw the officers, w h o h a d not spoken a
syllable respecting the m u r d e r of Blagden, not even mentioned
that gentleman's n a m e , opening his bureau, he cried out, "Ah!
it's all over with me. I shall be hanged, I s u p p o s e , for that devil
Blagden. Take me a w a y at once." After that betraying avowal,
he assumed the mask of s u d d e n silence-not speaking another
w o r d except w h e n , as they were going along the road with him,
in a chaise cart, t o w a r d s Poole, one of them, w h e n passing or
nearing the spot w h e r e the crime had been committed, said, "I
can't but think Blagden fought hard for his life, whoever
murdered him."
"Whoever m u r d e r e d Blagden!" exclaimed Gibson with a
fearful start, " w h a t are you talking of? Robbed him perhaps?"
" M u r d e r e d a n d robbed h i m , " said the officer; "but, mind, no
one asks you to let out about it." At hearing which, t h e prisoner
gave a loud cry, a n d fainted or pretened to faint away.
Since then he h a d not said a word u p o n the subject; the
attorney w h o appeared for him w h e n he was examined before
the magistrates having "reserved his client's defence." Since
then there h a d been f o u n d at Stape Hill, in an outhouse, a sharp
billhook, the blade a n d handle of which were stained with
blood. It w a s such a n instrument as might, the surgeon w h o h a d
examined the body d e p o s e d , have inflicted the w o u n d which
deprived the deceased Blagden of life; a n d thrust away amongst
old rags and other lumber, in a place which Miss Gibson
admitted her father could only have access to, w a s an old apron,
just such a one as the prisoner sometimes wore, covered with
bloodstains. These evidencesdumb, yet e n d o w e d with miraculous voicehad been carefully sealed u p , a n d remained in
possession of the local police. Catherine Gibson e n d e a v o u r e d to
account for the blood u p o n the finely s h a r p e n e d billhook, by
saying that her father h a d a few days before the death of Mr.
Blagden chopped off the head of a gander, which bled very

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

much. Gibson did not however, she admitted, wear the bloody
a p r o n u p o n that occasion. N o n e of the money belonging to Mr.
Blagden, neither notes nor coinhe had a small canvass bag
full, or nearly so, of sovereignshad been f o u n d , nor h a d the
gold watch. It had, no doubt, been cunningly concealed; but he
(the officer with w h o m I was conversing) had little d o u b t that
with patience and perseverence they should discover the hiding
hole.
"Does it not strike you as somewhat remarkable," said I,
"that Gibson did not also cunningly conceal the stamped
receipt, the most d a m n i n g piece of evidence against him? It
might be legally impossible to prove that the notes a n d gold,
even the watch, belonged to Mr. Blagden; might be I say
t h o u g h that, as regards the watch, is a violent supposition. But
the receipt, about which there can be no mistakethe m a n must
have lost his head not to have concealed or destroyed that."
"He, no doubt, intended to produce it in bar of the claim for
rent which would be m a d e by the deceased's representatives!"
"Although Somers could prove that he h a d not paid the
rent, a n d Mrs. Finch that she had refused to Catherine Gibson
the m e a n s of doing so? Q u e e r to my mind that. Still the easily
discoverable possession of the receipt is, however looked at,
unaccountable. It can only be explained by the axiom that w h o m
God determines to destroy he first deprives of reason. Did I
u n d e r s t a n d you to say that the prisoner had been fully committed for trial by the magistrates as well as by the coroner?"
"Yes; fully committed in reality, not formally. The magistrates, having no d o u b t w h a t e v e r of the prisoner's guilt,
declared their intention of fully committing him for wilful
m u r d e r ; but he will be again brought before t h e m the day after
to-morrow, for the completion of the depositions. At present he
remains in Poole Jail."
"The day after tomorrow! O h , by-the-bye, is the clothesline,
or half of a clothesline, scratched out by a hen from u n d e r a
hedge, handy?"
"Yes, it is here. I will show it you. But I really do not see
w h a t possible connection that can have with the murder."
"I do not say it has; still I should like to see it."

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It w a s s h o w n me.
" H u m p h ! A n e w lineone of the best make. A n e w line
spoiled to no p u r p o s e . This piece is not above six yards long;
sharply severed, too; and there is a slip-noose at one end!"
"True enough; but w h a t use could have been m a d e >f it in
effecting the m u r d e r ? "
"Well, a very efficient use; but w e will speak of that
hereafter. Keep it safe if you please. The h e d g e w h e r e it w a s
scratched u p w a s not road gravel, I suppose; a n d there are m a n y
particles of road gravel, sticking to this line, or I am mistaken.
Have you leisure to go with me to the. scene of tl ie m u r d e r :
"Yes," replied the officer, "I will go with much pleasure."
The notion which h a d struck me about the clothesline w a s
derived from a former police experience near Hereford. H o w the
horse had been t h r o w n d o w n with such violence as to break one
of its legsa singularly sure-footed animal toohad puzzled
the natives. Now, it had come out in the Hereford business
which e n d e d in nothing, the person robbed having refused to
prosecutethat the robbers had, in that case, t h r o w n the
gentleman's horse (he also drove a gig) d o w n by a very simple
expedient. A line w a s d r o p p e d in the dark across the road,
attached by a r u n n i n g noose at one end to the s t u m p of a tree, at
about two feet from the ground, which s u d d e n l y tightened as
the horse came swiftly up, would bring d o w n the surest-footed
beast in the world, with terrible violence. The same tricK might
have been played u p o n this occasion. I w a s pretty sure it had
been; and the other portion of the clothes-line might suffice to
hang whoever could be proved to have had it in his possession
on the night oi the murder.
The place w h e r e the horse must have fallen was just the
spot where such a device might be resorted to with success. The
road was narrow, level; the horse would be going at its swiftest
pace; a n d there w a s an oak-sapling on one side, round which
the running noose could be slipped, and fixed at anv height.
O n e man, having the other end in his hand, and seizing the exact
moment for raising it, could throw anv swift horse d o w n . Yes;
but to do so was scarcely to be expected of a Cocknev oil and
colormanone too prematurely feeble, aged. No, no; if thaf

64

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

trick h a d been played, it w a s by some one w h o s e eyes could see

in the dark as well as by daylight; one possessed of nerve,
quickness, decision, which would bring d o w n a partridge before
it h a d fluttered its wings thrice.
"Clever poachers about here?" I carelessly remarked,
speaking to my brother officer.
"I should think so. Rum fellows to meet with of a dark night
too!"
"Mr. Gibson, the prisoner, can hardly be one of that sort, I
should think?"
"God bless you! No. I should hardly think he k n o w s a snipe
f r o m a partridge, except w h e n they are cooked; nor h o w to so
m u c h as load a g u n . "
"Have you any first-rate moonlight fellows about here?"
"Yes; but the cleverest, by a long chalk, is gone out of that
lineJem Somers, as live at Stape Hill. He used to be an outand-outer. He's not exactly such a bad sort," continued the
officer, "as everybody, or almost everybody (Mr. Blagden liked
him very much) says h e is. He's very sorry, seems almost heartbroken about this horrible affairMr. Gibson a n d his d a u g h t e r
having been, he says, so very kind to him. He thinks, if he can't
get a tolerable situation, which he can hardly expect n o w Mr.
Blagden is dead, of going to America."
"America! Well, he'll have plenty of sport there. I suppose
such a tender-hearted gentleman would be most grieved for the
fate of his oldest friend Mr. Blagden."
"No, really, no. He is most distressed about Gibson and his
daughter. Tears come into his eyes every time he speaks about
t h e m . Why," continued the greenly guileless officer, " W h y to get
out of him, before the coroner and magistrates, about what
passed at Stape Hill between Gibson and Blagden, w h e n there
w a s such a row because Gibson could not pay his rent was like
pulling the very teeth out of his head."
"But it came out, as the teeth would, at last. He's a 'cute
chap, too, I am pretty sure, as well as soft-hearted?"
" 'Cute, I should think so! Catch a weasel asleep, and you
may chance to drop u p o n Jim Somers w h e n he's got one eye
shut."

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"He lives, you say, in the same house with the Gibsons?"
"Yes; but not exactly. They have a place to themselves that
joins on like to the farmhouse, but yet separated from it."
"I u n d e r s t a n d . They have their castle. Every Englishman
the humblestlikes that, if the castle is a w o o d e n one, the roof
thatched with furze. Their o w n poultry, pig 4 a n d washing yard
also, I s u p p o s e ? "
"Yes; quite distinct from the f a r m h o u s e . Jim's wife s h o w e d
me over it the other day."
I was pleased at that; for it had occurred to me that I should
like to see Jim Somers' last new clothesline or what remained of it.
I had a long conference with Catherine Gibson; but it w a s
far from a heartening one. When she h a d done, I said:
"There is one circumstance I should be glad to hear from
your o w n lips, if you choose to honor me with your confidence.
I mean, of course, if you can throw any light u p o n the seeming
mystery. It is this: h o w came the receipt for the rent d u e (fifty
p o u n d s ) in your father's possession!"
The y o u n g w o m a n ' s face flushedthe flush, I was sure, of
shame. She cast d o w n her eyes, and remained silent.
"If I am to be of any service, I m u s t k n o w all," said I, gently,
but firmly.
"I u n d e r s t a n d that," said Catherine Gibson, not uplifting
her eyes. "I will tell you. Mr. Blagden, in his h u r r y a n d passion,
did not observe that it had d r o p p e d on the floor; a n d left,
supposing, no d o u b t , that he had replaced it in his pocket-book.
After he w a s some time gone, my father saw the piece of paper,
picked it up, a n d a n d "
"Appropriated it, you m e a n to say; or h a d some indistinct
notiona very foolish notionthat it might be a bar to the
execution to be p u t in on the morrow. A n d w h e n the police
called on the morrow, the still wilder notion arose in his mind,
that an intention, if he had really intended such a crime, of
stealing the receipt, w a s equivalent, u n d e r the circumstances, of
having really d o n e so. Absurd! but I can readily u n d e r s t a n d
such a feeling. Your father, perhaps, drank more than usual that
night, after Mr. Biagden's departure?"

66

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

"Oh! more, much mor. . My father is a very abstemious

man."
"So I have been told. The receipt stumbling block, as far as I
am concerned, is removed. The man Somers a n d his wife are, I
am told, very kind a n d serviceable to you in this sad crisis?"
"Very kind and attentive; more so than ever they were."
"I should much like to see Somers. Perhaps I could glean
something from him or his wife which, though d e e m e d unimportant by you and them, might in my eyes be of significance. Is
he within?"
"His wife is not, but he isin the next building which
adjoins this. Shall I say w h o you are?"
" N o t that I am a detective-officer, if you please. It would
not, perhaps, so much matter that Somers should k n o w my
vocation; but if I am to serve your father, I m u s t work, like a
mole, in the dark. Say simply, and which is the truth, that I am a
friend from London, anxious to assist your father in his, I trust,
passing trouble."
"I will do so. He will be here in three m i n u t e s . "
" N o t of the least use, James Somers, to fence with me with
that smoothly loose tongue of yours; to look modestly, sorrowfully u p o n the fltor with those catlike eyes. I know you, and that
you are the murderer of Mr. Blagden!
"A m o m e n t after Miss Gibson passed out at the front, I left
by the back door, making a trivial excuse to the servant, and
saying I would return in a m o m e n t . You came out of your house
with Miss Gibson, and I took the liberty of walking in. H a d I
been seen by either of vou, it would have been easy to say that I
w e n t to tell you I would prefer seeing you and Mrs. Somers (she
not being then in the way) on the morrow. Neither of vou did
see me. But I saw in a large table drawer, which I took the liberty
of inspecting, the longest half of a clothesline, sharply cut, of the
n e w n e s s , color, and, I think, rather peculiar twist of that f o u n d
u n d e r the hedge. It's not likely you'll miss it before it has
a n s w e r e d the present p u r p o s e I shall put it to; a n d if you do, the
last thought that will enter the cunningbut, as I can see plainly
e n o u g h through the flat-crowned, animally s h a p e d skull
uneasy, palpitating brain of yours, that it is n o w in the coat-

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pocket of a L o n d o n detective officer. T h o u g h of itself hardly

strong e n o u g h to make a halter for that bull-neck of yours, it will
p e r h a p s enable m e to find something that will. Oh! you have
nothing more to say, except to repeat h o w "mortal sorry" you be
for the young missus, and for Mr. Gibson too! I have n o doubt,
Somers, you are a feeling man, a n d especially just n o w you
must feel very strongly. I am sure you do. I have nothing more
to ask. Miss Gibson is positive that her father is innocent, a n d
w e must trust to Providence to m a k e the truth manifest.
' n m o r r o w I may, or may not, call to see your wife. Good day,
Miss Gibson. I have promised to dine with an acquaintance in
Poole, and m u s t be gone."
The e n d of the clothesline which I h a d b r o u g h t away from
Somers' place precisely matched with that in possession of the
Poole police; colour, size, twist were identical, a n d both pieces
m a d e u p in length that of an ordinary clothesline. If the county
magistrateto w h o m the officer I had previously spoken with,
w h o s e n a m e I forget, volunteered to introduce mehad any
brains in his head, he would, in a case involving such issues,
grant a warrant to search Somers' premises. The magistrate
fortunately had brains in his head. I m e n t i o n e d the Hereford
affair, showed him the sundered clothes cord, a n d declared my
willingness to m a k e oath that I had sufficient grounds for
suspecting James Somers of having m u r d e r e d and robbed Mr.
Arthur Blagden, to justify the issuing of a search warrant. I h a d
brought written testimony as to my detective acumen, signed
"Richard Mayne;" a n d it is probable that that as much, if not
more than the evidence of the clothesline, decided him to grant
the warrant, which w a s placed at once in the h a n d s of the police
officer, w h o s e n a m e I have forgotten, a n d off we both set
without delay for Stape Hill.
Somers a n d his wife were greatly scared by our visit,, the
m a n especially so, u p o n finding that Miss Gibson's friend w a s a
London detective.
O u r search w a s ineffectual, so far as that no property of the
m u r d e r e d man could be found; neither notes, gold, or watch;
but a very sharply g r o u n d hand-axe, p u t away in a cornercupboard, attracted m y attention. "This is your h u i ^ a r d ' s axe?"

68

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

" O yes; our axe!" I examined it minutely. First with the naked
eye, t h e n with a s t r o n g magnifier, which I w a s seldom or never
without. The axe h a d been w a s h e d , not so very long ago; a n d ,
t h o u g h nothing w a s visible to the naked eye, my magnifier
discovered u p o n the blade, not only spots of red rust, which
might not be stains of blood, but a n u m b e r of w h a t looked to be
m i n u t e fibres of fur sticking to the stains. O n removing the
w o o d e n handle, w e saw distinct marks of blood, which I
concluded h a d been w a s h e d , as it were, into the socket. The
m a n saw those marks, a n d turning cadaverously white, exclaimed that he h a d killed a snared rabbit with it not long before.
"A rabbit?"
"Yes, a snared rabbit."
"You have killed n o t h i n g else with it?"
" O h no!"
"You h a d better take this axe with you, at all e v e n t s , " said I
to the local officer. "It may be of n o consequence; still you h a d
better take possession of the i n s t r u m e n t . "
O n c e w h e n I attended a lecture by a celebrated m a n , he had
stated that every animal h a d in its blood globules differing in
size f r o m those of any other kind. This k n o w l e d g e h a d been
arrived at by very slow steps. There w a s no doubt, however, of
its scientific accuracy, or that with the aid of a p o w e r f u l
microscope a professional m a n of skill a n d experience could
decide, without chance of committing a mistake, from the
slightest stain w h e t h e r the blood, if blood, had flowed in the
veins of a h u m a n being or other animal. It w a s the same with
m i n u t e fibres of fur, hair, &c. This h e h a d said w a s a most
valuable discovery, a n d he instanced the fact that in France an
innocent m a n might have been convicted of m u r d e r owing to a
knife having been f o u n d in his possession stained with w h a t
h a d every appearance of blood, which stain examined by a
skilled gentleman t h r o u g h the miscroscope w a s proved to be
lime juice.
The lecture had m a d e a great impression on m e at that time,
a n d it occurred to me that here was a case in which such a
discovery, such a power, w o u l d prove invaluable. The fur cloak
collar of the m u r d e r e d m a n , it will be remembered, h a d been cut

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through; the skull h a d also been split by the assassin. Were

those minute fibres of fur sticking on the blade of the axe, fibres
of rabbit fur, or of that, whatever it might be, of which the cloak
collar was made? a n d were there any, the slightest shreds of
h u m a n hair mingled with those particles of fur? Then as to the
blood u p o n Gibson's billhook, and u p o n the old rag of an apron;
w a s that h u m a n blood?
In the scientific replies to these questions lay the issues of
life and death as regarded the prisoner Gibson; a n d as, although
not knowing who "the friend" was that sent Miss Gibson the one
h u n d r e d p o u n d draft, I k n e w h o w to communicate with him or
her, I determined to d o so without delay, a n d I started in a gig
for Dorchester ten m i n u t e s after I had so determined, there not
being a m o m e n t to sparereached L o n d o n by train, a n d with
the potent agency of "A Friend's" purse, engaged the services of
the most eminent professor of that especial branch of anatomical
science in the metropolis, with w h o m I returned to Poole.
The court w a s crowded on the day w h e n it h a d been
expected that Joseph Gibson would be finally committed for
triala r u m o r h a v i n g got afloat, that owing to the Dectective
that h a d been sent d o w n from London, strange discoveries h a d
been made. Poor Gibson looked more like a ghost than a m a n .
H e believed himself to be the d o o m e d victim of a relentless
fatethat nothing, no accident couldthat God would not
reveal the truth.
The billhook, the apron, the axe were placed u p o n the
table, and Professor Ansted (by w h o m they h a d been carefully
examined) gave his evidence: it w a s clear, decisive. The blood
u p o n the billhook w a s not h u m a n blood; of that he said ^here
could be no possible doubt. The stains u p o n the apron were red
paint, containing peroxide or iron. (Gibson, w h e n oil a n d
colorman, no d o u b t had to grind his o w n paints, and w h e n so
occupied used the apron.) The stains u p o n the axe, f o u n d in the
house of Somers, w e r e h u m a n blood (there w e r e h u m a n hairs
sticking on them); a n d the particles of fur were not rabbit but
squirrel fur the fur of which the m u r d e r e d man's cloak collar w a s
made!
Seldom has evidencealmost supernatural it seemed to the

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 NINETEENTH CENTURY

a s t o u n d e d audienceproduced a deeper impression than did

Professor Ansted's. The finger of God appeared to be visible in
it! "William/' w h o had proved himself a true lover t h r o u g h out,
burst into tears, as he pressed forward and shook the prisoner,
a n d his daughter, standing close to her father, warmly by the
hands.
The magistrates, w h o appeared to be s o m e w h a t mystified,
bewildered, retired to consult with each other. Returning into
court, the chairman a n n o u n c e d , that relying u p o n the evidence
of so distinguished a gentleman as Professor Ansted, a warrant
for the a p p r e h e n s i o n of James Somers would be immediately
issued; b u t that for the present it w a s not t h o u g h t p r u d e n t to
discharge the prisoner Joseph Gibson. The case would be
a d j o u r n e d for three days.
The magistrates were saved any further trouble in the
matter by the murderer himself. An acquaintance in court,
specially employed for that p u r p o s e , had ridden off to Stape Hill
directly the decision of the magistrates were declared; w h o , of
course, apprised Somers that a warrant was out against him for
wilful murder, and that the officers would be there almost
immediately to arrest him. The despairing felon heard the n e w s
with a savage growl, and a m o m e n t or so afterwards desired to
be left alone.
The door of the room, in which his wife (weeping, sobbing,
wringing her h a n d s the while) said w e should find him, w a s
fastened on the inside. We burst it open; a n d a shocking
spectacle presented itself. Somers w a s lying dead on the floor, in
a pool of blood, selfmurdered; he had cut his throat with a razor.
O n a small table w e f o u n d a scrap of writing in his h a n d : "It w a s
I, not Gibson, that killed Blagden. I had owed him a bitter
g r u d g e a long time, t h o u g h he didn't think it. D - n him, he
ruined me b o d y and soul w h e n he sold me u p eight years ago.
What I wish particularly to say is, that my wife is as innocent as
a babe in the business. She don't even know w h e r e the m o n e y
and watch is, or that I have such things. They are h i d d e n away
in a box u n d e r the flagstones of one of my pig-styesthe right
h a n d one going out. That is all I have to say. I t h o u g h t of going
to America; a n d now I'm going to
, if there is such a place,

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which I don't believe. The Peeler was right a b o u t the clothes

line; that w a s just h o w it was done.
J. S."
The money, watch, &c., we f o u n d as indicated. All d o u b t
respecting the tferrible business being at the e n d , Joseph Gibson
was forthwith discharged from prison. His case excited m u c h
sympathy. The executors of Arthur Blagden allowed him to
throw u p his farm, forgiving him the arrears of rent; a n d he,
with the help, I believe anonymously conveyed t h r o u g h the
d a u g h t e r of "A Friend," took a smaller a n d culturable one not
very far off from Stape Hill; and has since, I h a v e been told,
prospered tolerably. His daughter, I saw by the local paper
which some of t h e m sent me now a n d then, married "William."

1883

The Three Strangers

T H O M A S HARDY

A m o n g the few features of agricultural England which

retain an appearance b u t little modified by the lapse of centuries, may be reckoned the high, grassy a n d furzy d o w n s ,
coombs, or ewe-leases, as they are indifferently called, that fill a
large area of certain counties in the south and southwest. If any
mark of h u m a n occupation is met with hereon, it usually takes
the form of the solitary cottage of some s h e p h e r d .
Fifty years ago such a lonely cottage stood on such a d o w n ,
a n d may possibly be standing there now. In spite of its
loneliness, however, the spot, by actual m e a s u r e m e n t , w a s not
more than five miles from a county town. Yet that affected it
little. Five miles of irregular upland, during the long inimical
seasons, with their sleets, snows, rains, a n d mists, afford
w i t h d r a w i n g space e n o u g h to isolate a Timon or a Nebuchadnezzar; m u c h less, in fair weather, to please that less repellent
tribe, the poets, philosophers, artists, and others w h o "conceive
a n d meditate of pleasant things."
Some old earthen c a m p or barrow, some clump of trees, at
least some starved fragment of ancient hedge is usually taken
advantage of in the erection of these forlorn dwellings. But, in
the present case, such a kind of shelter had been disregarded.
Higher Crowstairs, as the house was called, stood quite detached and u n d e f e n d e d . The only reason for its precise situation
seemed to be the crossing of two footpaths at right angles hard
by, which may have crossed there and t h u s for a good five
h u n d r e d years. Hence the house was exposed to the elements
on all sides. But, though the wind up here blew unmistakably
72

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73

w h e n it did blow, and the rain hit hard w h e n e v e r it fell, the

various weathers of the winter season were not quite so
formidable on the coomb as they were imagined to be by
dwellers on low g r o u n d . The raw rimes were not so pernicious
as in the hollows, w h o tenanted the house were pitied for their
sufferings from the exposure, they said that u p o n the whole
they were less inconvenienced by " w u z z e s a n d flames" (hoarses
a n d phlegms) than w h e n they had lived by the stream of a s n u g
neighboring valley.
The night of March 28, 182-, was precisely one of the nights
that were wont to call forth these expressions of commiseration.
The level rainstorm smote walls, slopes, a n d hedges like the
clothyard shafts of Senlac and Crecy. Such s h e e p a n d outdoor
animals as had n o shelter stood with their buttocks to the winds;
while the tails of little birds trying to roost on some scraggy
thorn were blown inside-out like umbrellas. The gable-end of
the cottage w a s stained with wet, a n d the eavesdroppings
flapped against the wall. Yet never w a s commiseration for the
shepherd more misplaced. For that cheerful rustic was entertaining a large party in glorification of the christening of his
second girl.
The guests h a d arrived before the rain began to fall, a n d
they were all n o w assembled in the chief or living room of the
dwelling. A glance into the apartment at eight o'clock o n this
evening would have resulted in the opinion that it was as cozy
a n d comfortable a nook as could be wished for in boisterous
weather. The calling of its inhabitant w a s proclaimed by a
n u m b e r of highly-polished sheep-crooks w i t h o u t stems that
were h u n g ornamentally over the fireplace, the curl of each
shining crook varying from the antiquated type engraved in the
patriarchal pictures of old family Bibles to the most a p p r o v e d
fashion of the last local sheep-fair. The room w a s lighted by halfa-dozen candles, having wicks only a trifle smaller than the
grease which enveloped them, in candlesticks that were never
u s e d but at high-days, holy-days, a n d family feasts. The lights
were scattered about the room, two of t h e m standing on the
chimney-piece. This position of candles w a s in itself magnificent. Candles on the chimney-piece always m e a n t a party.

74

THE 7 BE S I C R I M E

STORIE.S O F THE7 N I N E T E E N T H

CENTURY

O n the hearth, in front of a back-brand to give substance,

blazed a fire of thorns, that crackled "like the laughter of the
fool."
Nineteen persons were gathered there. Of these, five
w o m e n , wearing g o w n s of various bright hues, sat in chairs
along the wall; girls shy a n d not shy filled the window-bench;
four m e n , including Charley lake the> hedge-carpenter, Elijah
N e w the parish-clerk, a n d John Pitcher, a neighboring dairym a n , t h e shepherd's father-in-law, lolled in the settle; a y o u n g
m a n a n d maid, w h o were blushing over tentative pourparlers on
a life-companionship, sat beneath the corner-cupboard; and an
elderly engaged man of fifty or u p w a r d moved restlessly about
from spots where his betrothed was not to the spot w h e r e she
was. Enjoyment w a s pretty general, and so m u c h the more
prevailed in being u n h a m p e r e d by conventional restrictions.
Absolute confidence in each other's good opinion begat perfect
ease, while the finishing stroke of manner, a m o u n t i n g to a truly
princely serenity, w a s lent to the majority bv the absence of any
expression or trait d e n o t i n g that they wished to get on in the
world, enlarge their minds, or do any eclipsing thing whateverwhich n o w a d a y s so generally nips the bloom a n d bonhomie of all except the two extremes of the social scale.
S h e p h e r d Fennel h a d married well, his wife being a
dairyman's daughter from a vale at a distance, w h o b r o u g h t fifty
guineas in her pocketand kept them there, till they should be
required for ministering to the needs of a coming family. This
frugal w o m a n had been s o m e w h a t exercised as to the character
that should be given to the gathering. A sit-still party had its
advantages; but an u n d i s t u r b e d position of ease in chairs and
settles w a s apt to lead on the m e n to such an unconscionable
deal of toping that thev would sometimes fairly drink the house
dry. A dancing-party w a s the alternative; b u t this, while
avoiding the foregoing objection on the score of good drink, had
a counterbalancing disadvantage in the matter of good victuals,
the r a v e n o u s appetites e n g e n d e r e d by the exercise causing
i m m e n s e havoc in the buttery. Shepherdess Fennel fell back
u p o n the intermediate plan of mingling short dances with short
periods of talk a n d singing, so as to hinder any ungovernable

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rage in either. But this scheme v <is entirely confined to her o w n

gentle mind: the s h e p h e r d himself was in the mood to exhibit
the most reckless phases of hoe-pitality.
The fiddler w a s a boy of those parts, about twelve years of
age, w h o h a d a w o n d e r f u l dexterity in jigs a n d reels, though his
fingers were so small and short as to necessitate a constant
shifting for the high notes, from which he scrambled back to the
first position with s o u n d s not of unmixed purity of tone. At
seven the shrill tweedle-dee of this youngster had begun,
accompanied by a booming ground-bass from Elijah New, the
parish-clerk, w h o h a d thoughtfully b r o u g h t with him his
favorite musical instrument, the serpent. Dancing was instantaneous, Mrs. Fennel privately enjoining the players on n o
account to let the dance exceed the length of a quarter of an
hour.
But Elijah a n d the boy, in the excitement of their position,
quite forgot the injunction. Moreover, Oliver Giles, a man of
seventeen, one of the dancers, w h o w a s e n a m o i e d of his
partner, a fair girl of thirty-three rolling years, had recklessly
h a n d e d a n e w crown-piece to the musicians, as a bribe to keep
going as long as they had muscle a n d wind. Mrs. Fennel, seeing
the steam begin to generate on the countenances of her guests,
crossed over and touched the fiddler's elbow a n d put her h a n d
on the serpent's m o u t h . But they took n o notice, a n d fearing she
might lose her character of genial hostess if she were to interfere
too markedly, she retired and sat d o w n helpless. And so the
dance whizzed on with cumulative fury, the performers moving
in their planet-like courses, direct and retrograde, from apogee
to perigee, till the h a n d of the well-kicked clock at the bottom of
the room had travelled over the circumference of an hour.
While these cheerful events were in course of enactment
within Fennel's pastoral dwelling, an incident having considerable bearing on the party had occurred in the gloomy night
without. Mrs. Fennel's concern about the growing fierceness of
the dance corresponded in point of time with the ascent of a
h u m a n figure to the solitary hill of Higher Crowstairs from the
direction of the distant town. This personage strode on t h r o u g h

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THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

the rain without a pause, following the little-worn p a t h which,

f u r t h e r on in its course, skirted the shepherd's cottage.
It w a s nearly the time of full moon, and on this account,
t h o u g h the sky w a s lined with a uniform sheet of d r i p p i n g
cloud, ordinary objects out of doors were readily visible. The
sad w a n light revealed the lonely pedestrian to be a m a n of
supple frame; his gait suggested that he had s o m e w h a t passed
the period of perfect a n d instinctive agility, t h o u g h not so far as
to be otherwise than rapid of motion w h e n occasion required.
At a r o u g h guess, he might have been about forty years of age.
H e a p p e a r e d tall, b u t a recruiting sergeant, or other person
accustomed to the judging of men's heights by the eye, would
have discerned that this w a s chiefly owing to his g a u n t n e s s , a n d
that h e w a s not more than five-feet-eight or nine.
N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g the regularity of his tread, there w a s
caution in it, as in that of one w h o mentally feels his way; a n d
despite the fact that it w a s not a black coat nor a dark g a r m e n t of
any sort that he wore, there w a s something about him which
suggested that he naturally belonged to the black-coated tribes
of men, His clothes were of fustian, and his boots hobnailed, yet
in his progress he s h o w e d not the mud-accustomed bearing of
hobnailed a n d fustianed peasantry.
By the time that he h a d arrived abreast of the s h e p h e r d ' s
premises the rain came dowij, or rather came along, with yet
more determined violence. The outskirts of the little settlement
partially broke the force of w i n d and rain, a n d this i n d u c e d him
to stand still. The most salient of the shepherd's domestic
erections was an e m p t y sty at the forward corner of his
hedgeless garden, for in these latitudes the principle of masking
the homelier features of your establishment by a conventional
frontage w a s u n k n o w n . The traveler's eye was attracted to this
small building by the pallid shine of the wet slates that covered
it. He t u r n e d aside, and, finding it empty, stood u n d e r the pentroof for shelter.
While he stood, the boom of the serpent within the adjacent
h o u s e , a n d the lesser strains of the fiddler, reached the spot as
an accompaniment to the surging hiss of the flying rain on the
sod, its louder beating on the cabbage-leaves of the garden, on

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the eight or ten beehives just discernible by the path, a n d its

dripping from the eaves into a row of buckets a n d p a n s that h a d
been placed u n d e r the walls of the cottage. For at Higher
Crowstairs, as at all such elevated domiciles, the grand difficulty
of housekeeping w a s an insufficiency of water; a n d a casual
rainfall was utilized by turning out, as catchers, every utensil
that the h o u s e contained. Some queer stories might be told of
the contrivances for economy in s u d s a n d dish-waters that are
absolutely n e c e s s i t a t e d in u p l a n d h a b i t a t i o n s d u r i n g t h e
d r o u g h t s of summer. But at this season there were n o such
exigencies; a m e r e acceptance of w h a t the skies bestowed w a s
sufficient for an a b u n d a n t store.
At last the notes of the serpent ceased a n d the house w a s
silent. This cessation of activity aroused the solitary pedestrian
from the reverie into which he h a d lapsed, a n d , emerging f r o m
the shed, with an apparently n e w intention, h e walked u p the
path to the house-door. Arrived here, his first act w a s to kneel
d o w n on a large stone beside the row of vessels, a n d to drink a
copious d r a u g h t from one of them. Having q u e n c h e d his thirst
he rose a n d lifted his h a n d to knock, b u t p a u s e d with his eye
u p o n the panel. Since the dark surface of the w o o d revealed
absolutely nothing, it was evident that h e m u s t be mentally
looking through the door, as if he wished to measure thereby all
the possibilities that a house of this sort might include, a n d h o w
they might bear u p o n the question of his entry.
In his indecision he turned and surveyed the scene a r o u n d .
Not a soul w a s a n y w h e r e visible. The garden-path stretched
d o w n w a r d f r o m his feet, gleaming like the track of a snail; the
roof of the little well (mostly dry), the well-cover, the top rail of
the garden-gate, were varnished with the same dull liquid glaze;
while, far away in the vale, a faint whiteness of more than usual
extent s h o w e d that the rivers were high in the meads. Beyond
all this winked a few bleared lamplights t h r o u g h the beating
dropslights that denoted the situation of the county-town
from which he had appeared to come. The absence of all notes
of life in that direction seemed to clinch his intentions, a n d he
knocked at the door.
Within, a desultory chat had taken the place of m o v e m e n t

78

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

a n d musical sound. The hedge-carpenter was suggesting a song

to the company, which n o b o d y just then was inclined to u n d e r take, so that the knock afforded a not unwelcome diversion.
"Walk in!" said the s h e p h e r d promptly.
The latch clicked u p w a r d , a n d out of the night our pedestrian appeared u p o n the door-mat. The s h e p h e r d arose, snuffed
t w o of the nearest candles, a n d turned to look at him.
Their light disclosed that the stranger was dark in complexion a n d n o t u n p r e p o s s e s i n g as to feature. His hat, w h i c h for a
m o m e n t he did not remove, h u n g low over his eyes, without
concealing that they were large, open, and determined, moving
with a flash rather than a glance r o u n d the room. H e seemed
pleased with his survey, and, baring his shaggy head, said, in a
rich d e e p voice, "The rain is so heavy, friends, that I ask leave to
come in a n d rest awhile."
"To be sure, stranger," said the s h e p h e r d . " A n d faith,
y o u ' v e been lucky in choosing your time, for we are having a bit
of a fling for a glad causethough, to be sure, a m a n could
hardly wish that glad cause to h a p p e n more than once a year."
" N o r less," spoke u p a w o m a n . "For 'tis best to get your
family over and done with, as soon as you can, so as to be all the
earlier out of the fag o't."
" A n d w h a t may be this glad cause?" asked the stranger.
"A birth a n d christening," said the s h e p h e r d .
The stranger h o p e d his host might not be m a d e u n h a p p y
either by too m a n y or too few of such episodes, a n d being
invited by a gesture to a pull at the mug, he readily acquiesced.
His manner, which, before entering, h a d been so dubious, w a s
n o w altogether that of a careless a n d candid m a n .
"Late to be traipsing athwart this coombhey?" said the
engaged m a n of fifty.
"Late it is, master, as you say.I'll take a seat in the
chimney-corner, if you have nothing to urge against it, m a ' a m ;
for I am a little moist on the side that was next the rain."
Mrs. Shepherd Fennel assented, and m a d e room for the
self-invited comer, w h o , having got completely inside the
chimney-corner, stretched out his legs and his arms with the
expansiveness of a person quite at home.

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79

"Yes, I a m rather cracked in the v a m p , " he said freely,

seeing that the eyes of the shepherd's wife fell u p o n his boots,
"and I am not well fitted either. I have h a d some rough times
lately, and have been forced to pick u p w h a t I can get in the w a y
of wearing, but I m u s t find a suit better fit for working-days
w h e n I reach h o m e . "
" O n e of h e r e a b o u t s 7 " she inquired.
"Not quite thatfurther u p the county."
"I t h o u g h t so. A n d so be I; a n d by your tongue you come
from my n e i g h b o r h o o d . "
"But you would hardly have heard of m e , " he said quickly.
"My time w o u l d be long before yours, m a ' a m , you see."
This testimony to the youthfulness of his hostess h a d the
effect of stopping her cross-examination.
"There is only one thing more w a n t e d to make me happy,"
continued the new-comer. " A n d that is a little baccy, which I a m
sorry to say I am out of."
"I'll fill your p i p e / ' said the s h e p h e r d .
"I m u s t ask you to lend me a pipe likewise."
"A smoker, a n d no pipe about 'ee?"
"I have d r o p p e d it somewhere on the road."
The s h e p h e r d filled and h a n d e d him a n e w clay pipe,
saying, as he did so, " H a n d me your baccy-boxI'll fill that too,
n o w I am about it."
The m a n w e n t t h r o u g h the m o v e m e n t of searching his
pockets.
"Lost that too?" said his entertainer, with some surprise.
"I am afraid so," said the man with some confusion. "Give
it to me in a screw of paper." Lighting his pipe at the candle with
a suction that d r e w the whole flame into the bowl, he resettled
himself in the corner a n d bent his looks u p o n the faint steam
from his d a m p legs, as if he wished to say n o more.
Meanwhile the general body of guests had been taking little
notice of this visitor by reason of an absorbing discussion in
which they were engaged with the b a n d about a tune for the
next dance. The matter being settled, they were about to stand
u p w h e n an interruption came in the shape of another knock at
the door.

80

THE 7 BE S I CRIME STORIE.S OF THE 7 N I N E T E E N T H CENTURY

At s o u n d of the same the m a n in the chimney-corner took

u p the poker and began stirring the b r a n d s as if doing it
thoroughly were the one aim of his existence; a n d a second time
the s h e p h e r d said, "Walk in!" In a m o m e n t another m a n stood
u p o n the straw-woven door-mat. He too w a s a stranger.
This individual w a s one of a type radically different from
the first. There was more of the commonplace in his manner,
a n d a certain jovial cosmopolitanism sat u p o n his features. He
w a s several years older than the first arrival, his hair being
slightly frosted, his eyebrows bristly, a n d his whiskers cut back
from his cheeks. His face w a s rather full a n d flabby, a n d yet it
w a s not altogether a face without power. A few grog-blossoms
m a r k e d the neighborhood of his nose. He flung back his long
drab greatcoat, revealing that beneath it he wore a suit of cindergray shade throughout, large heavy seals, of some metal or
other that would take a polish, dangling from his fob as his only
personal ornament. Shaking the water-drops from his lowcrowned glazed hat, he said, "I must ask for a few minutes'
shelter, comrades, or I shall be wetted to my skin before I get to
Casterbridge."
"Make yourself at h o m e , master," said the s h e p h e r d ,
p e r h a p s a trifle less heartily than on the first occasion. Not that
Fennel had the least tinge of niggardliness in his composition;
b u t the room w a s far from large, spare chairs w e r e not
n u m e r o u s , and d a m p companions were not altogether desirable
at close quarters for the w o m e n and girls in their bright-colored
gowns.
However, the second comer, after taking off his greatcoat,
a n d h a n g i n g his hat on a nail in one of the ceiling-beams as if he
h a d been specially invited to p u t it there, advanced a n d sat
d o w n at the table. This had been pushed so closely into the
chimney-corner, to give all available room to the daners, that its
inner edge grazed the elbow of the man w h o h a d ensconced
himself by the fire; a n d t h u s the two strangers were b r o u g h t into
close companionship. They n o d d e d to each other by way of
breaking the ice of unacquaintance, and the first stranger
h a n d e d his neighbor the family muga h u g e vessel of brown
ware, having its u p p e r edge worn away like a threshold by the

The Three

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81

rub of whole generations of thirsty lips that h a d gone the w a y of

all flesh, a n d bearing the following inscription burnt u p o n its
rotund side in yellow letters:
THERE IS N O FUN
UNTIL i CUM.
The other man, nothing loath, raised the m u g to his lips, a n d
drank on, and on, a n d ontill a curious blueness overspread
the countenance of the shepherd's wife, w h o h a d regarded with
no little surprise the first stranger's free-offer to the second of
what did not belong to him to dispense.
"I knew it!" said the toper to the s h e p h e r d with m u c h
satisfaction. " W h e n I walked u p your g a r d e n before coming in,
a n d saw the hives all of a row, I said to myself, 'Where there's
bees there's honey, a n d where there's h o n e y there's m e a d . ' But
mead of such a truly comfortable sort as this I really d i d n ' t
expect to meet in my older days." He took yet another pull at the
mug, till it a s s u m e d an ominous elevation.
"Glad you enjoy it!" said the s h e p h e r d warmly.
"It is goodish m e a d , " assented Mrs. Fennel, with an
absence of e n t h u s i a s m which seemed to say that it w a s possible
to buy praise for one's cellar at too heavy a price. "It is trouble
e n o u g h to m a k e a n d really I hardly think w e shall make any
more. For h o n e y sells well, and w e ourselves can m a k e shift
with a d r o p o' small mead a n d metheglin for c o m m o n u s e from
the comb-washings."
" O h , but you'll never have the heart!" reproachfully cried
the stranger in cinder-gray, after taking u p the m u g a third time
a n d setting it d o w n empty. "I love m e a d , w h e n 'tis old like this,
as I love to go to church o' Sundays, or to relieve the needy any
day of the w e e k . "
"Ha, ha, ha!" said the man in the chimney-corner, w h o in
spite of the taciturnity induced by the pipe of tobacco, could not
or would not refrain from this slight testimony to his comrade's
humor.
N o w the old m e a d of those days, b r e w e d of the purest firstyear or maiden honey, four p o u n d s to the gallonwith its d u e

82

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

complement of white of eggs, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, mace,

losemary, yeast, and processes of working, bottling, a n d cellari n g - - t a s t e d remarkably strong; but it did not taste so strong as it
actually was. Hence, presently, the stranger in cinder-gray at the
table, moved by its creeping influence, u n b u t t o n e d his waistcoa threw himself back in his chair, spread his legs, a n d m a d e
his presence felt in various ways.
"Well, well, as 1 say," he r e s u m e d , "I am going to
Casterbridge, and to Casterbridge I must go. 1 should have been
almost there bv this time; but the rain drove me into your
dwelling, and I'm not sorry for it."
"You don't live in Casterbridge?" said the s h e p h e r d .
"Not as yet; though I shortly mean to move there."
"Going to set u p in trade, perhaps?"
"No, no," said the shepherd's wife. "It is easy to see that
the gentleman is rich, a n d don't want to work at a n y t h i n g . "
The cinder-gray stranger paused, as if to consider w h e t h e r
he would accept that definition of himself. He presently rejected
it by answering, "Rich is not quite the word for me, d a m e . I do
work, and I must work. And even if I only get to Casterbridge
by midnight I must begin work there at eight tomorrow
morning. Yes, het or wet, blow or snow, famine or sword, my
day's work tomorrow m u s t be d o n e . "
"Poor man! Then, in spite o' seeming, you be worse off than
we?" replied the shepherd's wife.
" 'Tis the nature of my trade, men and maidens. 'Tis the
nature of my trade more than my poverty. . . . But really and
truly I m u s t u p and off, or I shan't get a lodging in the t o w n . "
However, the speaker did not move, and directly a d d e d ,
"There's time for one more draught of friendship before I go;
a n d I'd perform it at once if the m u g were not dry."
"Here's a m u g o' small," said Mrs. Fennel. "Small, w e call
it, t h o u g h to be sure 'tis only the first wash o' the combs."
" N o , " said the stranger disdainfully. "I won't spoil your first
kindness by partaking o' your second."
"Certainly not," broke in Fennel. "We don't increase and
multiply every day, a n d I'll fill the m u g again." H e w e n t away to

The Three

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83

the dark place u n d e r the stairs w h e r e the barrel stood. The

s h e p h e r d e s s followed him.
"Why should you do this?" she said reproachfully, as soon
as they were alone. "He's emptied it once, t h o u g h it held
e n o u g h for ten people; and now he's not contented wi' the
small, but jmiS'f n e e d s call for more o' the strong! And a stranger
u n b e k n o w n to any of us. For my part, 1 d o n ' t like the look o' the
man at all."
"But he's in the house, my honey; a n d 'tis a wet night, a n d a
christening. Daze it, what's a cup of mead more or less? There'll
be plenty more next bee-burning."
"Very wellthis time, t h e n , " she a n s w e r e d , lookingly
wistfully at the barrel. "But w h a t is the man's calling, and w h e r e
is he one of, that h e should come in a n d join us like this?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him again."
The catastrophe of having the m u g drained dry at one pull
by the stranger in cinder-gray was effectually guarded against
this time by Mrs. Fennel. She poured out his allowance in a
small cup, keeping the large one at a discreet distance from him.
When he h a d tossed off his portion the s h e p h e r d renewed his
inquiry about the stranger's occupation.
The latter did not immediately reply, a n d the me n in the
chimney-corner, with s u d d e n demonstrativeness, said, " A n y
b o d y may k n o w m y tradeI'm a w h e e l w r i g h t . "
"A very good trade for these parts," said the s h e p h e r d .
" A n d a n y b o d y may know mineif they've the sense to find
it out," said the stranger in cinder-gray.
"You may generally tell what a m a n is by his claws,"
observed the hedge-carpenter, looking at his o w n hands. "My
fingers be as full of t h o r n s as an old pin-cushion is of p i n s . "
The h a n d s of the m a n in the chimney-corner im tinctively
sought the shade, a n d he gazed into the fire as he resumed his
pipe. The m a n at the table took u p the h e d g e - c i r p e n t e r s
remark, and a d d e d smartly, "True; but the oddity of m- t r n d e is
that, instead of setting a mark u p o n me, it sets a ma;t up( n rny
customers."
N o observation being offered by a n y b o d v ;n . i id ~ f - m
this enigma, the s h e p h e r d ' s wife once more c a ' k d tin a sum-.;

84

m i : Bf S! <. KIMIf STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

The same obstacles presented themselves as at the former

timeone hod no voice, another had forgotten the first verse.
The stranger at the table, w h o s e soul had n o w risen to a good
working temperature, relieved the difficulty by exclaiming that,
to start the company, h e would sing himself. Thrusting one
t h u m b into the arm-hole of his waistcoat, he w a v e d the other
h a n d in the air, and, with an extemporizing gaze at the shining
sheep-crooks above the mantelpiece, began:
O m y trade it is the rarest one,
Simple s h e p h e r d s all
My trade is a sight to see;
For iny customers I tie, and take t h e m u p on high,
A n d w a f t ' e m to a far countree!"
The room was silent w h e n he had finished the versewith one
exception, that of the m a n in the chimney-corner, w h o , at the
singer's word, "Chorus!" joined him in a d e e p bass voice of
musical relish
A n d w a f t ' e m to a far countree!"
Oliver Giles, John Pitcher the dairyman, the parish-clerk, the
e n g a g e d m a n of fifty, the row of y o u n g w o m e n against the wall,
s e e m e d lost in t h o u g h t not of the gayest kind. The s h e p h e r d
looked meditatively on the ground, the s h e p h e r d e s s gazed
keenly at the singer, a n d with some suspicion; she w a s d o u b t i n g
w h e t h e r this stranger w e r e merely singing an old song from
recollection, or w a s composing o n e there a n d t h e n for the
occasion. All w e r e as perplexed at the obscure revelation as the
guests at Belshazzar's Feast, except the m a n in the chimneycorner, w h o quietly said, "Second verse, stranger," a n d smoked
on.
The singer thorougly moistened himself f r o m his lips
inwards, and w e n t on with the next stanza as requested:
My tools are but c o m m o n ones,
Simple s h e p h e r d s all

The Three

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85

My tools are no sight to see:

A little h e m p e n string, and a post w h e r e o n to swing,
Are implements e n o u g h for me!
Shepherd Fennel glanced round. There w a s no longer a n y
doubt that the stranger w a s answering his question rhythmically. The g u e s t s o n e a n d all started back ' w i t h s u p p r e s s e d
exclamations. The y o u n g w o m a n engaged to the man of fifty
fainted half-way, a n d would have proceeded, but finding h i m
wanting in alacrity for catching her she sat d o w n trembling.
"Oh, he's the!" whispered the people in the background,
mentioning the n a m e of an ominous public officer. "He's come
to d o it! 'Tis to be at Casterbridge jail tomorrowthe m a n for
sheep-stealingthe poor clockmaker w e h e a r d of, w h o used to
live away at Shottsford and had no work to doTimothy
Summers, w h o s e family were a-starving, a n d so he w e n t o u t of
Shottsford by the high road, a n d took a s h e e p in open daylight
defying the farmer a n d the farmer's wife a n d the farmer's lad,
a n d every m a n jack a m o n g 'em. H e " (and they n o d d e d t o w a r d s
the stranger of the deadly trade) "is come f r o m u p the country to
d o it because there's not e n o u g h to d o in his o w n county-town,
a n d he's got the place here now our o w n county man's dead;
he's going to live in the same cottage u n d e r the prison wall."
The stranger in cinder-gray took n o notice of .this w h i s p e r e d
string of observations, b u t again wetted his lips. Seeing that his
friend in the chimney-corner was the only one w h o reciprocated
his joviality in a n y way, he held out his c u p towards that
appreciative comrade, w h o also held out his o w n . They clinked
together, the eyes of the rest of the r o o m h a n g i n g u p o n the
singer's actions. H e parted his lips for the third verse; but at that
m o m e n t a n o t h e r knock w a s audible u p o n the door. This time
the knock w a s faint a n d hesitating.
The c o m p a n y seemed scared; the s h e p h e r d looked with
consternation t o w a r d s the entrance, a n d it w a s with some effort
that he resisted his alarmed wife's deprecatory glance, and
uttered for the third time the welcoming w o r d s "Walk in!"
The door w a s gently opened, a n d a n o t h e r m a n stood u p o n
the mat. He, like those w h o had preceded him, was a stranger.

86

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

This time it w a s a short, small p e r s o n a g e , of fair complexion,

a n d d r e s s e d in a d e c e n t suit of dark clothes.
" C a n y o u tell m e the w a y to" he b e g a n : w h e n , gazing
r o u n d the r o o m to observe the nature of t h e c o m p a n y a m o n g s t
w h o m he h a d fallen, his eyes lighted on t h e s t r a n g e r in cindergray. It w a s just at t h e instant w h e n the latter, w h o h a d t h r o w n
his m i n d into his s o n g w i t h such a will that h e scarcely h e e d e d
t h e interruption, silenced all w h i s p e r s a n d inquireies by bursting into his third verse:
Tomorrow is m y w o r k i n g day,
Simple s h e p h e r d s all
Tomorrow is a w o r k i n g day for me:
For the farmer's s h e e p is slain, a n d the lad w h o did it ta'en,
A n d o n his soul m a y G o d ha' merc-y!
T h e stranger in t h e chimney-corner, w a v i n g c u p s w i t h the
singer so heartily that his m e a d s p l a s h e d over on t h e h e a r t h ,
r e p e a t e d in his b a s s voice as before:
A n d o n his soul m a y God' ha' merc-y!
All this time the third stranger h a d b e e n s t a n d i n g in the
doorway. Finding n o w that h e did not c o m e f o r w a r d or go on
s p e a k i n g , the g u e s t s particularly r e g a r d e d h i m . T h e y noticed to
their surprise that h e stood before t h e m t h e picture of abject
terrorhis k n e e s trembling, his h a n d s h a k i n g so violently that
t h e door-latch by w h i c h h e s u p p o r t e d himself rattled audibly:
his w h i t e lips w e r e p a r t e d , a n d his eyes fixed o n the m e r r y
officer of justice in t h e m i d d l e of the r o o m . A m o m e n t m o r e a n d
h e h a d t u r n e d , closed the door, a n d fled.
" W h a t a m a n can it be?" said the s h e p h e r d .
T h e rest, b e t w e e n t h e a w f u l n e s s of their late discovery a n d
t h e o d d c o n d u c t of this third visitor, looked as if t h e y k n e w n o t
w h a t to think, a n d said n o t h i n g . Instinctively t h e y w i t h d r e w
i u r t h e r a n d f u r t h e r f r o m the grim g e n t l e m a n in their midst,
A'hom s o m e of t h e m s e e m e d to take for t h e Prince of D a r k n e s s

The Three Strangers

87

himself, till they f o r m e d a remote circle, an e m p t y space of floor

being left between t h e m and him
. . . circulus, cujus centrum diabolus.
The room w a s so silentthough there were more than t w e n t y
people in itthat n o t h i n g could be h e a r d but the patter of the
rain against the window-shutters, accompanied by the occasional hiss of a stray d r o p that fell d o w n the chimney into the fire,
and the steady puffing of the man in the corner, w h o h a d n o w
resumed his long pipe of clay.
The stillness w a s unexpectedly broken. The distant s o u n d
of a gun reverberated through the airapparently from the
direction of the county town.
"Be jiggered!" cried the stranger w h o h a d s u n g the song,
jumping up.
"What does that mean?" asked several.
"A prisoner escaped from the jailthat's w h a t it m e a n s . "
All listened. The s o u n d was repeated, a n d none of t h e m
spoke but the m a n in the chimney-corner, w h o said quietly,
"I've often been told that in this county they fire a g u n at such
times; but I never h e a r d it till now."
"I w o n d e r if it is my man?" m u r m u r e d the personage in
cinder-gray.
"Surely it is!" said the shepherd involuntarily. " A n d surely
we've zeed him! That little m a n w h o looked in at the door by
now, and quivered like a leaf w h e n he zeed ye a n d heard your
song!"
"His teeth chattered, a n d the breath w e n t out of his body,"
said the dairyman.
" A n d his heart seemed to sink within him like a s t o n e , "
said Oliver Giles.
"And he bolted as if he'd been shot a t , " said the hedgecarpenter.
"Truehis teeth chattered, and his heart seemed to sink;
and he bolted as if h e ' d been shot at," slowly s u m m e d u p the
man in the chimney-corner.

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"I didn't notice i t / ' remarked the h a n g m a n .

"We were all a - w o n d e r i n g w h a t m a d e him run off in such a
fright," faltered one of the w o m e n against the wall, "and n o w
'tis explained!"
The firing of the alarm-gun went on at intervals, low and
sullenly, a n d their suspicions became a certainty. The sinister
gentleman in cinder-gray roused himself. "Is there a constable
here?" he asked, in thick tones. "If so, let him step f o r w a r d . "
The engaged m a n of fifty stepped quavering out from the
wall, his betrothed beginning to sob on the back of the chair.
"You are a s w o r n constable?"
"I be, sir."
"Then p u r s u e the criminal at once, with assistance, and
bring him back here. H e can't have gone far."
"I will, sir, I willwhen I've got my staff. I'll go h o m e and
get it, and come s h a r p here, and start in a body."
"Staff!never m i n d your staff; the man'll be gone!"
"But I can't d o nothing without my staffcan I, William,
a n d John, a n d Charles Jake? No; for there's the king's royal
crown a painted on en in yaller a n d gold, a n d the lion a n d the
unicorn, so as w h e n I raise en u p and hit my prisoner, 'tis m a d e
a lawful blow thereby. I w o u l d n ' t 'tempt to take u p a m a n without my staffno, not I. If I h a d n ' t the law to gie m e courage,
why, instead o' m y taking u p him he might take u p me!"
"Now, I'm a king's m a n myself, and can give you authority
e n o u g h for this," said the formidable officer in gray. " N o w then,
all of ye, be ready. Have ye any lanterns?"
"Yeshave ye any lanterns?I d e m a n d it!" said the constable.
" A n d the rest of you able-bodied"
"Able-bodied m e n y e s t h e rest of ye!" said the constable.
" H a v e you some good stout staves a n d pitchforks"
"Staves and pitchforksin the n a m e o' the law! A n d take
' e m in yer h a n d s a n d go in quest, a n d d o as w e in authority tell
ye!"
T h u s a r o u s e d , the m e n prepared to give chase. The
evidence w a s , indeed, t h o u g h circumstantial, so convincing,

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Strangers

89

that but little a r g u m e n t was n e e d e d to s h o w the s h e p h e r d ' s

guests that after w h a t they h a d seen it would look very m u c h
like connivance if they did not instantly p u r s u e the u n h a p p y
third stranger, w h o could not as yet h a v e gone more than a few
h u n d r e d y a r d s over such uneven country.
A s h e p h e r d is always well provided with lanterns; a n d ,
lighting these hastily, a n d with hurdle-staves in their h a n d s ,
they poured out of the door, taking a direction along the crest of
the hill, away f r o m the town, the rain having fortunately a little
abated.
Disturbed b y the noise, or possibly by unpleasant d r e a m s of
her baptism, the child w h o had been christened began to cry
heart-brokenly in the room overhead. These notes of grief came
d o w n t h r o u g h the chinks of the floor to the ears of the w o m e n
below, w h o j u m p e d u p one by one, a n d seemed glad of the
excuse to ascend a n d comfort the baby, for the incidents of the
last half-hour greatly oppressed t h e m . T h u s in the space of t w o
or three m i n u t e s the room on the ground-floor was deserted
quite.
But it w a s not for long. Hardly h a d the s o u n d of footsteps
died away w h e n a m a n returned r o u n d the corner of the h o u s e
from the direction the pursuers h a d taken. Peeping in at the
door, and seeing n o b o d y there, he entered leisurely. It w a s the
stranger of the chimney-corner, w h o h a d gone out with the rest.
The motive of his return w a s s h o w n by his helping himself to a
cut piece of skimmer-cake that lay o n a ledge beside w h e r e h e
had sat, a n d w h i c h h e h a d apparently forgotten to take w i t h
him. H e also p o u r e d out half a cup m o r e m e a d f r o m the quantity
that remained, ravenously eating a n d drinking these as h e
stood. H e h a d not finished w h e n a n o t h e r figure came in just as
quietlyhis friend in cinder-gray.
" O h y o u here?" said the latter, smiling. "I t h o u g h t you
h a d gone to h e l p in the capture." A n d this speaker also revealed
the object of his r e t u r n by looking solicitously r o u n d for t h e
fascinating m u g of old m e a d .
" A n d L t h o u g h t you had gone," said the other, continuing
his skimmer-cake with some effort.
"Well, on second thoughts, I felt there were e n o u g h

90

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

w i t h o u t m e , " said the first confidentially, " a n d such a night as it

is, too. Besides, 'tis the business o' the G o v e r n m e n t to take care
of its criminalsnot m i n e . "
"True; so it is. A n d 1 felt as you did, that there w e r e e n o u g h
without me."
"I don't w a n t to break my limbs r u n n i n g over the h u m p s
a n d hollows of this wild country."
" N o r I neither, b e t w e e n you and m e . "
"These s h e p h e r d - p e o p l e are used to itsimple-minded
souls, you know, stirred u p to anything in a m o m e n t . They'll
h a v e him ready for m e before the morning, a n d n o trouble to m e
at all"
"They'll have him, a n d w e shall have saved ourselves all
labor in the matter."
"True, true. Well, m y w a y is to Casterbridge; a n d 'tis as
m u c h as my legs will d o to take me that far. Going the same
way?"
"No, I am sorry to say! I have to get h o m e over there" (he
n o d d e d indefinitely to the right), "and I feel as you do, that it is
quite e n o u g h for m y legs to do before b e d t i m e . "
The other h a d by this time finished the m e a d in the m u g ,
after which, shaking h a n d s heartily at the door, a n d wishing
each other well, they w e n t their several ways.
In the m e a n t i m e the c o m p a n y of p u r s u e r s h a d reached the
e n d of the hog's-back elevation which d o m i n a t e d this part of the
d o w n . They h a d decided on no particular plan of action; a n d ,
finding that the m a n of the baleful trade w a s n o longer in their
company, they s e e m e d quite unable to form any such plan now.
They d e s c e n d e d in all directions d o w n the hill, a n d straightway
several of the party fell into the snare set by N a t u r e for all
misguided m i d n i g h t ramblers over this part of the cretaceous
formation. The "lanchets," or flint slopes, which belted the
e s c a r p m e n t at intervals of a dozen yards, took the less cautioils
o n e s u n a w a r e s , a n d losing their footing on the rubbly steep they
slid sharply d o w n w a r d s , the lanterns rolling f r o m their h a n d s to
the bottom, a n d there lying on their sides till the h o r n w a s
scorched t h r o u g h .
W h e n they h a d again gathered themselves together, the

The Three

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91

shepherd, as the m a n w h o knew the country best, took the lead,

a n d guided t h e m r o u n d these treacherous inclines. The lanterns, which seemed rather to dazzle their eyes a n d w a r n the
fugitive than to assist them in the exploration, were extinguished, d u e silence w a s observed; a n d in this more rational
order they p l u n g e d into the vale. It w a s grassy, briery, moist
defile, affording some shelter to any person w h o had sought it;
but the party perambulated it in vain, a n d ascended on the other
side. Here they w a n d e r e d apart, a n d after an interval closed
together again to report progress. At the second time of closing
in they f o u n d themselves near a lonely ash, the single tree o n
this part of the coomb, probably sown there by a passing bird
some fifty years before. And here, standing a little to one side of
the trunk, as motionless as the trunk itself, appeared the m a n
they were in quest of, his outline being well defined against the
sky beyond. The b a n d noiselessly d r e w u p a n d faced him.
"Your m o n e y or your life!" said the constable sternly to the
still figure.
"No, n o , " whispered John Pitcher. "'Tisn't our side o u g h t
to say that. That's the doctrine of v a g a b o n d s like him, a n d w e be
on the side of the law."
"Well, well," replied the constable impatiently; "I must say
something, m u s t n ' t I? and if you h a d all the weight o' this
undertaking u p o n your mind, p e r h a p s y o u ' d say the w r o n g
thing too!Prisoner at the bar, surrender, in the n a m e of the
Fatherthe Crown, I mane!"
The m a n u n d e r the tree seemed n o w to notice them for the
first time, and, giving them no opportunity whatever for
exhibiting their courage, he strolled slowly towards them. H e
was, indeed, the little man, the third stranger; but his trepidation had in a great measure gone.
"Well, travelers," he said, "did I hear ye speak to me?"
"You did: y o u ' v e got to come and be our prisoner at once!"
said the constable. "We arrest 'ee on the charge of not biding in
Casterbridge jail in a decent proper m a n n e r to be h u n g
tomorrow morning. Neighbors, do your duty, and seize the
culpet!"
On hearing the charge, the man seemed enlightened, a n d ,

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

saying not another w o r d , resigned himself with preternatural

civility to the search-party, w h o , with their staves in their h a n d s ,
s u r r o u n d e d him on all sides, and marched him back t o w a r d s the
shepherd's cottage.
It was eleven o'clock by the time they arrived. The light
shining from the o p e n door, a sound of men's voices within,
proclaimed to t h e m as they approached the h o u s e that some
n e w events had arisen in their absence. On entering they
discovered the shepherd's living room to be invaded by two
officers from Casterbridge jail, and a well-known magistrate
w h o lived at the nearest country-seat, intelligence of the escape
having become generally circulated.
" G e n t l e m e n , " said the constable, "I have brought back your
m a n n o t without risk a n d danger; but every one m u s t d o his
duty! H e is inside this circle of able-bodied persons, w h o have
lent me useful aid, considering their ignorance of C r o w n work.
Men, bring forward your prisoner!" And the third stranger was
led to the light.
" W h o is this?" said one of the officials.
"The m a n , " said the constable.
"Certainly n o t , " said the turnkey; a n d the first corroborated
his statement.
"But h o w can it be otherwise?" asked the constable. "Or
w h y w a s he so terrified'at sight o' the singing instrument of the
law w h o sat there?" Here he related the strange behavior of the
third stranger on entering the house d u r i n g the hangman's
song.
"Can't u n d e r s t a n d it," said the officer coolly^ "All I k n o w is
that it is not the c o n d e m n e d man. He's quite a different
character from this one; a gauntish fellow, with dark hair and
eyes, rather good-looking, and with a musical bass voice that if
you heard it once y o u ' d never mistake as long as you lived."
"Why, souls'twas the man in the chimney-corner!"
"Heywhat?" said the magistrate, coming forward after
inquiring particulars from the shepherd in the background.
"Haven't you got the mafc after all?"
"Well, sir," said the constable, "he's the m a n w e were in

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Strangers

93

search of, that's true; a n d yet he's not the m a n w e were in search
of. For the m a n w e were in search of w a s not the man w e
wanted, sir, if you u n d e r s t a n d my everyday way; for 'twas the
man in the chimney-corner!"
'A pretty kettle of fish altogether!" said the magistrate. "You
nad better start for the other man at once."
The prisoner n o w spoke for the first time. The mention of
the m a n in the chimney-corner seemed to have moved him as
nothing else could do. "Sir," he said, stepping forward to the
magistrate, "take no more trouble about me. The time is come
vhen I may as well speak. I have d o n e nothing; my crime is that
:he c o n d e m n e d m a n is my brother. Early this afternoon I left
home at Shottsford to tramp it all the way to Casterbridge jail to
bid him farewell. I w a s benighted, a n d called here to rest a n d
ask the way. W h e n I o p e n e d the door I saw before me the very
man, my brother, that I thought to see in the c o n d e m n e d cell at
Casterbridge. He w a s in this chimney-corner; and jammed close
;o him, so that he could not have got out if he h a d tried, was the
executioner w h o ' d come to take his life, singing a song about it
id not knowing that it w a s his victim w h o w a s close by, joining
in to save appearances. My brother looked a glance of agony at
ne, and I k n e w he meant, 'Don't reveal w h a t you 3ee; my life
depends on it.' I w a s so terror-struck that I could hardly stand,
and, not k n o w i n g w h a t I did, I turned a n d hurried away."
The narrator's m a n n e r a n d tone h a d the stamp of truth, a n d
his story m a d e a great impression on all a r o u n d . " A n d do you
know where your brother is at the present time?" asked the
magistrate.
"I do not. I have never seen him since I closed this door."
"I can testify to that, for we've been between ye ever since,"
said the constable.
"Where d o e s he think to fly to?what is his occupation?"
"He's a watch-and-clock-maker, sir."
" ' A said 'a w a s a wheelwrighta wicked rogue," said the
constable.
"The wheels of clocks and watches he meant, no d o u b t , "
said Shepherd Fennel. "I thought his h a n d s were palish for's
trade."

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Well, it appears to me that nothing can be gained by

retaining this poor m a n in custody," said the magistrate; "your
business lies with the other, unquestionably."
A n d so the little m a n was released off-hand; b u t he looked
nothing the less sad on that account, it being beyond the p o w e r
of magistrate or constable to raze out the written troubles in his
brain, for they concerned another w h o m he regarded with more
solicitude than himself. W h e n this was done, a n d the m a n h a d
gone his way, the night w a s found to be so far advanced that it
w a s d e e m e d useless to renew the search before the next
morning.
Next day, accordingly, the quest for the clever sheep-stealer
became general a n d keen, to all appearance at least. But the
intended p u n i s h m e n t w a s cruelly disproportioned to the transgression, and the s y m p a t h y of a great m a n y country-folk in that
district was strongly on the side of the fugitive. Moreover, his
marvelous coolness a n d daring in hob-and-nobbing with the
h a n g m a n , u n d e r the u n p r e c e d e n t e d circumstances of the shepherd's party, w o n their admiration. So that it may be questioned
if all those w h o ostensibly m a d e themselves so busy in exploring
w o o d s a n d fields a n d lanes were quite so t h o r o u g h w h e n it
came to the private examination of their o w n lofts and outhouses. Stories were afloat of a mysterious figure being occasionally seen in some old overgrown trackway or other, remote
from turnpike roads; but w h e n a search w a s instituted in any of
these suspected quarters nobody w a s f o u n d . T h u s the days and
w e e k s passed w i t h o u t tidings.
In brief, the bass-voiced man of the chimney-corner was
never recaptured. Some said that he w e n t across the sea, others
that he did not, but buried himself in the d e p t h s of a populous
city. At any rate, the gentleman in cinder-gray never .did his
morning's work at Casterbridge, nor met a n y w h e r e at all, for
business purposes, the genial comrade with w h o m he had
passed an hour of relaxation in the lonely house on the coomb.
The grass has long been green on the graves of Shepherd
Fennel and his frugal wife; the guests w h o m a d e u p the
christening party have mainly followed their entertainers to the
tomb; the baby in w h o s e honor they all had met is a matron in

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Strangers

95

the sere a n d yellow leaf. But the arrival of the three strangers at
the shepherd's that night, and the details connected therewith,
is a story as well k n o w n as ever in the country about Higher
Crowstairs.

1890

Gallegher
R I C H A R D H A R D I N G DAVIS

We h a d h a d so m a n y office-boys before Gallegher came

a m o n g us that they h a d begun to lose the characteristics of individuals, and became merged in a composite p h o t o g r a p h of small
boys, to w h o m w e applied the generic title of "Here, you"; or
"You, boy."
We had had sleepy boys, and lazy boys, and bright, "smart"
boys, w h o became so familiar on so short an acquaintance that
w e were forced to part with them to save our o w n self-respect.
They generally graduated into district-messenger boys, and
occasionally returned to us in blue coats with nickel-plated
buttons, and patronized us.
But Gallegher w a s something different from anything w e
had experienced before. Gallegher was short a n d broad in build,
with a solid, muscular broadness, and not a fat and d u m p y
shortness. He wore perpetually on his face a h a p p y and
knowing smile, as if you and the world in general were not
impressing him as seriously as you t h o u g h t you were, and his
eyes, which were very black and very bright, snapped intelligently at you like those of a little black-and-tan terrier.
All Gallegher k n e w had been learnt on the streets; not a
very good school in itself, but one that turns out very knowing
scholars. A n d Gallegher had attended both m o r n i n g a n d
evening sessions. He could not tell you w h o the Pilgrim Fathers
were, nor could he n a m e the thirteen original States, but he
k n e w all the officers of the twenty-second police district by
name, and he could distinguish the clang of a fire-engine's gong
from that of a patrol-wagon or an ambulance fully two blocks
96

Gallegher

97

distant. It w a s Gallegher w h o rang the alarm w h e n the

Woolwich Mills caught fire, while the officer on the beat w a s
asleep, a n d it w a s Gallegher w h o led the "Black D i a m o n d s "
against the "Wharf Rats," w h e n they used to stone each other to
'rheir hearts' content on the coal w h a r v e s of Richmond.
I am afraid, n o w that I see these facts written d o w n , that
Gallegher w a s not a reputable character; but he w a s so very
voung and so very old for his years that w e all liked him very
much nevertheless. He lived in the extreme northern part of
Philadelphia, w h e r e the cotton a n d woollen mills run d o w n to
the river, a n d h o w he ever got h o m e after leaving the Press
building at two in the morning, was one of the mysteries of the
office. Sometimes he caught a night car, a n d sometimes he
walked all the way, arriving at the little h o u s e , w h e r e his m o t h e r
and himself lived alone, at four in the morning. Occasionally h e
was given a ride o n an early milk cart, or on one of the
newspaper delivery wagons, with its high piles of papers still
d a m p and sticky from the press. H e k n e w several drivers of
"night h a w k s " t h o s e cabs that prowl the streets at night
looking for belated passengersand w h e n it was a very cold
morning he would not go h o m e at all, but would crawl into one
of these cabs and sleep, curled u p on the cushions, until
daylight.
Besides being quick and cheerful, Gallegher possessed a
power of a m u s i n g the Press's young men to a degree seldom
attained by the ordinary mortal. His clog-dancing on the city
editor's desk, w h e n that gentleman was upstairs fighting for two
more columns of space, was always a source of innocent joy to
us, and his imitations of the comedians of the variety halls
delighted even the dramatic critic, from w h o m the comedians
themselves failed to force a smile.
But Gallegher's chief characteristic was his love for that
element of n e w s generically classed as "crime."
Not that he ever did anything criminal himself. On the
contrary, his was rather the work of the criminal specialist, a n d
his morbid interest in the doings of all queer characters, his
knowledge of their methods, their present whereabouts, a n d
their past d e e d s of transgression often rendered him a valuable

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

ally to our police reporter, whose daily feuilletons were the only
portion of the p a p e r Gallegher deigned to read.
In Gallegher the detective element w a s abnormally developed. He had s h o w n this on several occasions, a n d to excellent
purpose.
Once the paper had sent him into a H o m e for Destitute
O r p h a n s which w a s believed to be grievously mismanaged, a n d
Gallegher, while playing the part of a destitute o r p h a n , kept his
eyes o p e n to w h a t w a s going on a r o u n d him so faithfully that
the story he told of the treatment meted out to the real o r p h a n s
w a s sufficient to rescue the u n h a p p y little wretches from the
individual w h o h a d them in charge, a n d to have the individual
himself sent to jail.
Gallegher's knowledge of the aliases, terms of imprisonment, and various misdoings of the leading criminals in Philadelphia was almost as thorough as that of the chief of police
himself, and he could tell to an hour w h e n "Dutchy Mack" w a s
to be let out of prison, and could identify at a glance "Dick
Oxford, confidence m a n , " as "Gentleman Dan, petty thief."
There were, at this time, only two pieces of n e w s in any of
the papers. The least important of the two was the big fight
between the C h a m p i o n of the United States a n d the Would-be
Champion, arranged to take place near Philadelphia; the second
w a s the Burrbank murder, which was filling space in newspapers all over the world, from N e w York to Bombay.
Richard F. Burrbank was one of the most prominent of N e w
York's railroad lawyers; he was also, a matter of course, an
owner of much railroad stock, and and a very wealthy man. H e
h a d been spoken of as a political possibility. for many high
offices, and, as the counsel for a great railroad, w a s k n o w n even
further than the great railroad itself had stretched its system.
At six o'clock one morning he was f o u n d by his butler lying
at the foot of the hall stairs with two pistol w o u n d s above his
heart. He was quite dead. His safe, to which only he and his
secretary had the keys, was found open, a n d $200,000 in bonds,
stocks, and money, which had been placed there only the night
before, was f o u n d missing. The secretary was missing also. His
name was Stephen S. Hade, and his n a m e a n d his description

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had been telegraphed and cabled to all parts of the world. There
was e n o u g h circumstantial evidence to show, beyond a n y
question or possibility of mistake, that he w a s the murderer.
It m a d e an e n o r m o u s a m o u n t of talk, a n d u n h a p p y
individuals were being arrested all over the country, and sent on
to N e w York for identification. Three had been arrested at
Liverpool, a n d o n e m a n just as he landed at Sydney, Australia.
But so far the m u r d e r e r had escaped.
We w e r e talking about it one night, as everybody else w a s
all over the country, in the local room, a n d the city editor said it
w a s worth a fortune to any one w h o chanced to run across H a d e
and succeeded in h a n d i n g him over to the police. Some of us
thought H a d e had taken passage from some one of the smallei
seaports, a n d others were of the opinion that he had buried
himself in some cheap lodging-house in N e w York, or in o n e of
the smaller t o w n s in N e w Jersey.
"I shouldn't be surprised to meet him out walking, right
here in Philadelphia," said one of the staff. "He'll be disguised,
of course, but you could always tell him by the absence of the
trigger finger on his right hand. It's missing, you know; shot off
w h e n he was a boy."
"You w a n t to look for a man dressed like a tough," said the
city editor; "for as this fellow is to all appearances a gentleman,
he will try to look as little like a gentleman as possible."
"No, he w o n ' t , " said Gallegher, with that calm impertinence that m a d e him dear to us. "He'll dress just like a
gentleman. Toughs don't wear gloves, a n d you see he's got to
wear 'em. The first thing he thought of after doing for Burrbank
was of that gone finger, and how he w a s to hide it. He stuffed
the finger of that glove with cotton so's to make it look like a
whole finger, and the first time he takes off that glove they've got
himsee, a n d he knows it. So what youse want to do is to look
for a man with gloves on. I've been a-doing it for two weeks
now, and I can tell you it's hard work, for everybody wears
gloves this kind of weather. But if you look long e n o u g h you'll
find him. A n d w h e n you think it's him, go u p to him a n d hold
out your h a n d in a friendly way, like a bunco-steerer, and shake
his hand; a n d if you feel that his forefinger ain't real flesh, but

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

just w a d d e d cotton, then grip to it with your right a n d grab his

throat with your left, a n d holler for h e l p . "
There w a s an appreciative pause.
"I see, g e n t l e m e n , " said the city editor, dryly, "that Gallegher's reasoning has impressed you; and I also see that before
the week is out all of my y o u n g m e n will be u n d e r b o n d s for
assaulting innocent pedestrians whose only offence is that they
wear gloves in midwinter."
It w a s about a week after this that Detective Hefflefinger, of
Inspector Byrnes's staff, came over to Philadelphia after a
burglar, of w h o s e w h e r e a b o u t s he had been misinformed by
telegraph. H e b r o u g h t the warrant, requisition, a n d other
necessary papers about him, but the burglar h a d flown. O n e of
our reporters h a d w o r k e d on a N e w York paper, a n d k n e w
Hefflefinger, and the detective came to the office to see if he
could help him in his so far unsuccessful search.
H e gave Gallegher his card, and after Gallegher h a d read it,
a n d had discovered w h o the visitor was, h e became so demoralized that he w a s absolutely useless.
" O n e of Byrnes's m e n " was a much more awe-inspiring
individual to Gallegher than a member of the Cabinet. He
accordingly seized his hat a n d overcoat, a n d leaving his duties
to be looked after by others, hastened out after the object of his
admiration, w h o f o u n d his suggestions a n d knowledge of the
city so valuable, a n d his company so entertaining, that they
became very intimate, a n d spent the rest of the day together.
In the meanwhile the managing editor h a d instructed his
subordinates to inform Gallegher, w h e n h e condescended to
return, that his services were no longer n e e d e d . Gallegher had
played truant once too often. Unconscious of this, he remained
with his n e w friend until late the same evening, a n d started the
next afternoon toward the Press office.
As I have said, Gallegher lived in the most distant part of
the city, not many minutes' walk from the Kensington railroad
station, w h e r e trains ran into the suburbs a n d on to N e w York.
It w a s in front of this station that a smoothly shaven, well-

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101

dressed man b r u s h e d past Gallegher and hurried u p the steps to

the ticket office.
He held a walking stick in his right h a n d , and Gallegher,
w h o now patiently scrutinized the h a n d s of every one w h o w o r e
gloves, saw that while three fingers of the man's h a n d w e r e
closed around the cane, the fourth stood out in almost a straight
line with his palm.
Gallegher stopped with a gasp a n d with a trembling all over
his little body, and his brain asked with a throb if it could be
possible. But possibilities and probabilities were to be discovered later. N o w was the time for action.
He was after the man in a m o m e n t , hanging at his heels a n d
his eyes moist with excitement.
He heard the man ask for a ticket to Torresdale, a little
station just outside of Philadelphia, a n d w h e n he was out of
hearing, but not out of sight, purchased one for the same place.
The stranger w e n t into the smoking-car, and seated himself
at one end toward the door. Gallegher took his place at the
opposite e n d .
He w a s trembling all over, and suffered from a slight feeling
of nausea. He guessed it came from fright, not of any bodily
harm that might come to him, but at the probability of failure in
his adventure and of its most m o m e n t o u s possibilities.
The stranger pulled his coat collar u p around his ears,
hiding the lower portion of his face, but not concealing the
resemblance in his troubled eves a n d close-shut lips to the
likenesses of the murderer Hade.
They reached Torresdale in half an hour, and the stranger,
alighting quickly, struck off at a rapid pace d o w n the countrv
road leading to the station.
Gallegher gave him a h u n d r e d yards' start, and then
followed slowly after. The road ran between fields and past a
few frame-houses set far from the road in kitchen gardens.
Once or twice the man looked back over his shoulder, but
he saw only a dreary length of road with a small bov splashing
through the slush in the midst of it and stopping every now a n d
again to throw snowballs at belated sparrows.
After a ten minutes' walk the stranger turned into a side

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

road which led to only one place, the Eagle Inn, an old roadside
hostelry k n o w n n o w as the headquarters for p o t h u n t e r s from
the Philadelphia g a m e market and the battle ground of many a
cockfight.
Gallegher k n e w the place well. He and his y o u n g companions had often stopped there w h e n out chestnutting on holidays
in the a u t u m n .
The son of the m a n w h o kept it had often accompanied
t h e m o n their excursions, a n d though the boys of the city streets
considered him a d u m b lout, they respected him s o m e w h a t
owing to his inside knowledge of dog and cockfights.
The stranger entered the inn at a side door, and Gallegher,
reaching it a few m i n u t e s later, let him go for the time being, and
set about finding his occasional playmate, y o u n g Keppler.
Keppler's offspring was found in the w o o d s h e d .
"'Tain't hard to guess what brings you out here," said the
tavern keeper's son, with a grin; "it's the fight."
"What fight?" asked Gallegher, unguardedly.
"What fight? Why, the fight," returned his companion, with
the slow contempt of superior knowledge. "It's to come off here
to-night. You k n e w that as well as me; a n y w a y your sportin'
editor knows it. He got the tip last night, but that won't help you
any. You needn't think there's any chance of your getting a peep
at it. Why, tickets is two h u n d r e d and fifty apiece!"
"Whew!" whistled Gallegher, "where's it to be?"
"In the barn," whispered Keppler. "I helped 'em fix the
ropes this morning, I did."
"Gosh, but you're in luck," exclaimed Gallegher, with
flattering envy. "Couldn't I jest get a p e e p at it?"
"Maybe," said the gratified Keppler. "There's a winder with
a w o o d e n shutter at the back of the barn. You can get in by it, if
you have some one to boost you u p to the sill."
"Sa-a-y," drawled Gallegher, as if something had but just
that m o m e n t reminded him. "Who's that gent w h o come d o w n
the road just a bit ahead of mehim with the cape-coat! Has he
got anything to d o with the fight?"
"Him?" repeated Keppler in tones of sincere disgust. "Nooh, he ain't no sport. He's queer, Dad thinks. He come here one

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103

dav last week about ten in the morning, said his doctor told him
to go out 'en the country for his health. He's stuck u p a n d
citified, and wears gloves, and takes his meals private in his
room, and all that sort of ruck. They w a s saying in the saloon
last night that they thought he was hiding from something, a n d
Dad, just to try him, asks him last night if he was coming to see
the fight. He looked sort of scared, a n d said he didn't w a n t to
see no fight. A n d then Dad savs, 'I guess you mean you don't
want no fighters to see vou.' Dad didn't m e a n no harm by it, just
passed it as a joke; but Mr. Carleton, as he calls himself, got
white as a ghost an' says, i'll go to the fight willing e n o u g h , '
and begins to laugh and joke. And this morning he went right
into the bar-room, where all the sports were setting, and said he
was going into town to see some friends; and as he starts off he
laughs an' says, 'This don't look as if I was afraid of seeing
people, does it?' but Dad savs it was just bluff that m a d e him d o
it, and Dad thinks that if he hadn't said what he did, this Mr.
Carleton w o u l d n ' t have left his room at all."
Gallegher had got all he wanted, and much more t h a n he
had hoped forso much more that his walk back to the station
was in the nature of a triumphal march.
He had twenty minutes to wait for the next train, a n d it
seemed an hour. While waiting he sent a telegram to Hefflefinger at his hotel. It read: "Your man is near the Torresdale station,
on Pennsylvania Railroad; take cab, and meet me at station. Wait
until 1 come. G A L L T . C H E R . "
With the exception of one at midnight, no other train
stopped at Torresdale that evening, hence the direction to take a
cab.
The train to the city seemed to Gallegher to drag itself by
inches. It stopped and backed at purposeless intervals, waited
for an express to precede it, and dallied at stations, and w h e n , at
last, it reached the terminus, Gallegher was out before it h a d
stopped and w a s in the cab and off on his way to the h o m e of
the sporting editor.
The sporting editor was at dinner and came out in the hall
to see him, with his napkin in his h a n d . Gallegher explained
breathlessly that he had located the murderer for w h o m the

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

police of two continents were looking, and that he believed, in

order to quiet the suspicions of the people with w h o m he w a s
hiding, that he would be present at the fight that night.
The sporting editor led Gallegher into his library a n d shut
the door. "Now," he said, "go over all that again."
Gallegher w e n t over it again in detail, and a d d e d h o w he
h a d sent for Hefflefinger to make the arrest in order that it might
be kept from the knowledge of the local police a n d from the
Philadelphia reporters.
"What I w a n t Hefflefinger to do is to arrest H a d e with the
warrant he has for the burglar," explained Gallegher; "and to
take him on to N e w York on the owl train that passes Torresdale
at one. It don't get to Jersey City until four o'clock, one hour
after the morning p a p e r s go to press. Of course, w e m u s t fix
Hefflefinger so's he'll keep quiet and not tell w h o his prisoner
really is."
The sporting editor reached his h a n d out to pat Gallegher
on the head, but changed his mind and shook h a n d s with him
instead.
"My boy," he said, "you are an infant p h e n o m e n o n . If I can
pull the rest of this thing off tonight it will mean the $5,000
reward and fame galore for you and the paper. Now, I'm going
to write a note to the managing editor, a n d you can take it
a r o u n d to him a n d tell him w h a t you've d o n e and w h a t I am
going to do, and he'll take you back on the paper and raise your
salary. Perhaps you didn't know you've been discharged?"
"Do you think you ain't a-going to take me with you?"
d e m a n d e d Gallegher.
"Why, certainly not. Why should I? It all lies with the
detective and myself now. You've done your share, and done it
well. If the man's caught, the reward's yours. But you'd only be
in the way now. You'd better go to the office and make your
peace with the chief."
"If the paper can get along without me, I can get along
without the old paper," said Gallegher, hotly. " A n d if I ain't
a-going with you, you ain't neither, for I k n o w w h e r e Hefflefinger is to be, and vou don't, and I won't tell v o u . "
"Oh, verv well, very well," replied the sporting editor,

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105

weakly capitulating. "I'll s e n d the n o t e by a m e s s e n g e r ; only

mind, if y o u lose y o u r place, d o n ' t blame m e . "
Gallegher w o n d e r e d h o w this m a n could value a week's
salary against the excitement of seeing a n o t e d criminal r u n
d o w n , a n d of getting the n e w s to the paper, a n d to that o n e
paper alone.
From that m o m e n t the sporting editor sank in Gallegher's
estimation.
Mr. D w y e r sat d o w n at his desk a n d scribbled off t h e
following note:
"I h a v e received reliable information that H a d e , the Burrbank murderer, will be present at the fight tonight. We h a v e
arranged it so that he will be arrested quietly a n d in such a
m a n n e r that t h e fact m a y be kept f r o m all other p a p e r s . I n e e d
not point out to you that this will be the most i m p o r t a n t piece of
n e w s in the c o u n t r y tomorrow.
"Yours, etc.,
MICHAEL E. DWYER."
The sporting editor s t e p p e d into the waiting cab, w h i l e
Gallegher w h i s p e r e d the directions to the driver. He was told to
go first to a district m e s s e n g e r office, a n d f r o m there u p to the
Ridge Avenue Road, out Broad Street, a n d on to the old Eagle
Inn, near Torresdale.
It was a miserable night. The rain a n d s n o w were falling
together, a n d freezing as thev fell. The sporting editor got o u t to
send his m e s s a g e to the Press office, a n d t h e n lighting a cigar,
a n d turning u p the collar of his great-coat, curled u p in the
corner of the cab.
"Wake me w h e n w e get there, Gallegher," he said. He k n e w
he had a long ride, a n d m u c h rapid w o r k before him, a n d he
was p r e p a r i n g for the strain.
To Gallegher the idea of going to sleep s e e m e d almost
criminal. From the dark corner of the cab his eves s h o n e with
-'xeitement, a n d with the awful jov of anticipation. He glanced
erv n o w a n d then to w h e r e the sporting editor's cigar s h o n e in
the darkness, a n d w a t c h e d it as it gradually b u r n t more dimly

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

a n d w e n t out. T h e lights in the s h o p w i n d o w s t h r e w a broad

glare across the ice on t h e p a v e m e n t s , a n d the lights f r o m the
l a m p posts tossed the distorted s h a d o w of t h e cab, a n d the
horse, a n d the motionless driver, s o m e t i m e s before a n d sometimes b e h i n d t h e m .
After half an h o u r Gallegher slipped d o w n to the b o t t o m of
the cab a n d d r a g g e d out a lap-robe, in w h i c h he w r a p p e d
himself. It w a s g r o w i n g colder, a n d the d a m p , k e e n w i n d s w e p t
in t h r o u g h the cracks until the w i n d o w - f r a m e s a n d w o o d w o r k
w e r e cold to the touch.
A n h o u r p a s s e d , a n d the cab w a s still m o v i n g m o r e slowly
over the r o u g h surface of partly paved streets, a n d by single
r o w s of n e w h o u s e s s t a n d i n g at different angles to each other in
fields covered with a s h - h e a p s a n d brick-kilns. H e r e a n d there
t h e g a u d y lights of a drug-store, a n d the f o r e r u n n e r of s u b u r b a n
civilization, s h o n e f r o m the e n d of a n e w block of h o u s e s , a n d
the rubber cape of an occasional policeman s h o w e d in the light
of the lamp-post that he h u g g e d for comfort.
T h e n even the h o u s e s disappeared, a n d the cab d r a g g e d its
w a y b e t w e e n truck farms, with desolate-looking glass-covered
beds, a n d pools of water, half-caked with ice, a n d bare trees,
a n d interminable fences.
O n c e or twice the cab s t o p p e d altogether, a n d Gallegher
could hear the driver swearing to himself, or at the horse, or the
roads. At last they d r e w u p before the station at Torresdale. It
w a s quite d e s e r t e d , a n d only a single light cut a s w a t h in the
d a r k n e s s a n d s h o w e d a portion of the platform, the ties, a n d the
rails glistening in the rain. They walked twice past the light
before a figure s t e p p e d out of the s h a d o w a n d greeted t h e m
cautiously.
"I am Mr. Dwver, of the Press," said the sporting editor,
briskly. "You've heard of me, p e r h a p s . Well, there s h o u l d n ' t be
any difficulty in our m a k i n g a deal, should there? This bov here
h a s f o u n d H a d e , and we have reason to believe he will be
a m o n g the spectators at the fight tonight. We w a n t vou to arrest
him quietly, a n d as secretly as possible. You can d o it with \ o u r
p a p e r s a n d your b a d g e easily e n o u g h . We w a n t vou to p r e t e n d
that you believe he is this burglar you came over after. If you will

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107

do this, a n d take him away without any one so m u c h as

suspecting w h o he really is, and on the train that passes here at
1.20 for N e w York, we will give you $500 out of the $5,000
reward. If, however, one other paper, either in New York or
Philadelphia, or a n y w h e r e else, k n o w s of the arrest, you w o n ' t
get a cent. Now, w h a t do you say?"
The detective had a great deal to say. He wasn't at all sure
the man Gallegher suspected was Hade; he feared he might get
himself into trouble by making a false arrest, and if it should be
the man, he was afraid the local police would interfere.
"We've no time to argue or debate this matter," said Dwyer,
warmly. "We agree to point Hade out to vou in the crowd. After
the fight is over you arrest him as w e have directed, and you get
the money and the credit of the arrest. If vou don't like this, I
will arrest the man myself, and have him driven to town, with a
pistol for a w a r r a n t . "
Hefflefinger considered in silence and then agreed unconditionally. "As you say, Mr. Dwyer," he returned. "I've heard of
you for a thoroughbred sport. I know you'll do what you say
you'll do; and as for me I'll do what you say and just as you say,
and it's a very pretty piece of work as it stands."
They all stepped back into the cab, and then it was that they
were met by a fresh difficulty, how to get the detective into the
barn where the fight was to take place, for neither of the two
men had $250 to pay for his admittance.
But this was overcome when Gallegher remembered the
window of which young Keppler had told him.
In the event of Hade's losing courage and not daring to
show himself in the crowd around the ring, it was agreed that
Dwyer should come to the barn and warn Hefflefinger; but if he
should come, Dwver was merely to keep near him and to signify
by a prearranged gesture which one of the crowd he was.
They drew up before a great black s h a d o w of a house, dark,
forbidding, and apparently deserted. But at the sound of the
wheels on the gravel the door opened, letting out a stream of
warm, cheerful light, and a man's voice said, "Put out those
lights. Don't vouse know m^. better than that 7 " This was
Keppler, and he welcomed Mr. Dwyer with effusive courtesy

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

The two m e n s h o w e d in the stream of light, a n d the door

closed on them, leaving the house as it w a s at first, black and
silent, save for the dripping of the rain a n d s n o w from the
eaves.
The detective a n d Gallegher put out the cab's lamps and led
the horse toward a long, low shed in the rear of the yard, which
they n o w noticed w a s almost filled with teams of m a n y different
makes, from the Hobson's choice of a livery stable to the
b r o u g h a m of the m a n about town.
" N o , " said Gallegher, as the cabman s t o p p e d to hitch the
horse beside the others, "we want it nearest that lower gate.
W h e n w e n e w s p a p e r m e n leave this place we'll leave it in a
hurry, and the m a n w h o is nearest town is likely to get there
first. You won't be a-following of no hearse w h e n you make
your return trip."
Gallegher tied the horse to the very gate-post itself, leaving
the gate open and allowing a clear road a n d a flying start for the
prospective race to N e w s p a p e r Row.
The driver disappeared u n d e r the shelter of the porch, a n d
Gallegher and the detective moved off cautiously to the rear of
the barn. "This m u s t be the window," said Hefflefinger, pointing
to a broad w o o d e n shutter some feet from the window.
"Just you give me a boost once, and I'll get that open in a
jiffy," said Gallegher.
The detective placed his h a n d s on his knees, a n d Gallegher
stood u p o n his shoulders, and with the blade of his knife lifted
the w o o d e n button that fastened the w i n d o w on the inside, a n d
pulled the shutter open.
Then he put one leg inside over the sill, a n d leaning d o w n
helped to draw his fellow-conspirator u p to a level with the
window. "I feel just like I was burglarizing a h o u s e , " chuckled
Gallegher, as he d r o p p e d noiselessly to the floor below and
refastened the shutter. The barn was a large one, with a row of
stalls on either side in which horses and cows were dozing.
There w a s a h a y m o w over each row of stalls, and at one end of
the barn a n u m b e r of fence-rails had been thrown across from
one m o w to the other. These rails were covered with hav.
In the middle of the floor was the ring. It was not really a

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109

ring, but a square, with w o o d e n posts at its four corners

through which ran a heavy rope. The space inclosed by the rope
was covered with sawdust.
Gallegher could not resist stepping into the ring, a n d after
stamping the s a w d u s t once or twice, as if to assure himself that
he was really there, began dancing a r o u n d it, and indulging in
such a remarkable series of fistic manoeuvres with an imaginary
adversary that the unimaginative detective precipitately backed
into a corner of the barn.
" N o w , t h e n , " said Gallegher, having a p p a r e n t l y vanquished his foe, "you come with m e . " His companion followed
quickly as Gallegher climbed to one of the h a y m o w s , a n d
crawling carefully out on the fence-rail, stretched himself at full
length, face d o w n w a r d . In this position, by moving the straw a
little, he could look d o w n , without being himself seen, u p o n the
heads of w h o m s o e v e r stood below. "This is better'n a private
box, ain't it?" said Gallegher.
The boy from the n e w s p a p e r office and the detective lay
there in silence, biting at straws a n d tossing anxiously on their
comfortable bed.
It seemed fully two hours before they came. Gallegher h a d
listened w i t h o u t breathing, and with every muscle on a strain,
at least a d o z e n times, w h e n some m o v e m e n t in the yard h a d
led him to believe that they were at the door.
And he h a d n u m e r o u s doubts a n d fears. Sometimes it w a s
that the police h a d learnt of the fight, a n d had raided Keppler's
in his absence, a n d again it w a s that the fight h a d been
p o s t p o n e d , or, worst of all, that it w o u l d be put off until so late
that Mr. D w y e r could not get back in time for the last edition of
the paper. Their coming, w h e n at last thev came, was heralded
by an a d v a n c e g u a r d of two sporting men, w h o stationed
themselves at either side of the big door.
" H u r r y u p , now, gents," one of the men said with a shiver,
"don't keep this door open no longer'n is n e e d f u l . "
It w a s not a very large crowd, b u t it was w o n d e r f u l l y well
selected. It ran, in the majority of its c o m p o n e n t parts, to heavy
white coats with pearl buttons. The white coats were shouldered by long blue coats with astrakhan fur trimmings, the

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

wearers of which preserved a cliqueness not remarkable w h e n

one considers that they believed every one else present to be
either a crook or a prize-fighter.
There were well-fed, well-groomed club-men a n d brokers
in the crowd, a politician or two, a popular comedian with his
manager, amateur boxers from the athletic clubs, a n d quiet,
close m o u t h e d sporting m e n from every city in the country.
Their n a m e s if printed in the papers would have been as familiar
as the types of the papers themselves.
A n d a m o n g these m e n , w h o s e only t h o u g h t w a s of the
brutal sport to come, w a s Hade, with Dwyer standing at ease at
his s h o u l d e r H a d e j white, and visibly in d e e p anxiety, hiding
his pale face beneath a cloth travelling cap, a n d with his chin
muffled in a wollen scarf. He had dared to come because he
feared his danger from the already suspicious Keppler w a s less
than if he stayed away. A n d so he was there, hovering restlessly
on the border of the crowd, feeling his danger a n d sick with fear.
W h e n Hefflefinger first saw him he started u p on his h a n d s
a n d elbows and m a d e a m o v e m e n t forward as if he would leap
d o w n then and there and carry off his prisoner single-handed.
"Lie d o w n , " growled Gallegher; "an officer of any sort
w o u l d n ' t live tljree minutes in that c r o w d . "
The detective d r e w back slowly and buried himself again in
the straw, but never once through the long fight which followed
did his eyes leave the person of the murderer. The n e w s p a p e r
m e n took their places in the foremost row close a r o u n d the ring,
a n d kept looking at their watches and begging the master of
ceremonies to "shake it up, do."
There was a great deal of betting, a n d all of the m e n
h a n d l e d the great roll of bills they wagered with a flippant
recklessness which could only be accounted for in Gallegher's
m i n d by temporary mental derangement. Some o n e pulled a
box out ii.to the ring a n d the master of ceremonies m o u n t e d it,
a n d pointed out in forcible language that as they were almost all
already u n d e r b o n d s to keep the peace, it b e h o o v e d all to curb
their excitement a n d to maintain a severe silence, unless they
w a n t e d to bring the police u p o n them a n d have themselves
"sent d o w n " for a year or two.

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Then two very disreputable-looking persons tossed their

respective principals' high hats into the ring, and the crowd,
recognizing in this relic of the days w h e n brave knights t h r e w
d o w n their gauntlets in the lists as only a sign that the fight w a s
about to begin, cheered tumultuously.
This w a s followed by a s u d d e n surging forward, a n d a
mutter of admiration much more flattering than the cheers h a d
been, w h e n the principals followed their hats, a n d slipping out
of their great-coats, stood forth in all the physical beauty of the
perfect brute.
Their pink skin w a s as soft and healthy looking as a baby's,
and glowed in the lights of the lanterns like tinted ivory, a n d
u n d e r n e a t h this silken covering the great biceps and muscles
moved in a n d out a n d looked like the coils of a snake a r o u n d the
branch of a tree.
Gentlemen and blackguard shouldered each other for a
nearer view; the coachmen, whose metal b u t t o n s were unpleasantly suggestive of police, put their h a n d s , in the excitement of
the m o m e n t , on the shoulders of their masters; the perspiration
stood out in great d r o p s on the foreheads of the backers, a n d the
n e w s p a p e r men bit s o m e w h a t nervously at the e n d s of their
pencils.
And in the stalls the cows m u n c h e d contentedly at their
cuds and gazed with gentle curiosity at their two fellowbrutes,
w h o stood waiting the signal to fall u p o n , and kill each other if
need be, for the delectation of their brothers.
"Take your places," c o m m a n d e d the master of ceremonies.
In the m o m e n t in which the two men faced each other the
crowd became so still that, save for the beating of the rain u p o n
the shingled roof a n d the stamping of a horse in one of the
stalls, the place was silent as a church.
"Time," shouted the master of ceremonies.
The two m e n sprang into a p o s t u r e of defence, which was
lost as quickly as it was taken, one great arm shot out like a
piston-rod; there w a s the sound of bare fists beating on naked
flesh; there w a s an exultant i n d r a w n gasp of savage pleasure
and relief from the crowd, and the great fight had begun.
H o w the fortunes of war rose a n d fell, and changed a n d

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

rechanged that night, is an old story to those w h o listen to such

stories; and those w h o do not will be glad to be spared the
telling of it. It was, they say, one of the bitterest fights between
two men that this country has ever k n o w n .
But all that is of interest here is that after an hour of this
desperate brutal business the champion ceased to be the
favorite; the m a n w h o m he had taunted a n d bullied, a n d for
w h o m the public had but little sympathy, w a s proving himself a
likely winner, and u n d e r his cruel blows, as sharp a n d clean as
those from a cutlass, his o p p o n e n t was rapidly giving way.
The m e n about the ropes were past all control now; they
d r o w n e d Keppler's petitions for silence with oaths and in
inarticulate shouts of anger, as if the blows h a d fallen u p o n
them, and in mad rejoicings. They swept from one e n d of the
ring with those of the man they favored, a n d w h e n a N e w York
correspondent muttered over his shoulder that this would be
the biggest sporting surprise since the Heenan-Sayers fight, Mr.
Dwyer n o d d e d his head sympathetically in assent.
In the excitement a n d tumult it is doubtful if any heard the
three quickly repeated blows that fell heavily from the outside
u p o n the big doors of the barn. If they did, it w a s already too
late to m e n d matters, for the door fell, torn from its hinges, a n d
as it fell a captain of police sprang into the light from out of the
storm, with his lieutenants and their men crowding close as his
shoulder.
In the panic a n d s t a m p e d e that followed, several of the m e n
stood as helplessly immovable as t h o u g h they h a d seen a ghost;
others m a d e a m a d rush into the arms of the officers a n d were
beaten back against the ropes of the ring; others dived h e a d l o n g
into the stalls, a m o n g the horses a n d cattle, a n d still others
shoved the rolls of money they held into the h a n d s of the police
a n d begged like children to be allowed to escape.
The instant the door fell a n d the raid w a s declared
Hefflefinger slipped over the cross rails on which he had been
lying, h u n g for an instant by his h a n d s , a n d then d r o p p e d into
the centre of the fighting mob on the floor. He was out of it in an
instant with the agility of a pickpocket, was across the room and

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113

at Hade's throat like a dog. The murderer, for the m o m e n t , w a s

the calmer man of the two.
" H e r e , " he panted, " h a n d s off, now. There's no need for all
this violence. There's no great h a r m in looking at a fight, is
there? There's a hundred-dollar bill in my right hand; take it a n d
let me slip out of this. N o one is looking. Here."
But the detective only held him the closer.
"I w a n t you for burglary," he whispered u n d e r his breath.
"You've got to come with me now, a n d quick. The less f u s s you
make, the better for both of us. If you don't know w h o I am, you
can feel my badge u n d e r my coat there. I've got the authority.
It's all regular, and w h e n we're out of this dd row I'll s h o w
you the p a p e r s . "
He took one h a n d from Hade's throat a n d pulled a pair of
handcuffs from his pocket.
"It's a mistake. This is an outrage," gasped the murderer,
white and trembling, but dreadfully alive a n d desperate for his
liberty. "Let me go, I tell you! Take your h a n d s off of me! Do I
look like a burglar, you fool?"
"I k n o w w h o you look like," whispered the detective, with
his face close the face of his prisoner. "Now, will you go easy as
a burglar, or shall I tell these men w h o you are and w h a t I do
want you for? Shall I call out your real n a m e or not? Shall I tell
them? Quick, speak up; shall I?"
There w a s something so exultantsomething so unnecessarily savage in the officer's face that the man he held saw that
the detective k n e w him for w h a t he really was, a n d the h a n d s
that had held his throat slipped d o w n a r o u n d his shoulders, or
he w o u l d have fallen. The man's eyes o p e n e d and closed again,
and he swayed weakly backward a n d forward, and choked as if
his throat were dry and burning. Even to such a h a r d e n e d
connoisseur in crime as Gallegher, w h o stood closely by
drinking it in, there was something so abject in the man's terror
that he regarded him with w h a t w a s almost a touch of pity.
"For God's sake," Hade begged, "let me go. Come with me
to my room a n d I'll give vou half the monev. I'll divide with vou
tairlv. We can both get away. There's a fortune for both of us

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

there. We both can get away. You'll be rich for life. Do you
understandfor life!"
But the detective, to his credit, only shut his lips the tighter.
"That's e n o u g h , " he whispered, in return. "That's more
than I expected. You've sentenced yourself already. Come!"
Two officers in uniform barred their exit at the door, but
Hefflefinger smiled easily and showed his badge.
"One of Byrnes's m e n , " he said, in explanation; "came over
expressly to take this chap. He's a burglar; 'Arlie' Lane, alias
Carleton. I've s h o w n the papers to the captain. It's all regular.
I'm just going to get his traps at the hotel and walk him over to
the station. I guess we'll push right on to N e w York tonight."
The officers n o d d e d and smiled their admiration for the
representative of what is, perhaps, the best detective force in the
world, and let him pass.
Then Hefflefinger turned and spoke to Gallegher, w h o still
stood as watchful as a dog at his side. "I'm going to his room to
get the bonds and stuff," he whispered; "then I'll march him to
the station and take that train. I've done my share; don't forget
yours!"
"Oh, you'll get your money right e n o u g h , " said Gallegher.
"And, sa-ay/' he added, with the appreciative nod of an expert,
"do you know, you did it rather well."
Mr. Dwyer had been writing while the raid was settling
down, as he had been writing while waiting for the fight to
begin. Now he walked over to where the other correspondents
stood in angry conclave.
The n e w s p a p e r m e n had i n f o r m e d the officers w h o
h e m m e d them in that they represented the principal papers of
the country, and were expostulating vigorously with the captain, w h o had planned the raid, and who declared they were
under arrest.
"Don't be an ass, Scott," said Mr. Dwyer, w h o was too
excited to be polite or politic. "You know our being here isn't a
matter of choice. We came here on business, as you did, and
vou've no right to hold us."
"If we don't get our stuff on the wire at once," protested a
New York man, "we'll be too late for tomorrow's paper, a n d "

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115

Captain Scott said he did not care a profanely small a m o u n t

for tomorrow's paper, and that all he knew was that to the
station house the n e w s p a p e r men would go. There they w o u l d
have a hearing, and if the magistrate chose to let them off, that
was the magistrate's business, but that his dutv was to take
them into custody.
"But then it will be too late, don't vou u n d e r s t a n d ? "
shouted Mr. Dwyer. "You've got to let us go now, at once."
"I can't do it, Mr. Dwyer," said the captain, "and that's all
there is to it. Why, haven't 1 just sent the president of the Junior
Republican Club to the patrol wagon, the man that put this coat
on me, and d o you think I can let you fellows go after that? You
were all p u t u n d e r bonds to keep the peace not three davs ago,
and here you're at itfighting like badgers. It's worth my place
to let one of you off."
What Mr. Dwyer said next was so uncomplimentary to the
gallant Captain Scott that that o v e r w r o u g h t individual seized
the sporting editor by the shoulder, and shoved him into the
h a n d s of two of his men.
This w a s more than the distinguished Mr. Dwyer could
brook, and he excitedly raised his h a n d in resistance. But before
he had time to d o anything foolish his wrist was gripped by one
strong, little h a n d , and he was conscious that another w a s
picking the pocket of his great-coat.
He slapped his h a n d s to his sides, a n d looking d o w n , saw
Gallagher standing close behind him and holding him by the
wrist. Mr. Dwyer had forgotten the boy's existence, and w o u l d
have spoken sharplv if something in Gallegher's innocent eyes
had not stopped him.
Gallegher's h a n d was still in that pocket, in which Mr.
Dwyer had shoved his note-book filled with what he h a d
written of Gallegher's work and Hade's final capture, and with a
r u n n i n g descriptive account of the fight. With his eves fixed on
Mr. Dwyer, Gallegher drew it out, a n d with a quick m o v e m e n t
shoved it inside his waistcoat. Mr. Dwver gave a n o d of
comprehension. Then glancing at his two g u a r d s m e n , a n d
finding that they were still interested in the wordv battle of the
correspondents with their chief, and had seen nothing, he

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

stooped and whispered to Gallegher: "The forms are locked at

twenty minutes to three. If you don't get there by that time it
will be of no use, but if you're on time you'll beat the t o w n a n d
the country too."
Gallegher's eyes flashed significantly, a n d n o d d i n g his head to
show he u n d e r s t o o d , started boldly on a run toward the door.
But the officers w h o guarded it brought him to an abrupt halt,
and, much to Mr. Dwyer's astonishment, d r e w from him w h a t
w a s apparently a torrent of tears.
"Let me go to me father. I w a n t me father," the boy
shrieked, hysterically. "They've 'rested father. O h , daddy,
daddy. They're a-goin' to take you to prison."
" W h o is your father, sonny?" asked one of the guardians of
the gate.
"Keppler's m e father," sobbed Gallegher. "They're a-goin'
to lock him u p , a n d I'll never see him no m o r e . "
" O h , yes, you will," said the officer, good-naturedly; "he's
there in that first patrol-wagon. You can run over a n d say good
night to him, a n d then you'd better get to bed. This ain't no
place for kids of your age."
"Thank you, sir," sniffed Gallegher, tearfully, as the two
officers raised their clubs, and let him pass out into the
darkness.
The yard outside w a s in a tumult, horses were stamping,
a n d plunging, a n d backing the carriages into one another; lights
were flashing f r o m every w i n d o w of w h a t h a d been apparently
an uninhabited h o u s e , a n d the voices of the prisoners were still
raised in a n g r y expostulation.
Three police patrol-wagons were moving about the yard,
filled with unwilling passengers, w h o sat or stood, packed
together like sheep, a n d with no protection from the sleet a n d
rain.
Gallegher stole off into a dark corner, and watched the
scene until his eyesight became familiar with the position of the
land.
Then with his eyes fixed fearfully on the swinging light of a
lantern with which an officer was searching a m o n g the carriages, he groped his way between horses' hoofs and behind the

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117

wheels of carriages to the cab which h e h a d himself placed at t h e

furthermost gate. It w a s still there, a n d the horse, as h e h a d left
it, with its h e a d t u r n e d toward the city. Gallegher o p e n e d the
big gate noiselessly, a n d worked nervously at the hitching strap.
The knot w a s covered with a thin coating of ice, a n d it w a s
several m i n u t e s before he could loosen it. But his teeth finally
pulled it apart, a n d with the reins in his h a n d s he sprang u p o n
the wheel. A n d as he stood so, a shock of fear ran d o w n his back
iike an electric current, his breath left him, and he stood
immovable, gazing with wide eyes into the darkness.
The officer with the lantern h a d s u d d e n l y loomed u p f r o m
oehind a carriage not fifty feet distant, a n d was s t a n d i n g
oerfectly still, with his lantern held over his head, peering so
directly t o w a r d Gallegher that the boy felt that he m u s t see him.
Gallegher stood with one foot on the h u b of the wheel a n d w i t h
the other o n the box waiting to spring. It seemed a m i n u t e
oefore either of t h e m moved, a n d t h e n the officer took a step
orward, a n d d e m a n d e d sternly, " W h o is that? What are you
doing there?"
There w a s n o time for parley then. Gallegher felt that he
had been taken in the act, a n d that his only chance lay in o p e n
Sight. H e leaped u p o n the box, pulling out the w h i p as h e did
so, a n d with a quick s w e e p lashed the horse across the h e a d a n d
back. The animal s p r a n g forward with a snort, narrowly clearing
the gate-post, a n d p l u n g e d off into the darkness.
"Stop!" cried the officer.
So m a n y of Gallegher's acquaintances a m o n g the 'longs h o r e m e n a n d mill h a n d s had been challenged in so m u c h the
same m a n n e r that Gallegher k n e w w h a t w o u l d probably follow
if the challenge w a s disregarded. So h e slipped from his seat to
the footboard below, a n d d u c k e d his h e a d .
The three reports of a pistol, w h i c h rang out briskly f r o m
behind him, p r o v e d that his early training h a d given h i m a
valuable f u n d of useful miscellaneous knowledge.
"Don't you be scared," he said, reassuringly, to the horse;
"he's firing in t h e air."
The pistol-shots were a n s w e r e d by the impatient clangor of
a patrol-wagon's gong, a n d glancing over his shoulder Gal-

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

legher saw its red a n d green lanterns tossing from side to side
a n d looking in the darkness like the side-lights of a yacht
plunging forward in a storm
"I h a d n ' t bargained to race you against no patrol-wagons,"
said Gallegher to his animal; "but if they w a n t a race, we'll give
t h e m a tough tussle for it, won't we?"
Philadelphia, lying four miles to the south, sent u p a faint
yellow glow to the sky. It seemed very far away, a n d Gallegher's
braggadocio grew cold within him at the loneliness of his
a d v e n t u r e a n d the t h o u g h t of the long ride before him.
It w a s still bitterly cold.
The rain a n d sleet beat through his clothes, a n d struck his
skin with a s h a r p chilling touch that set him trembling.
Even the t h o u g h t of the over-weighted patrol w a g o n
probably sticking in the m u d some safe distance in the rear,
failed to cheer him, a n d the excitement that h a d so far m a d e him
callous to the cold died out a n d left him weaker a n d nervous.
But his horse w a s chilled with the long standing, a n d n o w
leaped eagerly forward, only too willing to w a r m the half-frozen
blood in its veins.
"You're a good beast," said Gallegher, plaintively. "You've
got more nerve t h a n me.* Don't you go back on me now. Mr.
Dwyer says w e ' v e got to beat the t o w n . " Gallegher h a d n o idea
w h a t time it w a s as he rode through the night, but he k n e w the
would be able to find out from a big clock over a manufactory at
a point nearly three-quarters of the distance from Keppler's to
the goal.
H e w a s still in the open country a n d driving recklessly, for
he k n e w the best part of his ride m u s t be m a d e outside the city
limits.
He raced b e t w e e n desolate-looking corn-fields with bare
stalks a n d patches of m u d d y earth rising above the thin
covering of snow, truck farms and brick-yards fell behind him
on either side. It w a s very lonely work, a n d once or twice the
dogs ran yelping to the gates and barked after him.
Part of his w a y lay parallel with the railroad tracks, a n d he
drove for some time beside long lines of freight a n d coal cars as
they stood resting for the night. The fantastic Q u e e n A n n e

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119

suburban stations were dark and deserted, but in one or t w o of

the block-towers he could see the operators writing at their
desks, a n d the sight in some way comforted him.
Once he t h o u g h t of stopping to get out the blanket in w h i c h
he had w r a p p e d himself on the first trip, but he feared to spare
the time, a n d drove on with his teeth chattering a n d his
shoulders shaking with the cold.
He welcomed the first solitary row of darkened houses with
a faint cheer of recognition. The scattered lamp-posts lightened
his spirits, a n d even the badly paved streets ran u n d e r the beats
of his horse's feet like music. Great mills a n d manufactories,
with only a night-watchman's light in the lowest of their m a n y
stories, began to take the place of the gloomy farm-houses a n d
gaunt trees that h a d startled him with their grotesque s h a p e s .
He h a d been driving nearly an hour, he calculated, a n d in that
time the rain h a d changed to a wet snow, that fell heavily a n d
clung to w h a t e v e r it touched. H e passed block after block of trim
workmen's houses, as still a n d silent as the sleepers within
them, a n d at last he turned the horse's h e a d into Broad Street,
the city's great thoroughfare, that stretches from its one e n d to
the other a n d cuts it evenly in two.
He w a s driving noiselessly over the snow and slush in the
street, with his t h o u g h t s bent only on the clock-face he w i s h e d
so m u c h to see, w h e n a hoarse voice challenged him f r o m the
sidewalk. "Hey, you, stop there, holu up!" auiJ Lhe voice.
Gallegher t u r n e d his head, a n d t h o u g h he saw that the
voice came from u n d e r a policeman's helmet, his only a n s w e r
was to hit his horse sharply over the Mead wim ins w h i p a n d to
urge it into a gallop.
This, on his part, was followed by a sharp, shrill whistle
from the policeman. Another whistle a n s w e r e d it from a streetcorner one block ahead of him. " W h o a , " said Gallegher, pulling
on the reins. "There's one too m a n y of t h e m , " h e a d d e d , in
apologetic explanation. The horse s t o p p e d , a n d stood, breathing heavily, with great clouds of steam rising from its flanks.
" W h y in hell didn't you s t o p w h e n I told you to?"
d e m a n d e d the voice, now close at the cab's side.
"I didn't hear y o u , " returned Gallegher, sweetly. "But I

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

heard you whistle, a n d I heard your partner whistle, a n d I

t h o u g h t m a y b e it w a s me you w a n t e d to speak to, so I just
stopped."
"You heard m e well enough. Why aren't your lights lit?"
d e m a n d e d the voice.
"Should I have ' e m lit?" asked Gallegher, b e n d i n g over a n d
regarding t h e m with s u d d e n interest.
"You k n o w you should, and if you don't, you've n o right to
be driving that cab. I don't believe y o u ' r e the regular driver,
anyway. W h e r e ' d you get it?"
"It ain't m y cab, of course," said Gallegher, with an easy
laugh. "It's Luke McGovern's. H e left it outside Cronin's while
he w e n t in to get a drink, a n d he took too m u c h , a n d me father
told me to drive it r o u n d to the stable for him. I'm Cronin's son.
McGovern ain't in n o condition to drive. You can see yourself
h o w he's been misusing the horse. H e p u t s it u p at Bachman's
livery stable, a n d I w a s just going a r o u n d there now."
Gallegher's k n o w l e d g e of the local celebrities of the district
confused the zealous officer of the peace. H e surveyed the boy
with a steady stare that would have distressed a less skilful liar,
but Gallegher only shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if f r o m
the cold, a n d waited with apparent indifference to w h a t the
officer w o u l d say next.
In reality his heart w a s beating heavily against his side, a n d
h e felt that if h e w a s kept on a strain m u c h longer he would give
w a y a n d break d o w n . A second snow-covered form emerged
s u d d e n l y f r o m the s h a d o w of the houses.
" W h a t is it, Reeder?" it asked.
" O h , n o t h i n g m u c h , " replied the first officer. "This kid
h a d n ' t any l a m p s lit, so I called to him to s t o p a n d h e didn't d o
it, so I whistled to you. It's all right, t h o u g h . He's just taking it
r o u n d to Bachman's. Go a h e a d , " he a d d e d , sulkily.
"Get up!" chirped Gallegher. "Good n i g h t , " h e a d d e d , over
his shoulder.
Gallegher gave an hysterical little g a s p of relief as h e trotted
away from the t w o policemen, a n d p o u r e d bitter maledictions
on their h e a d s for t w o meddling fools as h e went.
"They might as well kill a m a n as scare him to d e a t h , " h e

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121

said, with an attempt to get back to his customary flippancy. But

the effort w a s s o m e w h a t pitiful, a n d he felt guiltily conscious
that a salt, w a r m tear was creeping slowly d o w n his face, a n d
that a l u m p that w o u l d not keep d o w n was rising in his throat.
"'Tain't no fair thing for the whole police force to keep
worrying at a little boy like m e , " he said, in shame-faced
apology. "I'm not doing nothing wrong, a n d I'm half froze to
death, a n d yet they keep a-nagging at m e . "
It w a s so cold that w h e n the boy s t a m p e d his feet against
the footboard to keep them w a r m , s h a r p pains shot u p t h r o u g h
his body, a n d w h e n he beat his a r m s about his shoulders, as h e
had seen real cabmen do, the blood in his finger-tips tingled so
acutely that h e cried aloud with the pain.
H e h a d often been u p that late before, but he h a d never felt
so sleepy. It w a s as if some one w a s pressing a s p o n g e heavy
with chloroform near his face, a n d he could not fight off the
d r o w s i n e s s that lay hold of him.
H e saw, dimly hanging above his head, a r o u n d disc: of light
that seemed like a great m o o n , a n d which h e finally g u e s s e d to
be the clock-face for which he h a d b e e n on the look-out. H e h a d
passed it before he realized this; b u t the fact stirred h i m into
w a k e f u l n e s s again, a n d w h e n his cab's wheels slipped a r o u n d
the City Hall corner, he r e m e m b e r e d to look u p at the other big
clockface that k e e p s awake over the railroad station a n d
measures o u t the night.
H e gave a gasp of consternation w h e n he saw that it w a s
half-past two, a n d that there w a s b u t ten minutes left to him.
This, a n d the m a n y electric lights a n d the sight of the familiar
pile of buildings, startled him into a semi-consciousness of
w h e r e h e w a s a n d h o w great w a s the necessity for haste.
H e rose in his seat a n d called on the horse, a n d urged it into
a reckless gallop over the slippery asphalt. H e considered
nothing else but speed, a n d looking neither to the left nor right
d a s h e d off d o w n Broad Street into C h e s t n u t , w h e r e his course
lay straight away to the office, n o w only seven blocks distant.
Gallegher never k n e w h o w it began, but he w a s s u d d e n l y
assaulted by s h o u t s on either side, his horse w a s t h r o w n back
on its h a u n c h e s , a n d he f o u n d t w o m e n in cabmen's livery

122

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

hanging at its head, and patting its sides, and calling it by n a m e .

And the other cabmen w h o have their stand at the corner w e r e
swarming about the carriage, all of t h e m talking a n d swearing at
once, and gesticulating wildly with their whips.
Thev said they k n e w the cab w a s McGovern's, a n d they
\\ a mi cd to know w h e r e he was, and w h y he wasn't on it; they
wanted to know w h e r e Gallegher h a d stolen it, a n d why he h a d
been such a fool as to drive it into the arms of its owner's friends;
they said that it was about time that a cab-driver could get off his
box to take a drink without having his cab r u n away with, a n d
some of t h e m called loudly for a policeman to take the y o u n g
thief in charge.
Gallegher felt as if he had been s u d d e n l y dragged into
consciousness out of a bad dream, a n d stood for a second like a
half-awakened somnambulist.
They had stopped the cab u n d e r an electric light, and its
glare shone coldly d o w n u p o n the trampled snow and the faces
of the m e n a r o u n d him.
Gallegher bent forward, and lashed savagely at the horse
with his w h i p .
"Let me go," he shouted, as he tugged impotently at the
reins. "Let m e go, I tell you. I haven't stole no cab, and y o u ' v e
got no right to stop me. I only want to take it to the Press office,
he begged. "They'll send it back to you all right. They'll pay you
for the trip. I'm not r u n n i n g away with it. The driver's got the
collarhe's ' r e s t e d a n d I'm only a-going to the Press office. Do
you hear me?" he cried, his voice rising a n d breaking in a shriek
of passion a n d disappointment. "I tell you to let go those reins.
Let me go, or I'll kill you. Do you hear me? I'll kill y o u . " A n d
leaning forward, the boy struck savagely with his long w h i p at
the faces of the m e n about the horse's head.
Some one in the crowd reached u p a n d caught him by the
ankles, a n d with a quick jerk pulled him off the box, a n d t h r e w
him on to the street. But he w a s u p on his knees in a m o m e n t ,
a n d caught at the man's h a n d .
"Don't let t h e m stop me, mister," h e cried, "please let m e
go. I didn't steal the cab, sir. S'help me, I didn't. I'm telling you
the truth. Take me to the Press office, a n d they'll prove it to you.

Gallegher

123

They'll pay vou a n y t h i n g you ask ' e m . It's only such a little w a y s
now, a n d I've c o m e so far, sir. Please d o n ' t let t h e m stop m e , " h e
sobbed, clasping the m a n a b o u t t h e knees. "For H e a v e n ' s sake,
mister, let m e go!"
The m a n a g i n g editor of the Press took u p the i n d i a - r u b b e r
s p e a k i n g - t u b e at his side, a n d a n s w e r e d , " N o t y e t " to a n
inquiry the n i g h t editor h a d already p u t to h i m five times w i t h i n
the last t w e n t y m i n u t e s .
T h e n he s n a p p e d the metal top of the tube impatiently, a n d
w e n t upstairs. As he passed the d o o r of the local r o o m , h e
noticed that the r e p o r t e r s h a d not g o n e h o m e , but w e r e sitting
about on t h e tables a n d chairs, waiting. They looked u p
inquiringly as he p a s s e d , a n d the city editor asked, " A n y n e w s
vet?" a n d the m a n a g i n g editor s h o o k his h e a d .
T h e c o m p o s i t o r s w e r e s t a n d i n g idle in the c o m p o s i n g room, a n d their f o r e m a n w a s talking with the night editor.
"Well," said that g e n t l e m a n , tentatively.
"Well," r e t u r n e d the m a n a g i n g editor, "I d o n ' t think w e can
wait; d o y o u ? "
"It's a h a l f - h o u r after time n o w , " said the night editor, " a n d
we'll miss the s u b u r b a n trains if w e hold the p a p e r back a n y
longer. We can't afford to wait for a p u r e l y hypothetical story.
The c h a n c e s are all against the fight's h a v i n g taken place or this
Hade's h a v i n g b e e n a r r e s t e d . "
"But if w e ' r e b e a t e n on it" s u g g e s t e d the chief. "But I
d o n ' t t h i n k that is possible. If t h e r e w e r e a n y story to p r i n t ,
D w y e r w o u l d h a v e h a d it h e r e b e f o r e n o w . "
The m a n a g i n g editor looked steadily d o w n at the floor.
"Very well," h e said, slowly, " w e w o n ' t wait any longer. G o
a h e a d , " h e a d d e d , t u r n i n g to the f o r e m a n with a sigh of
reluctance. T h e f o r e m a n whirled himself about, a n d b e g a n to
give his orders; b u t the t w o editors still looked at each o t h e r
doubtfully.
As t h e y s t o o d so, there came a s u d d e n s h o u t a n d the s o u n d
of people r u n n i n g to a n d fro in the reportorial r o o m s below.
There w a s t h e t r a m p of m a n y f o o t s t e p s o n t h e stairs, a n d a b o v e

124

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

the contusion they heard the voice of the city editor telling some
one to " r u n to Madden's and get some brandy, quick."
N o one in the composing-room said anything; but those
compositors w h o h a d started to go h o m e began slipping off their
overcoats, a n d every one stood with his eyes fixed on the door.
It w a s kicked o p e n from the outside, a n d in the doorway
stood a cab-driver a n d the city editor, supporting between t h e m
a pitiful little figure of a boy, wet a n d miserable, a n d with the
snow melting on his clothes a n d r u n n i n g in little pools to the
floor. "Why, it's Gallegher," said the night editor, in a tone of the
keenest disappointment.
Gallegher shook himself free f r o m his supporters, a n d took
an unsteady step forward, his fingers fumbling stiffly with the
buttons of his waistcoat.
"Mr. Dwyer, sir," he began faintly, with his eyes fixed
fearfully on the managing editor, " h e got arrestedand I
couldn't get here no sooner, 'cause they kept a-stopping me,
and they took m e cab from u n d e r m e b u t " he pulled the
notebook from his breast a n d held it out with its covers from his
breast a n d held it out with its covers d a m p a n d limp f r o m the
rain, "but w e got Hade, and here's Mr. Dwyer's copy."
A n d then he asked, with a queer note in his voice, partly of
dread a n d partly of hope, "Am I in time, sir?"
The m a n a g i n g editor took the book, a n d tossed it to the
foreman, w h o r i p p e d out its leaves a n d dealt t h e m out to his
m e n as rapidly as a gambler deals out cards.
Then the m a n a g i n g editor stooped a n d picked Gallegher u p
in his arms, a n d , sitting d o w n , began to unlace his w e t a n d
m u d d y shoes.
Gallegher m a d e a faint effort to resist this degradation of the
managerial dignity; b u t his protest w a s a very feeble one, a n d
his head fell back heavily on the managing editor's shoulder
To Gallegher the incandescent lights began to whirl about in
circles, a n d to b u r n in different colors; the faces of the reporters
kneeling before him a n d chafing his h a n d s a n d feet grew dim
a n d unfamiliar, a n d the roar a n d rumble of the great presses in
the b a s e m e n t s o u n d e d far away, like the m u r m u r of the sea.

Gallegher

125

And then the place a n d the circumstances of it came back to

him again sharply a n d with s u d d e n vividness.
Gallegher looked up, with a faint smile, into the m a n a g i n g
editor's face. "You w o n ' t turn me off for r u n n i n g away, will
vou?" h e w h i s p e r e d .
The m a n a g i n g editor did not a n s w e r immediately. His h e a d
was bent, a n d h e was thinking, for s o m e reason or other, of a
.lttle boy of his o w n , at h o m e in bed. Then he said, quietly, " N o t
mis time, Gallegher."
Gallegher's h e a d sank back comfortably on the older man's
shoulder, a n d h e smiled comprehensively at the faces of the
/ o u n g m e n c r o w d e d a r o u n d him. "You h a d n ' t ought to," he
said, with a touch of his old i m p u d e n c e , "'causeI beat the
town."

1891

The Red-Headed League

SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

I had called u p o n my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day

in the a u t u m n of last year and f o u n d him in d e e p conversation
with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red
hair. With an apology for my intrusion, I w a s about to w i t h d r a w
w h e n Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the
door behind me.
"You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear
Watson," he said cordially.
"I w a s afraid that you were e n g a g e d . "
"So I am. Very much so."
"Then I can wait in the next r o o m . "
"Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my
partner a n d helper in m a n y of my most successful cases, a n d I
have no d o u b t that he will be of the u t m o s t use to me in yours
also."
The stout gentleman half rose from his chair a n d gave a bob
of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small,
fat-encircled eyes.
"Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair
a n d putting his finger-tips together, as w a s his custom w h e n in
judicial m o o d s . "I know, my dear Watson, that you share m y
love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions a n d
h u m d r u m routine of everyday life. You have s h o w n your relish
for it by the e n t h u s i a s m which has p r o m p t e d you to chronicle,
and, if you will excuse my saying so, s o m e w h a t to embellish so
m a n y of my o w n little adventures."
126

The Red-Headed

League

127

"Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to

me," I observed.
"You will r e m e m b e r that I remarked the other day, just
before w e w e n t into the very simple problem presented by Miss
Mary Sutherland, that for strange effects a n d extraordinary
combinations w e m u s t go to life itself, which is always far m o r e
daring than any effort of the imagination,"
"A proposition which I took the liberty of d o u b t i n g . "
"You did, Doctor, but n o n e the less you m u s t come r o u n d to
my view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact u p o n fact on
you until your reason breaks d o w n u n d e r t h e m a n d acknowledges m e to be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here h a s
been good e n o u g h to call u p o n me this morning, and to begin a
narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I
have listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that
the strangest a n d most unique things are very often connected
not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally,
indeed, w h e r e there is room for d o u b t w h e t h e r any positive
crime has been committed. As far as I have heard it is impossible
for me to say w h e t h e r the present case is an instance of crime or
not, but the course of events is certainly' a m o n g the most
singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you
would have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I
ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard
the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the
story makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your
lips. As a rule, w h e n I have heard some slight indication of the
course of events, I am able to guide myself by the t h o u s a n d s of
other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present
instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my
belief, u n i q u e . "
The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of
some little pride and pulled a dirty a n d wrinkled n e w s p a p e r
from the inside of his great-coat. As he glanced d o w n the
advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the
paper flattened out u p o n his knee, I took a good look at the man
and endeavoured, after the fashion of mv companion, to read

128

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

the indications which might be presented by his dress or

appearance.
I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. O u r
visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace
British t r a d e s m a n , obese, p o m p o u s , a n d slow. He w o r e rather
baggy gray shepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black
frock-coat, u n b u t t o n e d in the front, a n d a drab waistcoat with a
heavy brassy Albert chain, a n d a square pierced bit of metal
dangling d o w n as an ornament. A frayed top-hat a n d a f a d e d
b r o w n overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay u p o n a chair
beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there w a s n o t h i n g
remarkable about the man save hfs blazing red head, a n d the
expression of extreme chagrin and discontent u p o n his features.
Sherlock Holmes's quick eye took in my occupation, a n d h e
shook his h e a d with a smile as he noticed my questioning
glances. "Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time
d o n e manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason,
that he has been in China, and that he has d o n e a considerable
a m o u n t of writing lately, I can d e d u c e nothing else."
Mr. Jabez Wilson started u p in his chair, with his forefinger
u p o n the paper, but his eyes u p o n my companion.
"How, in the n a m e of good-fortune, did you know all that,
Mr. Holmes?" h e asked. " H o w did you know, for example, that I
did manual labour? It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's
carpenter."
"Your h a n d s , my dear sir. Your right h a n d is quite a size
larger than your left. You have worked with it, a n d the muscles
are more d e v e l o p e d . "
"Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?"
"I w o n ' t insult your intelligence by telling you h o w I read
that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order,
you use an arc-and-compass breastpin."
"Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?"
"What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny
for five inches, a n d the left one with the smooth patch near the
elbow w h e r e you rest it u p o n the desk?"
"Well, but China?"
"The fish that you have tattooed immediately above vour

The Red-Headed

League

129

right wrist could only have been d o n e in China. I have m a d e a

smalj study of tattoo marks a n d have even contributed to the
literature of the subject. That trick of staining the-fishes' scales a
delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. W h e n , in addition, I see
a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter
becomes even more simple."
Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he.
"I thought at first that you had d o n e something clever, b u t I see
that there w a s nothing in it, after all."
"I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I m a k e a
mistake in explaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know,
and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck
if I am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr.
Wilson?"
"Yes, I have got it now," he a n s w e r e d with his thick red
finger planted halfway d o w n the column. "Here it is. This is
what began it all. You just read it for yourself, sir."
1 took the paper from him a n d read as follows:
T o THE R E D - H E A D E D

LEAGUE:

On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of

Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., there is n o w another
vacancy o p e n which entitles a m e m b e r of the League to a
salary of 4 a week for purely nominal services. All redheaded men w h o are s o u n d in body and mind, a n d above
the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person
on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices
of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street.
"What on earth does this mean?" 1 ejaculated after I had
twice read over the extraordinary announcement.'
Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit
when in high spirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?"
said he. " A n d now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us
ill about yourself, your household, and the effect which this
'dvertisement had u p o n your fortunes. You will first m a k e a
note, Doctor, of the paper and the date."

130

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two

m o n t h s ago."
"Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?"
"Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock
Holmes," said Jabez Wilson, m o p p i n g his forehead; "I have a
small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square, near the City.
It's not a very large affair, and of late years it has not d o n e more
than just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two
assistants, but n o w I only keep one; and I would have a job to
pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to
learn the business."
"What is the n a m e of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock
Holmes.
"His n a m e is Vincent Spaulding, a n d he's not such a youth,
either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter
assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better
himself a n d earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after all,
if he is satisfied, w h y should I p u t ideas in his head?"
"Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an
employee w h o comes under the full market price. It is not a
c o m m o n experience among employers in this age. I don't k n o w
that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement."
" O h , he h a s his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never w a s
such a feliow for photography. Snapping away with a camera
w h e n he ought to be improving his mind, and then diving d o w n
into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures.
That is his main fault, but on the whole he's a good worker.
There's no vice in him."
"He is still with you, I presume?"
"Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, w h o does a bit of simple
cooking a n d keeps the place cleanthat's all I have in the house,
for I am a widower and never had any familv. We live very
quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a root over our heads
and pay our debts, if we do nothing more.
" T h e first t h i n g t h a t p u t u s o u t w a s t h a t acl\t n i s e m e n t
S p a u l d i n g , h e c a m e d o w n i n t o t h e office j u s t thi> d a y e i g h t
w e e k s , w i t h t h i s v e r \ p a p e r in h i s h a n d , a n d h e s a v s :

The Red-Headed

League

131

" 'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I w a s a red-headed

man.'"
" ' W h y that?' I asks."
" 'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of
the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any m a n
w h o gets it, a n d I u n d e r s t a n d that there are more vacancies than
there are m e n , so that the trustees are at their wits' end w h a t to
do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here's
a nice little crib all ready for m e to step into."
" 'Why, w h a t is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am
a very stay-at-home m a n , a n d as my business came to me
instead of my having to go to it, I w a s often weeks o n e n d
without putting my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn't
k n o w m u c h of w h a t w a s going on outside, a n d I was always
glad of a bit of news.
" 'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed
Men?' he asked with his eyes open.
"'Never.'
" 'Why, I w o n d e r at that, for you are eligible yourself for one
of the vacancies.'
" ' A n d w h a t are they worth?' I asked.
" ' O h , merely a couple of h u n d r e d a year, but the w o r k is
slight, a n d it n e e d not interfere very m u c h with one's other
occupations.'
"Well, you can easily think that that m a d e me prick u p my
ears, for the business has not been over-good for some years,
and an extra couple of h u n d r e d would have been very handy.
"'Tell me all about it,' said I.
"'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can
see for yourself that the League has a vacancy and th^r^ is the
address w h e r e you should apply for particulars. As f ar as I can
make out, the League was f o u n d e d by an American millionaire,
Ezekiah Hopkins, w h o was very peculiar in his ways. H e was
himself red-headfed, and he h a d a great sympathy for all redheaded men; so w h e n he died it w a s found that he had left his
e n o r m o u s fortune in the h a n d s of trustees, with instructions to
apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose

132

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

hair is of that colour. From all 1 hear it is splendid pay a n d very

little to do.'
' " B u t / said, I, 'there would be millions of red-headed m e n
w h o would apply.'
" ' N o t so m a n y as you might think,' he a n s w e r e d . 'You see
it is really confined to Londoners, a n d to g r o w n men. This
American h a d started from London w h e n h e w a s young, a n d h e
w a n t e d to d o the old town a good turn. Then, again, I h a v e
heard it is n o use y o u r applying if your hair is light red, or dark
red, or a n y t h i n g b u t real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you
cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; but p e r h a p s
it would hardly be w o r t h your while to p u t yourself out of the
w a y for the sake of a few h u n d r e d p o u n d s . '
"Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves,
that my hair is of a very full a n d rich tint, so that it seemed to m e
that if there w a s to be any competition in the matter I stood as
good a chance as any man that I h a d ever met. Vincent
Spaulding seemed to k n o w so much about it that I thought he
might prove useful, so I just ordered him to p u t u p the shutters
for the day a n d to come right away with me. He was very
willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business u p and started
off for the a d d r e s s that was given us in the advertisement.
"I never h o p e to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes.
From north, south, east, and west every man w h o had a s h a d e
of red in his hair h a d tramped into the city to answer the
advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk,
a n d Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow. I should
not have t h o u g h t there were so many in the whole country as
were brought together by that single advertisement. Every
shade of colour they werestraw, lemon, orange, brick, Irishsetter, liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many
w h o had the real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how
many were waiting, I would have given it u p in despair; but
Spaulding would not hear of it. H o w he did it I could not
magine, but he p u s h e d and pulled and butted until he got me
' h r e u g h the crowd, and right u p to the steps which led to the
office. There was a double stream u p o n the stair, some going u p

The Red-Headed

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133

in h o p e , a n d s o m e c o m i n g back dejected; b u t w e w e d g e d in as
well as w e could a n d soon f o u n d ourselves in the office."
"Your e x p e r i e n c e h a s b e e n a m o s t e n t e r t a i n i n g o n e , "
r e m a r k e d H o l m e s as his client p a u s e d a n d r e f r e s h e d his
m e m o r y w i t h a h u g e pinch of snuff. "Pray c o n t i n u e y o u r very
interesting s t a t e m e n t . "
" T h e r e w a s n o t h i n g in t h e office b u t a c o u p l e of w o o d e n
chairs a n d a deal table, b e h i n d w h i c h sat a small m a n w i t h a
h e a d that w a s e v e n r e d d e r t h a n m i n e . H e said a f e w w o r d s to
each c a n d i d a t e as h e came u p , a n d t h e n h e always m a n a g e d to
find s o m e fault in t h e m w h i c h w o u l d disqualify t h e m . Getting a
vacancy did n o t s e e m to be such a very easy matter, a f t e r all.
H o w e v e r , w h e n our t u r n c a m e the little m a n w a s m u c h m o r e
favourable to m e t h a n to a n y of the others, a n d he closed t h e
d o o r as w e e n t e r e d , so that h e m i g h t h a v e a private w o r d w i t h
us.
" ' T h i s is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said m y assistant, ' a n d h e is
willing to fill a vacancy in t h e League.'
" ' A n d h e is admirably suited for it,' the o t h e r a n s w e r e d .
' H e h a s every r e q u i r e m e n t . I c a n n o t recall w h e n I h a v e seen
a n y t h i n g so fine.' H e took a step b a c k w a r d , cocked his h e a d on
o n e side, a n d gazed at m y hair until I felt quite b a s h f u l . T h e n
s u d d e n l y he p l u n g e d f o r w a r d , w r u n g m y h a n d , a n d c o n g r a t u lated m e w a r m l y on my success.
' " I t w o u l d be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will,
however, I a m sure, excuse m e for taking an obvious precaution.' With that he seized m y hair in b o t h his h a n d s , a n d t u g g e d
until I yelled with the pain. 'There is w a t e r in your eyes,' said h e
as h e released me. 'I perceive that all is as it should be. But w e
have to be careful, for w e h a v e twice b e e n deceived by wigs a n d
once by paint. I could tell y o u tales of cobbler's wax w h i c h
w o u l d disgust you with h u m a n n a t u r e . ' He s t e p p e d over to the
w i n d o w a n d s h o u t e d t h r o u g h it at the top of his voice that the
vacancy w a s filled. A grot.'" of d i s a p p o i n t m e n t came u p from
:
below, a n d the folk all trou
away in different directions until
there w a s not a red h e a d to De seen except my o w n and that of
the manager.
" ' M v n a m e , s a i d h e , 'is Mr. D u n c a n R o s s , a n d I a m m y s e l f

134

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

one of the pensioners u p o n the f u n d left by our noble benefactor. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson? H a v e you a family?'
"I a n s w e r e d that I had not.
"His face fell immediately.
" ' D e a r me!' h e said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I
am sorry to hear you say that. The f u n d was, of course, for the
propagation a n d spread of the red-heads as well as for their
maintenance. It is exceedingly u n f o r t u n a t e that you should be a
bachelor.'
"My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that
I w a s not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over
for a few m i n u t e s he said that it would be all right.
" ' I n the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might be
fatal, b u t w e m u s t stretch a point in favour of a m a n with such a
head of hair as yours. W h e n shall you be able to enter u p o n your
n e w duties?'
"'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,'
said I.
" ' O h , never m i n d about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent
Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.'
" ' W h a t would be the hours?' I asked.
'"Ten to two.'
" N o w a pawnbroker's business is mostly d o n e of an
evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday a n d Friday evening,
which is just before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to
earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I k n e w that my assistant
was a good m a n , a n d that he would see to anything that turned
up.
" ' T h a t would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?'
" ' I s 4 a week.'
' " A n d the work?'
' " I s purely nominal.'
' " W h a t do you call purely nominal?'
"'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the
building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole
position forever. The will is very clear u p o n that point. You don't
comply with the conditions if you b u d g e from the office during
that time.'

The Red-Headed

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135

'"It's only four hours a day, a n d I should not think of

leaving,' said I.
" ' N o excuse will avail,' said Mr. D u n c a n Ross; 'neither
sickness nor business nor anything else. There you m u s t stay, or
you lose your billet.'
" ' A n d the work?'
" 'Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the
first volume of it in that press. You m u s t find your o w n ink,
pens, a n d blotting-paper, but w e provide this table a n d chair.
Wil you be ready tomorrow?'
"'Certainly,' I answered.
" 'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you h a v e
been fortunate e n o u g h to gain.' H e b o w e d me out of the room,
and I w e n t h o m e with my assistant, hardly knowing w h a t to say
or do, I w a s so pleased at my o w n good fortune.
"Well, I t h o u g h t over the matter all day, a n d by evening I
was in low spirits again; for I h a d quite p e r s u a d e d myself that
the whole affair m u s t be some great hoax or fraud, t h o u g h w h a t
its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past
belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they w o u l d
pay such a s u m for doing anything so simple as copying out the
Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did w h a t h e could
to cheer m e u p , b u t by bedtime I h a d reasoned myself out of the
whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a
look at it anyhow, so I bought a p e n n y bottle of ink, a n d with a
quill-pen, a n d seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for
Pope's Court.
"Well, to my surprise a n d delight, everything was as right
as possible. The table w a s set out ready for me, a n d Mr. D u n c a n
Ross w a s there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off
u p o n the letter A, and then he left me; but he would d r o p in
from time to time to see that all was right with me. At t w o
o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me u p o n the
a m o u n t that I had written, and locked the door of the office after
me.
"This w e n t on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday
the manager came in and planked d o w n four golden sovereigns

136

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

for my week's work. It was the same next week, and the same
the week after. Every morning I was there at ten, a n d every
afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to
coming in only once of a morning, a n d then, after a time, h e did
not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the
room for an instant, for I was not sure w h e n he might come, a n d
the billet w a s such a good one, a n d suited me so well, that I
would not risk the loss of it.
"Eight weeks passed away like this, a n d I had written about
Abbots a n d Archery and Armour a n d Architecture and Attica,
and h o p e d with diligence that I might get on to the B's before
very long. It cost me something in foolscap, a n d I had pretty
nearly filled a shelf with my writings. And then s u d d e n l y the
whole business came to an e n d . "
"To an e n d ? "
"Yes, sir. A n d no later than this morning. I went to my work
as usual at ten o'clock, but the door w a s shut and locked, with a
little square of card-board h a m m e r e d on to the middle of the
panel with a tack. Here it is, a n d you can read for yourself."
H e held u p a piece of white card-board about the size of a
sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion:
T H E R E D - H E A D E D LEAGUE
IS
DISSOLVED.
OCTOBER 9 ,

1890.

Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt a n n o u n c e m e n t

a n d the rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair
so completely overtopped every other consideration that we
both burst out into a roar of laughter.
"I cannot see that there is anything very f u n n y " cried our
client, flushing u p to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can
do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere."
"No, n o , " cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair
from which he had half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case
for the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you
will excuse my saying so, something just a little f u n n v about it.

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137

Pray w h a t steps did you take w h e n you f o u n d the card u p o n the

door?"
"I w a s staggered, sir. I did not k n o w w h a t to do. T h e n I
called at the offices round, b u t n o n e of t h e m seemed to k n o w
anything about it. Finally, I w e n t to the landlord, w h o is an
accountant living on the ground-floor, a n d I asked him if h e
could tell me w h a t had become of the Red-headed League. H e
said that h e h a d never heard of any such body. Then I asked him
who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the n a m e w a s
new to him.
"'Well,' said I, 'the gentlemen at No. 4.'
' " W h a t , the red-headed man?'
" 'Yes.'
" ' O h , ' said he, 'his n a m e w a s William Morris. H e w a s a
solicitor a n d w a s using my room as a temporary convenience
until his n e w premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.'
" ' W h e r e could I find him?'
" ' O h , at his n e w offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17
King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'
"I started off, Mr. Holmes, but w h e n I got to that a d d r e s s it
was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it h a d
ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross."
" A n d w h a t did you d o then?" asked Holmes.
"I w e n t h o m e to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice
of my assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could
only say that if I waited I should hear by post. But that w a s not
quite good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a
place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good
enough to give advice to poor folk w h o were in need of it, I came
right away to you."
"And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is an
exceedingly remarkable one, a n d I shall be happy to look into it.
From w h a t you have told me I think Lhat it is possible that graver
issues hang from it than might at first appear."
"Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost
tour p o u n d a week."
"As far as you are personally concerned," remarked
Holmes, "I do not see that you have any grievance against this

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH C E N T U R Y

extraordinary league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand,

richer by some 30, to say nothing of the minute knowledge
which you have gained on every subject which comes u n d e r the
letter A. You have lost nothing by them."
"No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and w h o they
are, and what their object was in playing this prankif it was a
prankupon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it
cost them two and thirty p o u n d s . "
"We shall endeavour to clear u p these points for you. And,
first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours
who first called your attention to the advertisementhow long
had he been with you?"
"About a month then."
"How did he come?"
"In answer to an advertisement."
"Was he the only applicant?"
"No, I had a dozen."
"Why did you pick him?"
"Because he was handy and would come cheap."
"At half-wages, in fact."
"Yes."
"What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?"
"Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his
face, though he's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid
upon his forehead."
Holmes sat u p in his chair in considerable excitement. "I
thought as much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his
ears are pierced for earrings?"
"Yes, sir. He told me that a gypsy had done it for him w h e n
he was a lad."
"Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is
still with you?"
"Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him."
"And has your business been attended to in your absence?"
"Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do
of a morning."
"That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an
opinion u p o n the subject in the course of a day or two. Today is

The Red-Headed

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139

Saturday, a n d I hope that by M o n d a y we may come to a conclusion."

"Well, Watson," said Holmes w h e n our visitor had left us,
" w h a t do you make of it all?"
"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most
mysterious business."
"As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the
less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace,
featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a c o m m o n place face is the most difficult to identify. But I m u s t be p r o m p t
over this matter."
"What are you going to do., then?" I asked.
"To smoke," he answered . "It is quite a three-pipe problem,
a n d I beg that you won't speak to me for fifty m i n u t e s . " He
curled himself u p in his chair, with his thin knees d r a w n u p to
his hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed a n d his
black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. I
h a d come to the conclusion that he had d r o p p e d alseep, and
indeed w a s n o d d i n g myself, w h e n he suddenly s p r a n g out of
his chair with the gesture of a man w h o has m a d e u p his mind
a n d p u t his pipe d o w n u p o n the mantelpiece.
"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this a f t e r n o o n , " he
remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients
spare you for a few hours?"
"I have nothing to do today. My practice is never very
absorbing."
"Then p u t on your hat and come. I am going t h r o u g h the
City first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe
that there is a good deal of German music on the p r o g r a m m e ,
which is rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is
introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!"
We travelled by the U n d e r g r o u n d as far as Aldersgate; a n d
a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of a
singular story which we had listened to in the morning. It w a s a
pokv, little, shabbv-genteel place, w h e r e four lines of dingy twostoried brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure,
where a lawn of weedv grass and a few clumps of faded laurelbushes m a d e a hard fight against a smoke-laden a n d unconge-

140

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

nial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZ
in white letters, u p o n a corner house, a n n o u n c e d the
place w h e r e our red-headed client carried on his business.
Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side
and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between
puckered lids. Then he walked slowly u p the street, and then
d o w n again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses.
Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having t h u m p e d
vigorously u p o n the pavement with his stick two or three times,
he w e n t u p to the door a n d knocked. It w a s instantly o p e n e d by
a bright-looking, clean-shaven y o u n g fellow, w h o asked him to
step in.

WILSON"

"Thank y o u , " said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you h o w

you would go from here to the Strand."
"Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly,
closing the door.
"Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as w e walked away.
"He is, in my j u d g e m e n t , the fourth smartest m a n in L o n d o n ,
a n d for daring I a m not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I
have k n o w n something of him before."
"Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a
good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure
that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see
him."
"Not h i m . "
"What then?"
"The knees of his trousers."
" A n d w h a t did you see?"
"What I expected to see."
"Why did you beat the pavement?"
"My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk.
We are spies in an enemy's country. We k n o w something of
Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie
behind it."
The road in which we found ourselves as w e turned round
the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as
great a contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It
was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the

The Red-Headed

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141

City to the north and west. The r o a d w a y was blocked with the
i m m e n s e stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward
a n d o u t w a r d , while the foot-paths were black with the hurrying
s w a r m of pedestrians. It was difficult to realize as w e looked at
the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they
really abutted on the other side u p o n the faded a n d stagnant
square which w e had just quitted.
"Let m e see," said Holmes, standing at the corner a n d
glancing along the line, "I should like just to r e m e m b e r the
order of the houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact
knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the
little n e w s p a p e r shop, the Coburg branch of the City a n d
S u b u r b a n Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's
carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other
block. A n d now, Doctor, we've d o n e our work, so it's time w e
h a d some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, a n d then off to
violin-land, w h e r e all is sweetness a n d delicacy a n d harmony,
a n d there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their
conundrums."
My friend w a s an enthusiastic musician, being himself not
only a very capable performer but a composer of n o ordinary
merit. All the afternoon he sat in the stalls w r a p p e d in the most
perfect happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to
the music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, d r e a m y
eyes were as unlike those of Holmes, the s l e u t h h o u n d , H o l m e s
the relentless, keen-witted, r e a d y - h a n d e d criminal agent, as it
w a s possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual
nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness a n d
astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction
against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally
p r e d o m i n a t e d in him. The swing of his nature took him from
extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I k n e w well, he
w a s never so truly formidable as w h e n , for days on end, he had
been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations a n d his
black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would
s u d d e n l y come u p o n him, and that his brilliant reasoning p o w e r
would rise to the level of intuition, until those w h o were
unacquainted with his m e i h o d s would look askance at him as

142

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

on a m a n w h o s e knowledge w a s not that of other mortals.

When I saw him that afternoon so e n w r a p p e d in the music at St.
James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming u p o n those
w h o m he had set himself to h u n t d o w n .
"You w a n t to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as
we emerged.
"Yes, it would be as well."
" A n d I have some business to do which will take some
hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious."
" W h y serious?"
"A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every
reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But today
being Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall w a n t your
help tonight."
"At w h a t time?"
"Ten will be early e n o u g h . "
"I shall be at Baker Street at ten."
"Very well. A n d , I say, Doctor, there may be some little
danger, so kindly p u t your army revolver in your pocket." H e
waved his h a n d , turned on his heel, a n d disappeared in an
instant a m o n g the crowd.
I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I
was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my
dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard w h a t h e h a d
heard, I h a d seen w h a t he had seen, a n d yet from his w o r d s it
was evident that he saw clearly not only w h a t had h a p p e n e d b u t
what w a s about to h a p p e n , while to me the whole business w a s
still confused a n d grotesque. As I drove h o m e to my h o u s e in
Kensington I t h o u g h t over it all, from the extraordinary story of
the red-headed copier of the Encyclopaedia d o w n to the visit to
Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he
had parted from me. What was this nocturnal expedition, a n d
why should I go armed? Where were we going, and w h a t were
we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced
pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable mana m a n w h o
might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it u p in
despair a n d set the matter aside until night should bring an
explanation.

The Red-Headed

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143

It w a s a quarter-past nine w h e n I started from h o m e a n d

m a d e my way across the Park, a n d so through Oxford Street to
Baker Street. Two h a n s o m s were standing at the door, a n d as I
entered the passage I heard the s o u n d of voites from above. O n
entering his room I f o u n d Holmes in animated conversation
with two m e n , one of w h o m I recognized as Peter Jones, the
official police agent, while the other w a s 9 long, thin, sad-faced
m a n , with a very shiny hat a n d oppressively respectable frockcoat.
"Ha! our party is complete," said Holmes, b u t t o n i n g u p his
pea-jacket a n d taking his heavy h u n t i n g crop f r o m the rack.
"Watson, I think you k n o w Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me
introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, w h o is to be our c o m p a n i o n
in tonight's a d v e n t u r e . "
"We're h u n t i n g in couples again, Doctor, you see," said
Jones in his consequential way. " O u r friend here is a w o n d e r f u l
m a n for starting a chase. All h e w a n t s is an old d o g to help him
to d o the r u n n i n g d o w n . "
I h o p e a wild goose may not prove to be the e n d of our
chase," observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily.
"You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes,
sir," said the police agent loftily. " H e has his o w n little m e t h o d s ,
which are, if he w o n ' t mind my saying so, just a little too
theoretical a n d fantastic, b u t he has the makings of a detective in
him. It is not too m u c h to say that once Or twice, as in that
business of the Sholto m u r d e r a n d the Agra treasure, h e has
been more nearly correct than the official force."
" O h , if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the
stranger with deference. "Still, I confess that I miss m y rubber. It
is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have
not h a d my rubber."
"I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will
play for a higher stake tonight than you have ever d o n e yet, a n d
that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather,
the stake will be some 30,000; and for you, Jones, it will be the
m a n u p o n w h o m you wish to lay your h a n d s . "
"John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, a n d forger. He's a
y o u n g m a n , Mr. Merryweather, b u t he is at the h e a d of his

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

profession, a n d I would rather have my bracelets on him than

o n any criminal in London. He's a remarkable m a n , is y o u n g
John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has
been to Eton a n d Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers,
a n d t h o u g h w e meet signs of him at every turn, w e never k n o w
w h e r e to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one
week, a n d be raising money to build an o r p h a n a g e in Cornwall
the next. I've been on his track for years a n d have never set eyes
on him yet."
"I h o p e that I may have the pleasure of introducing you
tonight. I've h a d one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay,
a n d I agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is
past ten, however, and quite time that w e started. If y o u t w o
will take the first h a n s o m , Watson a n d I will follow in the
second."
Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative d u r i n g the
long drive a n d lay back in the cab h u m m i n g the tunes which h e
had heard in the afternoon. We rattled through an endless
labyringh of gas-lit streets until w e emerged into Farringdon
Street.
"We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellow
Merryweather ft a bank director, and personally interested in
the matter. I t h o u g h t it as well to have Jones with us also. H e is
not a bad fellow, t h o u g h an absolute imbecile in his profession.
H e has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog a n d as
tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws u p o n anyone. H e r e w e
are, a n d they are waiting for u s . "
We h a d reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which
w e h a d f o u n d ourselves in the morning. O u r cabs w e r e
dismissed, a n d , following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather,
we passed d o w n a narrow passage a n d t h r o u g h a side door,
which h e o p e n e d for us. Within there w a s a small corridor,
which e n d e d in a very massive iron gate. This also w a s o p e n e d ,
a n d led d o w n a flight of w i n d i n g stone steps, which terminated
at another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a
lantern, a n d t h e n conducted u s d o w n a dark, earth-smelling
passage, a n d so, after opening a third door, into a h u g e vault or
cellar, which w a s piled all r o u n d with crates a n d massive boxes.

The Red-Headed

League

145

"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes rem a r k e d as he held u p the lantern a n d gazed about him.
" N o r from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick
u p o n the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear m e , it s o u n d s
quite hollow!" he remarked, looking u p in surprise.
"I m u s t really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said H o l m e s
severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our
expedition. Might I beg that you w o u l d have the goodness to sit
d o w n u p o n one of those boxes, a n d not to interfere?"
The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself u p o n a
crate, with a very injured expression u p o n his face, while
Holmes fell u p o n his knees u p o n the floor and, with the lantern
a n d a magnifying lens, began to examine minutely the cracks
b e t w e e n the stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for h e
s p r a n g to his feet again a n d p u t his glass in his pocket.
"We have at least an hour before u s , " he remarked, "for
they can hardly take any steps until the good p a w n b r o k e r is
safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner
they d o their work the longer time they will have for their
escape. We are at present, Doctoras no d o u b t you have
divinedin the cellar of the City branch of o n e of the principal
London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors,
a n d he will explain to you that there are reasons w h y the more
daring criminals of L o n d o n should take a considerable interest
in this cellar at present."
"It is our French g o l d / ' w h i s p e r e d the director. "We have
h a d several warnings that a n attempt might be m a d e u p o n it."
"Your French gold?"
"Yes. We had occasion some m o n t h s ago to s t r e n g t h e n our
resources,
a n d borrowed for that p u r p o s e 30,000 n a p o l e o n s
f r o m the Bank of France. It has become k n o w n that w e have
never h a d occasion to u n p a c k the money, and that it is still lying
in our cellar. The crate u p o n which I sit contains 2,000 n a p o l e o n s
packed b e t w e e n layers of lead foil. O u r reserve of bullion is
m u c h larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch
office, a n d the directors have h a d misgivings u p o n the subject."
"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. " A n d
n o w it is time that w e arranged our little plans. I expect that

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

within an h o u r matters will c o m e to a h e a d . In the m e a n t i m e ,

Mr. M e r r y w e a t h e r , we m u s t p u t t h e screen over that d a r k
lantern."
" A n d sit in the dark?"
"I a m afraid so. I had b r o u g h t a pack of cards in m y pocket,
a n d I t h o u g h t that, as w e w e r e a partie carree, y o u m i g h t h a v e
y o u r r u b b e r after all. But I see that the e n e m y ' s p r e p a r a t i o n s
h a v e g o n e so far that w e c a n n o t risk t h e p r e s e n c e of a light.
A n d , first of all, w e m u s t c h o o s e our positions. T h e s e are d a r i n g
m e n , a n d t h o u g h w e shall take t h e m at a d i s a d v a n t a g e , they
m a y d o u s s o m e h a r m unless w e are careful. I shall s t a n d b e h i n d
this crate, a n d d o you conceal yourselves b e h i n d those. T h e n ,
w h e n I flash a light u p o n t h e m , close in swiftly. If t h e y fire,
Watson, h a v e n o c o m p u n c t i o n a b o u t shooting t h e m d o w n . "
I placed m y revolver, cocked, u p o n the t o p of the w o o d e n
case b e h i n d w h i c h I crouched. H o l m e s shot the slide across t h e
f r o n t of his lantern a n d left us in pitch d a r k n e s s s u c h an
absolute d a r k n e s s as I have never before experienced. T h e smell
of h o t metal r e m a i n e d to assure u s that the light w a s still there,
r e a d y to flash o u t at a m o m e n t ' s notice. To me, with m y n e r v e s
w o r k e d u p to a pitch of expectancy, there w a s s o m e t h i n g
d e p r e s s i n g a n d s u b d u i n g in t h e s u d d e n gloom, a n d in the cold
d a n k air of the vault.
" T h e y h a v e b u t o n e r e t r e a t , " w h i s p e r e d H o l m e s . " T h a t is
back t h r o u g h t h e h o u s e into Saxe-Coburg Square. I h o p e that
y o u h a v e d o n e w h a t I asked, Jones?"
"I h a v e a n inspector a n d t w o officers waiting at t h e front
door."
" T h e n w e h a v e s t o p p e d all the holes. A n d n o w w e m u s t be
silent a n d w a i t . "
W h a t a time it s e e m e d ! From c o m p a r i n g notes a f t e r w a r d s it
was b u t a n h o u r a n d a quarter, yet it a p p e a r e d to m e that t h e
night m u s t h a v e almost gone, a n d the d a w n be b r e a k i n g a b o v e
us. M y limbs w e r e w e a r y a n d stiff, for I feared to c h a n g e m y
position; y e t m y n e r v e s w e r e w o r k e d u p to the highest pitch of
tension, a n d m y h e a r i n g w a s so acute that I could n o t only h e a r
the gentle b r e a t h i n g of m y c o m p a n i o n s , b u t I could d i s t i n g u i s h
the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones f r o m t h e thin,

The Red-Headed

League

147

sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could look

over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes
caught the glint of a light.
At first it was but a lurid spark u p o n the stone p a v e m e n t .
Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, a n d then,
without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to o p e n a n d a
hand appeared; a white, almost womanly h a n d , which felt
about in the centre of the little area of light. For a m i n u t e or m o r e
the h a n d , with its writhing fingers, p r o t r u d e d out of the floor.
Then it w a s w i t h d r a w n as s u d d e n l y as it appeared, a n d all w a s
dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink
between the stones.
Its disappearance, however, w a s but momentary. With a
rending, tearing sound, o n e of the broad, white stones t u r n e d
over u p o n its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which
streamed the light of a lantern. Over the edge there p e e p e d a
clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then,
with a h a n d on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulderhigh a n d waist-high, until one knee rested u p o n the edge. In
another instant he stood at the side of the hole and w a s hauling
after him a companion, lithe a n d small like himself, with a pale
face a n d a shock of very red hair.
"It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel a n d the
bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, j u m p , a n d I'll swing to. it!"
Sherlock Holmes h a d s p r u n g out a n d seized the intruder by
the collar. The other dived d o w n the hole, and 1 heard th. c>ound
of r e n d i n g cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. 1 he light flashed
u p o n the barrel of a revolver, b u t Holmes's h u n t i n g crop came
d o w n on the man's wrist, a n d the pistol clinked u p o n the stone
floor.
"It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have n o
chance at all."
"So I see," the other a n s w e r e d with the utmost coolness. "I
fancy that m y pal is all right, t h o u g h I see you have got his coattails."
"There are three men waiting for him at the door," said
Holmes.

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

"Oh, indeed! You seem to have d o n e the thing very

completely. I must compliment you."
" A n d I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea
w a s very new a n d effective."
"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's
quicker at climbing d o w n holes than I am. Just hold out while I
fix the derbies."
"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy h a n d s , "
remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered u p o n his
wrists. "You may not be aware that I have royal blood in m y
veins. Have the goodness, also, w h e n you address me always to
say 'sir' and ' p l e a s e . ' "
"All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well,
would you please, sir, march upstairs, w h e r e w e can get a cab to
carry your Highness to the police-station?"
"That is better," said John Clay serenely. H e m a d e a
s w e e p i n g bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the
custody of the detective.
"Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as w e followed t h e m from the cellar, "I do not know h o w the bank can
thank you or repay y o u . There is n o doubt that you have
detected a n d defeated in the most complete m a n n e r o n e of the
most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come
within my experience."
"I have had one or two little scores of my o w n to settle with
Mr. John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small
expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to
r e f u n d , but beyond that I am amply repaid by having h a d an
experience which is in m a n y ways unique, and by hearing the
very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League."
"You see, Watson," h e explained in the early h o u r s of the
m o r n i n g as w e sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker
Street, "it w a s perfectly obvious from the first that the only
possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisem e n t of the League, and the copying of the Enclyclopasdia,
m u s t be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way
for a n u m b e r of hours every day. , It was a curious w a y of

The Red-Headed

League

149

managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better.

The m e t h o d was no d o u b t suggested to Clay's ingenious m i n d
bv the colour of his accomplice's hair. The 4 a week w a s a lure
which m u s t d r a w him, a n d w h a t w a s it to them, w h o were
playing for thousands? They p u t in the advertisement, one
rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the m a n
to apply for it, a n d together they m a n a g e to secure his absence
every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the
assistant having come for half wages, it was obvious to me that
he h a d some strong motive for securing the situation."
"But h o w could you guess w h a t the motive w a s ? "
" H a d there been w o m e n in the house, I should have
suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, w a s out of the
question. The man's business w a s a small one, a n d there w a s
nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate
preparations, a n d such an expenditure as they were at. It m u s t ,
then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I t h o u g h t
of the assistant's f o n d n e s s for photography, a n d his trick of
vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this
tangled clue. Then I m a d e inquiries as to this mysterious
assistant a n d f o u n d that I h a d to deal with one of the coolest a n d
most daring criminals in London. H e w a s doing s o m e t h i n g in
he cellarsomething which took m a n y h o u r s a day for m o n t h s
on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of n o t h i n g
save that he w a s r u n n i n g a t u n n e l to some other building.
"So far I h a d got w h e n w e w e n t to visit the scene of action. I
surprised you by beating u p o n the p a v e m e n t with m y stick. I
was ascertaining w h e t h e r the cellar stretched out in front or
behind. It w a s not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I h o p e d ,
the assistant answered it. We have h a d some skirmishes, b u t w e
had never set eyes u p o n each other before. I hardly looked at his
face. His knees were w h a t I wished to see. You m u s t yourself
have remarked how w o r n , wrinkled, a n d stained they were.
They spoke of those h o u r s of burrowing. The only remaining
Point w a s w h a t they were b u r r o w i n g for. I walked r o u n d the
corner, saw that the City a n d Suburban Bank abutted on our
f i e n d ' s premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. W n e n
you drove h o m e after the concert I called u p o n Scotland Yard

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

a n d u p o n the chairman of the bank directors, with the result

that you have seen."
" A n d h o w could you tell that they would m a k e their
attempt tonight?" I asked.
"Well, w h e n they closed their League offices that was a sign
that they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presencein
other words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was
essential that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered,
or the bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit t h e m
better than any other day, as it w o u l d give t h e m t w o days for
their escape. For all these reasons I expected t h e m to come
tonight.'
"You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in u n f e i g n e d
admiration. "It is so long a chain, a n d yet every link rings t r u e . "
"It saved m e from e n n u i , " he answered, yawning. "Alas! I
already feel it closing in u p o n me. My life is spent in one long
effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little
problems help me to d o so."
" A n d you are a benefactor of the race," said I.
H e s h r u g g e d his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of
s o m e little use. 'Uhomme c'est rienI'ceuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave
Flaubert wrote to George S a n d . "

1893

Cheating the

Gallows

ISRAEL ZANGWILL

They say that a u n i o n of opposites makes the happiest

marriage, a n d p e r h a p s it is on the same principle that m e n w h o
c h u m together are always so oddly assorted. You shall find a
m a n of letters sharing diggings with an auctioneer, a n d a
medical s t u d e n t pigging with a stockbroker's clerk. P e r h a p s
each t h u s escapes the temptation to talk " s h o p " in his h o u r s of
leisure, while he s u p p l e m e n t s his o w n experiences of life by his
companion's.
There could not be an o d d e r couple than Tom Peters a n d
Everard G. Roxdalthe contrast began with their n a m e s , a n d
ran t h r o u g h the entire chapter. They h a d a b e d r o o m a n d a
sitting-room in c o m m o n , b u t it w o u l d not be easy to find w h a t
else. To his landlady, w o r t h y Mrs. Seacon, Tom Peter's profession w a s a little vague, but everybody k n e w that Roxdal w a s the
manager of the City a n d S u b u r b a n Bank, a n d it puzzled her to
think w h y a bank m a n a g e r should live with such a seedylooking person, w h o s m o k e d clay pipes a n d sipped whiskey
a n d water all the evening w h e n h e w a s at home. For Roxdal w a s
as spruce a n d erect as his fellow-lodger w a s r o u n d - s h o u l d e r e d
a n d shabby; he never s m o k e d , a n d h e confined himself to a
small glass of claret at dinner.
It is possible to live with a m a n a n d see v,ery little of him.
W h e r e each of the partners lives his o w n life in his o w n way,
with his o w n circle of friends a n d external a m u s e m e n t s , d a y s
may go by without the m e n having five m i n u t e s together.
P e r h a p s this explains w h y these partnerships jog along so m u c h
more peaceably than marriages, w h e r e the chain is d r a w n so
151

152

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

much more tightly and galls the w e d d e d rather than links them.
Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits of Peters and
Roxdal, they often breakfasted together, a n d they agreed in one
thingthey never stayed out at night. For the rest, Peters
s o u g h t his diversions in the c o m p a n y of journalists, and
f r e q u e n t e d debating rooms, w h e r e he p r o p o u n d e d the most
iconoclastic views; while Roxdal had highly respectable h o u s e s
open to him in the suburbs and was, in fact, engaged to be
married to Clara Newell, the charming d a u g h t e r of a retired
corn merchant, a widower with no other child.
Clara naturally took u p a good deal of Roxdal's time, a n d he
often d r e s s e d to go to the play with her, while Peters stayed at
h o m e in a f a d e d dressing-gown a n d loose slippers. Mrs. Seacon
like to see gentlemen about the h o u s e in evening dress, a n d
m a d e comparisons not favorable to Peters. And this in spite of
the fact that he gave her infinitely less trouble than the y o u n g e r
m a n . It w a s Peters w h o first took the apartments, a n d it w a s
characteristic of his easy-going t e m p e r a m e n t that h e w a s so
openly a n d naively delighted with the view of the T h a m e s
obtainable from the bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon w a s
e m b o l d e n e d to ask twenty-five per cent more than she h a d
i n t e n d e d . She soon returned to her normal terms, however,
w h ^ n his friend Roxdal called the next d a y 4 o inspect the rooms,
a n d o v e r w h e l m e d her with a demonstration of their n u m e r o u s
shortcomings. He pointed out that their being on the g r o u n d
floor w a s not an advantage, b u t a disadvantage, since they were
nearer the noises of the streetin fact, the house being a corner
one, t h e noises of t w o streets. Roxdal continued to exhibit the
same finicking t e m p e r a m e n t in the petty details of the m e n a g e .
His shirt f r o n t s w e r e never sufficiently starched, nor his boots
sufficiently polished. Tom Peters, having no regard for rigid
linen, w a s always good-tempered a n d satisfied, a n d never
acquired the respect of his landlady. H e wore blue-check shirts
a n d loose ties even on Sundays. It is true h e did not go to
church, b u t slept on till Roxdal r e t u r n e d from m o r n i n g service,
a n d e v e n t h e n it w a s difficult to get him out of bed, or to m a k e
him h u r r y u p his toilette operations. O f t e n the m i d d a y meal
would be smoking on the table while Peters would still be

Cheating the Gallows

153

s m o k i n g in t h e b e d , a n d Roxdal, w i t h his h e a d t h r u s t t h r o u g h
the folding d o o r s that s e p a r a t e d t h e b e d r o o m f r o m t h e sittingr o o m , w o u l d be a d j u r i n g t h e sluggard to arise a n d s h a k e off his
s l u m b e r s , a n d t h r e a t e n i n g to sit d o w n w i t h o u t h i m , lest t h e
d i n n e r be spoiled. In r e v e n g e , Tom w a s usually u p first o n
w e e k - d a y s , s o m e t i m e s at s u c h u n e a r t h l y h o u r s t h a t Polly h a d
not yet r e m o v e d the b o o t s f r o m o u t s i d e the b e d r o o m door, a n d
w o u l d bawl d o w n to t h e kitchen for his s h a v i n g water. For Tom,
lazy a n d indolent as h e w a s , s h a v e d w i t h the unfailing regularity of a m a n to w h o m s h a v i n g h a s b e c o m e a n instinct. If h e h a d
not k e p t fairly regular h o u r s , M r s . Seacon w o u l d h a v e set h i m
d o w n as a n actor, so clean s h a v e n w a s h e . Roxdal did n o t shave,
l i e w o r e a full b e a r d , a n d b e i n g a fine figure of a m a n to boot, n o
u n e a s y investor could look u p o n h i m w i t h o u t b e i n g r e a s u r r e d
as to t h e stability of t h e b a n k h e m a n a g e d so successfully. A n d
t h u s t h e t w o m e n lived in a n economical c o m r a d e s h i p , all t h e
firmer, p e r h a p s , for their incongruities.
It w a s o n a S u n d a y a f t e r n o o n in t h e m i d d l e of October, ten
d a y s after Roxdal h a d settled in his n e w r o o m s , that Clara
N e w e l l p a i d h e r first visit t o h i m t h e r e . S h e e n j o y e d a g o o d deal
of liberty, a n d did not m i n d accepting his invitation to tea. T h e
c o m m e r c h a n t , himself indifferently e d u c a t e d , h a d a n exagg e r a t e d s e n s e of t h e v a l u e of culture, a n d so Clara, w h o h a d
artistic tastes w i t h o u t m u c h actual talent, h a d g o n e in for
painting, a n d m i g h t b e seen, i n p r e t t y smocks, c o p y i n g pictures
in t h e M u s e u m . At o n e time it looked as if s h e m i g h t b e r e d u c e d
to w o r k i n g seriously at h e r art, for Satan, w h o still finds mischief
for idle h a n d s to do, h a d p e r s u a d e d h e r father to e m b a r k t h e
fruits of years of toil in b u b b l e c o m p a n i e s . H o w e v e r , t h i n g s
t u r n e d out not so b a d as t h e y m i g h t h a v e b e e n ; a little w a s s a v e d
f r o m t h e wreck, a n d t h e a p p e a r a n c e of a suitor, in t h e p e r s o n of
Sverard G. Roxdal, i n s u r e d her a f u t u r e of c o m p e t e n c e , if n o t of
the luxury s h e h a d b e e n entitled to expect. She h a d a g o o d deal
of affection for Everard, w h o w a s u n m i s t a k a b l y a clever m a n , as
well as a good-looking o n e . T h e prospect s e e m e d fair a n d
cloudless. N o t h i n g p r e s a g e d t h e terrible storm that w a s a b o u t to
break over these t w o lives. N o t h i n g h a d ever for a m o m e n t

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come to vex their mutual contentment, till this Sunday aftern o o n . The October sky, blue a n d sunny, with an Indian s u m m e r
sultriness, seemed an exact image of her life, with its a f t e r m a t h
of a h a p p i n e s s that had once seemed blighted.
Everard had always been so attentive, so solicitous, that she
was as much surprised as chagrined to find that he had
apparently forgotten the a p p o i n t m e n t . Hearing her astonished
interrogation of Polly in the passage, Tom shambled from the
sitting-room in his loose slippers a n d his blue-check shirt, with
his eternal clay pipe in his m o u t h , and informed her that Roxdal
had g o n e out suddenly.
"G-g-one out," stammered poor Clara, all c o n f u s e d . "But
he asked me to come to tea."
" O h , you're Miss Newell, I s u p p o s e , " said Tom.
"Yes, I am Miss Newell."
" H e has told me a great deal about you, but I wasn't able
honestly to congratulate him on his choice till now."
Clara blushed uneasily u n d e r the compliment, a n d u n d e r
the ardor of his admiring gaze. Instinctively she distrusted the
m a n . The very first tones of his d e e p bass voice gave her a
peculiar shudder. And then his impoliteness in smoking that
vile clay w a s so gratuitous.
" O h , then you must be Mr. Peters," she said in return. " H e
has often spoken to me of y o u . "
" A h , " said Tojn, laughingly, "I s u p p o s e he's told you all m y
vices. That accounts for your not being surprised at m y S u n d a y
attire."
She smiled a little, s h o w i n g a row of pearly teeth. "Everard
ascribes to you all the virtues," s h e said.
" N o w that's w h a t I call a friend!" h e cried, ecstatically. "But
won't you come in? He m u s t be back in a m o m e n t . H e surely
would not break an a p p o i n t m e n t with y o u . " The admiration
latent in the accentuation of the last p r o n o u n w a s almost
offensive to her.
She shook her head. She h a d a just grievance against
Everard, a n d would punish him by going away indignantly.
"Do let me give you a cup of tea," Tom pleaded. "You m u s t
be awfully thirsty this sultry weather. There! I will m a k e a

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bargain with you! If you will come in now, I promise to clear out
the m o m e n t Everard returns, a n d not spoil your tete-a-tete." But
Clara w a s obstinate; she did not at all relish this man's society,
and besides, she was not going to throw away her grievance
against Everard. "I know Everard will slang me dreadfully w h e n
he comes in if I let you go," Tom urged. "Tell me at least w h e r e
he can find y o u . "
"I am going to take the 'bus at Charing Cross, a n d I'm going
straight h o m e , " Clara a n n o u n c e d determinedly. She p u t u p her
parasol, and w e n t u p the street into the Strand. A cold s h a d o w
seemed to have fallen over all things. But just as she w a s getting
into the 'bus, a h a n s o m d a s h e d d o w n Trafalgar Square, a n d a
well-known voice hailed her. The h a n s o m stopped, a n d Everard
got out a n d held out his h a n d .
"I'm so glad you're a bit late," he said. "I w a s called out
unexpectedly, and have been trying to rush back in time. You
wouldn't have found me if you had been punctual. But I
t h o u g h t , " he added, laughing, "I could rely on you as a
woman."
"I was punctual," Clara said angrily. "I was not getting out
of this 'bus, as you seem to imagine, but into it, a n d w a s going
home."
"My darling!" he cried remorsefully. "A t h o u s a n d apologies." The regret on his h a n d s o m e face soothed her. H e took the
rose he was wearing in the buttonhole of his fashionably cut
coat and gave it to her.
" W h y were you so cruel?" he m u r m u r e d , as she nestled
against him in the hansom. "Think of m y despair if I h a d come
h o m e to hear you had come and gone. Why didn't you wait a
few moments?"
A s h u d d e r traversed her frame. "Not with that m a n ,
Peters!" she m u r m u r e d .
"Not with that man, Peters!" he echoed sharply. "What is
the matter with Peters?"
"I don't know," she said. "I don't like him."
"Clara," he said, half sternly, half cajolingly, "I t h o u g h t you
were above these feminine weaknesses. You are punctual, strive
also to be reasonable. Tom is my best friend. There is nothing

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

Tom w o u l d not do for me, or I for Tom. You m u s t like him,

Clara; you must, if only for my sake."
"I'll try," Clara promised, a n d then he kissed her in
gratitude a n d broad daylight.
"You'll be very nice to him at tea, won't you?" he said
anxiously. "I shouldn't like you two to be bad friends."
"I d o n ' t w a n t to be bad friends," Clara protested; "only the
m o m e n t I saw him a strange repulsion and mistrust came over
me."
"You are quiet w r o n g about himquite w r o n g , " he assured
her earnestly. "When you k n o w him better, you'll find him the
best of fellows. O h , I know," he said suddenly, "I s u p p o s e he
w a s very untidy, and you w o m e n go so much by appearance!"
"Not at all," Clara retorted. "'Tis you men w h o go by
appearances."
"Yes, you do. That's w h y you care for m e , " he said, smiling.
She assured him it wasn't, that she didn't care for him only
because he p l u m e d himself, but he smiled on. His smile died
away, however, w h e n he entered his rooms and found Tom nowhere.
"I daresay you've m a d e him r u n about hunting for m e , " he
grumbled unhappily.
" P e r h a p s he k n e w I'd come back, and went fiway to leave
us together," she answered. "He said he would w h e n you
came."
" A n d yet you say you don't like him!"
S h e smiled reassuringly. Inwardly, however, s h e felt
pleased at the man's absence.
If Clara Newell could have seen Tom Peters carrying on
with Polly in the passage, she might have felt justified in her
prejudice against him. It m u s t be confessed, t h o u g h , that
Everard also carried on with Polly. Alas! it is to be feared that
m e n are m u c h of a m u c h n e s s w h e r e w o m e n are concerned;
shabby m e n a n d smart m e n , bank managers a n d journalists,
bachelors and semi-detached bachelors. Perhaps it w a s a mistake after all to say the c h u m s h a d nothing patently in c o m m o n .
Everard, I am afraid, kissed Polly rather more often than Clara,

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jnd although it was because he respected her less, the reason

A-ould p e r h a p s not have been sufficiently consoling to his
affianced wife. For Polly w a s pretty, especially on alternate
Sunday afternoons, a n d w h e n at ten P.M. she returned f r o m her
outings, she was generally met in the passage by o n e or the
other of the men. Polly liked to receive the h o m a g e of real
aentlemen, and set her white cap at all indifferently. Thus, just
before Clara knocked on that memorable Sunday afternoon,
Polly, being confined to the house by the u n w r i t t e n code
regulating the lives of servants, was amusing herself by flirting
-,\ith Peters.
'You are fond of me a little bit," the graceless Tom
whispered, "aren't you?"
"You know I am, sir," Polly replied.
"You don't care for a n y o n e else in the h o u s e ? "
' Oh, no, sir, a n d never let anyone kiss me b u t you. I
y o n d e r how it is, sir?" Polly replied ingenuously.
"Give me another," Tom answered.
She gave him another a n d tripped to the door to a n s w e r
"lara s knock.
A n d that very evening, w h e n Clara was gone a n d Tom still
out, Polly turned without the faintest atom of scrupulosity, or
even jealousy, to the more fascinating Roxdal, and accepted his
amorous advances. If it w o u l d seem at first sight that Everard
had less excuse for such frivolity than his friend, p e r h a p s the
seriousness he showed in this interview may t h r o w a different
light u p o n the complex character of the man.
"You're quite sure you don't care for anyone but me?" he
asked earnestly.
"Of course not, sir!" Polly replied indignantly. " H o w could
I?"

"But you care for that soldier I saw you out with last
Sunday?"
"Oh, no, sir, he's only my y o u n g m a n , " she said apologetically.
"Would you give him u p ? " he asked suddenly.
Polly's pretty face took a look of terror. "I couldn't, sir! H e ' d
kill me. He's such a jealous brute, you've no idea."

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

"Yes, but s u p p o s e I took you away from here?" he

w h i s p e r e d eagerly. "Some place w h e r e he couldn't find you
South America, Africa, s o m e w h e r e t h o u s a n d s of miles away."
" O h , sir, you frighten me!" whispered Polly, cowering
before his ardent eyes, which shone in the dimly lit passage.
"Would you come with me?" he entreated. She did not
answer; she shook herself free and ran into the kitchen,
trembling with a vague fear.
O n e morning, earlier than his earliest h o u r of d e m a n d i n g
shaving water, Tom rang the bell violently a n d asked the
alarmed Polly w h a t had become of Mr. Roxdal.
" H o w should I know, sir?" she gasped. "Ain't he been in,
sir?
"Apparently not," Tom answered anxiously. " H e never
remains out. We have been here for weeks now, a n d I can't recall
a single night he hasn't been h o m e before twelve. I can't m a k e if
o u t . " All inquiries proved futile. Mrs. Seacon r e m i n d e d him of
the thick fog that had come on s u d d e n l y the night before.
" W h a t fog?" asked Tom.
"Lord! didn't you notice it, sir?"
"No, I came in early, smoked, read, and w e n t to b e d about
eleven. I never thought of looking out of the w i n d o w . "
"It began about ten," said Mrs. Seacon, " a n d got thicker
a n d thicker. I couldn't see the lights of the river f r o m my
b e d r o o m . The poor gentleman has been and gone a n d walked
into the water." She began to whimper.
" N o n s e n s e , n o n s e n s e , " said Tom, though his expression
belied his words. "At the worst I should think he couldn't find
his w a y h o m e , a n d couldn't get a cab, so p u t u p for the night at
some hotel. I daresay it will be all right." He began to whistle as
if in restored cheerfulness. At eight o'clock there came a letter
for Roxdal, marked Immediate, but as he did not turn u p for
breakfast, Tom w e n t r o u n d personally to the City a n d Suburban
Bank. H e waited half an h o u r there, but the m a n a g e r did not
make his appearance. Then he left the letter with the cashier a n d
w e n t a w a y with an anxious countenance.
That afternoon it was all over London that the manager of

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the City a n d Surburban h a d disappeared, a n d that m a n y

t h o u s a n d s of p o u n d s in gold a n d notes h a d d i s a p p e a r e d with
him.
Scotland Yard o p e n e d the letter marked Immediate, a n d
noted that there h a d been a delay in its delivery, for the a d d r e s s
had been obscure, a n d an official alteration h a d b e e n m a d e . It
was written in a feminine h a n d a n d said: " O n second t h o u g h t I
cannot accompany you. Do not try to see me again. Forget me. I
shall never forget y o u . "
There w a s n o signature.
Clara Newell, distracted, disclaimed all k n o w l e d g e of this
letter. Polly deposed that the fugitive h a d p r o p o s e d flight to her,
and the routes to Africa a n d South America w e r e especially
watched.
Yet m o n t h s passed w i t h o u t result. Tom Peters w e n t about
overwhelmed with grief a n d astonishment. The police took
possession of all the missing man's effects.
Gradually the h u e a n d cry dwindled, a n d died.
"At last w e meet!" cried Tom Peters, his face lighting u p in
joy. " H o w are you, dear Miss Newell?"
Clara greeted him coldly. Her face h a d an abiding pallor
now. Her lover's flight a n d s h a m e had prostrated her for weeks.
Her soul w a s the ^ r e n a of c o n t e n d i n g instincts. Alone of all the
world she still believed in Everard's innocence, felt that there
was something more than met the eye, divined some devilish
mystery behind it all. A n d yet that d a m n i n g letter from the
a n o n y m o u s lady shook her sadly. Then, too, there w a s the
deposition of Polly. W h e n she heard Peter's voice accosting her,
all her old repugnance resurged. It flashed u p o n her that this
manRoxdal's boon c o m p a n i o n m u s t know far more than he
a a d told to the police. She remembered how Everard h a d
spoken of him, with w h a t affection and confidence! Was it likely
he w a s utterly ignorant of Everard's movements?
Mastering her repugnancc, she held out her h a n d . It might
well to keep in touch with him; he was possibly the clue to
the mystery. She noticed he w a s dressed a shade more trimly,

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

a n d w a s smoking a meerschaum. H e walked along at her side,

m a k i n g n o offer to p u t his pipe out.
"You have not heard from Everard?" he asked. She flushed.
"Do you think I'm an accessory after the fact?" she cried.
"No, n o , " he said soothingly. "Pardon me, I w a s thinking
he might have writtengiving n o exact address, of course. M e n
d o sometimes dare to write t h u s to w o m e n . But, of course, he
k n o w s you too wellyou would have told the police."
"Certainly," she exclaimed, indignantly. "Even if he is
innocent h e m u s t face the charge."
"Do you still entertain the possibility of his innocence?"
"I d o , " she said boldly, a n d looked him full in the face. His
eyelids d r o o p e d with a quiver. "Don't you?"
"I have h o p e d against h o p e , " he replied, in a voice faltering
with emotion. "Poor old Everard! But I am afraid there is n o
room for doubt. Oh, this wicked curse of m o n e y t e m p t i n g the
noblest a n d the best of u s . "
The weeks rolled on. Gradually she found herself seeing
more a n d more of Tom Peters, a n d gradually, strange to say, h e
grew less repulsive. From the talks they had together, she began
to see that there was really no reason to p u t faith in Everard; his
criminality, his faithlessness, were too flagrant. Gradually she
grew a s h a m e d of her early mistrust of Peters; remorse bred
esteem, a n d esteem ultimately ripened into feelings so w a r m
that w h e n Tom gave freer vent to the love that had been visible
to Clara from the first, she did not repulse him.
It is only in books that love lives forever. Clara, so her father
t h o u g h t , s h o w e d herself a sensible girl in plucking out an
u n w o r t h y affection and casting it from her heart. H e invited the
n e w suitor to his house, a n d took to him at once. Roxdal's
s o m e w h a t supercilious m a n n e r h a d always jarred u p o n the
unsophisticated corn merchant. With Tom the old m a n got on
m u c h better. While evidently quite as well informed a n d
cultured as his whilom friend, Tom k n e w h o w to impart his
superior knowledge with the accent on the knowledge rather
than on the superiority, while he had the air of gaining m u c h
information in return Those w h o are most conscious of the

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defects in early education are most resentful of other people

sharing their consciousness. Moreover, Tom's bonhomie w a s far
more to the old fellow's liking t h a n the studied politeness of his
predecessor, so that on the whole Tom m a d e more of a conquest
of the father than of the daughter. Nevertheless, Clara w a s by
r o m e a n s unresponsive to Tom's affection, a n d w h e n , after one
o> his visits to the h o u s e , the old m a n kissed her fondly a n d
spoke of the h a p p y t u r n things h a d taken, a n d how, for the
second time in their lives, things h a d m e n d e d w h e n they
e e m e d at their blackest, her heart swelled with a g u s h of
gratitude a n d joy a n d t e n d e r n e s s , a n d she fell sobbing into her
father's arms.
Tom calculated that he m a d e a clear five h u n d r e d a year by
occasional journalism, besides possessing some profitable investments which he h a d inherited from his mother, so that there
was n o reason for delaying the marriage. It w a s fixed for
Mayday, a n d the h o n e y m o o n was to be spent in Italy.
But Clara w a s not destined to happiness. From the m o m e n t
sne h a d promised herself to her first love's friend, old memories
began to rise u p a n d reproach her. Strange t h o u g h t s stirred in
the d e p t h s of her soul, a n d in the silent watches of the night she
seemed to hear Everard's voice, charged with grief a n d upbraiding. Her uneasiness increased as her w e d d i n g day d r e w near.
O n e night, after a pleasant afternoon spent in being r o w e d by
Tom a m o n g the u p p e r reaches of the Thames, she retired full of
vague forebodings. A n d she d r e a m e d a terrible d r e a m . The
dripping figure of Everard stood by her bedside, staring at her
with ghastly eyes. H a d h e been d r o w n e d on the passage to his
land of exile? Frozen with horror, she put the question.
"I have never left England!" the vision a n s w e r e d .
Her t o n g u e clove to the roof of her m o u t h .
"Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did not
seem to be hers.
The wraith's stony eyes stared on.
"Where have you b e e n ? " she asked in her d r e a m .
'Very near y o u , " came the answer.
"There has been foul play then!" she shrieked.

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

The p h a n t o m shook its head in doleful assent.

"I k n e w it!" she shrieked. "Tom PetersTom Peters has
d o n e away with you. Is it not he? Speak'"
"Yes, it is heTom Peterswhom I loved r r o r e than all the
world."
Even in the terrible oppression of the dream she could n. 1
resist saying, woman-like:
"Did I not warn you against him?"
The p h a n t o m stared on silently a n d m a d e n o reply.
"But w h a t w a s the motive?" she asked at length.
"Love of goldand you. A n d you are giving yourself to
h i m , " it said sternly.
"No, no, Everard! I will not! I swear it! Forgive me!"
The spirit shook its h e a d skeptically.
"You love him. Women are falseas false as m e n . "
She strove to protest again, but her tongue r e f u s e d to
speak.
"If you marry him, I shall always be with you! Beware!"
The dripping figure vanished as s u d d e n l y as it came, a n d
Clara awoke in a cold perspiration. O h , it w a s horrible! The m a n
she h a d learned to love w a s the m u r d e r e r of the m a n she h a d
learned to forget! H o w Her original prejudice h a d b e e n justified!
Distracted, shaken to her d e p t h s , she would not take counsel
even of her father, but informed the police of her suspicions. A
raid w a s m a d e on Tom's rooms, a n d lo! the stolen notes w e r e
discovered in a h u g e bundle. It w a s f o u n d that he h a d several
b a n k i n g accounts, with a large, recently paid a m o u n t in each
bank.
Tom w a s arrested. Attention w a s n o w concentrated o n the
corpses w a s h e d u p by the river. It w a s not long before the b o d y
of Roxdal came to shore, the face distorted beyond recognition
by long immersion, but the clothes patently his, a pocket book
in the breast-pocket removing the last doubt. Mrs. Seacon a n d
Polly a n d Clara Newell all identified the body. Both juries
r e t u r n e d a verdict of m u r d e r against Tom Peters, the recital of
Clara's d r e a m producing a unique impression in the court a n d
t h r o u g h o u t the country. The theory of the prosecution w a s that
Roxdal h a d brought h o m e the money, w h e t h e r to fly alone or to

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divide it, or even for some innocent purpose, as Clara believed;

that Peters determined to have it all, that he h a d gone out for a
walk with the deceased, a n d taking advantage of the fog, h a d
p u s h e d him into the river, a n d that he was further impelled to
the crime by his love for Clara Newell, as w a s evident from his
subsequent relations with her. The judge put on the black cap.
Tom Peters was duly h a n g e d by the neck till h e w a s dead.
Brief Resume of the Culprit's Confession
W h e n you all read this I shall be dead and laughing at you. I
have been h a n g e d for m y o w n murder. I am Everard G. Roxdal.
I am also Tom Peters. We two were one!
W h e n I w a s a y o u n g m a n my mustache and beard w o u l d n ' t
come. I bought false o n e s to improve my appearance. O n e day,
after I h a d become m a n a g e r of the City a n d Suburban Bank, I
took off my beard and m u s t a c h e at home, and then the thought
crossed my mind that n o b o d y would k n o w me w i t h o u t them. I
w a s another man. Instantly it flashed u p o n me that if I ran away
from the Bank, that other m a n could be left in London, while the
police were scouring the world for a non-existant fugitive.
But this was only the crude germ of the idea. Slowly I
m a t u r e d my plan. The m a n w h o w a s going to be left in L o n d o n
m u s t be k n o w n to a circle of acquaintances b e f o r e h a n d . It would
be easy e n o u g h to m a s q u e r a d e in the evenings in my beardless
condition, with other disguises of dress and voice. But this was
not brilliant e n o u g h . I conceived the idea of living with him! It w a s
Box a n d Cox reversed.
We shared rooms at Mrs. Seacon's. It was a great strain, but
it w a s only for a few weeks. I had trick clothes in my bedroom
like those of quickchange artists; in a m o m e n t I could pass from
Roxdal to Peters and from Peters to Roxdal. Polly had to clean
two pairs of boots each morning, cook two dinners, and so on.
She and Mrs. Seacon saw one or the other of us every moment;
it never d a w n e d u p o n t h e m that they never saw both of us together!
At meals I would not be interrupted, ate off two plates, and
conversed with mv friend in loud tones. At other times we
dined at different hours. On Sundays one was s u p p o s e d to be
asleep w h e n the other w a s in church. There is no landlady in the

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

world to w h o m the idea w o u l d have occurred that o n e m a n w a s

troubling himself to be two (and to pay for two, including
washing).
I worked u p the idea of Roxdal's flight, asked Polly to go
with me, m a n u f a c t u r e d that feminine letter that arrived on the
m o r n i n g of my disappearance. As Tom Peters I mixed with a
journalistic set. I h a d a n o t h e r r o o m w h e r e I kept the gold a n d
notes till I mistakenly t h o u g h t the thing h a d blown over.
Unfortunately, returning f r o m the other room on the night of m y
disappearance, with Roxdal's clothes in a b u n d l e I i n t e n d e d to
d r o p into the river, the b u n d l e w a s stolen from m e in the fog,
a n d t h e m a n into w h o s e possession it ultimately came a p p e a r s
to have committed suicide.
W h a t , p e r h a p s , ruined m e w a s my desire to k e e p Clara's
love, a n d to transfer it to the survivor. Everard told her 1 w a s the
best of fellows. Once married to her, I w o u l d not h a v e h a d
a n y t h i n g to fear. Even if she h a d discovered the trick, a wife
cannot give evidence against her h u s b a n d , a n d often d o e s not
w a n t to. I m a d e n o n e of the usual slips, but no m a n can guard
against a girl's nightmare after a day u p the river a n d a s u p p e r at
the Star a n d Garter. I might h a v e told the judge he w a s an ass,
b u t t h e n I should have h a d penal servitude for bank robbery,
a n d that sentence w o u l d h a v e been a great deal w o r s e t h a n
death.
The only thing that puzzles me, t h o u g h , is w h e t h e r the law
h a s committed m u r d e r or I have committed suicide.

1893

The Chemistry
of Anarchy
ROBERT BARR

It has been said in the L o n d o n papers that the dissolution of

the Soho Anarchist League w a s caused by w a n t of f u n d s . This is
very far from being the case. An Anarchist League has n o need
for f u n d s , and so long as there is m o n e y e n o u g h to b u y beer the
League is sure of continued existence. The truth about the
scattering of the Soho organization was told m e by a y o u n g
n e w s p a p e r man w h o w a s chairman at the last meeting.
The y o u n g m a n w a s not an anarchist, t h o u g h h e h a d to
pretend to be one in the interests of his paper, a n d so joined the
Soho League, w h e r e h e m a d e some fiery speeches that were
m u c h a p p l a u d e d . At last Anarchist n e w s became a d r u g in the
market, a n d the editor of the p a p e r y o u n g Marshall Simkins
belonged to, told him that he would n o w have to turn his
attention to Parliamentary work, as he would print no more
Anarchist n e w s in the sheet.
O n e might think that y o u n g Simkins would have l e e n glad
to get rid of his Anarchist work, as he h a d no love for the cause.
He w a s glad to get rid of it, but he f o u n d some difficulty in
sending in his resignation. The m o m e n t he spoke of resigning,
the members became suspicious of him. He had always been
rather better dressed than the others, and, besides, he drank
beer. If a man wishes to be in good standing in the League
he m u s t not be fastidious as to dress, and h e m u s t be
-^instructed to hold at least a gallon of beer at a sitting. Simkins
-vas merely a "quart" man, and this would have told against
165

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

him all along if it h a d not been for the extra g u n p o w d e r h e p u t

in his speeches. O n several occasions seasoned Anarchists h a d
gathered about him a n d begged him to give u p his designs on
the Parliament buildings.
The older h e a d s claimed that, desirable as was the obliteration of the H o u s e s of Parliament, the time w a s not yet ripe for it.
England, they pointed out, w a s the only place w h e r e Anarchists
could live a n d talk unmolested, so, while they w e r e quite
anxious that Simkins should go a n d blow u p Vienna, Berlin, or
Paris, they were not willing for him to begin on L o n d o n .
Simkins w a s usually calmed d o w n with m u c h difficulty, a n d
finally, after hissing "Cowards!" t w o or three times u n d e r his
breath, h e concluded with, " O h , very well, then, you k n o w
better t h a n I doI am only a y o u n g recruit; but allow m e at least
to blow u p Waterloo Bridge, or spring a b o m b in Fleet Street just
to s h o w that w e are u p a n d d o i n g . "
But this the Anarchists w o u l d not sanction. If h e w a n t e d to
blow u p bridges, he could try his h a n d on those across the
Seine. They h a d given their w o r d that there w o u l d be n o
explosions in London so long as England afforded t h e m an
asylum.
"But look at Trafalgar Square," cried Simkins angrily; " w e
are not allowed to meet there."
" W h o w a n t s to meet there?" said the chairman. "It is ever
so m u c h more comfortable in these rooms, and there is no beer
in Trafalgar Square." "Yes, yes," p u t in several others; "the time
is not yet ripe for it." T h u s w a s Simkins calmed d o w n , a n d beer
allowed to flow again in tranquility, while some foreign Anarchist, w h o w a s not allowed to set foot in his native country,
would get u p a n d h a r a n g u e the crowd in broken English a n d tell
t h e m w h a t great things w o u l d yet be d o n e by dynamite.
But w h e n Simkins sent in his resignation a change came
over their feelings towards him, a n d he saw at once that he was
a m a r k e d m a n . The chairman, in a whisper, advised him to
w i t h d r a w his resignation. So Simkins, w h o w a s a s h r e w d y o u n g
fellow, u n d e r s t a n d i n g the temper of the assembly, arose a n d
said:
"I h a v e n o desire to resign, but you do nothing except talk,

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and I w a n t to belong to an Anarchist Society that acts." H e

stayed away from the next meeting, a n d tried to d r o p t h e m in
that way, b u t a committee f r o m the League called u p o n him at
his lodgings, a n d his landlady t h o u g h t that y o u n g Simkins h a d
got into bad ways w h e n h e h a d such evil-looking m e n visiting
him.
Simkins w a s in a dilemma, a n d could not m a k e u p his m i n d
w h a t to do. The Anarchists apparently were not to be s h a k e n
off. H e applied to his editor for advice o n the situation, b u t that
good m a n could think of n o way out of the trouble.
"You ought to have k n o w n better," he said, " t h a n to mix u p
with such people."
"But h o w w a s I to get the news?" asked Simkins, with s o m e
indignation. The editor s h r u g g e d his shoulders. That w a s not
his part of the business; a n d if the Anarchists chose to m a k e
things uncomfortable for the y o u n g m a n , he could not help it.
Simkins' fellow lodger, a s t u d e n t w h o w a s s t u d y i n g chemistry in London, noticed that the reporter w a s becoming g a u n t
with anxiety.
"Simkins," said Sedlitz to him one morning, "you are
haggard a n d careworn: w h a t is the matter with you? Are you in
love, or is it merely debt that is bothering you?"
"Neither," replied Simkins.
"Then cheer u p , " said Sedlitz. "If one or the other is not
interfering with you, a n y t h i n g else is easily r e m e d i e d . "
"I am not so sure of t h a t , " rejoined Simkins; a n d t h e n h e sat
d o w n a n d told his friend just w h a t w a s troubling him.
" A h , " said Sedlitz, "that accounts for it. There has been an
u n k e m p t ruffian marching u p a n d d o w n watching this h o u s e .
They are on your track, Simkins, my boy, a n d w h e n they
discover that you are a reporter, a n d therefore necessarily a
traitor, you will be nabbed some dark n i g h t . "
"Well, that's encouraging," said Simkins, with his h e a d in
his h a n d s .
"Are these Anarchists brave men, a n d would they risk their
lives in any undertaking?" asked Sedlitz.
" O h , I don't know. They talk e n o u g h , b u t I d o n ' t k n o w

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

w h a t they w o u l d do. They are quite capable, t h o u g h , of tripping

m e u p in a dark lane."
"Look h e r e , " said Sedlitz, " s u p p o s e you let m e try a plan.
Let m e give t h e m a lecture on the Chemistry of Anarchy. It's a
fascinating subject."
" W h a t good w o u l d that do?"
" O h , wait till you have heard the lecture. If I d o n ' t m a k e the
hair of s o m e of t h e m stand on e n d , they are braver m e n t h a n I
take t h e m to be. We have a large room in Clement's Inn, w h e r e
w e s t u d e n t s m e e t to try experiments and smoke tobacco. It is
half club, ar~d half a lecture room. Now, I p r o p o s e to get those
Anarchists n . there, lock the doors, and tell t h e m s o m e t h i n g
a b o u t d y n a m i t e a n d other explosives. You give out that I a m an
Anarchist irom America. Tell t h e m that the d o o r s will be locked
to p r e v e n t police interference, and that there will be a barrel of
beer. You can introduce me as a m a n from America, w h e r e they
k n o w as m u c h about Anarchism in ten m i n u t e s as they d o here
in ten years. Tell t h e m that 1 have spent my life in the s t u d v of
explosives. I will have to m a k e - u p a little, but vou k n o w that I
a m a very good a m a t e u r actor, and I d o n ' t think there will be any
trouble a b o u t that. At the last you m u s t tell t h e m that you have
an a p p o i n t m e n t and will leave m e to a m u s e t h e m for a couple of
hours."
"But I d o n ' t see w h a t good it is all going to do, t h o u g h I a m
d e s p e r a t e , " said Simkins, " a n d willing to try a n y t h i n g . I have
t h o u g h t s o m e of firing a b o m b off myself at an Anarchist
meeting."
W h e n the Friday night of meeting arrived the large hall in
Clement's Inn w a s filled to the doors. Those assembled there
s a w a platform at one end of the a p a r t m e n t , a n d a d o o r that led
f r o m it to a room at the back of the hall. A table w a s on the
platform, a n d boxes, chemical a p p a r a t u s , a n d other scientificlooking paraphernalia w e r e on it. At the h o u r of eight y o u n g
Simkins a p p e a r e d before the table alone.
"Fellow Anarchists," he said, "you are well a w a r e that I am
tired of the great a m o u n t of talk we indulge in., and the little
action w h i c h follows it. I h a v e been fortunate e n o u g h to secure
the cooperation of an Anarchist f r o m America, w h o will tell you

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something of the cause there. We have had the doors locked,

and those w h o keep the keys are not d o w n at the entrance of the
Inn, so that if a fire should occur they can quickly come a n d let
as out. There is no great danger of fire, however, b u t the
interruption of the police m u s t be guarded against very carefully. The w i n d o w s , as you see, are shuttered a n d barred, a n d
no ray of light can penetrate from this room outside. Until the
lecture is over no one can leave the room, a n d by the same token
no one can enter it, which is more the p u r p o s e .
"My friend, Professor Josiah P Slivers, has devoted his life
to the Chemistry of Anarchy, which is the title of this lecture. H e
will tell you of some important discoveries, which are n o w to be
m a d e k n o w n for the first time. I regret to say that the Professor
is not in a very good state of health, because the line of life
which he has adopted h a s its drawbacks. His left eye has been
blown away by a p r e m a t u r e explosion during his experiments.
His right leg is also permanently disabled. His left arm, as you
will notice, is in a sling, having been injured by a little disaster in
lis w o r k s h o p since he came to London. H e is a m a n , as you will
ft.' devoted body a n d soul to the cause, so I h o p e you will
'isten to him attentively. I regret that I am unable to remain with
ou tonight, having other duties to perform which are impera
rive. I will therefore, if you will permit me, leave by the back
entrance after I have introduced the Professor to y o u . "
At this m o m e n t the s t u m p i n g of a w o o d e n leg w a s heard,
and those in the audience saw appear a m a n on crutches, with
one arm in a sling a n d a b a n d a g e over an eye, although h e
b e a m e d u p o n them benevolently with the other.
"Fellow Anarchists," said Simkins, "allow m e to introduce
to you Professor Josiah P. Slivers, of the United States."
The Professor b o w e d a n d the audience a p p l a u d e d . As soon
as the applause began the Professor held u p his u n m a i m e d arm
a n d said, "Gentlemen, I beg that you will not a p p l a u d . "
It seems the fashion in America to a d d r e s s all sorts a n d
conditions of m e n as " G e n t l e m e n . " The Professor continued, "I
have here some explosives so sensitive that the slightest
vibration will cause t h e m to go off, and I therefore ask you to

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETfcENTH CENTURY

listen in silence to what 1 have to say. I must particularly ask you

also not to stamp on the floor."
Before these remarks were concluded Simkins h a d slipped
out by the back entrance, a n d s o m e h o w his desertion seemed to
have a depressing effect u p o n the company, w h o looked u p o n
the b r o k e n - u p Professor with eyes of w o n d e r a n d a p p r e h e n sion.
The Professor d r e w towards him one of the boxes a n d
o p e n e d the lid. H e d i p p e d his one useful h a n d into the box and,
holding it aloft, allowed something which looked like wet
s a w d u s t to drip through his fingers. "That, g e n t l e m e n , " h e said,
with an air of the utmost contempt, "is what is k n o w n to the
w o r l d as dynamite. I have nothing at all to sav against
d y n a m i t e . It has, in its day, been a very powerful m e d i u m
t h r o u g h which our opinions have been imparted to a listening
w o r l d , but its day is past. It is what the lumbering stage-coach is
to the locomotive, w h a t the letter is to the telegram, w h a t the
sailing-vessel is to the steamship. It will be my pleasant d u t y
tonight to exhibit to you an explosive so powerful a n d deadly
that hereafter, having seen w h a t it can accomplish, you will
h a v e n o t h i n g but derision for such simple a n d harmless
c o m p o u n d s as dynamite a n d nitroglycerine."
T h e Professor looked with kindly s y m p a t h y over his
a u d i e n c e as he allowed the yellow mixture to percolate slowly
t h r o u g h his fingers back into the box again. Ever a n d a n o n he
took u p a fresh h a n d f u l a n d repeated the action.
The Anarchists in the audience exchanged u n e a s y glances
o n e w i t h the other.
"Yet," continued the Professor, "it will be useful for us to
consider this substance for a few moments, if b u t for the
p u r p o s e of comparison. H e r e , " he said, diving his h a n d into
a n o t h e r box a n d bringing u p before their gaze a yellow brick, "is
d y n a m i t e in a compressed form. There is e n o u g h here to wreck
all this part of London, were it exploded. This simple brick
would lay St. Paul's Cathedral in ruins, so, h o w e v e r antiquated
d y n a m i t e mav become, w e must always look u p o n it with
respect, just as w e look u p o n reformers of centuries ago w h o
perished for their opinions, even though their opinions were far

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behind w h a t ours are now. I shall take the liberty of performing

some experiments with this block of d y n a m i t e . " Saying which
the Professor, with his free arm, flung the block of d y n a m i t e far
d o w n the aisle, w h e r e it fell on the floor with a sickening t h u d .
The audience s p r a n g from their seats a n d tumbled back one
over the other. A wild shriek w e n t u p into the air, but the
Professor gazed placidly on the troubled m o b below him with a
superior smile on his face. "I beg you to seat yourselves," h e
said, "and for reasons which I have already explained, I trust
that you will not a p p l a u d any of my remarks. You h a v e just n o w
portrayed one of the popular superstitions about dynamite, a n d
you s h o w by your actions h o w necessary a lecture of this sort is
in order that you may c o m p r e h e n d thoroughly the substance
with which you have to deal. That brick is perfectly harmless,
because it is frozen. Dynamite in its frozen state will not
explodea fact well u n d e r s t o o d by miners and all those w h o
have to work with it, a n d who, as a rule, generally prefer to
blow themselves to pieces trying to thaw the substance before a
fire. Will you kindly bring that brick back to me, before it t h a w s
out in the heated a t m o s p h e r e of this room?"
O n e of the m e n s t e p p e d gingerly forward a n d picked u p
the brick, holding it far from his body, as he tip-toed u p to the
platform, w h e r e he laid it d o w n carefully on the desk before the
Professor.
"Thank you," said the Professor, blandly.
The man d r e w a long breath of relief as h e w e n t back to his
seat.
"That is frozen d y n a m i t e , " continued the Professor, " a n d
is, as 1 have said, practically harmless. Now, it will be my
pleasure to perform two startling experiments with the u n f r o z e n
substance," and with that he picked u p a h a n d f u l of the wet
sawdust and flung it on a small iron anvil that stood on the
table. "You will enjoy these experiments," he said, "because it
will show you with w h a t ease dynamite may be h a n d l e d . It is a
popular error that concussion will cause d y n a m i t e to explode.
There is enough d y n a m i t e here to blow u p this hall and to send
into oblivion everv person in it, yet you will see w h e t h e r or not
concussion will explode it." The Professor seized a h a m m e r and

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

struck the substance on the anvil two or three s h a r p blows,

while those in front of him scrambled wildly back over their
comrades, with hair standing on end. The Professor ceased his
p o u n d i n g and gazed reproachfully at them; then s o m e t h i n g on
the anvil appeared to catch his eye. He bent over it a n d looked
critically on the surface of the iron. Drawing himself u p to his
full height again, he said:
"I w a s about to reproach you for w h a t might have a p p e a r e d
to any other man as evidence of fear, but I see my mistake. I
came very near making a disastrous error. I have myself suffered
from time to time from similar errors. I notice u p o n the anvil a
small spot of grease; if my h a m m e r had h a p p e n e d to strike that
spot you would all n o w be writhing in your death-agonies
u n d e r the ruins of this building. Nevertheless, the lesson is not
w i t h o u t its value. That spot of grease is free nitro-glycerine that
has oozed out from the dynamite. Therein rests, p e r h a p s , the
only d a n g e r in handling dynamite. As I have s h o w n you, you
can smash u p dynamite on an anvil without danger, but if a
h a m m e r h a p p e n e d to strike a spot of free nitroglycerine it would
explode in a m o m e n t . I beg to apologize to you for my
m o m e n t a r y neglect."
A man rose u p in the middle of the hall, and it w a s some
little time before he could c o m m a n d voice e n o u g h to speak, for
he w a s shaking as if from palsy. At last he said, after he had
moistened his lips several times:
"Professor, we are quite willing to take your word about the
explosive. I think I speak for all my comrades here. We have no
d o u b t at all about your learning, and would much prefer to hear
from your own lips what you have to say on the subject, a n d not
h a v e you waste any more valuable time with experiments. I
have not consulted with my comrades before speaking, but I
think I voice the sense of the meeting." Cries of "You do, you
d o , " came from all parts of the hall. The Professor once more
b e a m e d u p o n t h e m benevolently.
"Your confidence in me is indeed touching," he said, "but a
chemical lecture without experiments is like a body without a
soul. Experiment is the soul of research. In chemistry we must
take nothing for granted. I have s h o w n you how m a n y popular

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errors have arisen regarding the substance with which w e are

dealing. It would have been impossible for these errors to have
arisen if every m a n h a d experimented for himself; a n d although
I thank you for the mark of confidence you have bestowed u p o n
me, I cannot bring myself to deprive you of the pleasure which
my experiments will afford you. There is a n o t h e r very c o m m o n
error to the effect that fire will explode dynamite. Such,
gentlemen, is not the case."
The Professor struck a match on his trousers' leg and
lighted the substance o n the anvil. It b u r n t with a pale bluish
flame, a n d the Professor gazed around triumphantly at his
fellow Anarchists.
While the s h u d d e r i n g audience watched with intense
fascination the pale blue flame the Professor s u d d e n l y stooped
over and blew it out. Straightening himself once more he said,
"Again I m u s t apologize to you, for again I have forgotten the
small spot of grease. If the flame had reached the spot of nitroglycerine it would have exploded, as you all know. W h e n a man
has his thoughts concentrated on one subject he is apt to forget
something else. I shall make no more experiments with dynamite. Here, John," he said to the trembling attendant, "take this
box away, and move it carefully, for I see that the nitro-glycerine
is oozing out. Put it as tenderly d o w n in the next room as if it
were a box of eggs."
"As the box disappeared there was a simultaneous longd r a w n sigh of relief from the audience.
"Now, gentlemen," said the Professor, "we come to the
subject that ought to occupy the minds of all t h o u g h t f u l m e n . "
He smoothed his hair complacently with the palm of his
practicable hand, a n d smiled genially a r o u n d him.
"The substance that I am about to tell vou of is my o w n
invention, and compares with dynamite as prussic acid does
with new milk as a beverage." The Professor d i p p e d his fingers
in his vest pocket a n d drew out what looked like a box of pills.
Taking one pill out he placed it u p o n the anvil a n d as he tip-toed
back he smiled on it with a smile of infinite tenderness, "Before I
begin on this subject I want to warn you once more that if any
man as much as stamps u p o n the floor, or moves about except

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

on tip-toe this substance will explode a n d will lay L o n d o n from

here to Charing Cross, in one m a s s of indistinguishable ruins. I
have spent ten years of m y life in completing this invention.
A n d these pills, worth a million a box, will cure all ills to which
the flesh is heir."
" J o h n , " he said, turning to his attendant, "bring m e a basin
of water!" The basin of water w a s placed gingerly u p o n the
table, a n d the Professor e m p t i e d all the pills into it, picking u p
also the one that was on the anvil a n d putting it with the others.
" N o w , " he said, with a d e e p sigh, "we can breathe easier. A
m a n can p u t one of these pills in a little vial of water, place the
vial in his vest-pocket, go to Trafalgar Square, take the pill from
the vial, throw it in the middle of the Square, and it will shatter
everything within the four-mile radius, he himself having the
glorious privilege of suffering instant martyrdom for the cause.
People have told me that this is a drawback to my invention, but
I am inclined to differ with t h e m . The one w h o u s e s this m u s t
make u p his mind to share the fate of those a r o u n d him. I claim
that this is the crowning glory of my invention, ft p u t s to instant
test our interest in the great cause. John, bring in very carefully
that machine with the electric-wire attachment from the next
room."
The machine w a s placed u p o n the table. "This," said the
Professor, holding u p some invisible object between his t h u m b
a n d forefinger, "is the finest cambric needle. I will take u p o n the
point of it a n invisible portion of the substance I speak of." Here
he carefully picked out a pill from the basin, a n d as carefully
placed it u p o n the table, w h e r e he detached an infinitesimal
atom of it a n d held it u p o n the point of the needle. "This
particle," he said, "is so small that it cannot be seen except with
aid of a microscope. I will n o w place needle a n d all on the
machine a n d touch it off with electric current"; a n d as his h a n d
hovered over the push-button there were cries of "Stop! stop!"
but the finger descended, a n d instantly there w a s a terrific
explosion. The very foundation seemed shaken, a n d a d e n s e
cloud of smoke rolled over the heads of the audience. As the
Professor became visible t h r o u g h the thinning smoke, h e looked
a r o u n d for his audience. Every man was u n d e r the benches, a n d

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groans came from all parts of the hall. "I h o p e , " said the
Professor, in anxious tones, "that n o one h a s been hurt. I am
afraid that I took u p too m u c h of the substance on the point of
the needle, but it will enable you to imagine the effect of a larger
quantity. Pray seat yourselves again. This is my last experiment."
As the audience again seated itself, a n o t h e r m u t u a l sigh
ascended to the roof. The Professor d r e w the chairman's chair
towards him and sat d o w n , wiping his grimy brow.
A m a n instantly arose a n d said, "I move a vote of t h a n k s to
Professor Slivers for the interesting"
The Professor raised his h a n d . " O n e m o m e n t , " he said, "I
have not quite finished. I have a proposal to make to you. You
see that cloud of smoke hovering over our heads? In twenty
m i n u t e s that smoke will percolate d o w n t h r o u g h the atmosphere. I have told you but half of the benefits of this terrific
explosive. W h e n that smoke mixes with the a t m o s p h e r e of the
room it becomes a deadly poison. We all can live here for the
next nineteen minutes in perfect safety, then at the first breath
we d r a w w e expire instantly. It is a lovely death. There is no
pain, n o contortion of the countenance, but w e will be found
here in the morning stark a n d stiff in our seats. I propose,
gentlemen, that w e teach London the great lesson it so m u c h
needs. N o cause is w i t h o u t its martyrs. Let us be the martyrs of
the great religion of Anarchy. I have left in my room papers
telling just h o w a n d w h y we died. At midnight these sheets will
be distributed to all the n e w s p a p e r s of London, a n d tomorrow
the world will ring with our heroic names. I will n o w p u t the
motion. All in favor of this signify it by the usual upraising of
the right h a n d . "
The Professor's o w n right h a n d w a s the only o n e that w a s
raised,
" N o w all of a contrary opinion," said the Professor, a n d at
once every h a n d in the audience went up.
"The noes have it," said the Professor, but he did not seem
to feel badly about it. "Gentlemen," he continued, "I see that
vou have guessed m y second proposal, as I imagined vou
would, and though there will be no n e w s p a p e r s in London

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

tomorrow to chronicle the fact, yet the n e w s p a p e r s of the rest of

the world *vill tell of the destruction of this wicked city. I see by
your looks that you are with me in this, my second proposal,
which is the most striking thing ever planned, a n d is that we
explode the whole of these pills in the basin. To m a k e sure of
this, 1 have sent to an agent in Manchester the full account of
how it was done, and the resolutions brought forward at this
meeting, a n d which doubtless you will accept.
"Gentlemen, all in favor of the instant destruction of
London signify it in the usual manner."
"Mr. Professor," said the man w h o had spoken previously,
"before you put that resolution I would like to move an
a m e n d m e n t . This is a very serious proposal, and should not be
lightly u n d e r t a k e n . I move as an a m e n d m e n t , therefore, that we
a d j o u r n this meeting to our rooms at Soho, and do the
exploding there. I have some little business that m u s t be settled
before this grand project is put in motion."
The Professor then said, "Gentlemen, the a m e n d m e n t takes
precedence. It is moved that this meeting be a d j o u r n e d , so that
you may consider the project at your club rooms in_Soho."
"1 second that a m e n d m e n t , " said fifteen of the audience
rising together to their feet.
"In the absence of the regular chairman," said the Professor, "it is my duty to p u t the a m e n d m e n t . All in favor of the
a m e n d m e n t signify it by raising the right h a n d . "
Every h a n d was raised. "The a m e n d m e n t , gentlemen, is
carried. I shall be only too pleased to meet you t o m o r r o w night
at your club, and I will bring with me a larger quantity of my
explosive. John, kindly go r o u n d a n d tell the m a n to unlock the
doors."
W h e n Simkins and Slivers called round the next night at the
regular meeting place of the Anarchists, they f o u n d n o signs of a
gathering, a n d never since the lecture has the Soho Anarchist
League been k n o w n to hold a meeting. The Club has mysteriously dissolved.

1896

The Sheriff
of Gullmore
MELVILLE DAVISSON POST

[The crime of embezzlement here dealt with is statutory. The v e n u e of this story could have been laid in
m a n y other States; the statutes are similar to a degree.
See the Code of West Virginia; also the late case of The
State vs. Bolin, 19 Southwestern Reporter, 650; also the
long list of ancient cases in Russell on Crimes, 2d
volume.]
I.
It is hard luck, Colonel," said the broker, "but you are not the
only one skinned in the deal; the best of t h e m caught it today. By
Jupiter! the pit w a s like Dante's Inferno!"
"Yes, it's gone, I reckon," muttered the Colonel, shutting
rus teeth d o w n tight o n his cigar; "I guess the devil wins every
'.wo o u t of three."
"Well," said the broker, turning to his desk, "it is the
> or tune of war."
"No, y o u n g m a n , " growled the Colonel, "it is the blasted
o i a m e of peace. 1 have never h a d any trouble with the
ortune of war. I could stand on an ace high a n d win with war. It
is peace that queers me. Here in the fag-end of the nineteenth
century, I, Colonel Moseby Allen, sheriff of Gullmore County,
West Virginia, go u p against another man's gameyes, a n d go
r in the daytime. Say y o u n g man, it feels q u e e r at the mellow
f g e of forty-nine, after you have been in the legislature of a great
177

178

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

commonwealth, and at the very expiration of your term as

sheriff of the whitest a n d the freest county in West VirginiaI
say it feels queer, after all those high honors, to be s u d d e n l y
reminded that you need to be accompanied by a business
chaperon."
The Colonel stood perfectly erect and delivered his oration
with the fluency and the a b a n d o n of a southern orator. W h e n he
had finished, he b o w e d low to the broker, pulled his big slouch
hat d o w n on his forehead, and stalked out of the office and
d o w n the steps to the street.
Colonel Moseby Allen w a s built on the decided lines of a
s o u t h e r n mountaineer. He w a s big and broad-shouldered, but
he was not well proportioned. His body w a s short a n d heavy,
while his legs were long. His eyes were deep-set a n d s h o n e like
little b r o w n beads. On the whole, his face indicated cunning,
bluster, and rashness. The w a r d politician would have recognized him a m o n g a t h o u s a n d as a kindred spirit, a n d the
professional gambler would not have felt so sure of himself with
such a face across the table from him.
W h e n the Colonel s t e p p e d out on the p a v e m e n t , he
s t o p p e d , thrust his h a n d s into his pockets, a n d looked u p a n d
d o w n Wall Street; then h e jerked the cigar out of his m o u t h ,
t h r e w it into the gutter, a n d began to deliver himself of a
philippic u p o n the negative merits of brokers in general, a n d his
broker in particular. The Virginian possessed a vocabulary of
s m o o t h billingsgate that in vividness and diversity a p p r o a c h e d
the sublime. W h e n h e h a d consigned some seven generations of
his broker's ancestry to divers minutely described localities in
perdition, h e began to w a r m to his work, a n d his artistic
profanity rolled forth in startling periods.
The passers-by s t o p p e d and looked on in surprise a n d
wonder. For a m o m e n t they were half convinced that the m a n
w a s a religious fanatic, his eloquent, almost poetic, tirade w a s so
thoroughly filled with holy names. The effect of the growing
audience inspired the speaker. He raised his voice a n d began to
e m p h a s i z e with sweeping gestures. He h a d n o w finished with
the broker's ancestry a n d w a s plunging with a r u s h of gorgeous

J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

18'

pyrotechnics into the certain future of the broker himself, w h e n

a police officer p u s h e d t h r o u g h the crowd a n d caught the irate
Virginian by the shoulder.
Colonel Allen p a u s e d and looked d o w n at the officer.
"You," he said, calmly, "I opine are a minion of the law; a
hireling of the municipal authorities."
"See here," said the officer, "you are not allowed to preach
on the street. You will have to come with me to the station
house."
The Colonel b o w e d suavely. "Sir," he said, "I, Colonel
Moseby Allen, sheriff of Gullmore County in the Mountain State
of West Virginia, am a respecter of the law, even in the body of
its petty h e n c h m e n , a n d if the ordinances of this God-forsaken
Gomorrah are such that a free-born American citizen, twentyone years old a n d white, is not permitted the inalienable
privilege of expressing his opinion without let or hindrance,
then I am quite content to accompany you to the confines of
your accursed jail-house.
Allen turned r o u n d a n d started d o w n the street with the
officer. He walked a little in advance, a n d continued to curse
glibly in a low m o n o t o n e . When they were half way to the
corner below, a little m a n slipped out of the crowd a n d hurried
u p to the policeman. "Mike," he whispered, putting his h a n d
u n d e r the officer's, " h e r e is five for you. Turn him over to m e . "
The officer closed his h a n d like a trap, stepped quickly
forward, a n d touched his prisoner on the shoulder.
As the Virginian turned, the officer said in a loud voice:
"Mr. Parks, here, says that he knows you, a n d that you are all
right, so I'll let you go this time." Then, before any reply could
be made, he vanished a r o u n d the corner.
Colonel Allen regarded his deliverer with the air of a worldworn cynic. "Well," h e said, "one is rarely delivered from the
spoiler by the h a n d of his friend, and I cannot n o w recall ever
having had you for an enemy. May I inquire w h a t motive
p r o m p t s this gracious courtesy?"
"Don't speak so loud," said Parks, stepping u p close to the
man. "I h a p p e n to k n o w something about your loss. Colonel

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

Allen, a n d p e r h a p s also a w a y to regain it. Will you come with

me?"
The Virginian whistled softly. "Yes," he said.
II.
"This is a fine hotel," observed Colonel Allen, beginning to
mellow u n d e r the mystic spell of a five-course d i n n e r a n d a
quart of Cliquot. "Devilish fine hotel, Mr. Parks. All the divers
m o n e y s which I in my official capacity have collected in taxes
f r o m the fertile county of Gullmore, would scarcely pay for the
rich embellishment of the barber shop of this magnificent
edifice."
"Well, Colonel," said the bald Parks, with a sad smile, "that
w o u l d d e p e n d u p o n the a m o u n t of the revenues of your county.
I p r e s u m e that they are large, a n d consequently the office of
sheriff a good one."
"Yes, sir," answered the Virginian, "it is generally considered desirable from the standpoint of prominence. The
climate of Gullmore is salubrious. Its pasture lands are fertile,
a n d its citizens cultured a n d refined to a degree u n u s u a l even in
the ancient and aristocratic counties of the Old Dominion. A n d ,
sir,"here the Colonel d r e w himself u p proudly, a n d thrust his
h a n d into the breast of his coat,"I am p r o u d , sir,proud to
declare that from time to time the good citizens of Gullmore, by
m e a n s of their suffrage, and with large and comfortable majorities, have proclaimed me their favorite son a n d competent
official. Six years ago I w a s in the legislature at Charleston as the
trusted representative of this grand old county of Gullmore; a n d
four years ago, after the fiercest and most bitterly contested
political conflict of all the history of the South, I w a s elected to
that most important a n d honorable office of sheriff,to the
lasting glory of my public fame, and the great gratification of the
commonwealth."
"That gratification is n o w four years old?" m u s e d Parks.
Colonel Moseby Allen darted a swift, suspicious glance at
his companion, but in a m o m e n t it was gone, a n d he had
d r o p p e d back into his grandiloquent discourse. "Yes, sir, the
b a n n e r county of West Virginia, deserting her ancient a n d

J he Sheriff of

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18'

sacred traditions, and forgetting for the time the imperishable

precepts of her patriotic fathers, has gone over to affiliate with
the ungodly. We were beaten, sirbeaten in this last engagement,horse, foot, and dragoons,beaten by a set of carpetbaggers,a set of unregenerate political tricksters of such
diabolical cunning that nothing but the gates of hell could have
prevailed against them. Now, sir, now,and I say it mournfully,
ihere is nothing left to us in the countv of Gullmore, save only
nonor."
"Honor," sneered Parks, "an imaginary rope to hold fools
with! It won't fill a h u n g r y stomach, or satisfy a delinquent
account." The little clerk spoke the-latter part of his sentence
slowly and deliberately.
Again the suspicious expression passed over the face of
Colonel Allen, leaving traces of fear and anxiety in its wake. His
t-yes, naturally a little crossed, d r e w in toward his nose, and the
nuscies around his m o u t h grew hard. For a m o m e n t he was
bilent, looking d o w n into his glass; then, with an effort, he w e n t
on: "Yes, the whole shooting-match is in the h a n d s of the
hilistines. From the m e m b e r s of the County Court u p to the
important and responsible position which I have filled for the
ast four years, and w h e n my accounts are finally w o u n d up,
"Your accounts," m u r m u r e d Parks, " w h e n they are finally
w o u n d u p , what then?"
Every trace of color vanished from the Virginian's face, his
heavy jaws trembled, and he caught hold of the a r m s of the
chair to steady himself.
Parks did not look u p . He seemed deeply absorbed in
studying the bottom of his glass. For a m o m e n t Colonel Moseby
Allen had been caught off his guard, but it w a s only for a
f o m e n t . He straightened u p and u n d e r w e n t a complete transformation. Then, b e n d i n g forward, he said, speaking low and
-i'.stinctly. "Look here, my friend, you are the best guesser this
side of hell. Now, if you can pick a winning horse we will divide
the pool."
The two men were at a table in a corner of the Hoffman cafe,
a
" d , as it chanced, alone in the room. Parks glanced around

182

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

quickly, then he leaned ov^r and said: "That d e p e n d s on just

o n e thing, Colonel."
"Turn u p the cards," growled the Virginian, shutting his
teeth d o w n tight on his lip."
"Well," said Parks, "you must promise to stick to your role
to the end, if you commence with the play."
The southerner leaned back in his chair a n d stroked his chin
thoughtfully. Finally h e d r o p p e d his h a n d a n d looked u p . "All
right," he muttered; "I'll stand by the deal; t h r o w out the
cards."
Parks moved his chair nearer to the table a n d leaned over
o n his elbow. "Colonel," he said, "there is only o n e living m a n
w h o can set u p a successful counter-plot against fate, that is
d e a d certain to win, and that m a n is here in N e w York to-day.
H e is a great lawyer, a n d besides being that, he is the greatest
plotter since the days of Napoleon. Not one of his clients ever
saw the inside of a prison. He can show men h o w to commit
crimes in such a way that the law cannot touch them. N o matter
h o w desperate the position may be, he can always s h o w the
m a n w h o is in it a way by which he can get out. There is n o case
so hopeless that he cannot manage it. If money is n e e d e d , he
can show you h o w to get ita plain, practical way, by which
you can get what you need and as much as you need. He has a
great mind, but he is strangely queer and erratic, a n d must be
approached with extreme care, and only in a certain way. This
m a n , " continued the little clerk, lowering his voice, "is n a m e d
Randolph Mason. You m u s t go to him and explain the whole
matter, and you m u s t do it just in the way I tell you.
Again the Virginian whistled softly. "My f r i e n d , " he said,
"there is a little too m u c h mystery about this matter. I am not
afraid of you, because you are a rascal; no one ever h a d a face
like you that w a s not a rascal. You will stick to me because you
are out for the stuff, a n d there is no possible way to make a
dollar by throwing the game. I am not afraid of any living man,
if I have an opportunity to see his face before the bluff is made.
You are all right; your game is to use me in making some haul
that is a little too high for yourself. That is what you have been
working u p to, and you are a smooth operator, my friend. A

J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

18'

greenhorn would have concluded long ago that you were a

detective, but I k n e w a blamed sight better than that the
m o m e n t you m a d e your first lead. In the first place, you are too
sharp to waste your time with any such bosh, a n d in the second
place, it takes cash to b u y detectives, a n d there is nobody
following me with cash. Gullmore county h a s no kick coming to
it until my final settlements are made, a n d there is n o m a n
treading shoe leather that k n o w s anything about the condition
of mv official business except myself, a n d p e r h a p s also that
s h r e w d and mysterious guesseryourself. So, you see, I a m not
standing on ceremonies with you. But here, y o u n g m a n , comes
in a dark horse, a n d you w a n t me to bet o n him blindfolded.
Those are not the m e t h o d s of Moseby Allen. I m u s t be let in a
little deeper on this t h i n g . "
"All I w a n t you to d o , " said Parks, putting his h a n d
confidentially on the Virginian's arm, "is simply to go a n d see
Randolph Mason, a n d approach him in the w a y I tell you, a n d
w h e n you have d o n e that, I will wager that you stay a n d explain
everything to h i m . "
Colonel Allen leaned back in his chair a n d thrust his h a n d s
into his pockets. " W h y should I do that?" he said curtly.
"Well," m u r m u r e d t h e little m a n m o u r n f u l l y , " o n e ' s
b o n d s m e n are entitled to some consideration; a n d then, there is
the penitentiary. C o u r t s have a way of sending m e n there for
embezzlement."
"You are correct," said Allen, quietly, " a n d I have not time
to go."
"At any rate," continued Parks, "there can be n o possible
d a n g e r to you. You are taking no chances. Mr. Mason is a
m e m b e r of the N e w York bar, a n d anything you m a y tell him he
dare not reveal. The law would not permit him to d o so if h e
desired. The w h o l e matter would be kept as t h o r o u g h l y
inviolate as t h o u g h it were m a d e in the confessional. Your
objectons are all idle. You are a m a n in a desperate position. You
are u p to your waist in the quicksand, now, a n d , at the e n d of
the year, it is b o u n d to close over your head. It is folly to look u p
at the sky a n d attempt to ignore this fact. I offer to help you
not from any g o o d n e s s of heart, u n d e r s t a n d , b u t because w e

184

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

can both m a k e a stake in this thing. I need money, a n d you m u s t

have money,that is the w h o l e thing in a nutshell. N o w , " said
Parks, rising from his chair, " w h a t are you going to do?"
"Well," said the Virginian, drawing u p his long legs a n d
spreading out his fat h a n d s on the table, "Colonel Moseby
Allen, of the county of Gullmore, will take five cards, if you
please."
III.
"This m u s t be the place," m u t t e r e d the Virginian, stopping
u n d e r the electric light a n d looking u p at the big h o u s e on the
a v e n u e . "That fellow said I w o u l d k n o w the place by the coppers t u d d e d door, a n d there it is, as certain as there are back taxes in
Gullmore." With that, Colonel Moseby Allen walked u p the
granite steps a n d began to grope about in the dark door-way for
the electric bell. He could find n o trace of this indispensable
convenience, a n d w a s beginning to lapse into a flow of halfs u p p r e s s e d curses, w h e n h e noticed for the first time a n ancient
silver knocker fastened to the middle of the door. H e seized it
a n d b a n g e d it vigorously.
The Virginian stood in the dark a n d waited. Finally he
concluded that the noise h a d not been heard, a n d w a s about to
repeat t h e signal w h e n t h e door w a s flung s u d d e n l y o p e n , a n d a
tall m a n holding a candle in his h a n d loomed u p in t h e doorway.
"I a m looking," s t a m m e r e d the southerner, "for o n e Rand o l p h Mason, an attorney-at-law."
"I a m Randolph M a s o n , ' said the m a n , thrusting the silver
candlestick out before him. " W h o are you, sir?"
"My n a m e is Allen," a n s w e r e d the southerner, "Moseby
Allen, of Gullmore county, West Virginia."
"A Virginian," said Mason, " w h a t evil circumstance brings
you here?"
Then Allen r e m e m b e r e d the instructions w h i c h Parks h a d
given h i m so minutely. H e took off his hat a n d p a s s e d his h a n d
across his forehead. "Well," h e said, "I s u p p o s e the same thing
that brings the others.. We get in a n d plunge along just as far as

J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

18'

we can. Then Fate s h u t s d o w n the lid of her trap, a n d w e have

either to d r o p off the bridge or come h e r e . "
"Come in," said Mason. Then he t u r n e d abruptly a n d
walked d o w n the hall-way. The southerner followed, impressed
by this man's individuality. Allen h a d p u s h e d his w a y t h r o u g h
life with bluff a n d bluster, a n d like that o n e in the scriptural
writings, "neither feared God nor regarded m a n . " His unlimited
assurance h a d never failed him before a n y of high or low
degree, and to be impressed with the p o w e r of any m a n w a s to
him strange a n d uncomfortable.
Mason t u r n e d into his library a n d placed the candlestick on
i table in the centre of the floor. Then h e d r e w u p t w o chairs a n d
sat d o w n in one of t h e m motioning Allen to the other on the
opposite side of the table. The room w a s long a n d empty, except
for the rows of heavy book-cases standing back in the darkness.
The floor was bare, a n d there was n o furniture of any kind
whatever, except the great table and the ancient highback chairs.
There was no light b u t the candle standing high in its silver
candlestick.
Sir," said Mason, w h e n 'the Virginian h a d seated himself,
'which do you seek to evade, p u n i s h m e n t or dishonor?"
The Virginian t u r n e d r o u n d , p u t his elbows o n the table,
a n d looked squarely across at his questioner. "I am not fool
e n o u g h to care for the bark," he a n s w e r e d , " p r o v i d e d the dog's
teeth are m u z z l e d . "
"It is well," said Mason, slowly, "there is often difficulty in
dealing with double problems, w h e r e both disgrace a n d p u n i s h m e n t are sought to be evaded. Where there is b u t o n e difficulty
to face, it can usually be h a n d l e d with ease. W h a t others are
involved in your matter?"
"No others," a n s w e r e d the Virginian; "I a m seeking only to
save myself."
"From the law only," continued Mason, "or d o e s private
vengeance join with it?"
"From the law only," answered Allen.
"Let me hear it all," said Mason.
"Well," said the Virginian, shifting uneasily in his chair,
my affairs are in a very bad way, a n d every a t t e m p t that I have

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

m a d e to remedy t h e m has resulted only in disaster. I am

walking, with my h a n d s tied, straight into the penitentiary,
unless some miracle can be performed in my favor. Everything
has g o n e dead against me from my first fool move. Four years
ago I w a s elected sheriff of Gullmore county in the State of West
Virginia. I w a s of course required by law to give a large b o n d .
This I had much difficulty in doing, for the reason that I have no
estate whatever. Finally I induced my brother a n d m y father,
w h o is a very old man, to mortgage their property a n d thereby
secured the requisite b o n d . I entered u p o n the duties of my
office, a n d assumed entire control of the revenues of the county.
For a time I managed t h e m carefully a n d kept my private
business apart from that of the county. But I h a d never been
accustomed to strict business methods, and I soon f o u n d it most
difficult to confine myself to them. Little by little I began to lapse
into my old habit of carelessness. I neglected to keep u p the
settlements, and permitted the official business to become
intermixed with my private accounts. The result w a s that I
a w o k e o n e morning to find that I owed the county of Gullmore
ten t h o u s a n d dollars. I began at once to calculate the possibility
of my being able to meet this deficit before the expiration of my
term of office, and soon f o u n d that by n o possible m e a n s w o u l d
I be able to raise this a m o u n t out of the remaining fees. My
gambling instincts at once asserted themselves. I took five
t h o u s a n d dollars, w e n t to Lexington, and began to play the
races in a vain, reckless h o p e that I might win e n o u g h to square
m y accounts. I lost from the very start. I came back to m y county
a n d w e n t on as before, h o p i n g against h o p e that s o m e t h i n g
w o u l d t u r n u p and let m e out. Of course this w a s the d r e a m of
an idiot, a n d w h e n the opposition w o n at the last election, a n d a
n e w sheriff w a s installed, a n d I was left but a few m o n t h s within
which to close u p my accounts, the end which I h a d r e f u s e d to
think of arose and stared me in the face. I was n o w at the e n d of
my tether, a n d there w a s nothing there but a tomb. A n d even
that w a y w a s not o p e n . If I should escape the penitentiary by
flight or by suicide, I w o u l d still leave my brother a n d m y aged
father to bear the entire b u r d e n of my defalcations; a n d w h e n

J he Sheriff of Gullmore

18'

thev. a s my b o n d s m e n , h a d paid the s u m to t h e county, they

would all be p a u p e r s . "
The m a n p a u s e d a n d m o p p e d the p e r s p i r a t i o n f r o m his
face. H e w a s n o w terribly in earnest, a n d s e e m e d to be realizing
the gravity a n d the h o p e l e s s n e s s of his crime. All his bluster a n d
grandiloquent airs h a d v a n i s h e d .
"Wreckless a n d u n s c r u p u l o u s as I a m , " he w e n t on, "I
cannot bear to think of m y brother's family b e g g a r s because of
my w r o n g , or my father in his extreme old age t u r n e d o u t f r o m
u n d e r his o w n roof a n d d r i v e n into the p o o r - h o u s e , a n d yet it
must come as certainly as the s u n will rise t o m o r r o w . "
T h e man's voice t r e m b l e d now, a n d the flabby muscles of
his face quivered.
"In despair, I g a t h e r e d u p all the f u n d s of the c o u n t y
remaining in m y h a n d s a n d hurried to this city. H e r e I w e n t to
the most reliable broker I could find a n d t h r o u g h h i m p l u n g e d
into speculation. But all t h e devils in hell s e e m e d to be fighting
for my ruin. I w a s c a u g h t in that d r e a d a n d u n e x p e c t e d crash of
yesterday a n d lost e v e r y t h i n g . Strange to say, w h e n I realized
that m y ruin w a s n o w c o m p l e t e , I felt a kind of exhilaration,
such, I p r e s u m e , as is said to c o m e to m e n w h e n t h e y are a b o u t
to be executed. S t a n d i n g in t h e very g a p i n g j a w s of ruin, I h a v e
to-day b e e n facetious, e v e n merry. Now, in t h e full glare of this
horrible matter, I scarcely r e m e m b e r ^hat I h a v e b e e n d o i n g , or
h o w I c a m e to be here, except that this m o r n i n g in Wall Street I
heard s o m e o n e s p e a k of y o u r ability, a n d I h u n t e d u p y o u r
a d d r e s s a n d came w i t h o u t a n y well defined p l a n , a n d , if you
will p a r d o n m e , I will a d d that it w a s also w i t h o u t a n y h o p e . "
T h e m a n s t o p p e d a n d s e e m e d to settle back in his chair in a
great h e a p .
R a n d o l p h M a s o n a r o s e a n d stood looking d o w n at t h e
Virginian.

"Sir," said Mason, "none are ever utterly lost but the weak.
Answer my question."
T h e Virginian p u l l e d himself together a n d looked u p .
"Is t h e r e a n y large f u n d , " c o n t i n u e d M a s o n , "in t h e h a n d s
f the officers of y o u r c o u n t y ? "
"My successor," said Allen, " h a s just collected the a m o u n t

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

of a levy ordered by the county court for the p u r p o s e of paying

the remainder d u e on the court-house. H e n o w h a s that f u n d in
his h a n d s . "
" W h e n w a s the building erected?" said Mason.
"It was built during the last year of my term of office, and
paid for in part out of levies ordered while I w a s active sheriff.
W h e n my successor came in there still remained d u e the
contractors on the work some thirty t h o u s a n d dollars. A levy
w a s ordered by the court shortly before my term expired, but
the collection of this levy fell to the coming officer, so this money ,
is not in my h a n d s , although all the business u p to this time has
b e e n managed by me, a n d the other p a y m e n t s on the building
m a d e from time to time out of moneys in m y h a n d s , a n d I have
been the chief manager of the entire work a n d k n o w more about
it than any one else. The n e w sheriff came into my office a few
days ago to inquire h o w h e w a s to dispose of this money."
Mason sat d o w n abruptly. "Sir," he said almost bitterly,
"there is not e n o u g h difficulty in your matter to bother the
cheapest intriguer in Kings county. I h a d h o p e d that yours w a s a
problem of some gravity."
"I see," said the t Virginian, sarcastically, "I a m to rob.the .
sheriff of this m o n e y in such a m a n n e r that it w o n ' t be k n o w n
w h o received it, a n d square my accounts. That w o u l d be very
easy indeed. I w o u l d have only to kill three m e n a n d break a
bank. Yes, that would be very easy. You might as well tell m e to
h a v e blue eyes."
"Sir," said Randolph Mason, slowly, "you are the worst
prophet unhung."
"Well," continued the m a n , "there can be n o other way, If it
w e r e turned over to m e in my official capacity w h a t good would
it do? My b o n d s m e n w o u l d be responsible for it. I w o u l d then
have it to account for, a n d w h a t difference, in God's n a m e , can it
m a k e w h e t h e r I am sent to the penitentiary for stealing money
which I have already used, or for stealing this money? It all
belongs to the county. It is two times six one way, a n d six times
t w o the other way."
"Sir," said Mason, "I retract m y former statement in regard

18'
J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

to vour strong point. Let me insist that you devote your time to
orophecy- Your reasoning is atrocious."
"I am wasting my time here," muttered the Virginian,
"there is no way out of it."
Randolph Mason turned u p o n the man. "Are you afraid of
courts?" he growled.
"No," said the southerner, "I am afraid of nothing but the
penitentiary."
"Then," said Mason, leaning over on the table, "listen to
me, and you will never see the shadow of it."
IV.
"I suppose you are right about that," said Jacob Wade, the
newly elected sheriff of Gullmore county, as he and Colonel
Moseby Allen sat in the office of that shrewd and courteous
official. "I suppose it makes no difference which one of us takes
this money and pays the contractors,we are both u n d e r good
bonds, you know."
"Certainly, Wade, certainly," put in the Colonel, "your bond
is as good as they can be m a d e in Gullmore county, and I mean
no disrespect to the Omnipotent Ruler of the Universe w h e n I
assert that the whole kingdom of heaven could not give a better
bond than I have. You are right, Wade; you are always right; you
are away ahead of the ringleaders of your party. I don't mind if I
do say so. Of course, I am on the other side, but it was
miraculous, I tell you, the way you swung your forces into line
in the last election. By all the limping gods of the calendar, we
could not touch you!"
Colonel Moseby Allen leaned over and patted his companion on the shoulder. "You are a sly dog, Wade," he continued.
"If it had not been for you we would have beaten the bluebells of
Scotland out of the soft-headed farmers w h o were trying to run
your party. I told the boys you would pull the whole ticket over
with you, but they didn't believe me. Next time they will have
more regard for the opinion of Moseby Allen of Gullmore." The
Colonel burst out into a great roar of laughter, a n d brought his
sat
nand d o w n heavily on his knee.
Jacob Wade, the n e w sheriff, was a cadaverous-looking

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

countryman, with a face that indicated honesty a n d egotism. He

h a d come u p from a farm, a n d had but little k n o w l e d g e of
business m e t h o d s in general, and n o idea of h o w the duties of
his office should be properly performed. He puffed u p visibly
u n d e r the bald flattery of Allen, and took it all in like a sponge.
"Well," said Wade, "I s u p p o s e the boys did sort of expect
m e to help them over, a n d I guess I did. I have been getting
ready to run for a long time, and I ain't been doing n o fool
things. W h e n the Farmers Alliance people w a s organizing, I just
stayed close h o m e a n d sawed wood, and w h e n the county was
all stirred u p about that there dog tax, I kept m y m o u t h shut,
a n d never said n o t h i n g . "
"That's w h a t you did, Wade," continued the Colonel,
rubbing his hands; "you are too smooth to get yourself mixed u p
with a lot of new-fangled notions that would brand you all over
the w h o l e county as a crank. What a man w a n t s in order to run
for the office of sheriff is a reputation for being a square, solid,
substantial business m a n , a n d that is w h a t you h a d , Wade, and
besides that you were a smooth, shrewd, far-sighted, machine
politician."
Jacob Wade flushed a n d grew p o m p o u s u n d e r this eloquent
recital of his alleged virtues. Allen was handling his m a n with
skill. He was a natural judge of m e n , a n d possessed in n o little
d e g r e e the rare ability of k n o w i n g h o w to a p p r o a c h the
individual in order to gain his confidence a n d good will.
" N o , " h e w e n t on, "I a m not partisan e n o u g h to prevent me
f r o m appreciating a good clear-headed politician, n o matter
w h a t his party affiliations may be. I am as firm a n d true to my
principles as any of those high u p in the affairs of state. I have
b e e n h o n o r e d by m y party time a n d again in the history of this
c o m m o n w e a l t h , a n d have d e f e n d e d a n d s u p p o r t e d her policies
o n the stump, a n d in the halls of legislation, a n d I k n o w a
s m o o t h m a n w h e n I see him, a n d I honor him, a n d stick to him
out of p u r e love for his intelligence a n d g e n i u s . "
The Colonel arose. H e n o w felt that his m a n w a s in the
p r o p e r h u m o r to give ready assent to the proposition which h e
h a d made, and he t u r n e d back to it with careless indifference.
"Now, Jacob," h e said lowering his voice, "this is not all

18'
J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

talk. You are a new officer, and I am an old one. I am familiar

with all the routine business of the sheriffalty, and I am ready
and willing and anxious to give all the information that can be of
any benefit to you, and to do any and everything in my power to
make your term of office as pleasant and profitable as it can be
made. I am wholly and utterly at your service, and w a n t you to
feel that you are more than welcome to c o m m a n d me in any
manner you see fit. By the way, here is this matter that we were
just discussing. I am perfectly familiar with all that business. I
looked after the building for the county, collected all the
previous levies, and k n o w all about the contracts with the
buildersjust what is d u e each one and just h o w the settlements are to be made,and I am willing to take charge of this
f u n d and settle the thing u p . I suppose legally it is my duty to
attend to this work, as it is in the nature of unfinished business
of my term, but I could have shifted the whole thing over on you
and gotten out of the trouble of making the final settlements
with the contractors. The levy was ordered during m y term, but
has been collected by you, and on that ground I could have
washed my h a n d s of the troublesome matter if I had been
disposed to be ugly. But I am not that kind of a m a n , Wade; I am
willing to shoulder my lawful duties, and wind this thing u p
and leave your office clear and free from any old matters."
Jacob WTade, sheriff of Gullmore county, was now thoroughly convinced of two things. First, that he himself was a
shrewd politician, with an intellect of almost colossal proportions, and second, that Colone' Moseby Allen w a s a great and
good man, w h o was offering to do him a service out of sheer
kindness of heart.
He arose and seized Allen's hand. "I am obliged to you,
Colonel, greatly obliged to you," he said; "I don't k n o w much
about these matters yet, and it will save me a deal of trouble if
you will allow me to turn this thing over to you, and let you
settle it up. I reckon from the standpoint of law it is a part of
your old business as sheriff."
"Yes," answered Allen, smiling broadly, "I reckon it is, and
1
reckon I ought n't to shirk it."
"All right," said Wade, turning to leave the office, "I'll just

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

h a n d the whole thing over to you in the m o r n i n g . " Then he

w e n t out.
The ex-sheriff closed the door, sat d o w n in his chair, and
p u t his feet on the table. "Well, Moseby, my boy," he said, "that
w a s dead easy. The Honorable Jacob Wade is certainly the most
irresponsible idiot west of the Alleghany mountains. He ought
to have a committee,yes, he ought to have two committees,
one to r u n him, and one to r u n his business." T h e n he rubbed
his h a n d s gleefully. "It is working like a greased clock," he
chuckled, "and by the grace of God a n d the Continental
Congress, w h e n this funeral procession does finally start, it
w o n ' t be Colonel Moseby Allen of the county of Gullmore w h o
will occupy the hearse."
V.
The inhabitants of the city could never imagine the vast interest
aroused in the county of Gullmore by the trial of Colonel
Moseby Allen for embezzlement. In all their quiet lives the good
citizens h a d not been treated to such a sweeping tidal wave of
excitement. The annual visits of the "greatest s h o w on earth"
were scarcely able to fan the interests of the c o u n t r y m e n into
such a flame. The n e w s of Allen's arrest had spread t h r o u g h the
country like wildfire. Men h a d talked of nothing else from the
m o m e n t this startling information had come to their ears. The
c r o w d s on Saturday a f t e r n o o n s at the country store h a d
constituted themselves courts of first and last resort, and had
passed on the matter of the ex-sheriff's guilt at great length and
with great show of learning. The village blacksmith h a d delivered p o n d e r o u s opinions while he shod the traveller's horse;
a n d the ubiquitous justice of the peace had d e m o n s t r a t e d time
a n d again with h u g e solemnity that Moseby Allen w a s a great
criminal, and by no possible means could be saved from conviction. It was the general belief that the ex-sheriff would not
stand trial; that he would by some means escape from the jail
w h e r e he was confined. So firm-rooted h a d this conviction
become that the great crowd gathered in the little county seat on
the day fixed for the trial were considerably astonished w h e n
they saw the ex-sheriff sitting in the dock. In the evening after

18'

J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

the first day of the trail, in w h i c h certain w h o l l y u n e x p e c t e d

things h a d come to pass, t h e c r o w d g a t h e r e d o n t h e p o r c h of t h e
country hotel w e r e fairly revelling in t h e h u g e sensation.
D u n c a n Hatfield, a long ungainly m o u n t a i n e e r , w e a r i n g a
red h u n t i n g - s h i r t a n d a pair of b l u e j e a n s t r o u s e r s , w a s
evidently the Sir-Oracle of t h e occasion.
"I teil you, b o y s , " h e w a s saying, "old M o s e b y aint got n o
more s h o w t h a n a calliker a p r o n in a b r u s h fire. W h y h e jest laid
d o w n a n d give u p ; jest naturally l o p p e d his e a r s a n d give u p like
a whipped dog."
"Yes," p u t in an old f a r m e r w h o w a s s t a n d i n g a little back in
the crowd, "I reckon n o b o d y calkerlated o n jest sich a fizzle."
" W h e n h e c o m e into court this m o r n i n ' / ' c o n t i n u e d t h e
Oracle, " w i t h that t h e r e y o u n g lawyer m a n E d w a r d s , I p o k e d
Lum Bozier in the side, a n d told h i m to k e e p his eye s k i n n e d ,
and he w o u l d see t h e f u r fly, b e c a u s e I k n o w e d t h a t S a m Lynch,
the prosecutin' attorney, allowed to go fer old Moseby, a n d S a m
is a fire-eater, so h e is, a n d h e aint afraid of n u t h i n that w a l k s o n
legs. But, Jerusalem! it w a r t h e tamest s h o w that ever come to
this yer town. E d w a r d s jest sot d o w n a n d l o p p e d over like a
w e e d , a n d Sam h e b e g u n , a n d he s h o w e d u p h o w old M o s e b y
had p l a n n e d this h e r e th^ng, a n d h o w h e h a d lied to Jake W a d e
all the w a y t h r o u g h , a n d jest h o w h e got that t h e r e money, a n d
what an everlasting old rascal h e was, a n d t h e r e sot E d w a r d s ,
a n d h e never asked n o questions, a n d h e n e v e r paid n o
attention to n u t h i n . "
"Did n't the lawyer feller d o n u t h i n at all, D u n k ? " e n q u i r e d
one of t h e a u d i e n c e , w h o h a d evidently s u f f e r e d t h e great
m i s t f o r t u n e of b e i n g a b s e n t f r o m the trial.
" N o , " a n s w e r e d t h e Oracle, w i t h a b o v i n e sneer, " h e n e v e r
did n o t h i n till late this e v e n i n . T h e n he u n t a n g l e d his legs a n d
got u p a n d said s o m e t h i n to the jedge a b o u t h a v i n to let old
Moseby Allen go, c a u s e w h a t h e h a d d o n e w a s n't n o crime.
' T h e n y o u o u g h t to a h e a r d Sam. H e jest naturally took t h e
roof off; h e sailed into old Moseby. H e called h i m n i n e different
kinds of horse-thieves, a n d w h e n h e got t h r o u g h , I could see old
A m p e Props n o d d i n his h e a d back thar in t h e jury-box, a n d t h e n
i k n o w e d that it w e r e all u p w i t h Colonel M o s e b y Allen, cause

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

that jury will go the way old A m p e goes, jest like a pack ol
sheep."
"I reckon Moseby's lawyer were skeered o u t , " suggested
Pooley Hornick, the blacksmith.
"I reckon he war," continued the Oracle, "cause w h e n Sam
sot d o w n , he got up, a n d he said to the jedge that he didn't want
to do no argufying, but he had a little p a p e r that would show
w h y the jedge w o u l d have to let old Moseby go free, a n d then
he asked Sam if he w a n t e d to see it, a n d Sam he said no, he
cared nuthin for his little paper. Then the feller w e n t over and
give the little paper to the jedge, and the jedge h e took it and he
said he would decide in the m o r n i n ' . "
"You don't reckon," said the farmer, "that the jedge will
give the old colonel any show, do you?"
"Billdad Solsberry," said the Oracle, with a grave judicial
air, as t h o u g h to settle the matter beyond question, "you are a
p l u m b fool. If the angel Gabriel war to d r o p d o w n into Gullmore
county, he couldn't keep old Moseby Allen from goin' to the
penitentiary."
T h u s the good citizens sat in judgment, a n d foretold the
d o o m of their fellow.
VI.
O n M o n d a y night, the eleventh day of May, in the thirty-third
year of the State of West Virginia, the j u d g e of the criminal court
of Gullmore county, a n d the judge of the circuit court of
Gullmore county w e r e to meet together for the p u r p o s e of
deciding two matters, one relating to the trial of Moseby
Allen, the retiring sheriff, for embezzling f u n d s of the county,
a m o u n t i n g to thirty t h o u s a n d dollars, a n d the other, an action
p e n d i n g in the circuit court, wherein the State of West Virginia,
at the relation of Jacob Wade, was seeking to recover this sum
f r o m the b o n d s m e n of Allen. In neither of the t w o cases was
there any serious d o u b t as to the facts. It s e e m e d that it was
customary for the retiring sheriff to retain an office in the court
building after the installation of his successor, a n d continue to
attend to the unfinished b u s m e n of the county until all his

J he Sheriff of

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18'

settlements h a d b e e n m a d e , and until all the matters relating to*

his term of office h a d been finally w o u n d u p a n d administered.
In accordance with this custom, Moseby Allen after the
expiration of his term, h a d continued in his office in a quasiofficial capacity, in order to collect back taxes a n d settle u p all
matters carried over from his regular term.
It appeared that d u r i n g Allen's term of office the county h a d
built a court-house, a n d had ordered certain levies for the
p u r p o s e of raising the necessary f u n d s . The first of the levies
h a d been collected by Allen, and paid over by him to the
contractors, as directed by the county court. The remaining
levies had not b e e n collected during his term, b u t h a d b e e n
collected by the n e w sheriff immediately after his installation.
This money, a m o u n t i n g to some thirty t h o u s a n d dollars, h a d
been turned over to Allen u p o n his claim that it grew out of the
unfinished affairs of his term, a n d that, therefore, he w a s
entitled to its custody. He had said to the n e w sheriff that the
levy u p o n which it had been raised w a s ordered during his
term, and the work for which it w a s to be paid all performed,
and the b o n d s of the county issued, while he was active sheriff,
and that he believed it was a part of the matters which were
involved in his final settlements. Jacob Wade, then sheriff,
believing that Allen w a s in fact the proper person to rightly
administer this f u n d , and knowing that his b o n d to the county
was good a n d w o u l d cover all his official affairs, h a d turned the
entire f u n d over to him, and paid no f u r t h e r attention to the
matter.
It appeared that, at the end of the year, Moseby Allen h a d
m a d e all of his proper and legitimate settlements fully a n d
satisfactorily, a n d h a d accounted to the proper authorities for
every dollar that h a d been collected by him during his term of
office, but had refused and neglected to account for the money
which he had received from Wade. W h e n approached u p o n the
subject, he had said plainly that he h a d used this money in
unfortunate speculations and could not return it. The man had
made no effort to check the storm of indignation that burst u p o n
him; he firmly refused to discuss the matter, or to give any
information in regard to it. When arrested, he had expressed no

196

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

surprise, a n d had gone to the jail with the officer. At the trial, his
a t t o r n e y h a d simply waited until the evidence h a d been
introduced, a n d h a d t h e n arisen a n d moved the court to direct a
verdict of not guilty, on the g r o u n d that Allen, u p o n the facts
s h o w n , had committed n o crime punishable u n d e r the statutes
of West Virginia.
The court had been strongly disposed to overrule this
motion without stopping to consider it, but the attorney had
insisted that a m e m o r a n d u m which he h a n d e d u p would
sustain his position, a n d that without mature consideration the
judge ought not force him into the superior court, w h e r e u p o n
his Honor, Ephraim Haines, h a d taken the matter u n d e r
a d v i s e m e n t until morning.
In the circuit court the question had been raised that Allen's
b o n d covered only those matters which arose by virtue of his
office, a n d that this f u n d w a s not properly included. Whereu p o n the careful judge of that court had a d j o u r n e d to consider.
It w a s almost nine o'clock w h e n the Honorable Ephraim
Haines walked into the library to consult with his colleague of
the civil court. He f o u n d that methodical jurist seated before a
pile of reports, with his spectacles far out on the end of his
nose,an indication, as the said Haines well knew, that the said
jurist h a d arrived at a decision, and was now carefully turning it
over in his mind in order to be certain that it was in spirit a n d
truth the very law of the land.
"Well, Judge," said Haines, "have you flipped the p e n n y on
it, a n d if so, w h o wins?"
The m a n addressed looked u p from his book a n d removed
his spectacles. He w a s an angular man, with a grave analytical
face.
"It is not a question of w h o wins, Haines," he answered; "it
is a question of law. I was fairly satisfied w h e n the objection was
first m a d e , but I w a n t e d to be certain before I rendered my
decision. I have gone over the authorities, a n d there is no
question about the matter. The b o n d s m e n of Allen are not liable
in this action."
"They are not!" said*Haines, dropping his long body d o w n

J he Sheriff of Gullmore

18'

into a chair. "It is public money, a n d the object of the b o n d is

certainly to cover any defalcations."
"This b o n d , " continued the circuit judge, "provides for the
faithful discharge, according to law, of the duties of the office of
sheriff during his continuance in said office. Moseby Allen
ceased to be sheriff of this county the day his successor was
installed, and on that day this b o n d ceased to cover his acts.
This money was h a n d e d over by the lawful sheriff to a m a n w h o
w a s not then an officer of this county. Moseby Allen h a d no legal
right to the custody of this money. His duties as sheriff h a d
ceased, his official acts h a d all determined, a n d there w a s n o
possible way w h e r e b y h e could then p e r f o r m an official act that
would render his b o n d s m e n liable. The action p e n d i n g m u s t b e
dismissed. The present sheriff, Wade, is the one responsible to
the county for this money. His only recourse is a n action of debt,
or assumpsit, against Allen individually, a n d as Allen is notoriously insolvent, Wade a n d his b o n d s m e n will have to make u p
this deficit."
"Well," said Haines, "that is hard luck."
" N o , " a n s w e r e d the judge, "it is not luck at all, it is the law.
Wade permitted himself to be the d u p e of a s h r e w d knave, a n d
he must bear the consequences."
"You can d e p e n d u p o n it," said the Honorable Ephraim
Haines, criminal judge by a political error, "that old Allen won't
get off so easy w i t h me. The jury will convict him, a n d I will land
him for the full t e r m . "
"I w a s u n d e r the impression," said the circuit judge,
gravely, "that a motion h a d been m a d e in your court to direct an
acquittal on the g r o u n d that n o crime h a d been committed."
"It was," said Haines, "but of course it w a s m a d e as a
matter of form, a n d there is nothing in it."
"Have you considered it?"
"What is the use? It is a fool motion."
"Well," continued the judge, "this matter comes u p from
your court to m i n e on appeal, and you should be correct in your
ruling. What authorities were cited?"
"Here is the m e m o r a n d u m , " said the criminal judge, "you
can run d o w n the cases if you want to, but 1 k n o w it is n o use.

198

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

The m o n e y belonged to the county and old Allen embezzled

i t , t h a t 4 s admitted."
To this the circuit j u d g e did not reply. H e ' took the
m e m o r a n d u m which Randolph Mason had prepared for Allen,
a n d which the local attorney had submitted, a n d turned to the
cases of reports behind him. H e w a s a hard-working, conscientious m a n , and not least a m o n g his vexatious cares were the
reckless decisions of the Honorable Ephraim Haines.
The learned judge of the criminal court p u t his feet on the
table a n d began to whistle. When at length wearied of this
intellectual diversion, he concentrated all the energy of his
m a m m o t h faculties on the highly cultured pastime of sharpening his penknife on the back of the Code.
At length the judge of the circuit court came back to the
table, sat d o w n , and adjusted his spectacles. " H a i n e s , " he said
slowly, "you will have to sustain that motion."
"What!" cried the Honorable Ephraim, bringing the legs of
his chair d o w n on the floor with a bang.
"That motion," continued the judge, " m u s t be sustained.
M o f e b y Allen has committed no crime u n d e r the statutes of
Wes r Virginia."
"Committed no crime!" almost shouted the criminal jurist,
doubling his long legs u p u n d e r his chair, "why, old Allen
admits that he got this m o n e y and spent it. H e says that he
converted it to his own use; that it was not his money; that it
belonged to the county. The evidence of the State s h o w s that he
cunningly induced Wade to turn this money over to him, saying
that his bond was good, and that he was entitled to the custody
of the f u n d . The old rascal secured the possession of this money
by trickery, and kept it, and now you say he has committed no
crime. H o w in Satan's n a m e do you figure it out?"
"Haines," said the judge, gravely, "I don't figure it out. The
law cannot be figured out. It is certain and exact. It describes
perfectly w h a t w r o n g s are punishable as crimes, and exactly
w h a t elements must enter into each wrong in order to make it a
crime. All right of discretion is taken from the trial court; the
judge m u s t abide by the law, and the law decides matters of this
nature in no uncertain terms."

18'
J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

"Surely," interrupted Haines, beginning to appreciate the

gravity* of the situation, "old Allen can be sent to the penitentiary for this crime. H e is a rank, out and out embezzler. He stole
this money and converted it to his own use. Are you going to
say that the crime of embezzlement is a d e a d letter?"
"My friend," said the judge, "you forget that there is n o
equity in the criminal courts. The crime of embezzlement is a
pure creature of the statute. Under the old c o m m o n law there
was n o such crime. Consequently society h a d n o protection
from wrongs of this nature, until this evil grew to such
proportions that the law-making power began by statute to
define this crime a n d provide for its p u n i s h m e n t . The ancient
English statutes were m a n y and varied, a n d , following in s o m e
degree thereafter, each of the United States has its o w n
particular statute, describing that crime as being composed of
certain fixed technical elements. This indictment against Moseby
Allen is brought u n d e r Section 19 of Chapter 145 of the code of
West Virginia, which provides: 'If any officer, agent, clerk or
servant of this State, or of any county, district school district or
municipal corporation thereof, or of any incorporated bank or
other corporation, or any officer of public trust in this State, or
any agent, clerk or servant of such officer of public trust, or any
agent, clerk or servant of any firm or person, or c o m p a n y or
association of persons not incorporated, embezzle or fraudulently convert to his o w n use, bullion, money, bank notes or
other security for money, or any effects or property of another
person which shall have come to his possession, or been placed
under his care or m a n a g e m e n t , by virtue of his office, place or
employment, he shall be guilty of larceny thereof.'
"This is the statute describing the offence sought to be
charged. All such statutes must be strictly construed. Applying
these requisites of the crime to the case before us, w e find that
Allen cannot be convicted, for the reason that at the time this
money was placed in h ; s h a n d s he was not sheriff of Gullmore
county, nor w a s he in any sense its agent, clerk, or servant. A n d ,
second, if he could be said to continue an agent, clerk, or
servant of this county, after the expiration of his term, he would
continue such agent, clerk, or servant for the p u r p o s e only of

200

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

a d m i n i s t e r i n g t h o s e m a t t e r s which m i g h t be said to lawfully

p e r t a i n to the u n f i n i s h e d b u s i n e s s of his office. This f u n d w a s in
n o wise connected w i t h such unfinished affairs, a n d by n o
possible construction could he be said to be an agent, clerk, or
s e r v a n t of this c o u n t y for the p u r p o s e of its distribution or
custody. Again, in o r d e r to constitute such e m b e z z l e m e n t , the
m o n e y m u s t h a v e c o m e into his possession bv virtue of his
office. This could n o t be, for the reason that he held no office.
His time h a d expired; Jacob Wade w a s sheriff, a n d the m o m e n t
Jacob Wade w a s installed, Allen's official capacity d e t e r m i n e d ,
a n d h e became a private citizen, with only the rights a n d
liabilities of such a citizen.
" N o r is he guilty of larceny, for the very e v i d e n t r e a s o n that
the p r o p e r custodian, Wade, voluntarily placed this m o n e y in
his h a n d s , a n d h e received it u n d e r a bona fide color of right."
The Honorable E p h r a i m Haines arose, a n d b r o u g h t his
p o n d e r o u s fist d o w n violently on the table. "By the Eternal!" he
said, "this is the cutest trick that has b e e n played in t h e t w o
Virginias for a century. Moseby Allen h a s slipped out of the
clutches of the law like an eel."
" E p h r a i m , " said t h e circuit judge, reproachfully, "this is no
frivolous matter. Moseby Allen has w r o u g h t a great w r o n g , by
w h i c h m a n y i n n o c e n t m e n will suffer vast injury, p e r h a p s ruin.
Such malicious c u n n i n g is d a n g e r o u s to society. Justice cannot
reach all w r o n g s ; its h a n d s are tied by the restrictions of the law.
Why, u n d e r this very statute, one w h o w a s de facto an officer of
the c o u n t y or State, by i n d u c i n g some other officer to place in his
h a n d s f u n d s to w h i c h h e w a s not legally entitled, could
a p p r o p r i a t e the f u n d s so received with perfect impunity, a n d
w i t h o u t committing any crime of r e n d e r i n g his b o n d s m e n
liable. T h u s a clerk of the circuit court could u s e w i t h o u t
criminal liability any money, properly belonging to the clerk of
the county court, or sheriff, provided he could convince the
clerk or sheriff that he w a s entitled to its custody; a n d so with
a n y officer of the State or county, a n d this could be d o n e with
perfect ease w h e r e the officers were well k n o w n to each other
a n d strict business m e t h o d s were not observed. H e n c e all the
great w r o n g a n d injury of embezzlement can be c o m m i t t e d , a n d

18'

J he Sheriff of

Gullmore

all the gain a n d profit of it be secured, w i t h o u t violating the

statute or r e n d e r i n g t h e officer liable to criminal p r o s e c u t i o n . It
would s e e m that t h e r o g u e m u s t be s t u p i d i n d e e d w h o could
not e v a d e the crime of e m b e z z l e m e n t . "
The m a n s t o p p e d , r e m o v e d his spectacles, a n d closed t h e m
u p in their case. H e w a s a painstaking, h o n e s t s e r v a n t of t h e
c o m m o n w e a l t h , a n d , like m a n y others of t h e u n c o m p l a i n i n g
strong, p e r f o r m e d his o w n d u t i e s a n d t h o s e of his careless
c o m p a n i o n w i t h o u t m u r m u r or c o m m e n t or h o p e of r e w a r d .
T h e H o n o r a b l e E p h r a i m H a i n e s arose a n d d r e w himself u p
p o m p o u s l y "I a m g l a d , " h e said, "that w e a g r e e o n this matter. I
shall sustain this m o t i o n . "
T h e circuit j u d g e smiled grimly. "Yes," h e said, "it is n o t
reason or justice, b u t it is t h e law."
VII.
At twelve the following n i g h t Colonel M o s e b y Allen, ex-sheriff
of the c o u n t y of G u l l m o r e , n o w acquitted of crime by t h e
c o m m o n w e a l t h , h u r r i e d across t h e b o r d e r for t h e p u r p o s e of
avoiding certain lawless d e m o n s t r a t i o n s o n t h e p a r t of h i s
c o u n t r y m e n , a n d of all his acts of public service, this w a s t h e
greatest.

1897

The Episode of
the Mexican Seer
GRANT ALLEN

My n a m e is Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. I am brotherin-law and secretary to Sir Charles Vandrift, the South African
millionaire and fame us financier. Many years ago, w h e n Charlie
Vandrift was a small lawyer in Cape Town, I had the (qualified)
good fortune to marry his sister. Much later, w h e n the Vandrift
estate and farm near Kimberley developed by degrees into the
Cloetedorp Golcondas, Limited, my brothe.-in-law offered me
the not u n r e m u n e r a t i v e post of secretary; in which capacity I
have ever since been his constant and attached companion.
H e is not a man w h o m any common s h a r p e r can take in, is
Charles Vandrift. Middle height, square build, firm m o u t h , keen
eyesthe very picture of a sharp and successful business
genius. I have only k n o w n one rogue impose u p o n Sir Charles,
a n d that one rogue, as the Commissary of Police at Nice
remarked, would d o u b t e s s have imposed u p o n a syndicate of
Vidocq, Robert H o u d i n , and Cagliostro.
We h a d run across to the Riviera for a few weeks in the
season. O u r object being strictly rest and recreation from the
a r d u o u s duties of financial combination, w e did not think it
necessary to take our wives out with us. Indeed, Lady Vandrift
is absolutely w e d d e d to the joys of London, a n d does not
appreciate the rural delights of the Mediterranean littoral. But
Sir Charles a n d I, t h o u g h immersed in affairs w h e u at home,
both thoroughly enjoy the complete change from the City to the
charming vegetation a n d pellucid air on the terrace at Monte
202

The Episode

of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

Carlo. We are so f o n d of scenery. That delicious view over the

rocks of Monaco, with the Maritime Alps in the rear, a n d the
blue sea in front, not to mention the imposing Casino in the
f o r e g r o u n d , a p p e a l s to me as one of the m o s t beautiful
prospects in all Europe. Sir Charles h a s a sentimental attachment for the place. H e finds it restores a n d refreshes him, after
the turmoil of L o n d o n , to win a few h u n d r e d at roulette in the
course of an a f t e r n o o n a m o n g the palms a n d cactuses a n d p u r e
breezes of Monte Carlo. The country, say I, for a jaded intellect!
However, w e n e v e r o n any account actually stop in the
Principality itself. Sir Charles thinks M o n t e Carlo is not a s o u n d
address for a financier's letters. H e prefers a comfortable hotel
on the P r o m e n a d e d e s Anglais at Nice, w h e r e he recovers health
a n d renovates his n e r v o u s system by taking daily excursions
along the coast to the Casino.
This particular season we were snugly ensconced at the
Hotel des Anglais. We h a d capital quarters o n the first floor
salon, study, a n d b e d r o o m s a n d f o u n d o n the spot a most
agreeable cosmopolitan society. All Nice, just then, w a s ringing
with talk about a curious imposter, k n o w n to his followers as the
Great Mexican Seer, a n d s u p p o s e d to be gifted with second
sight, as well as with endless other s u p e r n a t u r a l powers. Now,
it is a peculiarity of m y able brother-in-law's that, w h e n he m e e t s
with a quack, h e b u r n s to expose him; h e is so keen a m a n of
business himself that it gives him, so to speak, a disinterested
pleasure to u n m a s k a n d detect imposture in others. Many ladies
at the hotel, some of w h o m had met a n d conversed with the
Mexican Seer, w e r e constantly telling u s strange stories of his
doings. He h a d disclosed to one the p r e s e n t w h e r e a b o u t s of a
r u n a w a y h u s b a n d ; he h a d pointed o u t to a n o t h e r the n u m b e r s
that would win at roulette next evening; he h a d s h o w n a third
the image on a screen of the man she h a d for y e a r s a d o r e d
without his knowledge. Of course, Sir Charles didn't believe a
word of it; but his curiousity was roused; he w i s h e d to see a n d
judgo for himself of the w o n d e r f u l thought-reader.
What w o u l d be his terms, do you think, for a private
Mwue?' he asked of M a d a m e Picardet, the lady to w h o m the
Seer had successfully predicted the w i n n i n g n u m b e r s .

204

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

'He does not work for money,' Madame Picardet a n s w e r e d ,

'but for the good of humanity. I'm sure he w o u l d gladly come
a n d exhibit for nothing his miraculous faculties.'
'Nonsense!' Sir Charles answered. 'The m a n m u s t live. I'd
pay him five guineas, t h o u g h , to see him alone. What hotel is he
s t o p p i n g at?'
T h e Cosmopolitan, I think,' the lady a n s w e r e d . ' O h no; I
r e m e m b e r now, the Westminister.'
Sir Charles t u r n e d to me quietly. 'Look here, Seymour,' he
w h i s p e r e d . 'Go r o u n d to this fellow's place immediately after
dinner, a n d offer him five p o u n d s to give a private seance at once
in my rooms, without mentioning w h o I am to him; keep the
n a m e quite quiet. Bring him back with you, too, a n d come
straight upstairs with him, so that there may be no collusion.
We'll see just h o w m u c h the fellow can tell us.'
I w e n t as directed. I f o u n d the Seer a very remarkable a n d
interesting person. H e stood about Sir Charles's o w n height, but
w a s slimmer a n d straighter, with an aquiline nose, strangely
piercing eyes, very large black pupils, a n d a finely chiselled
close-shaven face, like the bust of Antinous in our hall in
Mayfair. W h a t gave him his most characteristic touch, however,
w a s his o d d head of hair, curly and wavy like Paderewski's,
s t a n d i n g out in a halo r o u n d his high white f o r e h e a d a n d his
delicate profile. I could see at a glance w h y he succeeded so well
in impressing w o m e n ; h e h a d the look of a poet, a singer, a
prophet.
'I have come r o u n d , ' I said, 'to ask w h e t h e r you will
consent to give a seance at once in a friend's rooms; a n d my
principal wishes me to a d d that he is p r e p a r e d to pay five
p o u n d s as the price of the entertainment.'
Serior Antonio Herrerathat was w h a t he called himself
b o w e d to m e with impressive Spanish politeness. His dusky
olive cheeks were wrinkled with a smile of gentle c o n t e m p t as
he a n s w e r e d gravely
'I d o not sell my gifts; I bestow them freely. If your friend
your a n o n y m o u s frienddesires to behold the cosmic w o n d e r s
that are w r o u g h t t h r o u g h m y h a n d s , I am glad to s h o w t h e m to
him. Fortunately, as often h a p p e n s w h e n it is necessary to

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

20 5

convince a n d c o n f o u n d a sceptic (for that your friend is a sceptic

I feel instinctively), I chance to have n o e n g a g e m e n t s at all this
evening.' He ran his h a n d through his fine, long hair reflectively.
'Yes, I go,' he continued, as if a d d r e s s i n g some u n k n o w n
presence that h o v e r e d about the ceiling; 'I go; come with me!'
Then he p u t on his broad sombrero, with its crimson ribbon,
w r a p p e d a cloak r o u n d his shoulders, lighted a cigarette, a n d
strode forth by m y side towards the Hotel des Anglais.
He talked little by the way, and that little in curt sentences.
H e seemed buried in d e e p thought; indeed, w h e n w e reached
the door a n d I t u r n e d in, he walked a step or two farther on, as if
not noticing to w h a t place I had b r o u g h t him. Then he d r e w
himself u p short, a n d gazed around him for a m o m e n t . 'Ha, the
Anglais,' he saidand I may mention in passing that his
English, in spite of a slight southern accent, w a s idiomatic a n d
excellent. 'It is here, then; it is here!' H e w a s addressing once
more the u n s e e n presence.
I smiled to think that these childish devices were i n t e n d e d
to deceive Sir Charles Vandrift. Not quite the sort of man (as the
City of London knows) to be taken in by hocus-pocus. A n d all
this, I saw, w a s the cheapest and most c o m m o n p l a c e conjurer's
patter.
We w e n t upstairs to our rooms. Charles had gathered
together a few friends to watch the performance. The Seer
entered, w r a p t in t h o u g h t . He was in evening dress, but a red
sash r o u n d his waist gave a touch of picturesqueness a n d a d a s h
of colour. H e p a u s e d for a m o m e n t in the middle of the salon,
without letting his eyes rest on a n y b o d y or anything. Then he
walked straight u p to Charles, and held out his dark h a n d .
'Good evening,' he said. 'You are the host. My soul's sight
tells me so.'
'Good shot,' Sir Charles a n s w e r e d . 'These fellows have to
be quick-witted, you know, Mrs Mackenzie, or they'd never get
on at it.'
The Seer gazed about him, and smiled blankly at a p e r s o n
or two w h o s e faces h e seemed to recognize from a previous
existence. T h e n Charles began to ask him a few simple questions, not about himself, but about me, just to test him. H e

206

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

a n s w e r e d most of t h e m with surprising correctness. 'His name?

His n a m e begins with a n S I thinkyou call him Seymour.' H e
p a u s e d long between each clause, as if the facts w e r e revealed to
him slowly. 'SeymourWilbrahamEarl of Strafford. No, not
Earl of Strafford! Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. There seems
to be some connection in somebody's m i n d n o w present
b e t w e e n Wentworth a n d Strafford. I am not English. I d o not
k n o w w h a t it means. But they are s o m e h o w the same n a m e ,
Wentworth a n d Strafford.'
H e gazed a r o u n d , apparently for confirmation. A lady came
to his resuce.
'Wentworth w a s the s u r n a m e of the great Earl of Strafford,'
she m u r m u r e d gently; ' a n d I was wondering, as you spoke,
w h e t h e r Mr Wentworth might possibly be d e s c e n d e d f r o m him.'
' H e is,' the Seer replied instantly, with a flash of those dark
eyes. A n d I t h o u g h t this curious; for t h o u g h m y father always
maintained the reality of the relationship, there w a s o n e link
w a n t i n g to complete the pedigree. He could not m a k e sure that
the H o n . Thomas Wilbraham Wentworth w a s the father of
Jonathan Wentworth, the Bristol horsedealer, f r o m w h o m w e
are descended.
'Where w a s I born?' Sir Charles interrupted, coming suddenly to his o w n case.
The Seer clapped his two h a n d s to his forehead a n d held it
b e t w e e n them, as if to p r e v e n t it from bursting. 'Africa', h e said
slowly, as the facts n a r r o w e d d o w n , so to speak. 'South Africa;
C a p e of Good Hope; Jansenville; De Witt Street. 1840.'
'By jove, he's correct,' Sir Charles m u t t e r e d . ' H e seems
really to d o it. Still, h e may have f o u n d m e out. H e m a y h a v e
k n o w n w h e r e he w a s coming.'
'I never gave a hint,' I answered; 'till he reached the door,
he didn't even k n o w to w h a t hotel I w a s piloting h i m . '
The Seer stroked his chin softly. His eye a p p e a r e d to m e to
h a v e a furtive gleam in it. 'Would you like m e to tell you the
n u m b e r of a bank-note inclosed in an envelope?' h e asked
casually.
'Go out of the r o o m , ' Sir Charles said, 'while I pass it r o u n d
the company.'

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

Serior Herrera disappeared. Sir Charles passed it r o u n d

cautiously, holding it all the time in his o w n h a n d , but letting his
guests see the number. Then he placed it in an envelope a n d
g u m m e d it d o w n firmly.
The Seer r e t u r n e d . His keen eyes swept the c o m p a n y with a
comprehensive glance. He shook his shaggy m a n e . Then he
took the envelope in his h a n d s and gazed at it fixedly. 'AF,
73549/ he a n s w e r e d , in a slow tone. 'A Bank of England note for
fifty p o u n d s e x c h a n g e d at the Casino for gold won yesterday
at Monte Carlo.'
'I see h o w h e did that,' Sir Charles said triumphantly. ' H e
m u s t have changed it there himself; a n d then I changed it back
again. In point of fact, I remember seeing a fellow with long hair
loafing about. Still, it's capital conjuring.'
'He can see t h r o u g h matter,' one of the ladies interposed. It
was M a d a m e Picardet. 'He can see t h r o u g h a box.' She d r e w a
little gold vinaigrette, such as our g r a n d m o t h e r s used, from her
dress-pocket. ' W h a t is in this?' she inquired, holding it u p to
him.
Serior Herrera gazed through it. 'Three gold coins,' he
replied, knitting his b r o w s with the effort of seeing into the box:
'one, an American five dollars; one, a French ten-franc piece;
one, twenty marks, German, of the old Emperor William.'
She o p e n e d the box a n d pased it r o u n d . Sir Charles smiled
a quiet smile.
'Confederacy!' h e muttered, half to himself. 'Confederacy!'
The Seer t u r n e d to him with a sullen air. 'You w a n t a Pfetter
sign?' he said, in a very impressive voice. 'A sign that will
convince you! Very well: you have a letter in your left waistcoat
pocketa c r u m p l e d - u p letter. Do you wish m e to read it out? I
will, if you desire it.'
It may seem to those w h o k n o w Sir Charles incredible, but,
I am b o u n d to admit, m y brother-in-law coloured. What that
letter contained I cannot say; he only a n s w e r e d , very testily a n d
evasively. 'No, t h a n k you; I w o n ' t trouble you. The exhibition
you have already given us of your skill in this kind more than
amply suffices.' A n d his fingers strayed nervously to his

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T H E BEST C R I M E STORIES OF T H E N I N E T E E N T H C E N T U R Y

waistcoat pocket, as if he w a s half afraid, even then, Senor

Herrera would read it.
I fancied too, h e glanced somewhat anxiously towards
M a d a m e Picardet.
The Seer bowed courteously. 'Your will, senor, is law,' he
said. 'I make it a principle, t h o u g h I can see t h r o u g h all things,
invariably to respect the secrecies and sanctities. If it were not
so, I might dissolve society. For which of us is it there w h o could
bear the whole truth being told about him?' H e gazed a r o u n d
the room. An unpleasant thrill supervened. Most of us felt this
u n c a n n y Spanish American k n e w really too m u c h . A n d some of
us were engaged in financial operations.
'For example,' the Seer continued blandly, 'I h a p p e n e d a
few w e e k s ago to travel d o w n here from Paris by train with a
very intelligent m a n , a c o m p a n y promoter. H e h a d in his bag
some d o c u m e n t s s o m e confidential documents:' he glanced at
Sir Charles. 'You k n o w the kind of thing, my dear sir: reports
from expertsfrom mining engineers. You may have seen some
such; marked strictly private.'
'They form an element in high finance,' Sir Charles admitted coldly.
'Pre-cisely,' the Seer m u r m u r e d , his accent for a m o m e n t
less Spanish than before. ' A n d , as they w e r e m a r k e d strictly
private, I respect, of course, the seal of confidence. That's all I
w i s h to say. I hold it a duty, being intrusted with such powers,
not to u s e t h e m in a m a n n e r which may a n n o y or i n c o m m o d e
m y fellow creatures.'
'Your feeling does y o u honour,' Sir Charles a n s w e r e d with
s o m e acerbity. Then h e whispered in my ear: ' C o n f o u n d e d
clever scoundrel, Sey; rather wish w e hadn't b r o u g h t him here.'
Senor Herrera s e e m e d intuitively to divine this wish, for he
interposed, in a lighter a n d gayer tone
'I will n o w s h o w you a different a n d m o r e interesting
e m b o d i m e n t of occult power, for which w e shall n e e d a
s o m e w h a t s u b d u e d a r r a n g e m e n t of s u r r o u n d i n g lights. Would
you m i n d , senor hostfor I have purposely abstained f r o m
reading your n a m e on the brain of any one p r e s e n t w o u l d you
m i n d my turning d o w n this l a m p just a little? . . . So! That will

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

do. Now, this one; a n d this one. Exactly! that's right.' H e p o u r e d

a few grains of p o w d e r out of a packet into a saucer. 'Next, a
match, if you please. Thank you!' It b u r n t with a strange green
light. He d r e w f r o m his pocket a card, a n d p r o d u c e d a little inkbottle. 'Have you a pen?' he asked.
I instantly b r o u g h t one. He h a n d e d it to Sir Charles. 'Oblige
m e , ' he said, 'by writing your n a m e there.' A n d he indicated a
place in the centre of the card, which h a d an embossed edge,
with a small middle square of a different colour.
Sir Charles has a natural disinclination to signing his n a m e
without k n o w i n g why. 'What d o you w a n t with it?' he asked. (A
millionaire's signature has so m a n y uses.)
'I w a n t you to p u t the card in an envelope,' the Seer replied,
'and then to b u r n it. After that, I shall s h o w you your o w n n a m e
written in letters of blood o n my arm, in your o w n handwriting.'
Sir Charles took the pen. If the signature w a s to be b u r n e d
as soon as finished, he didn't mind giving it. H e wrote his n a m e
in his usual firm clear stylethe writing of a m a n w h o k n o w s
his worth a n d is not afraid of d r a w i n g a cheque for five
thousand.
'Look at it long,' the Seer said, f r o m the other side of the
room.' He h a d not watched him write it.
Sir Charles stared at it fixedly. The Seer w a s really beginning
to produce an impression.
'Now, p u t it in that envelope,' the Seer exclaimed.
Sir Charles, like a lamb, placed it as directed.
The Seer strode forward. 'Give m e the envelope,' h e said.
H e took it in his h a n d , walked over t o w a r d s the fireplace, a n d
solemnly b u r n t it. 'Seeit crumbles into ashes,' he cried. T h e n
he came back to the middle of the room, close to the green light,
roiled u p his sleeve, a n d held his arm before Bir Charles. There,
m blood-red letters, my brother-iiylaw read the name, 'Charles
Vandrift,' in his o w n handwriting!
'I see h o w that's d o n e , ' Sir Charles m u r m u r e d , d r a w i n g
back. 'It's a clever delusion; b u t still, I see t h r o u g h it. It's like that
ghost-book. Your ink w a s d e e p green; your light w a s green; you
m a d e me look at it long; a n d then I saw the same thing written
on the skin of your arm in complementary colours.'

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

'You think so?' the Seer replied, with a curious curl of the
p.
'I'm sure of it,' Sir Charles answered.
Quick as lightning the Seer rolled u p his sleeve. T h a t ' s your
n a m e , ' he cried, in a very clear voice, but not your whole name.
What d o you say, then, to my right? Is this one also a
complementary colour?' H e held his other arm out. There, in
sea-green letters, I read the name, 'Charles O'Sullivan Vandrift.'
It is my brother-in-law's full baptismal designation; but he has
d r o p p e d the O'Sullivan for many years past, a n d , to say the
truth, doesn't like it. H e is a little bit a s h a m e d of his mother's
family.
Charles glanced at it hurriedly. 'Quite right,' he said, 'quite
right!' But his voice w a s hollow. I could guess he didn't care to
continue the seance. H e could see through the m a n , of course;
but it w a s clear the fellow k n e w too much about us to be entirely
pleasant.
'Turn u p the lights,' I said, a n d a servant t u r n e d t h e m .
'Shall I say coffee a n d benedictine?' I w h i s p e r e d to Vandrift.
'By all m e a n s , " he a n s w e r e d . 'Anything to keep this fellow
f r o m f u r t h e r impertinences! A n d , I say, don't you think y o u ' d
better suggest at the same time that the m e n should smoke?
Even these ladies are not above a cigarettesome of t h e m . '
There was sigh of relief. The lights b u r n e d brightly. The
Seer for the m o m e n t retired from business, so to speak. H e
accepted a partaga with a very good grace, sipped his coffee in a
corner, a n d chatted to the lady w h o had suggested Strafford
with marked politeness. H e w a s a polished g e n t l e m a n .
Next morning, in the hall of the hotel, I saw M a d a m e
Picardet again, in a neat tailor-made travelling dress, evidently
b o u n d for the railway station.
'What, off, M a d a m e Picardet?' I cried.
She smiled and held out her prettily gloved h a n d . 'Yes, I'm
off,' she answered archly. 'Florence, or Rome, or s o m e w h e r e .
I've drained Nice drylike a sucked orange. Got all the f u n I can
out of it. N o w I'm a w a y again to gain my beloved Italy.'
But it struck me as o d d that, if Italy w a s her game, she w e n t
by the o m n i b u s which takes d o w n to the train de luxe for Paris.

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

However, a man of the world accepts w h a t a lady tells him, n o

matter how improbable; a n d I confess, for ten days or so, I
thought no more about her, or the Seer either.
At the e n d of that time our fortnightly pass-book came in
from the bank in London. It is part of my duty, as the
millionaire's secretary, to m a k e u p this book once a fortnight,
and to compare the cancelled cheques with Sir Charles's
counterfoils. O n this particular occasion I h a p p e n e d to observe
what I can only describe as a very grave discrepancyin fact, a
discrepancy of 5,000. O n the wrong side, too. Sir Charles w a s
debited with 5,000 more t h a n the total a m o u n t that w a s s h o w n
on the counterfoils.
I examined the book with care. The source of the error was
obvious. It lay in a cheque to Self or Bearer, for 5,000 signed by
Sir Charles, and evidently paid across the counter in London, as
it bore on its face n o s t a m p or indication of any other office.
I called in my brother-in-law from the salon to the s t u d y
'Look here, Charles,' I said, 'there's a cheque in the book which
you haven't entered.' A n d I h a n d e d it to him without comment,
for I thought it might have been d r a w n to settle some little loss
on the turf or at cards, or to make u p some other affair he didn't
desire to mention to me. These.things will h a p p e n .
H e looked at it a n d stared hard. Then he p u r s e d u p his
mouth a n d gave a long low 'Whew!' At last he t u r n e d it over
and remarked, 'I say, Sey, my boy, we've just b e e n d o n e jolly
well brown, haven't we?'
I glanced at the cheque. ' H o w d o you mean?' 1 inquired.
'Why, the Seer,' he replied, still staring at it ruefully. 'I d o n ' t
mind the five t h o u . , b u t to think the fellow should have
g a m m o n e d the pair of u s like thatignominious, I call it!'
' H o w d o you k n o w it's the Seer?' I asked.
'Look at the green ink,' he a n s w e r e d . 'Besides, I recollect
the very shape of the last flourish. I flourished a bit like that in
the excitement of the m o m e n t , which I d o n ' t always d o with m y
regular signature.'
'He's d o n e u s , ' I a n s w e r e d , recognising it. 'But h o w the
dickens did h e m a n a g e to transfer it to the cheque? This looks
like your o w n handwriting, Charles, not a clever forgery.'

212

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

'It i s / he said. 'I admit itI can't d e n y it. Only fancy him
bamboozling me w h e n I w a s most on my guard! I wasn't to be
taken in by any of his silly occult tricks a n d catchwords; but it
never occurred to m e h e w a s going to victimize m e financially in
this way. I expected attempts at a loan or an extortion; b u t to
collar my signature to a blank chequeatrocious!'
' H o w did he m a n a g e it?' I asked.
'I haven't the faintest conception. I only k n o w those are the
w o r d s I wrote. I could swear to t h e m a n y w h e r e . '
T h e n you can't protest the cheque?'
'Unfortunately, no; it's my o w n true signature.'
We w e n t that afternoon without delay to see the Chief
Commissary of Police at the office. H e w a s a gentlemanly
Frenchman, m u c h less formal and red-tapey than usual, a n d he
spoke excellent English with an American accent, having acted,
in fact, as a detective in N e w York for about ten years in his early
manhood.
'I guess,' h e said slowly, after hearing o u r story, 'you've
been victimized right here by Colonel Clay, g e n t l e m e n . '
' W h o is Colonel Clay?' Sir Charles asked.
'That's just w h a t I w a n t to know,' the Commissary ans w e r e d , in his curious American-French-English. ' H e is a
Colonel, because h e occasionally gives himself a commission; he
is called Colonel Clay, because he a p p e a r s to possess an indiarubber face, a n d h e can mould it like clay in the h a n d s of the
potter. Real n a m e , u n k n o w n . Nationality, equally French and
English. Address, usually Europe. Profession, former maker of
wax figures to the M u s e e Grevin. Age, w h a t h e chooses.
Employs his k n o w l e d g e to mould his o w n nose a n d cheeks,
w i t h wax additions, to the character he desires to personate.
Aquiline this time, you say. Heinl A n y t h i n g like these photographs?'
H e r u m m a g e d in his desk a n d h a n d e d us two.
'Not in the least,' Sir Charles a n s w e r e d . 'Except, perhaps,
as to the neck, everything here is quite unlike him.'
'Then that's the Colonel!' the Commissary a n s w e r e d , with
decision, rubbing his h a n d s in glee. 'Look here,' a n d he took out
a pencil and rapidly sketched the outline of o n e of the two

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

f - that of a bland-looking y o u n g m a n , w i t h n o expression

rth m e n t i o n i n g . 'There's the Colonel in his simple disguise.
Verv good. N o w w a t c h me: figure to yourself that h e a d d s here a
tinv patch of wax to his n o s e a n aquiline b r i d g e j u s t so; well,
, ou h a v e him right there; a n d the chin, ah, o n e touch: now, for
hair, a wig: for complexion, nothing easier: that's t h e profile of
your rascal, isn't it?'
'Exactly,' w e b o t h m u r m u r e d . By t w o curves of the pencil,
and a shock of false hair, the face w a s t r a n s m u t e d .
' H e h a d very large eyes, with very big pupils, t h o u g h , ' I
objected, looking close; ' a n d the m a n in t h e p h o t o g r a p h here
has t h e m small a n d boiled-fishy.'
T h a t ' s so,' the C o m m i s s a r y a n s w e r e d . 'A d r o p of bellad o n n a e x p a n d s a n d p r o d u c e s the Seer; five grains of o p i u m
contractand give a dead-alive, stupidly i n n o c e n t a p p e a r a n c e .
Well, y o u leave this affair to me, g e n t l e m e n . I'll see the f u n out. I
don't say I'll catch h i m for you; n o b o d y ever yet has caught
Colonel Clay; b u t I'll explain h o w he did the trick; a n d that
ought to be consolation e n o u g h to a m a n of y o u r m e a n s for a
trifle of five t h o u s a n d ! '
'You are n o t t h e conventional French office holder, M. le
Commissaire,' I v e n t u r e d to interpose.
'You bet!' the C o m m i s s a r y replied, a n d d r e w himself u p like
a captain of infantry. 'Messieurs,' he c o n t i n u e d , in French, with
the u t m o s t dignity, 'I shall devote the resources of this office to
tracing out t h e crime, a n d , if possible, to effectuating the arrest
of the culpable.'
We telegraphed to L o n d o n , of course, a n d w e w r o t e to t h e
bank, with a full description of the s u s p e c t e d p e r s o n . But I n e e d
hardly a d d that n o t h i n g c a m e of it.
Three d a y s later t h e C o m m i s s a r y called at o u r hotel. 'Well,
gentlemen,' he said, 'I a m glad to say I h a v e discovered
everything!'
'What? Arrested the Seer?' Sir Charles cried.
The C o m m i s s a r y d r e w back, almost horrified at the suggestion.
'Arrested Colonel Clay?' h e exclaimed. 'Mais, monsieur, w e
ar
e only h u m a n ! A r r e s t e d him? No, not quite. But tracked out

214

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

h o w he did it. That is already muchto unravel Colonel Clay,

gentlemen!'
'Well, what d o you make of it?' Sir Charles asked, crestfallen.
The Commissary sat d o w n and gloated over his discovery.
It w a s clear a well-planned crime amused him vastly. 'In the first
place, monsieur,' he said, 'disabuse your mind of the idea that
w h e n monsieur your secretary went out to fetch Senor Herrera
that night, Senor Herrera didn't know to w h o s e rooms he was
coming. Quite otherwise, in point of fact. I d o not d o u b t myself
that Senor Herrera, or Colonel Clay (call him which you like),
came to Nice this winter for no other p u r p o s e than just to rob
you.'
'But I sent for him,' my brother-in-law interposed.
'Yes; he meant you to send for him. H e forced a card, so to
speak. If he couldn't do that I guess he would be a pretty poor
conjurer. He had a lady of his ownhis wife, let us say, or his
sisterstopping here at this hotel; a certain M a d a m e Picardet.
Through her he induced several ladies of your circle to attend
his seances. She a n d they spoke to you about him, a n d aroused
your curiosity. You may bet your bottom dollar that w h e n he
came to this room he came ready primed a n d prepared with
endless facts about both of you.'
'Wh^t fools we have been, Sey,' my brother-in-law exclaimed. 'I see it all now. That designing w o m a n sent round
before dinner to say'I w a n t e d to meet him; a n d by the time you
got there he w a s ready for bamboozling m e . '
'That's so,' the Commissary answered. ' H e h a d your n a m e
ready painted on both his arms; a n d he had m a d e other
preparations of still greater importance.'
'You m e a n the cheque. Well, how did h e get it?'
The Commissary o p e n e d the door. ' C o m e in,' he said. And
a y o u n g man entered w h o m we recognized at once as the chief
clerk in the Foreign Department of the Credit Marseillais, the
principal bank all along the Riviera.
State what you know of this cheque,' the Commissary said,
showing it to him, for w e had h a n d e d it over to the police as a
piece of evidence.

The Episode of the Mexican

Seer

2 05

' A b o u t four w e e k s since' the clerk b e g a n .

'Say ten d a y s b e f o r e y o u r seance,' the C o m m i s s a r y interposed.
'A g e n t l e m a n w i t h very long hair a n d a n aquiline nose,
dark, strange, a n d h a n d s o m e , called in at m y d e p a r t m e n t a n d
asked if I could tell h i m t h e n a m e of Sir C h a r l e s Vandrift's
London banker. H e said h e h a d a s u m to p a y in to y o u r credit,
and asked if w e w o u l d f o r w a r d it for h i m . I told h i m it w a s
irregular for u s to receive t h e money, as y o u h a d n o account with
us, b u t that y o u r L o n d o n b a n k e r s w e r e Darby, D r u m m o n d , a n d
Rothenberg, Limited.'
'Quite right,' Sir C h a r l e s m u r m u r e d .
'Two d a y s later a lady, M a d a m e Picardet, w h o w a s a
customer of ours, b r o u g h t in a good c h e q u e for t h r e e h u n d r e d
p o u n d s , signed by a first-rate n a m e , a n d a s k e d u s to pay it in o n
her behalf to Darby, D r u m m o n d , a n d R o t h e n b e r g ' s , a n d to o p e n
a L o n d o n account w i t h t h e m for her. We d i d so, a n d received in
reply a c h e q u e - b o o k . '
'From w h i c h this c h e q u e w a s taken, as I learn f r o m t h e
number, by telegram f r o m L o n d o n , ' t h e C o m m i s s a r y p u t in.
Also, that o n t h e s a m e d a y o n which y o u r c h e q u e w a s c a s h e d ,
M a d a m e Picardet, in L o n d o n , w i t h d r e w h e r balance.'
'But h o w did the fellow get m e to sign the cheque?' Sir
Charles cried. ' H o w did he m a n a g e t h e card trick?'
The C o m m i s s a r y p r o d u c e d a similar card f r o m his pocket.
'Was that the sort of thing?' h e a s k e d .
'Precisely! A facsimile.'
'I t h o u g h t so. Well, o u r Colonel, I find, b o u g h t a packet of
such cards, i n t e n d e d for admission to a religious function, at
a s h o p in the Q u a i M a s s e n a . H e cut o u t t h e centre, a n d see
here' The C o m m i s s a r y t u r n e d it over, a n d s h o w e d a piece of
p a p e r p a s t e d neatly over the back; this h e tore off, a n d there,
concealed b e h i n d it, lay a folded c h e q u e , w i t h only t h e place
w h e r e the s i g n a t u r e s h o u l d be written s h o w i n g t h r o u g h o n t h e
face w h i c h the Seer h a d p r e s e n t e d to us. 'I call that a n e a t trick,'
the C o m m i s s a r y r e m a r k e d , with professional e n j o y m e n t of a
really good d e c e p t i o n .

216

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

'But h e b u r n t the envelope before my eyes,' Sir Charles

"exclaimed.
'Pooh!' the Commissary answered. 'What would he be
worth as a conjurer, anyway, if he couldn't substitute one
envelope for a n o t h e r b e t w e e n the table a n d the fireplace
without your noticing it? A n d Colonel Clay, you m u s t remember, is a prince a m o n g conjurers.'
'Well, it's a comfort to k n o w we've identified our m a n , a n d
the w o m a n w h o w a s with him,' Sir Charles said, with a slight
sigh of relief. 'The next thing will be, of course, you'll follow
t h e m u p on these clues in England a n d arrest them?'
The Commissary shrugged his shoulders. 'Arrest them!' he
exclaimed, m u c h a m u s e d . 'Ah, monsieur, b u t you are sanguine!
N o officer of justice h a s ever succeeded in arresting le Colonel
Caoutchouc, as w e call him in French. H e is as slippery as an
eel, that man. H e wriggles through our fingers. Suppose even
w e caught him, w h a t could w e prove? I ask you. Nobody w h o
h a s seen him once can ever swear to him again in his next
impersonation. H e is impayable, this good Colonel. O n the day
w h e n I arrest him, I assure you, monsieur, I shall consider
myself the smartest police officer in Europe.'
'Well, I shall catch him yet,' Sir Charles answered, a n d
relapsed into silence.

1897

The Affair of the

'Avalanche Bicycle and
Tyre
CoLimited'
ARTHUR MORRISON

I
Cycle companies were in the market everywhere. Immense
fortunes were being made in a few days and sometimes little
fortunes were being lost to build them up. Mining shares were
dull for a season, and any company with the word 'cycle' or
'tyre' in its title was certain to attract capital, no matter what its
prospects were like in the eyes of the expert. All the old private
cycle companies suddenly were offered to the public, and their
proprietors, already rich men, built themselves houses on the
Riviera, bought yachts, ran racehorses, and left business for
ever. Sometimes the shareholders got their money's worth,
sometimes more, sometimes lesssometimes they got nothing
but total loss; but still the game went on. One could never open
a newspaper without finding, displayed at large, the prospectus
of yet another cycle company with capital expressed in six
figures at least, often in seven. Solemn old dailies, into w h o s e
editorial heads no n e w thing ever found its w a y till years after it
had been forgotten elsewhere, suddenly exhibited the scandalous phenomenon of 'broken columns' in their advertising
sections, and the universal prospectuses stretched outrageously
across half or even all the pagea thing to cause apoplexy in the
bodily system of any self-respecting manager of the old school.
In the midst of this excitement it chanced that the firm of
217

218

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

Dorrington & Hicks w e r e engaged u p o n an investigation for the

f a m o u s and long-established 'Indestructible Bicycle and Tricycle
Manufacturing Company,' of London a n d Coventry. The matter
w a s not one of sufficient intricacy or difficulty to engage
Dorrington's personal attention, and it w a s given to an assistant.
There w a s s o m e d o u b t as to the validity of a certain patent
having reference to a particular method of tightening the spokes
a n d truing the w h e e l s of a bicycle, and Dorrington's assistant
h a d to m a k e inquiries (without attracting attention to the
matter) as to w h e t h e r or not there existed any evidence, either
d o c u m e n t a r y or in the m e m o r y of veterans, of the use of this
m e t h o d , or a n y t h i n g like it, before the year 1885. The assistant
completed his inquiries a n d m a d e his report to Dorrington.
N o w I think I have said that, from every evidence I have seen,
the chief matter of Dorrington's solicitude w a s his o w n interest,
a n d just at this time h e h a d heard, as h a d others, m u c h of the
m o n e y being m a d e in cycle companies. Also, like others, he h a d
conceived a great desire to get the confidential advice of
s o m e b o d y 'in the know'advice which might lead him into the
'good thing' desired by all the greedy w h o flutter about at the
outside edge of the stock a n d share market. For this reason
Dorrington d e t e r m i n e d to make this small matter of the wheel
p a t e n t an affair of personal report. H e w a s a m a n of infinite
resource, plausibility a n d good-companionship, a n d there w a s
m o n e y going in the cycle trade. W h y t h e n should he lose an
o p p o r t u n i t y of m a k i n g himself pleasant in the inner groves of
that trade, a n d catch w h a t e v e r might come his wayinformation, syndicate shares, directorships, anything? So that Dorrington m a d e himself m a s t e r of his assistant's information, a n d
proceeded to t h e h e a d office of the 'Indestructible' c o m p a n y on
Holborn Viaduct, resolved to become the entertaining acquaintance of the m a n a g i n g director.
O n his w a y his attention w a s attracted by a very elaborately
fitted cycle shop, w h i c h his recollection told h i m w a s new. 'The
Avalanche Bicycle a n d Tyre C o m p a n y ' w a s the legend gilt above
the great plate-glass window, a n d in the w i n d o w itself stood
m a n y brilliantly enamelled a n d plated bicycles, each labelled on
the f r a m e with the flaming red a n d gold transfer of the firm; a n d

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co., Limited'

219

in the midst of all w a s a n o t h e r bicycle covered w i t h dried m u d ,

of which, however, sufficient had been carefully cleared away to
expose a similiar glaring transfer to t h o s e that decorated t h e
r e s t w i t h a placard a n n o u n c i n g that on this particular m a c h i n e
s o m e b o d y had r i d d e n s o m e incredible distance on bad r o a d s in
very little m o r e t h a n n o time at all. A c r o w d stood a b o u t the
w i n d o w a n d g a p e d respectfully at the placard, the bicycles, the
transfers, a n d the m u d , t h o u g h they paid little attention to
certain piles of folded w h i t e papers, e n d o r s e d in bold letters
with the n a m e of the company, with the suffix 'limited' a n d t h e
word ' p r o s p e c t u s ' in bloated black letters below. These, h o w ever, Dorrington o b s e r v e d at once, for he h a d himself that
morning, in c o m m o n with several t h o u s a n d other people,
received o n e by post. Also half a page of his m o r n i n g p a p e r h a d
been filled w i t h a copy of that s a m e p r o s p e c t u s , a n d t h e
afternoon h a d b r o u g h t a n o t h e r copy in the e v e n i n g paper. In t h e
list of directors there w a s a titled n a m e or two, together with a
few u n k n o w n n a m e s d o u b t l e s s the 'practical m e n . ' A n d b e l o w
this list there w e r e such positive p r o m i s e s of t r e m e n d o u s
dividends, backed u p a n d p r o v e d b e y o n d d i s p u t e by such
ingenious piles of businesslike figures, every line of figures
referring to s o m e other line for testimonials to its perfect
g e n u i n e n e s s a n d accuracy, that any reasonable m a n , it w o u l d
seem, m u s t instantly sell the hat off his h e a d a n d the boots off
his feet to b u y o n e s h a r e at least, a n d so m a k e his f o r t u n e for
ever. True, the b u s i n e s s w a s but lately established, b u t that w a s
just it. It h a d r u s h e d a h e a d with such a m a z i n g rapidity (as w a s
natural with an avalanche) that it h a d got altogether o u t of
h a n d , a n d o r d e r s couldn't be executed at all; w h e r e f o r e t h e
proprietors w e r e reluctantly compelled to let t h e public h a v e
some of the luck. This w a s Thursday. T h e s h a r e list w a s to be
o p e n e d on M o n d a y m o r n i n g a n d closed inexorably at f o u r
o'clock on Tuesday a f t e r n o o n , with a merciful extension to
Wednesday m o r n i n g for the c a n d i d a t e s for w e a l t h w h o w e r e so
u n f o r t u n a t e as to live in the country. So that it b e h o v e d
everybody to w a s t e n o time lest h e be n u m b e r e d a m o n g t h e
unlucky w h o s e subscription-money s h o u l d be r e t u r n e d in full,
tailing allotment. T h e p r o s p e c t u s did not absolutely say it in so

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

m a n y words, b u t no rational person could fail to feel that the

directors were fervently hoping that n o b o d y would get injured
in the rush.
Dorrington passed on and reached the well-known establishment of the 'Indestructible Bicycle Company.' This w a s
already a limited c o m p a n y of a private sort, a n d h a d been so for
ten years or more. A n d before that the concern h a d h a d eight or
nine years of p r o s p e r o u s experience. The f o u n d e r of the firm,
Mr Paul Mallows, w a s n o w the managing director, a n d a great
pillar of the cycling industry. Dorrington gave a clerk his card,
a n d asked to see Mr Mallows.
Mr Mallows w a s out, it seemed, b u t Mr Stedman, the
secretary, was in, a n d him Dorrington saw. Mr Stedman was a
pleasant, youngish m a n , w h o had been a f a m o u s amateur
bicyclist in his time, a n d was still an enthusiast. In ten minutes
business was settled a n d dismissed, a n d Dorrington's tact had
brought the secretary into a pleasant discursive chat, with much
exchange of anecdote. Dorrington expressed m u c h interest in
the subject of bicycling, and, seeing that Stedman h a d been a
racing man, particularly as to bicyling races.
'There'll be a rare good race on Saturday, I expect,' Stedman
said. 'Or rather,' he w e n t on, 'I expect the fifty miles record will
go. I fancy our m a n Gillett is pretty safe to win, b u t he'll have to
move, and I quite expect to see a good set of n e w records on our
advertisements next week. The next best m a n is Lantthe n e w
fellow, you k n o w w h o rides for the "Avalanche" people.'
'Let's see, they're going to the public as a limited company,
aren't they?' Dorrington asked casually.
Stedman n o d d e d , with a little grimace.
'You don't think it's a good thing, p e r h a p s , ' Dorrington
said, noticing the grimace. 'Is that so?'
'Well,' Stedman answered, 'of course I can't say. I don't
k n o w much about the firmnobody does, as far as I can tell
but they seem to have got a business together in almost n o time;
that is, if the business is as genuine as it looks at first sight. But
they w a n t a rare lot of capital, and then the prospectuswell,
I've seen more satisfactory ones, you know. I don't say it isn't ail

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

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right, of course, b u t still I s h a n ' t g o o u t of m y w a y to

r e c o m m e n d a n y f r i e n d s of m i n e to p l u n g e o n it.'
'You w o n ' t ? '
'No, I w o n ' t . T h o u g h n o d o u b t they'll get their capital, or
most of it. Almost a n y cycle or tyre c o m p a n y can get subscribed
just now. A n d this " A v a l a n c h e " affair is b o t h , a n d it is well
advertised, y o u know. Lant has been w i n n i n g on their m o u n t s
just lately, a n d t h e y ' v e b e e n b o o m i n g it for all t h e y ' r e w o r t h . By
jove, if they could only screw him u p to w i n the fifty miles o n
Saturday, a n d beat our m a n Gillett, that would give t h e m a p u s h !
j u s t at the correct m o m e n t too. Gillett's n e v e r b e e n b e a t e n yet at
the distance, y o u know. But Lant can't d o i t t h o u g h , as I h a v e
said, he'll m a k e s o m e fast ridingit'll be a race, I tell y o u . '
'I should like to see it.'
' W h y not come? See about it, will y o u ? A n d p e r h a p s y o u ' d
like to r u n d o w n to the track after d i n n e r this e v e n i n g a n d s e e
our m a n t r a i n i n g a w f u l l y interesting, I can tell you, w i t h all t h e
pacing m a c h i n e r y a n d that. Will y o u c o m e ? '
D o r r i n g t o n e x p r e s s e d himself d e l i g h t e d , a n d s u g g e s t e d
that S t e d m a n s h o u l d d i n e with h i m b e f o r e g o i n g to t h e track.
S t e d m a n , for his part, c h a r m e d with his n e w a c q u a i n t a n c e a s
everybody w a s at a first m e e t i n g w i t h D o r r i n g t o n a s s e n t e d
gladly.
At that m o m e n t the d o o r of S t e d m a n ' s r o o m w a s p u s h e d
o p e n a n d a well-dressed, m i d d l e - a g e d m a n , w i t h a s h a v e n ,
flabby face, a p p e a r e d . 'I beg p a r d o n , ' h e said, 'I t h o u g h t y o u
were alone. I've just r i p p e d my finger against t h e h a n d l e of m y
b r o u g h a m d o o r as I c a m e inthe screw sticks out. H a v e y o u a
piece of sticking plaster?' H e e x t e n d e d a bleeding finger as h e
spoke. S t e d m a n looked d o u b t f u l l y at his d e s k .
'Here is s o m e court plaster,' D o r r i n g t o n exclaimed, p r o d u c ing his pocket-book. 'I always carry itit's h a n d i e r t h a n
ordinary sticking plaster. H o w m u c h d o y o u w a n t ? '
' T h a n k s a n inch or so.'
'This is Mr. D o r r i n g t o n , of Messrs. D o r r i n g t o n & Hicks, Mr.
Mallows,' S t e d m a n said. O u r m a n a g i n g director, Mr. Paul
Mallows, Mr. D o r r i n g t o n . '
Dorrington w a s delighted to m a k e Mr. Mallows' acquain-

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

tance, and he busied himself with a careful strapping of the

d a m a g e d finger. Mr. Mallows had the large frame of a m a n of
strong build w h o had had much hard bodily work, but there
h u n g about it the heavier, softer flesh that told of a later period
of ease a n d sloth. 'Ah, Mr. Mallows,' Stedman said, 'the
bicycle's the safest thing, after all! Dangerous things these
broughams!'
'Ah, you younger m e n , ' Mr. Mallows replied, with a slow
a n d r o u n d e d enunciation, 'you younger m e n can afford to be
active. We elders'
'Can afford a b r o u g h a m , ' Dorrington a d d e d , before the
managing director began the next word. 'Just soand the
bicycle does it all; w o n d e r f u l thing the bicycle!'
Dorrington h a d not misjudged his m a n , a n d the oblique
reference to his wealth flattered Mr. Mallows. Dorrington w e n t
once more t h r o u g h his report as to the spoke patent, a n d then
Mr. Mallows bade him good-bye.
'Good day, Mr. Dorrington, good day,' he said. 'I am
extremely obliged by your careful personal attention to this
matter of the patent. We may leave it with Mr. Stedman now, I
think. Good day. I h o p e soon to have the pleasure of meeting
you again.' And with clumsy stateliness Mr. Mallows vanished.
2
'So you don't think the "Avalanche" good business as an
investment?' Dorrington said once more as h e a n d Stedman,
after an excellent dinner, were cabbing it to the track.
'No, no,' Stedman answered, 'don't touch it! There's better
things than that coming along presently. Perhaps I shall be able
to p u t you in for something, you know, a bit later; b u t don't be in
a hurry. As to the "Avalanche," even if everything else were
satisfactory, there's too m u c h "booming" being d o n e just n o w to
please me. All sorts of rumours, you know, of their having
something " u p their sleeve," and so on; mysterious hints in the
papers, and all that, as to something revolutionary being in
h a n d with the "Avalanche" people. Perhaps there is. But w h y
they don't fetch it out in view of the public subscription for

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shares is more t h a n I can u n d e r s t a n d , unless they don't w a n t

too much of a rush. A n d as to that, well they don't look like
modestiy shrinking f r o m anything of that sort u p to the
present.'
They were at the track soon after seven o'clock, but Gillett
was not yet riding. Dorrington remarked that Gillett appeared to
begin late.
'Well,' Stedman explained, 'he's one of those fellows that
afternoon training doesn't seem to suit, unless it is a bit of
walking exercise. H e just does a few miles in the morning a n d a
spurt or two, a n d t h e n h e comes on just before sunset for a fast
ten or fifteen milesthat is, w h e n he is getting fit for such a race
as Saturday's. Tonight will be his last spin of that length before
Saturday, because tomorrow will be the day before the race.
Tomorrow he'll only go a spurt or two, a n d rest most of the day.'
They strolled a b o u t inside the track, the two highly
'banked' e n d s whereof seemed to a near-sighted person in the
centre to be solid erect walls, along the face of which the training
riders skimmed, fly-fashion. Only three or four persons beside
themselves were in the enclosure w h e n they first came, but in
ten minutes' time Mr. Paul Mallows came across the track.
'Why,' said Stedman to Dorrington, 'here's the Governor! ft
isn't often he comes d o w n here. But I expect he's anxious to see
how Gillett's going, in view of Saturday.'
'Good evening, Mr. Mallows,' said Dorrington. 'I h o p e the
anger's all right? Want any more plaster?'
'Good evening, good evening,' r e s p o n d e d Mr. Mallows
heavily. 'Thank you, the finger's not troubling me a bit.' He held
it up, still decorated by the black plaster. 'Your plaster remains,
you seeI w a s a little careful not to fray it too much in washing,
that was all.' A n d Mr. Mallows sat d o w n on a light iron garden
chair (of which several stood here and there in the enclosure)
and began to watch the riding.
The track w a s clear, a n d dusk w a s approaching w h e n at last
the great Gillett m a d e his appearance on the track. He answered
a friendly question or two p u t to him by Mallows and Stedman,
and then, giving his coat to his trainer, s w u n g off along the track
on his bicycle, led in front by a tandem a n d closely attended by a

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CENTURY

triplet. In fifty yards his pace quickened, a n d he settled d o w n

into a swift even pace, regular as clockwork. Sometimes the
t a n d e m and sometimes the triplet w e n t to the front, but Gillett
neither checked nor h e e d e d as, nursed by his pacers, w h o were
directed by the trainer from the centre, he s w e p t along mile after
mile, each mile in but a few seconds over the two minutes.
'Look at the action!" exclaimed Stedman with e n t h u s i a s m .
'Just watch him. Not an ounce of power wasted there! Did you
ever see more regular ankle work? And did a n y b o d y ever sit a
machine quite so well as that? Show me a m o v e m e n t a n y w h e r e
above the hips!"
'Ah,' said Mr. Mallows, 'Gi'lett has a w o n d e r f u l stylea
w o n d e r f u l style, really!'
The men in the enslosure wandered about here and there
on the grass, watching Gillett's riding as one watched the
performance of a great piece of artwhich, indeed, was what
Gillett's riding was. There were, besides Mallows, Stedman,
Dorrington and the trainer, two officials of the Cyclists' Union,
an amateur racing m a n n a m e d Sparks, the track s u p e r i n t e n d e n t
a n d another man. The sky grew darker, and gloom fell about the
track. The machines become invisible, and little could be seen of
the riders across the g r o u n d but the row of rhythmically
working legs a n d the white cap that Gillett wore. The trainer
h a d just told Stedman that there would be three fast laps a n d
then his man" would come off the track.
'Well, Mr. S t e d m a n / ' s a i d Mr. Mallows, 'I think w e shall be
all right for Saturday.'
'Rather!' answered Stedman confidently. 'Gillett's going
great guns, and steady as a watch!'
The pace n o w suddenly increased. The t a n d e m shot once
more to the front, the triplet h u n g on the rider's flank, a n d the
g r o u p of swishing wheels flew round the track at a 'one-fifty'
gait. The spectators turned about, following the riders round the
track with their eyes. And then, swinging into the straight from
the top end, the t a n d e m checked suddenly a n d gave a little
jump. Gillett crashed into it from behind, and the triplet, failing
to clear, wavered and s w u n g , and crashed over and along the

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co.,

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225

track too. All three machines and six m e n were involved in one
complicated smash.
Everybody r u s h e d across the grass, the trainer first. Then
the cause of the disaster w a s seen. Lying o n its side on the track,
with m e n and bicycles piled over a n d against it, w a s one of the
green painted light iron garden chairs that h a d been standing in
the enclosure. The triplet m e n were struggling to their feet, a n d
though much cut a n d shaken, seemed the least hurt of the lot.
One of the m e n of the t a n d e m was insensible, a n d Gillett, w h o
from his position h a d got all the worst of it, lay senseless too,
badly cut a n d bruised, a n d his left arm w a s broken.
The trainer w a s cursing a n d tearing his hair. 'If I k n e w
w h o ' d d o n e this,' Stedman cried, 'I'd pulp him with that chair!'
'Oh, that betting, that betting!' wailed Mr. Mallows, h o p ping about distractedly; see w h a t it leads people into doing! It
can't have been an accident, can it?'
'Accident? Skittles! A m a n doesn't p u t a chair on a track in
the dark and leave it there by accident. Is anybody getting away
there from the outside of the track?'
'No, there's nobody. H e wouldn't wait till this; he'd clear off
a minute ago a n d more. Here, Fielders! Shut the outer gate, a n d
we'll see who's about.'
But there seemed to be no suspicious character. Indeed,
except for the g r o u n d - m a n , his boy, Gillett's trainer, and a racing
man, w h o h a d just finished dressing in the pavilion, there
seemed to be nobody about beyond those w h o m everybody h a d
seen standing in the enclosure. But there h a d been ample time
for anybody, standing unnoticed at the outer rails, to get across
the track in the dark, just after the riders h a d passed, place the
obstruction, a n d escape before the completion of the lap.
The d a m a g e d m e n were helped or carried into the pavilion,
and the d a m a g e d machines were dragged after them. 'I will give
fifty p o u n d s gladlymore, a h u n d r e d , ' said Mr. Mallows,
excitedly, 'to anybody w h o will find out w h o p u t the chair on the
track. It might have e n d e d in murder. Some wretched bookmaker, I suppose, w h o has taken to m a n y bets on GilJeti. As 1 ve
s
aid a thousand times, betting is the curse of all sport nowadays.'

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CENTURY

'The governor excites himself a great deal about betting and

bookmakers," Stedman said to Dorrington, as they walked
t o w a r d s the pavilion, 'biit, between you and me, I believe some
of the "Avalanche" people are in this. The betting bee is always
in Mallows' bonnet, but as a matter of fact there's very little
betting at .ill on cycle races, and what there is is little more than
a matter of half-crowns or at most half-sovereigns on the day of
the race, No bookmaker ever makes a heavy book first. Still
there may be something in it this time, of course. But look at the
"Avalanche" people. With Gillett away their man can certainly
win on Saturday, and if only the weather keeps fair he can
almost as certainly beat the record; just at present the fifty miles
is fairly easy, and it's bound to go soon. Indeed, our intention
w a s that Gillett should pull it down on Saturday. He' was a safe
winner, bar accidents, and it was good o d d s on his altering the
record, if the weather were any good at all. With Gillett out of it
Lant is just about as certain a winner as our man would be if all
were well. And there would be a boom for the "Avalanche"
company, on the very eve of the share subscription! Lant, you
m u s t know, was very second-rate till this season, but he has
improved wonderfully in the last month or two, since he has
been with the "Avalanche" people. Let him win, and they can
point to the machine as responsible for it all. " H e r e , " they will
say in effect, "is a man w h o could rarely get in front, even in
.second-class company, till he rode an 'Avalanche'. N o w he eats
the world's record for fifty miles on it, and makes rings round
the topmost professionals!" Why, it will be worth t h o u s a n d s of
capital to them. Of course the subscription of capital won't hurt
us, but the loss of the record may, and to have Gillett knocked
out like this in the middle of the season is serious.'
'Yes, I s u p p o s e with you it is more than a matter of this one
race.'
'Of course. And so it will be with the "Avalanche" company. Don't you see, with Gillett probably useless for the rest of
the season, Lant will have it all his own wav at anything over
ten miles. That'll help to boom up the shares and there'll be big
profit made on trading in them. Oh. 1 tell YOU this thing seems
prettv suspicious to me.

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

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227

'Look here,' said Dorrington, 'can you borrow a light for

me, and let me run over with it to the spot where the smash took
place? The people have cleaned into the pavilion and I could go
alone.'
'Certainly. Will you have a try for the governor's hundred?'
'Well, perhaps. But anyway there's no harm in doing you a
good turn if I can, while I'm here. Some day perhaps you'll d o
me one.'
'Right you areI'll ask Fielders, the ground-man.'
A lantern was brought, and Dorrington betook himself to
the spot where the iron chair still lay, while Stedman joined the
rest of the crowd in the pavilion.
Dorrington minutely examined the grass within two yards
of the place where the chair lay, and then, crossing the track and
getting over the rails, did the same with the d a m p gravel that
paved the outer ring. The track itself was of cement, and
unimpressionable by footmarks, but nevertheless he scrutinized
that with equal care, as well as the rails. Then he turned his
attention to the chair. It was, as I have said, a light chair made of
flat iron strip, bent to shape and riveted. It had seen good
service, and its present coat of green paint was evidently far
from being its original one. Also it was rusty in places, and parts
had been repaired and strengthened with cross-pieces secured
by bolts and square nuts, some rusty and loose. It was from the
back at the top, that Dorrington secured some objectit might
have been a hairwhich he carefully transferred i-o his pocketbook. This done, with one more glance round, he betook
himself to the pavilion.
A surgeon had arrived, and he reported well of the chief
patient. It was a simple fracture, and a healthy subject. When
Dorrington entered, preparations were beginning for setting the
limb. There was a sofa in the pavilion, and the surgeon saw no
reason for removing the patient till all was made secure.
'Found anything?' asked Stedman in a low tone of Dorrington.
Dorrington shook his head. 'Not much,' he answered at a
whisper, 'I'll think it over later.'
Dorrington asked one of the Cvclists' Union officials for f ' v

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THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

loan of a pencil a n d , having m a d e a note with it, immediately, in

another part of the room, asked Sparks, the amateur, to lend
him another.
Stedman h a d told Mr. Mallows of Dorrington's late employm e n t with the lantern, a n d the m a n a g i n g director n o w said
quietly, 'You r e m e m b e r w h a t I said about rewarding anybody
w h o discovered the perpetrator of this outrage, Mr. Dorrington?
Well, I w a s excited at the time, but I quite hold to it. It is a
shameful thing. You have been looking about the grounds, I
hear. I h o p e you have come across something that will enable
you to find something out. Nothing will please m e more than to
have to pay you, I'm sure.'
'Well,' Dorrington confessed, 'I'm afraid I haven't seen
anything very big in the way of a clue, Mr. Mallows; but I'll
think a bit. The worst of it is, you never k n o w w h o these betting
m e n are, d o you, once they get away? There are so many, aftd it
may be anybody. Not only that, but they m a y bribe anybody.'
'Yes, of coursethere's no end to their wickedness, I'm
afraid. Stedman suggests that trade rivalry may have had
something to d o with it. But that seems an uncharitable view,
don't you think? Of course w e stand very high, a n d there are
jealousies and all that, but this is a thing I'm sure no firm would
think of stooping to, for a m o m e n t . No, it's betting that is at the
bottom of this, I fear. A n d I hope, Mr. Dorrington, that you will
make some attempt to find the guilty parties.'
Presently Stedman spoke to Dorrington again. 'Here's
something that may help you,' he said. 'To begin with, it must
have been d o n e by some one from the outside of the track.'
'Why?'
'Well, at least every probability's that way. Everybody inside
was directly interested in Gillett's success, excepting the Union
officials and Sparks, who's a gentleman a n d quite above suspicion, as m u c h so, indeed, as the Union officials. Of course there
w a s the g r o u n d - m a n , b u t he's all right, I'm sure.'
'And the trainer?'
'Oh, that's altogether improbablealtogether. I was going
to say'

The Affair

of the 'Avalanche

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229

And there's that other m a n w h o w a s standing about; I

haven't heard w h o h e was.'
'Right you are. I don't know him either. W h e r e is he n o w ? '
But the m a n h a d gone.
'Look here, I'll make some quiet inquiries about that m a n , '
Stedman p u r s u e d . 'I forgot all about him in the excitement of
the moment. I w a s going to say that although w h o e v e r did it
could easily have got a w a y by the gate before the s m a s h came,
he might not have liked to go that way in case of observation in
passing the pavilion. In that case he could have got away (and
indeed he could have got into the g r o u n d s to begin with) by way
of one of those garden walls that b o u n d the g r o u n d just by
where the smash occurred. If that were so he m u s t either live in
one of the houses, or m u s t know s o m e b o d y that does. Perhaps
you might put a man to smell about along the roadit's only a
short one; Chisnall Road's the n a m e . '
'Yes, yes,' Dorrington responded patiently. T h e r e might be
something in that.'
Bv this time Gillett's arm was in a starched b a n d a g e a n d
secured by splints, a n d a cab was ready to take him home. Mr.
Mallows took Stedman awav with him, expressing a desire to
taik business, and Dorrington went h o m e by himself. H e did
not turn d o w n Chisnall Road. But he walked jauntily along
toward the nearest cab-stand, and once or twice he chuckled, for
lie saw his way to a delightfully lucrative financial operation in
cycle companies, without risk of capital.
The cab gained, he called at the lodgings of two of his m e n
<> Mutants and gave them instant instructions. Then he packed a
small bag at his rooms in Conduit Street, a n d at midnight w a s in
the late fast train for Birmingham.
3

The prospectus of the 'Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Company' stated that the works were at Exeter a n d Birmingham.
Exeter is a delightful town, but it can scarcely be regarded as t h e
centre of the cycle trade; neither is it in especially easy a n d short
communication with Birmingham. It w a s the sort of thing that
Anv critic anxious to pick holes in the prospectus might w o n d e r

230

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

at, a n d so one of Dorrington's assistants h a d gone by the night

mail to inspect t h e works. It w a s from this m a n that Dorrington,
in Birmingham, about n o o n on the day after Gillett's disaster,
received this telegram
Works here old disused cloth-mills just out of town. Closed
a n d e m p t y but with big n e w signboard a n d notice that
works n o w r u n n i n g are at Birmingham. Agent says only
deposit paidtenancy agreement not signed.Farrish.
The telegram increased Dorrington's satisfaction, for he had
just taken a look at the Birmingham works. They were not
empty, t h o u g h nearly so, nor were they large; a n d a man there
h a d told him that the chief premises, w h e r e most of the work
w a s done, were at Exeter. And the hollower the business the
better prize he saw in store for himself. H e h a d already, early in
the morning, indulged in a telegram on his o w n account,
t h o u g h he h a d not signed it. This w a s h o w it ran
Mallows, 58, U p p e r Sandown Place, London, W.
Fear all not safe here. Run d o w n by 10.10 train without fail.
Thus it h a p p e n e d that at a little later than half past eight
Dorrington's other assistant, watching the door of No. 58,
Upper S a n d o w n Place, saw a telegram delivered, a n d immediately afterwards Mr. Paul Mallows in much haste dashed
away in a cab which w a s called from the e n d of the street. The
assistant followed in another. Mr. Mallows dismissed his cab at a
theatrical wig-maker's in Bow Street a n d entered. W h e n he
emerged in little more than forty minutes' time, none but a
practised watcher, w h o had guessed the reason for the visit,
would have recognized him. He had not a s s u m e d the clumsy
disguise of a false beard. He was ' m a d e u p ' deftly. His colour
w a s heightened, a n d his face seemed thinner. There was no
heavy accession of false hair, but a slight crepe-hair whisker at
each side m a d e a better and less p r o n o u n c e d disguise. H e
seemed a younger, healthier man. The watcher saw him safely
off to Birmingham by the ten minutes past ten train, and then

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co., Limited'

231

gave Dorrington note by telegraph of the guise in which Mr.

Mallows w a s travelling.
N o w this train was timed to arrive at Birmingham at one,
which w a s the reason Dorrington h a d n a m e d it in the a n o n y m ous telegram. The entrance to the 'Avalanche' works was by a
large gate, which w a s closed, but which w a s provided with a
small door to pass a m a n . Within w a s a yard, and at a little
before one o'clock Dorrington p u s h e d o p e n the small door,
p e e p e d , and e n t e r e d . Nobody was about in the yard, but w h a t
little noise could be heard came from a particular part of the
building on the right. A pile of solid 'export' crates stood to the
left, a n d these Dorrington had noted at his previous call that
morning as making a suitable hiding-place for temporary use.
N o w he slipped behind them and awaited the stroke of one.
Prompt at the h o u r a door on the opposite side of the yard
s w u n g open, a n d t w o m e n and a boy e m e r g e d a n d climbed o n e
after a n o t h e r t h r o u g h the little door in the big gate. T h e n
presently a n o t h e r m a n , not a w o r k m a n , b u t apparently a sort of
overseer, came f r o m the opposite door, which h e carelessly let
fall-to behind him, a n d h e also d i s a p p e a r e d t h r o u g h the little
door, which he t h e n locked. Dorrington w a s n o w alone in the
sole active w o r k s of the 'Avalanche Bicycle a n d Tyre Company,
Limited.'
He tried the door opposite and f o u n d it w a s free to o p e n .
Within he saw in a dark corner a candle which h a d been left
burning, a n d opposite him a large iron enameling oven, like a n
i m m e n s e safe, a n d r o u n d about, on benches, were strewn h e a p s
of the glaring red a n d gold transfer which Dorrington h a d
observed the d a y before on the m a c h i n e s exhibited in the
Holborn Viaduct window. Some of the f r a m e s had the label
newly applied, a n d others were still plain. It would seem that
the chief business of the 'Avalanche Bicycle a n d Tyre Company,
Limited' w a s the attaching of labels to previously nondescript
machines. But there w a s little time to examine further, a n d
indeed Dorrington presently heard the noise of a key in the
outer gate. So h e stood a n d waited by the enamelling oven to
welcome Mr. Mallows.
As the door w a s p u s h e d o p e n Dorrington advanced a n d

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THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

bowed politely. Mallows started guiltily, but, remembering his

disguise, steadied himself, and asked gruffly, 'Well, sir, a n d w h o
are you?'
'I,' answered Dorrington with perfect composure, 'I am Mr.
Paul Mallowsyou may have heard of me in connection with
the "Indestructible Bicycle C o m p a n y . " '
Mallows was altogether taken aback. But then it struck him
that p e r h a p s the detective, anxious to win the reward he h a d
offered in the matter of the Gillett outrage, was here making
inquiries in the a s s u m e d character of the m a n w h o stood,
impenetrably disguised, before him. So after a p a u s e he asked
again, a little less gruffly, 'And what may be your business?'
'Well,' said Dorrington, 'I did think of taking shares in this
company. I s u p p o s e there would be n o objection to the
managing director of another company taking shares in this?'
'No,' answered Mallows, wondering w h a t all this was to
lead to.
'Of course now; I'm sure you don't think so, eh?' Dorrington, as h e spoke, looked in the other's face with a sly leer, a n d
Mallows began to feel altogether uncomfortable. 'But there's one
thing,' Dorrington p u r s u e d , taking out his pocket-book, t h o u g h
still maintaining his leer in Mallows' face'one other thing.
A n d by the way, will you have another piece of court plaster
n o w I've got it out? Don't say no. It's a pleasure to oblige you,
really.' And Dorrington, his leer growing positively fiendish,
tapped the side of his nose with the case of court plaster.
Mallows paled u n d e r the paint, g a s p e d , a n d felt for
support. Dorrington laughed pleasantly. 'Come, come,' h e said,
'don't be frightened. I admire your cleverness, Mr. Mallows,
a n d I shall arrange everything pleasantly, as you will see. A n d as
to the court plaster, if you'd rather not have it you needn't. You
have another piece on now, I see. Why didn't you get t h e m to
paint it over at Clarkson's? They really did the face very well,
though! And there again you were quite right. Such a m a n as
yourself was likely to be recognized in such a place as Birmingh a m , a n d that w o u l d have been unfortunate for both of usboth
of us, I assure you. . . . Man alive, don't look as though 1 w a s
going to cut your throat! I'm not, I assure you. You're a smart

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co., Limited'

233

m a n of b u s i n e s s , a n d I h a p p e n to h a v e s p o t t e d a little o p e r a t i o n
of yours, that's all. I shall arrange easy t e r m s for you. . . . Pull
yourself together a n d talk b u s i n e s s b e f o r e the m e n c o m e back.
Here, sit o n this b e n c h . '
Mallows, staring a m a z e d l y in Dorrington's face, s u f f e r e d
himself to be led to a b e n c h , a n d sat o n it.
'Now,' said D o r r i n g t o n , 'the first t h i n g is a little m a t t e r of a
h u n d r e d p o u n d s . That w a s the r e w a r d y o u p r o m i s e d if I s h o u l d
discover w h o b r o k e Gillett's arm last n i g h t . Well, I have. Do y o u
h a p p e n to h a v e a n y notes w i t h you? If not, m a k e it a c h e q u e . '
'ButbuthowI mean who!who'
'Tut, tut! D o n ' t w a s t e time, Mr. Mallows. Who? Why,
yourself, of course. I k n e w all about it b e f o r e I left y o u last n i g h t ,
t h o u g h it w a s n ' t quite c o n v e n i e n t to claim t h e r e w a r d then, for
reasons you'll u n d e r s t a n d presently. C o m e , that little h u n d r e d . '
'But w h a t w h a t proof h a v e you? I ' m n o t to be b o u n c e d
iike this, y o u k n o w . ' Mr. Mallows w a s g a t h e r i n g his faculties
again.
'Proof? Why, m a n alive, be reasonable! S u p p o s e I h a v e n o n e
n o n e at all? W h a t difference d o e s that m a k e ? A m I to walk o u t
a n d tell y o u r fellow directors w h e r e I h a v e m e t y o u h e r e o r
am I to h a v e that h u n d r e d ? Mere, a m I to publish abroad that
Mr. Paul M a l l o w s is t h e m o v i n g spirit in t h e rotten "Avalanche
Bicycle C o m p a n y " ? '
'Well,' M a l l o w s a n s w e r e d reluctantly, 'if y o u p u t it like
that'

'But I only p u t it like that to m a k e y o u see things reasonably.

As a matter of fact y o u r connection w i t h this n e w c o m p a n y is
e n o u g h to b r i n g y o u r little p e r f o r m a n c e w i t h the iron chair n e a r
proof. But I got at it f r o m t h e other side. See h e r e y o u ' r e m u c h
too clumsy w i t h y o u r fingers, Mr. Mallows. First y o u go a n d tear
the tip of y o u r m i d d l e finger o p e n i n g y o u r b r o u g h a m door, a n d
have to get court plaster f r o m me. T h e n y o u let that court plaster
get frayed at the e d g e , a n d you still k e e p it o n . After that y o u
execute y o u r very successful chair o p e r a t i o n . W h e n the eyes of
the o t h e r s are following the bicycles y o u take the chair in t h e
nand with the plaster on it, catching hold of it at the place w h e r e
J rough, loose, s q u a r e n u t p r o t r u d e s , a n d y o u pitch it on to t h e

234

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

track so clumsily a n d nervously that the n u t carries a w a y the

f r a y e d thread of the court plaster with it. H e r e it is, you see, still
in m y pocket-book, w h e r e I p u t it last night by the light of the
lantern; just a sticky black silk t h r e a d , that's all. I've only
b r o u g h t it to s h o w y o u I'm playing a fair g a m e with you. Of
course I m i g h t easily h a v e got a witness b e f o r e I took the t h r e a d
off the n u t , if I h a d t h o u g h t you w e r e likely to fight the matter.
But I k n e w y o u w e r e not. You can't fight, y o u know, w i t h this
b o g u s c o m p a n y b u s i n e s s k n o w n to m e . So that I am only
s h o w i n g you this t h r e a d as an act of grace, to p r o v e that I h a v e
s t u m p e d y o u w i t h perfect fairness. A n d n o w the h u n d r e d .
Here's a f o u n t a i n p e n , if y o u w a n t o n e . '
'Well,' said Mallows glumly, 'I s u p p o s e I m u s t , t h e n . ' He
took the p e n a n d w r o t e the cheque. Dorrington blotted it on the
p a d of his pocket-book a n d folded it away.
'So m u c h for that!' he said. 'That's just a little preliminary,
y o u u n d e r s t a n d . - We've d o n e these little things just as a
g u a r a n t e e of g o o d faithnot necessarily for publication, t h o u g h
y o u m u s t r e m e m b e r that as yet there's n o t h i n g to p r e v e n t it. I've
d o n e y o u a t u r n by finding out w h o u p s e t t h o s e bicvcles, as y o u
so ardently w i s h e d m e to d o last night, a n d y o u ' v e lovally
fulfilled y o u r part of the contract by p a y i n g the p r o m i s e d
r e w a r d t h o u g h I m u s t say that you h a v e n ' t paid with all the
delight a n d p l e a s u r e y o u spoke of at t h e time. But I'll forgive
y o u that, a n d n o w that the little hors-d'oeuvre is d i s p o s e d of,
we'll proceed to serious business.'
Mallows looked uncomfortably g l u m .
'But y o u m u s t n ' t look so a s h a m e d of yourself, y o u know,'
D o r r i n g t o n said, p u r p o s e l y misinterpreting his g l u m n e s s . 'It's
all b u s i n e s s . You w e r e disposed for a little side flutter, so to
s p e a k a little speculation outside y o u r regular b u s i n e s s . Well,
y o u m u s t n ' t be a s h a m e d of that.'
' N o , ' Mallows o b s e r v e d , a s s u m i n g s o m e t h i n g of his ordinarily p o n d e r o u s m a n n e r ; 'no, of c o u r s e not. It's a little
speculative deal. E v e r y b o d y does it, a n d there's a deal of m o n e y
going.'
'Precisely. A n d since everybody d o e s it, a n d there is so
m u c h m o m v going, y o u are only m a k i n g y o u r s h a r e . '

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co.,

Limited'

235

'Of c o u r s e . ' Mr. Mallows w a s almost p o m p o u s by now.

'Of course.' D o r r i n g t o n c o u g h e d slightly. 'Well now, d o y o u
know, I am exactly the s a m e sort of m a n as yourselfif y o u
d o n ' t m i n d the c o m p a r i s o n . I a m d i s p o s e d for a little side flutter,
so to speaka little speculation o u t s i d e m y regular b u s i n e s s . I
also am n o t a s h a m e d of it. A n d since e v e r y b o d y d o e s it, a n d
there is so m u c h m o n e y goingwhy, J a m t h i n k i n g of m a k i n g
my share. So w e are evidently a pair, a n d naturally i n t e n d e d for
each other!'
Mr. Paul M a l l o w s here looked a little d o u b t f u l .
'See here, n o w , ' Dorrington p r o c e e d e d . 'I h a v e lately t a k e n
it into m y h e a d to o p e r a t e a little on the cycle share market. T h a t
w a s w h y I c a m e r o u n d myself a b o u t that little spoke affair,
instead of s e n d i n g an assistant. I w a n t e d to k n o w s o m e b o d y
w h o u n d e r s t o o d the cycle trade, f r o m w h o m I m i g h t get tips.
You see I'm perfectly f r a n k with y o u . Well, I h a v e s u c c e e d e d
u n c o m m o n l y well. A n d I w a n t you to u n d e r s t a n d that I h a v e
gone every s t e p of the w a y by fair w o r k . I took n o t h i n g for
g r a n t e d , a n d I p l a y e d the g a m e fairly. W h e n y o u asked m e (as
you h a d a n x i o u s r e a s o n to ask) if I h a d f o u n d a n y t h i n g , I told
you there w a s n o t h i n g very bigand see w h a t a little t h i n g t h e
thread was! Before I came a w a y f r o m t h e pavilion I m a d e s u r e
that y o u w e r e really the only m a n there w i t h black court plaster
on his fingers. I h a d noticed the h a n d s of every m a n b u t t w o ,
a n d I m a d e an excuse of b o r r o w i n g s o m e t h i n g to see t h o s e . I
saw y o u r thin p r e t e n c e of s u s p e c t i n g t h e betting m e n , a n d I
played u p to it. I h a v e h a d a telegraphic r e p o r t on y o u r Exeter
w o r k s this m o r n i n g a d e s e r t e d cloth mills w i t h n o t h i n g o n it of
y o u r s b u t a sign-board, a n d only a d e p o s i t of rent paid. There
they referred to t h e w o r k s here. Here t h e y referred to the w o r k s
there. It w a s very clear, really! Also I h a v e h a d a telegraphic
report of y o u r m a k e - u p a d v e n t u r e this m o r n i n g . Clarkson d o e s
it marvellously, d o e s n ' t he? A n d , bv the way, that telegram
bringing y o u d o w n to Birmingham w a s n o t f r o m y o u r confederate here, as p e r h a p s y o u fancied. It w a s f r o m me. T h a n k s for
coming so promptly. I m a n a g e d to get a qjuiet look r o u n d h e r e
lust before y o u arrived, a n d on the w h o l e conclusion I c o m e to
. ^ the " A v a l a n c h e Bicvcle a n d Tyre C o m p a n y , Limited," is

236

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE N I N E T E E N T H I CENTURY

this: A clever m a n , w h o m it gives me great pleasure to know,'

with a bow to Mallows, 'conceives the notion of offering the
public the very rottenest cycle c o m p a n y ever planned, a n d all
without a p p e a r i n g in it himself. H e finds w h a t little capital is
required; his t w o or three confederates help to make u p a board
of directors, with one or two titled guinea pigs, w h o k n o w
nothing of the c o m p a n y a n d care nothing, a n d the rest's easy. A
professional racing m a n is employed to win races a n d m a k e
records, on machines which have been specially m a d e by
another firm (perhaps it was the "Indestructible," w h o knows?)
to a private order,.and afterwards decorated with the n a m e a n d
style of the b o g u s c o m p a n y on a transfer. For ordinary sale,
bicycles of the " t r a d e " description are boughtso m u c h a
h u n d r e d from the factors, and put your o w n n a m e on 'em. They
come cheap, a n d they sell at a good pricethe profit pays all
expenses a n d p e r h a p s a bit over; a n d by the time they all break
d o w n the c o m p a n y will be successfully floated, the m o n e y t h e
capitalwill be divided, the moving spirit a n d his confederates
will have d i s a p p e a r e d , a n d the guinea-pigs will be left to stand
the racketif there is a racket. A n d the moving spirit will
remain u n s u s p e c t e d , a m a n of account in the trade all the time!
Admirable! All the work to be d o n e at the " w o r k s " is t h e
sticking on cf labels a n d a bit of enamelling. Excellent, all r o u n d !
Isn't that about the size of your operations?'
'Well, yes,' Mallows answered, a little reluctantly, but w i t h
something of m o d e s t pride in his manner, 'that w a s the notion,
since you speak so plainly.'
' A n d it shall be the notion. Alleverythingshall be as
you have p l a n n e d it, with one exception, w h i c h is this. The
m o v i n g spirit shall divide his p l u n d e r with m e . '
'You? Butbutwhy, I gave you a h u n d r e d just now!'
'Dear, dear! WTiy will you h a r p so m u c h on that vulgar little
h u n d r e d ? That's settled a n d d o n e with. That's our little personal
bargain in the matter of the lamentable accident with the chair,
We are n o w talking of bigger businessnot h u n d r e d s , but
t h o u s a n d s , a n d not one of them, but a lot. C o m e now, a m i n d
like yours should be wide e n o u g h to admit of a broad and large
view of things. If I refrain from exposing this charming scheme

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co., Limited'

237

of yours I shall be promoting a piece of scandalous robbery. Very

well then, I w a n t m y promotion money, in the regular way. C a n
] shut m y eyes a n d allow a piece of iniquity like this to go o n
unchecked, w i t h o u t getting anything by w a y of d a m a g e s for
myself? Perish the thought! W h e n all expenses are paid, a n d the
confederates are sent off with as little as they will take, you a n d I
will divide fairly, Mr. Mallows, respectable brothers in rascality.
Mind, I might say w e ' d divide to begin with, a n d leave you to
pay expenses, b u t I a m always fair to a partner in anything of
this sort. I shall just w a n t a little guarantee, you knowit's
safest in such matters as these; say a bill at six m o n t h s for ten
thousand p o u n d s w h i c h is very low. W h e n a satisfactory
division is m a d e you shall have the bill back. ComeI have a
bill-stamp ready, being so much convinced of your reasonableness as to b u y it this morning, t h o u g h it cost five p o u n d s . '
'But that's n o n s e n s e y o u ' r e trying to impose. I'll give y o u
anything reasonablehalf is out of the question. What, after all
the trouble a n d worry a n d risk that I've had?'
'Which w o u l d suffice for no more than to p u t you in gaol if I
held u p m y finger!'
'But h a n g it, b e reasonable! You're a mighty clever m a n , a n d
you've got m e o n the hip, as I admit. Say ten per cent.'
'You're wasting time*, a n d presently the m e n will be back.
Your choice is b e t w e e n making half, or making none, a n d going
to gaol into the the bargain. Choose!'
'But just consider'
'Choose!'
Mallows looked despairingly about him. 'But really,' h e
said, 'I w a n t the m o n e y more t h a n you think. I'
'For the last timechoose!"
Mallow's desparing gaze stopped at the enamelling oven.
'Well, well,' he said, 'if I must, I must, I suppose. But I w a r n
you, you may regret it.'
' O h dear no, I'm not so pessimistic. Come, -you wrote a
chequenow I'll write the bill. "Six m o n t h s after date, pay to
me or my order the s u m of ten t h o u s a n d p o u n d s for value
received"excellent value too, I think. There you are!'
When the bill w a s written a n d signed, Mallows scribbled

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THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES O F THE N I N E T E E N T H I CENTURY

his acceptance with more readiness t h a n might have been

expected. Then he rose, and said with s o m e t h i n g of brisk
cheerfulness in his tone, 'Well, that's d o n e , a n d the least said the
soonest m e n d e d . You've won it, and I w o n ' t grumble any more.
I think I've d o n e this thing pretty neatly, eh? Come a n d see the
"works'".
Every other part of the place w a s e m p t y of machinery.
There were a good m a n y finished frames a n d wheels, b o u g h t
separately, a n d n o w in course of being fitted together for sale;
a n d there were m a n y more complete bicycles of cheap but
s h o w y m a k e to which nothing needed to be d o n e but to fix the
red a n d gold 'transfer' of the 'Avalanche' company. Then
Mallows o p e n e d the tall iron door of the enamelling oven.
'See this,' he said; 'this is the enamelling oven. Get in a n d
look r o u n d . The frames and other different parts h a n g on the
racks after the e n a m e l is laid on, a n d all those gas jets are lighted
to h a r d e n it by heat. Do you see that d e e p e r part there by the
back?go closer.'
Dorrington felt a p u s h at his back a n d the door w a s s w u n g
to with a bang, a n d the latch d r o p p e d . H e w a s in the dark,
t r a p p e d in a great iron chamber. 'I w a r n e d you,' shouted
Mallows f r o m without; 'I w a r n e d you you might regret it!' A n d
instantly Dorrington's nostrils were filled with the smell of
escaping gas. H e realized his peril on the instant. Mallows h a d
given him the bill with the idea of silencing him by m u r d e r a n d
recovering it. H e h a d p u s h e d him into the oven a n d h a d t u r n e d
o n the gas. It w a s dark, b u t to light a match w o u l d m e a n d e a t h
instantly, a n d w i t h o u t the match it m u s t be d e a t h by suffocation
a n d poison of gas in a very few minutes. To appeal to Mallows
w a s uselessDorrington k n e w too m u c h . It w o u l d seem that at
last a horribly fitting retribution had overtaken Dorrington in
d e a t h by a m o d e parallel to that which he a n d his creatures h a d
p r e p a r e d for others. Dorrington's victims h a d d r o w n e d in
w a t e r a n d n o w Dorrington himself w a s to d r o w n in gas. The
oven w a s of sheet iron, fastened by a latch in the centre.
Dorrington flung himself desperately against the door, a n d it
gave o u t w a r d l y at the extreme bottom. H e snatched a loose
angle-iron with w h i c h his h a n d came in contact, d a s h e d against

The Affair of the 'Avalanche

Bicycle and Tyre Co.,

Limited'

239

the door once more, a n d thrust the iron t h r o u g h w h e r e it

strained o p e n . Then, with another t r e m e n d o u s plunge, h e
drove the door a little more outward a n d raised the angle-iron in
the crack; t h e n once more, and raised it again. H e was near to
losing his senses, w h e n , with one m o r e plunge, the catch of the
latch, not designed for such treatment, s u d d e n l y gave way, the
door flew o p e n , a n d Dorrington, blue in the face, staring,
stumbling a n d gasping, came staggering out into the fresher air,
followed.by a g u s h of gas.
Mallows h a d retreated to the r o o m s b e h i n d , a n d thither
Dorrington followed him, gaining vigour a n d fury at every step.
At sight of him the wretched Mallows sank in a corner, sighing
and shivering with terror. Dorrington reached him and clutched
him by the collar. There should be n o m o r e h o n o u r b e t w e e n
these two thieves now. H e would drag Mallows forth a n d
proclaim him aloud; a n d he would keep that 10,000 bill. H e
hauled the struggling wretch across the room, tearing off the
crepe whiskers as he came, while Mallows supplicated a n d
whined, fearing that it might be the other's design to imprison
him in the enamelling oven. But at the door of the room against
that containing the oven their progress came to an end, for the
escaped gas h a d reached the lighted candle, a n d with one loud
report the partition wall fell in, half burying Mallows w h e r e he
lay, and knocking Dorrington over.
W i n d o w s fell out of the building, a n d m e n broke t h r o u g h
the front gate, climbed into the ruined rooms and stopped the
still escaping gas. W h e n the two m e n a n d the boy r e t u r n e d ,
with the conspirator w h o had been in charge of the works, they
found a crowd from the h a r d w a r e a n d cycle factories thereabout, surveying with great interest the spectacle of the extrication of Mr. Paul Mallows, managing director of the 'Indestructible Bicycle Company,' from the broken bricks, motar, bicycles
and transfers of the 'Avalanche Bicycle a n d Tyre Company,
Limited,' a n d the preparations for carrying him to a surgeon's
where his broken leg might be set. As for Dorrington, a crushed
hat and a torn coat were all his hurts, beyond a few scratches.
And in a couple of h o u r s it was all over Birmingham, a n d
spreading to other places, that the business of the Avalanche

240

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE N I N E T E E N T H I CENTURY

Bicycle and Tyre C o m p a n y ' consisted of sticking brilliant labels

on factors' bicycles, bought in batches; for the whole thing w a s
thrown o p e n to the general gaze by the explosion. So that w h e n ,
next day, Lant w o n the fifty miles race in London, he w a s
greeted with ironical shouts of 'Gum on yer transfer!' 'Hi! m i n d
your label!' 'Where did you steal that bicycle?' 'Sold yer shares?'
a n d so forth.
Somehow the 'Avalanche Bicycle a n d Tyre company, Limited,' never w e n t to allotment. It w a s said that a few people in
remote a n d benighted spots, w h e r e n e w s never came till it w a s
in the history books, had applied for shares, but the bankers
returned their money, doubtless to their extreme disappointment. It w a s f o u n d politic, also, that Mr. Paul Mallows should
retire from the directorate of the 'Indestructible Bicycle Company'a concern which is still, I believe, flourishing exceedingly.
As for Dorrington, he had his h u n d r e d p o u n d s reward. But
the bill of 10,000 he never presented. Why, I d o not altogether
know, unless he f o u n d that Mr. Mallows' financial position, as
he had hinted, w a s not altogether so good as w a s s u p p o s e d . At
any rate, it w a s f o u n d a m o n g the notes a n d telegrams in this
case in the Dorrington deed-box.

1899

The Nameless Man

RODRIGUEZ OTTOLENGUI

Mr Barnes w a s sitting in his private room, with nothing of

special importance to occupy his t h o u g h t s , w h e n his office b o y
a n n o u n c e d a visitor.
'What n a m e ? ' asked Mr Barnes.
'None!' w a s the reply.
'You m e a n , ' said the detective, 'that the m a n did not give
you his n a m e . H e m u s t have one, of course. Show him in.'
A m i n u t e later the stranger entered, and, bowing courteously, began the conversation at once.
'Mr Barnes, the f a m o u s detective, I believe?' said he.
'My n a m e is Barnes,' replied the detective. 'May I have the
pleasure of k n o w i n g yours?'
'I sincerely h o p e so,' continued the stranger. 'The fact is, I
suppose I have forgotten it.'
'Forgotten your name?' Mr Barnes scented an interesting
case, a n d became doubly attentive.
'Yes!' said the visitor. 'That is precisely my singular predicament. I seem to have lost my identity. That is the object of m y
call. I wish to discover w h o I am. As I am evidently a full-grown
man, I can certainly claim that I have a past history, b u t to m e
that past is entirely a blank. I awoke this morning in this
condition, yet apparently in possession of all my faculties, so
much so that 1 at once saw the advisability of consulting a firstclass detective, a n d , u p o n inquiry, I w a s directed to you.'
'Your case is most interesting, from my point of view, I
mean. To you, of course, it must seem unfortunate. Yet it is not
unparalleled. There have been many such cases recorded, and,
241

242

T H E B E S I ( KIM I S T O R I E S O F T H E N I N E T E E N T H I C E N T U R Y

for your temporary relief, I may say that sooner or later,

complete restoration of memory usually occurs. But now, let us
try to unravel your mystery as soon as possible, that you may
suffer as little inconvenience as there need be. I would like to ask
vou a few questions?'
'As many as you like, and I will do my best to answer.'
'Do vou think that you are a N e w Yorker?'
i have not the least idea, w h e t h e r I am or not.'
'You say vou were advised to consult me. By w h o m ? '
'The clerk at the Waldorf Hotel, w h e r e I slept last night.'
'Then, of course, he gave you my address. Did you find it
necessary to ask him how to find my offices?'
'Well, no, I did not. That seems strange, does it not? I
certainlv had no difficulty in coming here. I s u p p o s e that must
be a significant tact, Mr Barnes?'
i t tends to show that you have been familiar with N e w
York, but we must still find out w h e t h e r you live here or not.
H o w did you register at the hotel?'
'M.J.G. Remington, City.'
'You are sure that Remington is not your name?'
'Quite sure. After breakfast this morning 1 was passing
through the lobby w h e n the clerk called me twice by that name.
Finally, one of the hall-boys touched me on the shoulder a n d
explained that I was wanted at the desk. I was very much
confused to find myself called "Mr Remington", a n a m e which
certainly is not my o w n . Before 1 fully realised my position, I
said to the clerk, "Why do you call me Remington?" a n d he
replied, "Because you registered u n d e r that n a m e . " I tried to
pass it off, but I am sure that the clerk looks u p o n me as a
suspicious character.'
'What baggage have you with you at the hotel?'
'None. Not even a satchel.'
'May there not be something in your pockets that would
help us; letters, for example?'
i am sorry to say that I have m a d e a search in that direction
but found nothing. Luckily I did have a pocket-book t h o u g h . '
'Much money in it?'
'In the neighborhood of five h u n d r e d dollars.'

The Nameless

Man

243

Mr Barnes t u r n e d to his table a n d m a d e a few notes on a

pad of paper. While he w a s so engaged his visitor took out a fine
gold watch, a n d , after a glance at the face, was about to return it
to his pocket w h e n Mr Barnes wheeled a r o u n d in his chair, a n d
said:
'That is a h a n d s o m e watch you have there. Of a curious
pattern too. I am rather interested in old watches.'
The stranger seemed confused for an instant, a n d quickly
put u p his watch, saying:
'There is nothing remarkable about it. Merely an old family
relic. I value it more for that than anything else. But about my
case, Mr Barnes, h o w long do you think it will take to restore m y
identity to me? It is rather awkward to go about u n d e r a false
name.'
'I should think so,' said the detective. 'I will do my best for
you, but you have given me absolutely no clue to work u p o n , so
that it is impossible to say what my success will be. Still I think
forty-eight hours should suffice. At least in that time I ought to
make some discoveries for you. S u p p o s e you call again on the
day after to-morrow at n o o n precisely. Will that suit you?'
'Very well, indeed. If you can tell me w h o I am at that time I
shall be more than convinced that you are a great detective, as I
have been told.'
H e arose a n d prepared to go, and u p o n the instant Mr
Barnes touched a button u n d e r his table with his foot, which
caused a bell to ring in a distant part of the building, no s o u n d of
which penetrated the private office. T h u s anyone could visit Mr
Barnes in his den, a n d might leave unsuspicious of the fact that
a spy would be awaiting him out in the street w h o would
shadow him persistently day and night until recalled by his
chief. After giving the signal, Mr Barnes held his strange visitor
in conversation a few m o m e n t s longer to allow his spy opportunity to get to his post.
'How will you pass the time away, Mr Remington?' said he.
'We may as well call you by that name, until I find your true
one.'
'Yes, I s u p p o s e so. As to w h a t I shall d o during the next
forty-eight hours, why, I think I may as well devote myself to

244

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES O F THE N I N E T E E N T H I CENTURY

seeing the sights. It is a remarkably pleasant day for a stroll, a n d

I think I will visit your beautiful Central Park.'
'A capital idea. By all means, I w o u l d advise occupation of
that kind. It w o u l d be best not to d o a n y business until your
m e m o r y is restored to you.'
'Business. Why, of course, I can d o no business.'
'No! If you were to order any goods, for example, u n d e r the
n a m e of Remington, later on w h e n you r e s u m e your p r o p e r
identity, you might be arrested as an impostor.'
'By George, I h a d not thought of that. My position is m o r e
serious than I h a d realised. I thank you for the warning. Sightseeing will assuredly be my safest plan for the next t w o d a y s . '
'I think so. Call at the time agreed u p o n , a n d h o p e for the
best. If I should n e e d you before then, I will send to your hotel.'
Then, saying 'Good morning', Mr Barnes t u r n e d to his desk
again, and, as the stranger looked at him before stepping o u t of
the room, the detective seemed engrossed with some p a p e r s
before him. Yet scarcely had the door closed u p o n the retreating
form of his recent visitor, w h e n Mr Barnes looked u p , with an air
of expectancy. A m o m e n t later a very tiny bell in a d r a w e r of his
desk rang, indicating that the man h a d left the building, the
signal having been sent to him by one of his employes, w h o s e
business it w a s to watch all departures, a n d notify his chief. A
few m o m e n t s later Mr Barnes himself e m e r g e d , clad in an
entirely different suit of clothing, and with such an alteration in
the colour of his"hair, that more than a casual glance w o u l d have
been required to recognise him.
W h e n he reached the street the stranger w a s n o w h e r e in
sight, but Mr Barnes w e n t to a doorway opposite, a n d there h e
found, written in blue pencil, the word ' u p ' , w h e r e u p o n h e
walked rapidly u p town as far as the next corner, w h e r e once
more he examined a door-post, u p o n which he f o u n d the w o r d
'right', which indicated the way the m e n a h e a d of him h a d
turned. Beyond this he could expect n o signals, for the spy
s h a d o w i n g the stranger did not know positively that his chief
would take part in the game. The two signals which h e h a d
written on the doors were merely a part of a routine, a n d
intended to aid Mr Barnes should he follow; b u t if h e did so, h e

The Nameless

Man

245

would be expected to be in sight of the spy by the time the

second signal were reached. And so it proved in this instance,
for as Mr Barnes turned the corner to the right, he easily
discerned his m a n about two blocks a h e a d , and pressently w a s
near e n o u g h to see 'Remington' also.
The pursuit continued until Mr Barnes was surprised to see
him enter the Park, t h u s carrying out his intention as stated in
his interview with the detective. Entering at the Fifth Avenue
gate he m a d e his way towards the menagerie, and here a
curious incident occurred: The stranger had mingled with the
crowd in the monkey-house, and was enjoying the antics of the
mischievous little animals, w h e n Mr Barnes, getting close
behind him, deftly removed a pocket-handkerchief from the tail
of his coat a n d swiftly transferred it to his own.
O n the day following, shortly before noon, Mr Barnes
walked quickly into the reading-room of the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
In one corner there is a h a n d s o m e m a h o g a n y cabinet, containing three compartments, each of which is entered t h r o u g h
double doors, having glass panels in the u p p e r half. About
these panels are draped yellow silk curtains, and in the centre of
each appears a white porcelain numeral. These compartments
are used as public telephone stations, the applicant being s h u t
in, so as to be free from the noise of the outer room.
Mr Barnes spoke to the girl in charge, a n d then passed into
the compartment n u m b e r e d '2'. Less than five minutes later Mr
Leroy Mitchel came into the reading-room. His keen eyes
peered about him, scanning the countenances of those busy
with the p a p e r s or writing, and then he gave the telephone girl a
number, a n d w e n t into the compartment numbered '1'. About
ten minutes elapsed before Mr Mitchel came out again, and,
having paid the toll, he left the hotel. W h e n Mr Barnes emerged,
there was an expression of extreme satisfaction u p o n his face.
Without lingering, he also went out. But instead of following Mr
Mitchel through the main lobby to Broadway, he crossed the
reading-room a n d reached 23rd Street t h r o u g h the side door.
Thence he proceeded to the station of the Elevated Railroad, and
went u p town. Twenty minutes later he was ringing the bell ot

246

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE N I N E T E E N T H I CENTURY

Mr Mitchel's residence. The buttons, w h o answered his s u m mons, informed him that his master was not at home.
' H e usually comes in to luncheon, however, does he not?'
asked the detective.
'Yes, sir,' r e s p o n d e d the boy.
'Is Mrs Mitchel at home?'
'No, sir.'
'Miss Rose?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Ah! Then I'll wait. Take my card to her.'
Mr Barnes passed into the luxurious drawing-room, a n d
w a s soon joined by Rose, Mr Mitchel's a d o p t e d daughter.
'I a m sorry papa is not at home, Mr Barnes,' said the little
lady, 'but he will surely be in to luncheon, if you will wait.'
'Yes, thank you, I think I will. It is quite a trip up, a n d ,
being here, I may as well stop awhile a n d see your father,
t h o u g h the matter is not of any great importance.'
'Some interesting case, Mr Barnes? If so, d o tell me about it.
You k n o w I a m almost as much interested in your cases as p a p a
is.'
'Yes, I k n o w you are, and my vanity is flattered. But I a m
sorry to say I have nothing on h a n d at present w o r t h relating.
My errand is a very simple one. Your father w a s saying, a few
days ago, that he w a s thinking of buying a bicycle, a n d
yesterday, by accident, I came across a machine of an entirely
n e w make, which seems to me superior to anything yet
produced. I t h o u g h t h e might be interested to see it, before
deciding w h a t kind to buy.'
'I am afraid you are too late, Mr Barnes. Papa has b o u g h t a
bicycle already.'
'Indeed! w h a t style did he choose?'
'I really d o not know, but it is d o w n in t h e lower hall, if you
care to look at it.'
'It is hardly w o r t h while, Miss Rose. After all, I have n o
interest in the n e w model, and if your father has f o u n d
something that he likes, I w o n ' t even mention the other to him.
It might only make him regret his bargain. Still, on second
thoughts, I will go d o w n with you, if you will take me, into the

The Nameless

Man

247

dining-room a n d s h o w me the head of that moose which your

father had been bragging about killing. I believe it has come
back from the taxidermist's?'
'Oh, yes! H e is just a monster. C o m e on!'
They w e n t d o w n to the dining-room, and Mr Barnes
expressed great admiration about the moose's head, and praised
Mr Mitchel's skill as a marksman. But he had taken a m o m e n t to
scrutinize the bicycle which stood in the hall-way, while Rose
was opening the blinds in the dining-room. Then they returned
to the drawing-room, and after a little more conversation Mr
Barnes departed, saying that he could not wait any longer, but
he charged Rose to tell her father that h e particularly desired
him to call at n o o n on the following day.
Promptly at the time appointed, Remington walked into the
office of Mr Barnes, a n d w a s a n n o u n c e d . The detective w a s in
his private room. Mr Leroy Mitchel h a d been admitted but a few
moments before.
Ask Mr Remington in,' said Mr Barnes to his boy, a n d
when that gentleman entered, before h e could show surprise to
find a third party present, he detective said:
Mr Mitchel, this is the gentleman w h o m I wish you to
meet. Permit me to introduce to you, Mr Mortimer J. Goldie,
better k n o w n to the sporting fraternity as G.J. Mortimer, the
champion short-distance bicycle rider, w h o recently rode a mile
in the p h e n o m e n a l time of 1*56, on a quarter-mile track.'
As Mr Barnes spoke, he gazed from one to the other of his
companions, with a half-quizzical, a n d wholly pleased expression on his face. Mr Mitchel appeared m u c h interested, but the
newcomer was evidently greatly astonished. He looked blankly
at Mr Barnes a m o m e n t , then d r o p p e d into a chair with the
query:
How in the n a m e of conscience did you find that out?'
That much w a s not very difficult,' replied the detective. 'I
can tell you more; indeed I can supply your whole past history,
provided your m e m o r y has been sufficiently restored for you to
recognise my facts as true.'
Mr Barnes looked at Mr Mitchel a n d w i n k e d one eye in a

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THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

most suggestive manner, at which that gentleman burst out into

hearty laughter, finally saying:
'We may as well admit that w e are beaten, Goldie. Mr
Barnes has been too much for us.'
'But I w a n t to know h o w he has d o n e it,' persisted Mr
Goldie.
'I have n o doubt that Mr Barnes will gratify you. Indeed, I
am as curious as you are to know by w h a t m e a n s he has arrived
at his quick solution of the problem which w e set him.'
'I will enlighten you as to detective m e t h o d s with pleasure,'
said Mr Barnes. 'Let me begin with the visit m a d e to me by this
gentleman two days ago. At the very outset his statement
aroused m y suspicion, though I did my best not to let him think
so. H e a n n o u n c e d to me that he h a d lost his identity, a n d I
promptly told him that his case w a s not u n c o m m o n . I said that,
in order that h e might feel sure that I did not doubt his tale.^But
truly his case, if h e were telling the truth, w a s absolutely
unique. M e n have lost recollection of their past, and even have
forgotten their names. But I have never before heard of a man
w h o had forgotten his name, and at the same time knew that he had
done so.'
'A capital point, Mr Barnes,' said Mr Mitchel. 'You were
certainly s h r e w d to suspect fraud so early.'
'Well, I cannot say that I suspected fraud so soon, but the
story w a s so unlikely, that I could not believe it immediately. I
therefore w a s w h a t J might call analytically attentive d u r i n g the
rest of the interview. The next point worth noting which came
out w a s that although he had forgotten himself, he h a d not
forgotten N e w York, for he admitted having come to me without
special guidance.'
'I r e m e m b e r that,' interrupted Mr Goldie, 'and I think I
even said to you at the time that it w a s significant.'
'And I told you that it at least s h o w e d that you had been
familiar with N e w York. This w a s better proven w h e n you said
that you w o u l d s p e n d the day at Central Park, a n d w h e n , after
leaving here, you h a d n o difficulty to find your way thither.'
'Do you m e a n to say that you h a d m e followed? I m a d e sure
that no o n e w a s after me.'

The Nameless

Man

249

Well, yes, you were followed,' said Mr Barnes, with a

smile. 'I had a spy after you, and I followed you as far as the
Park myself. But let me come to the other points in your
interview a n d my deductions. You told me that you h a d
registered as "M.J.G. Remington". This helped me considerably,
as we shall see presently. A few minutes later you took out your
watch, and in that little mirror over my desk, which I use
occasionally w h e n I turn my back u p o n a visitor, I noted that
there was an inscription on the outside of the case. I t u r n e d a n d
asked you s o m e t h i n g about the watch, w h e n you hastily
returned it to your pocket, with the remark that it w a s "an old
family relic". N o w can you explain h o w you could have k n o w n
that, s u p p o s i n g that you had forgotten w h o you were?'
'Neatly caught, Goldie,' laughed Mr Mitchel. 'You certainly
made a mess of it there.'
i t was an asinine slip,' said Mr Goldie, laughing also.
' N o w then,' continued Mr Barnes, 'you readily see that I
had good reason for believing that you had not forgotten y o u "
name. O n the contrary, I was positive that your n a m e w a s a part
of the inscription on the watch. What, then, could be your
purpose in p r e t e n d i n g otherwise? I did not discover that for
some time. However, I decided to go a h e a d , a n d find you out if I
could. Next I noted two things. Your coat o p e n e d once, so that I
saw, pinned to your vest, a bicycle badge, which I recognised as
the emblem of the League of American W h e e l m e n . '
'Oh! Oh!' cried Mr Mitchel. 'Shame on you, Goldie, for a
blunderer.'
i had entirely forgotten the badge,' said Mr Goldie.
i also observed,' the detective w e n t on, 'little indentations
on the sole of your shoe, as you h a d your legs crossed, which
satisfied me that you were a rider even before I observed the
badge. Now, then, w e come to the n a m e , a n d the significance
thereof. Had you really lost your memory, the choosing of a
name w h e n you registered at the hotel, would have been a
haphazard matter of no importance to me. But as soon as I
decided that you were imposing u p o n me, I k n e w that your
choice of a n a m e h a d been a deliberate act of the mind; one from
w
h i c h deductions could be d r a w n . '

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THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

'Ah! N o w w e come to the interesting p a r t / said Mr Mitchel.

'I love to follow a detective w h e n he uses his brains.'
T h e n a m e as registered, and I examined the registry myself
to make sure, w a s odd. Three initials are unusual. A man
without memory, a n d therefore not quite s o u n d mentally, would
hardly have chosen so many. Then w h y had it been d o n e in this
instance? What more natural than that these initials represented
the true name? In assuming an alias, it is the most c o m m o n
m e t h o d to transpose the real n a m e in some way. At least it w a s a
working hypothesis. Then the last n a m e might be very significant. " R e m i n g t o n " . The Remingtons m a k e guns, sewingmachines, typewriters, a n d bicycles. Now, this man w a s a
bicycle rider, I w a s sure. If he chose his o w n initials as a part of
the alias, it w a s possible that he selected "Remington" because it
w a s familiar to him. I even imagined that he might be an agent
for Remington bicycles, and I h a d arrived at that point during
our interview, w h e n I advised him not to buy anything until his
identity w a s restored. But I was sure of my quarry, w h e n I stole
a handkerchief from him at the park, a n d f o u n d the initials
"M.J.G." u p o n the same.'
'Marked linen on your person!' exclaimed Mr Mitchel.
'Worse a n d worse! We'll never make a successful criminal of
you, Goldie.'
'Perhaps not! I shan't cry over it.'
'I felt sure of my success by this time,' continued Mr Barnes,
'yet at the very next step I w a s baulked. I looked over a list of
L.A.W. m e m b e r s a n d could not find a n a m e to fit my initials,
which shows, as you will see presently, that, as I may say, "too
m a n y clues spoil the broth." Without the handkerchief I would
have d o n e better. Next I secured a catalogue of the Remingtons,
which gave a list of their authorized agents, and again I failed.
Returning to my office I received information from my spy, sent
in by messenger, which promised to o p e n a way for me. H e had
followed you about, Mr Goldie, a n d I m u s t say you played your
part very well, so far as avoiding acquaintances is concerned.
But at last you w e n t to a public telephone, a n d called up
someone. My m a n saw the importance of discovering to whom
you h a d spoken, a n d bribed the telephone attendant to give him

The Nameless

Man

251

the information. All that he learned, however, was that you h a d

spoken to the public station at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. My spy
thought that this w a s inconsequent, but it proved to me at once
that there w a s collusion, a n d that your m a n m u s t have been at
the other station by previous a p p o i n t m e n t . As that w a s at n o o n ,
a few m i n u e s before the same hour on the following day, that is
to say, yesterday, I w e n t to the Fifth Avenue Hotel telephone
and secreted myself in the middle compartment, hoping to hear
what your partner might say to you. I failed in this, as the boxes
are too well m a d e to permit s o u n d to pass from one to the other;
but imagine m y gratification to see Mr Mitchel himself go into
the box.'
'And why?' asked Mr Mitchel.
'Why, as soon as I saw you, I c o m p r e h e n d e d the whole
scheme. It w a s you w h o h a d concocted the little diversion to test
my ability. Thus, at last, I u n d e r s t o o d the reason for the
pretended loss of identity. With the knowledge that you w e r e in
it, I was more than ever determined to get at the facts. Knowing
that you were out, I hastened to your house, hoping for a chat
with little Miss Rose, as the most likely member of your family
to get information from.'
'Oh, fie! Mr Barnes,' said Mr Mitchel, 'to play u p o n the
innocence of childhood! I am a s h a m e d of you!'
'All's fair, etc. Well, I succeeded. I f o u n d Mr Goldie's bicycle
in your hall-way, and, as I suspected, 'twas a Remington. I took
the n u m b e r and hurried d o w n to the agency, where I readily
discovered that wheel n u m b e r 5,086 is ridden by G.J. Mortimer,
one of their regular racing team. I also learned that Mortimer's
private n a m e is Mortimer J. Goldie. I w a s much pleased at this,
because it s h o w e d h o w good my reasoning h a d been about the
alias, for you observe that the racing n a m e is merely a
transposition of the family name. The watch, of course, is a
prize, and the inscription would have proved that you were
imposing u p o n me, Mr Goldie, had you permitted me to see it.'
'Of course. That w a s w h y I p u t it back in my pocket.'
'I said just now,' said Mr Barnes, 'that without the stolen
handkerchief I would have d o n e better. Having it, w h e n I
iooked over the L.A.W. list I w e n t t h r o u g h the "G's" only.

252

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

Without it I should have looked t h r o u g h the "G's", "J's", a n d

"M's", not k n o w i n g h o w the letters may have been transposed.
In that case I should have f o u n d "G.J. Mortimer", a n d the
initials would have proved that I was on the right track.'
'You have d o n e well, Mr Barnes,' said Mr Mitchel. i asked
Goldie to play the part of a nameless m a n for a few days, to have
some f u n with vou. But you have had f u n with us, it seems.
Though, I am conceited enough to say, that had it been possible
for me to play the principal part, you would not have pierced
my identity so soon.'
'Oh! I don't know,' said Mr Barnes. 'We are both of us a little
egotistical, I fear.'
'Undoubtedly. Still, if I ever set another trap for you, I will
assign myself the chief role.'
'Nothing would please me better,' said Mr Barnes. 'But,
gentlemen, as you have lost in this little game, it seems to me
that some one owes me a dinner, at least!'
Til stand the expense with pleasure,' said Mr Mitchel.
'Not at all,' interrupted Mr Goldie. i t w a s t h r o u g h my
blundering that w e lost, and I'll pay the piper.'
'Settle it b e t w e e n you,' cried Mr Barnes. 'But let us walk on.
I am getting hungry.'
W h e r e u p o n they a d j o u r n e d to Delmonico's.

1899

His Defense
H A R R Y STILLWELL E D W A R D S

"What?"
Colonel Rutherford shot a swift glance from the brief he
was examining at the odd figure before him, and r e s u m e d his
occupation quickly, to hide the smile that was already lifting the
heavy f r o w n f r o m his face. "Indicted for what?"
"For the cussin' of my mother-in-law; an' I w a n t you ter be
on h a n d at court ter make er speech for m e w h e n hit comes u p . "
"Did you cuss her?"
The lawyer fell easily into the vernacular of his visitor, b u t
he was afraid to lift his eyes again higher than the tips of his
own polished boots, resting u p o n the table in front of him, in
the good old Georgia fashion.
"Did I?" The stranger shifted his hat to the other h a n d a n d
wiped his b r o w with a cotton handkerchief. His voice w a s low
and plaintive. "I sho'ly did cuss. I cussed 'er comin' an' goin',
for'ards a n d back'ards, all erroun' a n ' straight through. Ain't n o
use ter d e n y hit. I d o n e hit."
H e w a s tall, a n d in old age w o u l d be gaunt. H e w a s also
s u n b u r n e d , a n d stooped a little, as f r o m hard labor a n d long
walking in p l o w e d ground or long riding behind slow mules.
O n e need not have been a physiognomist to discover that,
although yet y o u n g , the storms of life h a d raged about him. But
the lawyer noticed that h e w a s neat, a n d that his jeans suit w a s
h o m e m a d e , a n d his pathetic h o m e s p u n shirt a n d s e w e d - o n
collarthe shirt a n d collar that never will sit right for a n y
country housewife, however d e v o t e d w e r e o r n a m e n t e d with a
black cravat m a d e of a ribbon a n d tied like a schoolgirl's sash.
253

254

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES O F THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

The d e f e n d a n t leaned over the table as he finished speaking, resting his h a n d s thereon, a n d thrusting forward his
aquiline features, s h a m e and excitement struggling for expression in his blue eyes.
"Did she cuss you first?"
The stranger looked surprised.
"No."
"Did she abuse you, strike youdid she ever chuck anything at you?"
"Why, no!you see, hit wasn't edzactly the w o r d s "
"Then it seems to me, my friend, that you have no use for a
lawyer. I never take any kind of a criminal case for less than one
h u n d r e d dollars, a n d the court will hardly fine you that m u c h if
you plead quilty. By your o w n statement, you see, you are
guilty, a n d I can't help you. Better go a n d plead guilty and file an
exculpatory affidavit"
"No, sir. That'l do for some folks, but not for me. I never
dodged in my life, a n d I ain't goin' ter d o d g e now. All you got
ter d o is ter make er speech. I w a n t you ter tell t h e m for m e "
"But w h a t is the use, my friend? Can't you see"
"Don't make n o difference. You go. I'll be thar with your
money."
"All right," w a s the laughing rejoinder; "but you are simply
wasting time a n d money."
"That's my business. N o m a n ever wasted his time or
m o n e y w h e n he was settin' himself right before his folks."
Lifting his head with an air the m e m o r y of which dwelt
with the attorney for m a n y a day, the novel client departed,
leaving him still laughing. He o p e n e d his docket a n d wrote, in
the absence of further information: "The m a n w h o cussed his
mother-in-law, Crawford Court, $100."
Court o p e n e d in Crawford C o u n t y as usual. The city
lawyers followed the judge over from Macon in nondescript
vehicles, their journey enlivened by m a n y a gay jest a n d welltold tale, to say nothing of r e f r e s h m e n t s by the way. The
a u t u m n w o o d s were glorious in the year's grand sunset. Like
masqueraders in s o m e wild carnival, the g u m s and sumacs a n d
hickories a n d p e r s i m m o n s and maples mingled their flaunting

His

Defense

2 55

b a n n e r s a n d lifted t h e m against the blue a n d cloudless skies.

Belated cotton-pickers stole t h e last of t h e fields' w h i t e lint, a n d
sang in h a r m o n i e s that e c h o e d f r o m t h e w o o d l a n d s , s e e m i n g to
voice the g l a d n e s s of u n s e e n revelers.
A n d Knoxville, w a k i n g f r o m its dull d r e a m s , took o n life
a n d color for the w e e k . H o r s e s t u g g e d at the d o w n - s w e e p i n g
limbs or d o z e d c o n t e n t e d l y beside the racks; a n d g r o u p s of
c o u n t r y folks, w h i t e a n d black, d i s c u s s e d solemnly or w i t h l o u d
'est the ever-changing situation. T h e session of court, brief
h o u g h it be, is f r a u g h t w i t h m e a n i n g for m a n y families, t h e
chief p o i n t s of friction being the issues b e t w e e n landlord a n d
enant, factor a n d farmer, loan associations a n d d e l i q u e n t
debtors. A n d there is always the criminal side of court, w i t h its
sable fringe of evildoers.
T h e sheriff, in obedience to t i m e - h o n o r e d c u s t o m , h a d
s h o u t e d f r o m t h e front steps the n a m e s of all parties c o n c e r n e d
in the case of t h e State versus H i r a m A r d , a n d the State, t h r o u g h
its u r b a n solicitor, the H o n . Jefferson B r o w n , h a d a n n o u n c e d
Ready," w h e n Colonel R u t h e r f o r d felt a h a n d u p o n h i s
shoulder, a n d , looking u p , s a w a half-familiar face e a r n e s t l y
bent t o w a r d his o w n .
"Hit's c o m e , " said the stranger, his blue eyes full of
excitement; " a n ' thar's y o u r h u n d r e d . "
"Beg y o u r p a r d o n , " said the lawyer; " s o m e mistake! I
d o n ' t thinkI can exactly locate y o u . "
" W h a t ? I'm the m a n they say that c u s s e d his mother-inlaw!"
"Why, of course, of course! O n e m o m e n t , y o u r Honor, until
I can consult m y client."
T h e c o n s u l t a t i o n w a s brief. T h e lawyer u r g e d a plea of
guilty. T h e client w a s d e t e r m i n e d to go to trial.
" R e a d y for t h e d e f e n s e ! " said Colonel R u t h e r f o r d , in
lespair, w a v i n g his client to his seat with a gesture that s e e m e d
"o disclaim responsibility for a n y t h i n g that m i g h t h a p p e n .
T h e u s u a l preliminaries a n d formalities w e r e soon d i s p o s e d
t a n d t h e jury stricken, twelve good m e n a n d true, ^s their
n
ames will s h o w ; for to a d j u d g e this case w e r e assembled there
Dike Sisson, Bobby Lewis, Zeke C o t h e r n , Tony Hutt, H o b

256

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

Garrett, Jack Dermedy, Tommie Liptrot, Jack Doozenbery, Abe

Ledzetter, Cran Herringdine, Bunk D u r d e n , a n d Tim Newberry.
The State, u p o n this occasion, h a d but one witness. Mrs.
Jessy G o n d e r w a s called to the stand. The lady was mild-looking
and thin, a n d something in her bearing unconsciously referred
one to a happier past. But the good impressionperhaps it is
better to say the soft impressionvanished w h e n she loosened
her bonnet-strings a n d tongue, a n d with relentless, drooping
cornersthose dead smiles of bygone daysbegan to relate her
grievance.
Well, Mrs. G o n d e r was one of those u n f o r t u n a t e w o m e n
w h o m adversity sours and time cannot sweeten; and that is all
there is of it. In sharp, crisp tones a n d bitter w o r d s she told of
her experience with the d e f e n d a n t . The narrative covered years
of bitterness, disappointment, w o u n d e d vanity, and hatred, a n d
w a s remarkable for its excess of feeling. It was, f r o m a
professional standpoint, overdone. It w a s an outburst. Members of the admirable jury w h o h a d looked with surprise a n d
animosity u p o n Hiram Ard began to regard him with something
like sympathy; for, disguise it as she might, it w a s plain to all
m e n that the overwhelming cause of her grievance w a s Hiram's
conquest of her only daughter. Bobby Lewis leaned over a n d
whispered to Bunk D u r d e n , and both y o u n g m e n laughed until
their neighboring jurors were visibly affected, a n d the court
knocked gently with its gavel. W h e n she came to the cause of
war wherein this low-bred son-in-law had cursed around her,
her, Jessy Gonder,had entered the house she occupied a n d
had forcibly taken awav a sewing-machine loaned by her o w n
daughter, her voice trembled and she shook her clenched fist
above the rail, her eyes, the while, fairly blazing in the s h a d o w
of her black bonnet. She sank back at last, exhausted.
While the witness was testifying the d e f e n d a n t looked
straight ahead of him, settling slowly in his seat, until his
matched h a n d s , supported bv his elbows that rested u p o n the
chair, almost covered his face. From time to time a wave of color
flushed his cheeks and brow. Then he seemed to w a n d e r off to
scenes the w o m a n ' s words recalled, and he became oblivious to
his Mirroundines. When at last his attorney touched him a n d

His

Defense

2 55

called him to the witness-stand, he started violently, a n d with

difficulty regained his composure.
"Tell the jury w h a t you k n o w of this case," said Rutherford;
and then to the court: "This seems to be purely a family quarrel,
your Honor, a n d I trust the d e f e n d a n t will be allowed to proceed
without interruption of any kind. Go on, sir," he concluded, to
the latter.
The d e f e n d a n t seated himself in the witness-stand, his a r m
on the rail, a n d said:
"Hit's er long story, my friends, a n ' if thar warn't n o t h i n ' in
the case but er fine I w o u l d n ' t take your time. But thar's er h e a p
more, an' ef you'll all hear me out, I d o n ' t think any of you'll
believe I'm m u c h ter be blamed. So far as the cussin' is
concerned, thar ain't no dispute erbout that. I d o n e hit, an' I
oughtn't er d o n e hit. N o gentleman can cuss erroun' er w o m a n ,
an' for the first time in my life I w a r n ' t er gentleman. I could er
come h e r e an' pleaded guilty an' quit, but that don't square er
gentleman's record. I hired er lawyer ter take my case, an' did
hit ter have him p u t m e u p here w h e r e I could get er chance ter
face m y people, an' say I w a s w r o n g , an' sorry for hit, a n ' willin'
ter take the consequences. That's the kind of m a n Hiram Ard
is."
All the s h a m e f a c e d n e s s w a s gone from the man, H e h a d
straightened u p in his chair, a n d his blue eyes were b e a m i n g
with e a r n e s t n e s s . His declaration, simple a n d direct, h a d
penetrated every corner of the room. In a m o m e n t he h a d
caught the attention of the crowd, for all the world loves a
manly m a n , a n d from that m o m e n t their attention n e v e r
wavered.
"But," he continued, w h e n the silence h a d become intense,
"I ain't willin' for you ter think Hiram Ard could cuss e r r o u n '
any w o m a n offhand an' for er little matter.
"Some of you k n o w e d me w h e n I w a s er barefooted boy,
with n o frien' in the worl' 'ceptin' ma a n ' pa, an' not t h e m long.
This trouble started away back t h a r w h e n I w a s that kind er
boy an' goin' ter school. I w a s 'mos' too big ter go ter school, an'
sheI m e a n Cooney, Cooney G o n d e r w a s 'mos' too y o u n g .
S o m e h o w I got ter sorter lookin' out for her on the road,

258

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES O F THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

gentlemen, an' totin' her books, an' holdin' her steady crossin'
the logs over Tobysofkee Creek an' the branches. A n ' at school,
w h e n the boys teased her an' pulled her hair an' hid her dinnerbucket, I sorter tuk u p for her; an' the worst fight I ever h a d w a s
erbout Cooney Gonder.
"Well, so it w e n t on year in an' out. Then pa died, an' the
ole h o m e w a s sold for his debts. A n ' then ma died. All I h a d left,
gentlemen, w a s erbout sixty acres on Tobysofkee an' thirty u p in
Coldneck deestric'; an' not er acre cleared. But I w e n t ter work. I
cut d o w n trees an' m a d e er clearin', a n ' I hired er mule a n '
planted er little crop. Cotton fetched er big price that year, a n ' I
b o u g h t the m u l e outright. An' then er feller come erlong with er
travelin' sawmill, a n ' I let him saw on halves ter get lumber ter
build m y h o u s e . Hit w a s just er two-room house, but hit war
mine, a n ' I w a s the proudes'! I bought ernother mule on credit,
an' the n e w lan' paid for hit too an' lef' me m o n e y besides. A n '
t h e n I p u t o n ernother room.
"Well, all this time I w a s tryin' ter keep c o m p ' n y with
Cooney, gentlemenI say tryin', 'cause her folks didn't think
m u c h of me. My family warn't m u c h , a n ' Cooney's w a s good
blood an' er little stuckup. An' Cooneywell, Cooney had d o n e
growed ter be the prettiest an' sweetest in all the Warrior
deestric', as you know, an' they had d o n e m a d e her er teacher,
for she w a s smart as she w a s pretty. A n ' she w a s goodtoo
good for me. Ter this day I don't u n d e r s t a n ' hit. Cooney say hit
w a s because I w a s honest an' er m a n all over; that w a s the
excuse she gave for lovin' me. But I do k n o w that w h e n she said
yes, two things h a p p e n e d : I kissed her, an' there was er riot in
Cooney's family. Cooney's ma was the last ter come roun', a n ' I
don't think she ever did quite come r o u n ' , for s h e warn't at the
wedding; but, so help me God, I never bore her no ill will. Hit
m u s t have been hard ter give Cooney up.
"1 will never forget the day, gentlemen, she come into that
little home. Hit w a s like bein' born ag'in; I w a s that happy. I
m a d e the po'est crop I ever m a d e in my life; but, bless you, the
whole place changed. Little vines come u p an' m a d e er shade on
the po'ch, a n ' flowers growed about the yard in places that look
like they had been waitin' for flowers always. An' the little

}lis

Defense

2 59

fixin's on the bureau a n d w i n d o w s , an' white stuff h a n g i n ' ter

the mantelpieceswell, I never k n o w e d w h a t hit w a s ter live
before.
"Then at last I w e n t ter work. It w a s four mules then, a n '
me in debt for two, an' some rented land; but no m a n w h o h a d
Cooney could honestly call himself in debt. I worked day in an'
out, rain or shine, hot or cold, an' I struck hit right. Cooney w a s
sewin' for t w o an' sewin' on little white things for another, a n d
we were the happiest. O n e day I come h o m e 'for' dark ter find
Cooney w a s g o n e ter her neighbor's. I slipped in on her, an' thar
she w a s er-sewin' on er sewin'-machine, an' p r o u d of the w o r k
as I was of the first land I ever laid off. Hit w a s hard ter pull her
away. Well, I didn't say nothin'; I thought, an' I kept hit all ter
myself. I w e n t ter t o w n that fall with my cotton, an' w h e n I h a d
done paid my draft at the w a r e h o u s e I h a d seventy dollars left.
What did I d o with hit? What d o you reckon I did with hit?"
The aquiline face took on a positively beautiful smile. The
speaker leaned over the rail a n d talked confidentially to the jury.
"Well, here's w h a t I did, gentlemen. I w e n t ter w h a r that
one-arm old soldier stays w h a t keeps sewin'-machines a n ' the
tax-books, an' I planked d o w n sixty of m y pile for one of t h e m .
An' then I w e n t h o m e an' set the thing in the settin'-room while
Cooney w a s gettin' supper; an' I let her eat, b u t I couldn't hardly
swaller, I w a s so full of that m a c h i n e . "
He laughed aloud at this point, a n d several of the jury
joined him. The court smiled a n d lifted a law-book in front of his
face.
" W h e n I took her in thar an' t u r n e d u p the light, C o o n e y
like ter fainted. 'My wife don't have ter sew on no b o r r o w e d
machine n o more,' says I, just so; an' she fell ter cryin' a n '
huggin' me; an' by an' by w e got d o w n ter work. I'll be
doggoned if w e didn't set u p tell one er'clock playin' on that
thing! She'd sew, an' then I'd sew, an' then I'd r u n the w h e e l
u n d e r n e a t h an' she'd r u n the u p p e r works. We h e m m e d a n d
hawed all the napkins over, an' the table-cloths; an' tucked all
the pillow frills; an' Cooney m a d e me er handkerchief out of
something. Gentlemen, next ter gettin' Cooney, hit w a s the
Happiest night of my life!"

260

THE BESI ( KIM I STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH I CENTURY

*

Hiram p a u s e d to take breath, a n d the tension o n the/

audience being relieved, they m o v e d , looked into one another'^
faces, a n d , smiling, exchanged c o m m e n t s . A breath of spring
s e e m e d to have invaded the a u t u m n .
"Wouldn't believe he w a s guilty ef he swore hit," said a
voice s o m e w h e r e , a n d there w a s applause, which w a s p r o m p t l y
s u p p r e s s e d . Hiram did not hear the comment. H e w a s lost in his
dream.
"Then the baby come. But before h e come I saw Cooney
begin ter change. She'd sit an' droop, an' brighten u p a n ' d r o o p
erg'in, lookin' a w a y off; an' her step got slow. Then, one day, hit
come ter me: s h e w a s homesick for her ma. Well, gentlemen, I
reck'n 'twas natchul at that time. She never h a d said nothin', b u t
the w a y her ma h a d d o n e an' the w a y she h a d talked a b o u t m e
w a s the grief of her life. She couldn't see h o w she w a s goin' ter
meet the n e w trouble erlone. I fixed hit for her. I took her out o n
the po'ch w h e r e she could break d o w n w i t h o u t my seemin' ter
k n o w hit, a n ' I tole her as h o w hit did look like hit w a s a s h a m e
for her ma ter h a v e ter live off at her sister's, a n ' her o w n chile
keepin' h o u s e , with a c o m p ' n y room; a n ' I believed I'd drive
over an' tell her ter let bygones be bygones, an' come a n ' live
with us; that I d i d n ' t set n o store by the hard things she's said,
a n ' w e w o u l d d o our best for her. Well, that got Cooney. She
d r o p p e d her h e a d d o w n in m y lap, a n ' I k n o w e d I'd d o n e hit the
nail on the h e a d . Natchully I w a s h a p p y erlong with her.
"Well, I w e n t an' m a d e my best talk, an' w h e n I got d o n e ,
gentlemen, w h a t you reck'n Cooney's ma saidwhat d o you
reck'n? She said: " H o w ' s Cooney?' 'Po'ly,' says I. 'I t h o u g h t so,'
says she, 'er y o u w o u l d n ' t ter come. I'll get my things an' go.'
But C o o n e y w a s so h a p p y w h e n she did come, I caught the
fever too, a n ' t h o u g h t m e a n ' the old lady w o u l d get o n all right
at last. But w e didn't. Seemed like pretty soon ma begin ter look
for things ter m e d d l e in, a n ' she got er n e w n a m e for m e ev'y
time I come e r r o u n ' . I didn't a n s w e r back, because s h e w a s
Cooney's ma. I grit m y teeth an' w e n t on. But she'd come out a n '
lean on the fence, even, w h e n I w a s plowin', a n ' talk. 'Look like
any fool,' she said o n e day, 'look like any fool w o u l d k n o w

His Defense

55

better'n ter lay off land with er twister. W h y n ' t yer git er r o u n '
p'inted shovel?' My lan' w a s new, gentlemen, an' full of roots;
that's why.
" A n ' she'd look at m y hogs a n ' say: 'I alius did despise
Berkshires. Never saw er sow that w o u l d n ' t eat pigs after er
while. W h y n ' t you cross ' e m on the big Guinea?' An' then, the
chickens. 'Thar's t h e m Wyandottes! Never k n e w one ter raise er
brood yet; an' one rooster takes more pasture than er mule.' A n '
1 paid ten dollars for three, gentlemen. An' then, Cooney's
mornin'-glories m a d e her sick. A n ' she didn't like sewin'machines; they m a d e folks w a n t more clothes than they o u g h t
ter have, a n ' m a d e the wash too big. An' w h a t she called
'jimcracks' w a s Cooney's pretties in the sittin'-room.
"But I stood it; she w a s Cooney's ma. Only, w h e n the
mockin'-bird's cage door w a s f o u n d o p e n an' he gone, I like to
have t u r n e d my mind loose, for I h a d my suspicions, an' h a v e
vet. He w a s a little bird w h e n I f o u n d him. I was clearin' m y
lan', a n ' one of these n e w niggers come erlong with er singlebarrel gin, an' shot both the old birds right before my eyes with
one load. I w a s that mad I took u p er loose root an' frailed h i m
tell he couldn't walk straight, an' I bent the gun roun'er tree a n '
flung hit after him. Then I w e n t ter the nest in the h a w - b u s h , a n '
started out ter raise the four y o u n g ones. I couldn't find er b u g
ter save me, t h o u g h it looked easy for the old birds, so I took
them h o m e a n ' tried eggs an' potato. Well, one by o n e they died,
until but one w a s left. W h e n Cooney come he was g r o w n , a n '
with the dash of white on his wings all singers have. But h e
never would singI think he w a s lonesome. The first night she
come, I w o k e ter hear the little feller singin' away like his heart
was too full ter hold hit all. I t u r n e d over ter wake Cooney, that
she might hear him too, an' w h a t do you reck'n? The moonlight
had f o u n d er way in through the half-open blinds an' had fell
across her face. Hit shone out there in the darkness like a n
angel's, an' that little lonesome bird h a d seen hit for the first
tune. Hit started the song in him just like hit h a d in me, an' God
Miows--" His voice quivered a m o m e n t and he looked away, a
''siht gesture supplying a conclusion.

262

I'HE

BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Then the baby come, an' w h e n Cooney said, 'We'll n a m e

hit Jessy, after m a , ' I said, 'Good e n o u g h . Hit's natchul.'
"Looks like that ought ter have m a d e it easier all erroun'V
but hit didn't. Hit all got worse. An' ter keep the peace, I got nof
ter comin' inter the house tell the dinner-bell would ring. I'd jus'
set on the fence, pretendin' I was er-watchin' the stock feed. An'
after d i n n e r I'd go out erg'in an' set on the fence ter keep the
peace. N o t that I blamed Cooney's ma so m u c h , for I didn't.
N o b o d y ever said hit for her but me, an' I don't mind sayin' hit
now: b u t she h a d h a d trouble e r n o u g h for four w o m e n ; a n ' her
boy died. H e w a s er good boy, if thar ever w a s one. I r e m e m b e r
the time w e w e n t ter school togethr; an' w h e n he died of the
fever," why, hit w a s then I sorter took his place an' looked o u t for
Cooney all the time. Her boy died, a n ' I think er h e a p er
,'lowance o u g h t ter be m a d e for er w i d o w w h e n her boy is
buried, for I don't believe there is m u c h else left for her in this
world."
The stillness in the room w a s absolute w h e n the witness
p a u s e d a m o m e n t a n d for some reason studied his fingers, his
face b e n t d o w n . All eyes w e r e unconsciously t u r n e d then
tov/ard the prosecutrix. She h a d m o v e d uncomfortably m a n y
times d u r i n g this narrative, a n d n o w lowered her veil, as if s h e
felt the focus of their attention. A f t e r w a r d she did not look u p
again. Hiram, w h o s e face had g r o w n singularly tender, raised
his eyes, s o m e w h a t wearily, at last.
"I k n o w w h a t hit is to lose a child," he said gently, "for I lost
Jessy. The fever came; she faded out, an'wellwe jus' p u t her
ter sleep o u t u n d e r the two cedars I h a d left in the corner of the
yard. T h e n hit w a s worse than ever, for I had Cooney ter
comfort, m y o w n load ter tote, an'Cooney's ma w a s h a r d e r ter
stan' t h a n before. I studied an' studied, a n ' then I took Cooney
out with m e ter the field an' tole her w h a t was on m y mind.
'Let's go u p ter Coldneck,' says I, 'an' build us a little h o u s e jus'
like the o n e w e started with, a n ' plant mornin'-glories on the
po'ch, a n ' begin over. Let's give ma this place for life, an' two
mules, an' split u p . An' let's do hit quick, 'cause I can't hold out
much longer.' You see, I was 'fraid er myself. Well, Cooney
h u g g e d me, a n ' I saw her heart w a s h a p p y over the change.

His

Defense

263

"So w e w e n t . Her ma said w e w e r e fools, an' settled d o w n

tor r u n her e n d of the bargain. An' I'm b o u n ' ter say s h e m a d e
good crops, an' with her n e p h e w ter help her, got erlong well
tell he married an' w e n t ter his wife's folks.
"Hit looked like hit was goin' ter be easy, gentlemen, leavin'
me little home; an' hit w a s tell Cooney got in the w a g o n an'
looked backnot at the house, a n ' the flowers she h a d planted,
an' the white curtains in her winders, b u t at the t w o little cedars
w h e r e Jess w a s sleepin', an' the mockin-bird balancin' an'
singin' on the highest limb. Hit was easy tell then. Her heart jus'
broke, an' she cried out ter herself: 'Ma! Ma! I w o u l d n ' t er
treated you that-er-wayI w o u l d n ' t er d o n e hit!'" He pointed
his finger at the prosecutrix. "She didn't k n o w Cooney felt thater-way, gentlemen; this is the first time. An' she didn't k n o w
that w h e n I came back from Macon, next fail, an' b r o u g h t er
little marble slab with Jess's n a m e on hit, an' put hit u p u n d e r
the cedars, I got one with her Tom's n a m e on hit, too, a n ' w e n t
ter her ole h o m e , a n ' cleared away the weeds, an' put hit over
Tom's grave. H e w a s er good boyan' he was Cooney's brother.
"Well," continued the d e f e n d a n t , after a pause, " w e did
well. I cleared the land an' m a d e er good crop. An' t h e n our o w n
little Tom come. That's w h a t w e n a m e d him. An' o n e day
Cooney asked m e ter go back an' get her sewin'-machine f r o m
her ma's. Hit was the first plantin' day w e h a d h a d in April, a n ' I
hated mightily ter lose er day; but Cooney never h a d asked m e
for m a n y things, so I went. W h e n I rode up, ma come out, a n '
restin' her h a n d s on her sides, she said: 'I did give you credit for
some sense! What you d o n i n ' here, a n ' hit the first cottonplantin' day of the year? I'll be b o u n ' you picked out this day ter
come fcr that ar sewin'-machine.' I tole her I had; an' t h e n she
a n s w e r e d back: ' N o b o d y but er natchul-born fool would c o m e
for er sewin'-machine in that sort er w a g o n . You can't get hit.
Thar w o u l d n ' t be er whole j'int in hit w h e n you got back!' Well,
seein' as h o w I h a d brought the thing f r o m Macon once in the
same w a g o n , hit did look unreasonable I couldn't take hit
further. But the road ter Coldneck w a s rougher, an' I couldn't
^ive her n o hold on me, so back I went, twelve miles, a n ' er
whole day sp'iled. But Cooney was sorry, 1 couid see; an' s h e

264

I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

never did ask m e for m a n y things, so I borrowed Buck

Drawhorn's spring-wagon, an' next day, bright an' early, I p u t
out erg'in. W h e n I got back ter the ole h o m e , she w a s stan'in'
jus' like I left her, with her h a n d s on her sides. I didn't get time
ter p u t in 'fo' she called out: 'Nobody but er natchul-born fool
would come here for er machine, an' clouds er-risin' in the rain
quarter. Don't you k n o w ef that machine gets wet hit w o n ' t be
worth hits weight in ole iron? You can't get hit!' Well, gentlemen, seems ter m e that with all our kiver mos' still in the h o u s e ,
she might er loant me some ter p u t on that machine; b u t she
didn't; an' bein' 'fraid er myself, I wheeled roun' an' w e n t back
t h e m twelve miles erg'in. Ernother day sp'iled, an' n o machine.
An' I w o n ' t d o nobody er injustice, gentlemen. Hit did rain like
all-fire, t h o u g h w h a r hit come from 1 don't k n o w tell now, a n ' I
got wet ter the bones.
"But I w a s d e t e r m ' then ter git that machine, if I d i d n ' t
never plant er cotton-seed. Next day I rode u p bright an' early,
an' thar she was. I h a d n ' t got out the w a g o n 'fo' she o p e n e d :
'You can't git that machine! You go back an' tell Cooney I'm ersewin' for Hester Bloodsworth, an' w h e n I git d o n e I'll let her
know. An' don't you come back here no more tell I let her know.'
Well, gentlemen, then I k n o w e d I h a d n ' t b e e n 'fraid of myself
for nothin'. I started ter cussin'! I cussed all the way u p the walk,
an' u p the steps, a n ' inter the room, an' while I w a s shoulderin'
that ar machine, a n ' while I was er-totin' hit out an' while I w a s
er-loadin' hit in the wagon, an' while I w a s er-drivin' off. An'
w h e n I t h o u g h t of t h e m seventy-odd miles, an' the three days
plantin' I'd d o n e lost, I stopped at the rise in the road an' cussed
back erg'in. I did hit, an', as I said, hit w a s ongentlemanly, a n '
I'm sorry. The only excuse I've got, gentlemen, is I did hit in selfdefense, for if I h a d n ' t cussed, so help me God, I'd er busted
wide o p e n then an' thar!"
The sensation that followed this remarkable climax w a s not
soon stilled; b u t w h e n quiet w a s at length restored, everybody's
attention w a s attracted to the prosecutrix. She had never lifted
her face from the time the d e f e n d a n t had mentioned the d e a d
boy. She w a s still sitting with her face concealed, lost in t h o u g h t ,
a n d it is likelv that she never k n e w the conclusion of the

His

Defense

265

defendant's statement. She looked u p at last, impressed by the

silence, a n d seeing the court gazing toward her as h e fingered
his books, she arose, wearily a n d unsteadily.
" C a n I say a few words, judge?" Her voice w a s just audible
at first. He n o d d e d gravely. "Then I w a n t to say thatI have
probably been wrongall the w a y through. I have h a d m a n y
troublesmany disappointments. Cooney's h u s b a n d h a s b e e n a
good h u s b a n d to her, and h a s always treated me kindly. I d o n ' t
believe he intended to curse me, a n d I think if you will let m e
take it all back" She hesitated a n d faltered.
"Be seated, m a d a m , " said the court, with something like
t e n d e r n e s s in his voice. " G e n t l e m e n of the jury, this case is
dismissed."
The d e f e n d a n t came d o w n from the stand, a n d p a u s e d
before the w o m a n in black a m o m e n t . Then he bent over her,
but the only w o r d s any one caught w e r e " C o o n e y " a n d "little
Tom." H e patted her shoulder with his rough, s u n b u r n t h a n d .
She hesitated a m o m e n t , a n d then, drawing d o w n her veil, she
took his arm a n d in silence left the courtroom. There w a s a
s u d d e n burst of applause, followed by the s o u n d of the judge's
gavel. At the door, Colonel Rutherford, leaning over the rail
which separated the bar from the audience, thrust s o m e t h i n g
into Hiram Ard's h a n d . "The fee goes with the speech," h e said,
smiling. "Keep it for little Tom."

1899

The Man That

Corrupted Hadleyburg
MARK TWAIN

It w a s m a n y years ago. Hadleyburg was the most h o n e s t

a n d upright t o w n in all the region r o u n d about. It h a d kept that
reputation u n s m i r c h e d d u r i n g three generations, a n d w a s
prouder of it than of any other of its possessions. It w a s so
p r o u d of it, and so anxious to insure its perpetuation, that it
began to teach the principles of honest dealing to its babies in
the cradle, and m a d e the like teachings the staple of their culture
thenceforward t h r o u g h all the years devoted to their education.
Also, t h r o u g h o u t the formative years temptations were kept out
of the w a y of the y o u n g people, so that their honesty could have
every chance to h a r d e n and solidify, a n d become a part of their
very bone. The neighboring towns were jealous of this h o n o r able supremacy, a n d affected to sneer at Hadleyburg's pride in it
a n d call it vanity; b u t all the same they were obliged to
acknowledge that Hadleyburg w a s in reality an incorruptible
town; a n d if pressed they would also acknowledge that the m e r e
fact that a y o u n g m a n hailed from Hadleyburg w a s all the
r e c o m m e n d a t i o n h e n e e d e d w h e n he w e n t forth from his natal
t o w n to seek for responsible employment.
But at last, in the drift of time, Hadleyburg had the ill luck
to offend a passing strangerpossibly without k n o w i n g it,
certainly w i t h o u t caring, for Hadleyburg w a s sufficient u n t o
itself, a n d cared not a rap for strangers or their opinions. Still, it
would have been well to make an exception in this one's case,
for he w a s a bitter man and revengeful. All t h r o u g h his
266

he Man

That Corrupter

Hadleyburg

267

wanderings during a whole year he kept his injury in mind, a n d

gave all his leisure m o m e n t s to trying to invent a c o m p e n s a t i n g
satisfaction for it. H e contrived m a n y plans, a n d all of t h e m
were good, but n o n e of them w a s quite sweeping e n o u g h ; the
poorest of t h e m would hurt a great m a n y individuals, b u t w h a t
he w a n t e d was a plan which w o u l d c o m p r e h e n d the entire
town, a n d not let so much as one person escape u n h u r t . At last
he had a fortunate idea, and w h e n it fell into his brain it lit u p
his whole h e a d with an evil joy. H e began to form a plan at once,
saying to himself, "That is the thing to do1 will corrupt the
town."
Six m o n t h s later he w e n t to Hadleyburg, and arrived in a
buggy at the house of the old cashier of the bank about ten at
night. He got a sack out of the buggy, shouldered it, a n d
staggered with it through the cottage yard, a n d knocked at the
door. A w o m a n ' s voice said " C o m e in," and he entered, a n d set
his sack b e h i n d the stove in the parlor, saying politely to the old
lady w h o sat reading the Missionary Herald by the lamp:
"Pray keep your seat, m a d a m , I will not disturb you.
1 h e r e n o w it is pretty well concealed; one would hardly k n o w
it was there. Can I see your h u s b a n d a m o m e n t , m a d a m ? "
No, he w a s gone to Brixton, a n d might not return before
morning.
"Very well, m a d a m , it is no matter. I merely w a n t e d to leave
that sack in his care, to be delivered to the rightful o w n e r w h e n
he shall be f o u n d . I am a stranger; he does not k n o w me; I a m
merely passing t h r o u g h the t o w n to-night to discharge a m a t t e r
which h a s been long in my mind. My errand is n o w completed,
and I go pleased a n d a little p r o u d , a n d you will never see m e
again. There is a p a p e r attached to the sack which will explain
everything. Good-night, m a d a m . "
The old lady w a s afraid of the mysterious big stranger, a n d
was glad to see him go. But her curiosity w a s roused, a n d s h e
w m t straight to the sack a n d b r o u g h t away the paper. It began
as follows:
" T O BE PUBLISHED: or, the right m a n sought out by
private inquiryeither will answer. This sack contains gold
coin weighing a h u n d r e d a n d sixty p o u n d s four o u n c e s "

268

I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Mercy o n us, a n d the door not locked!"

Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble a n d locked it, t h e n
pulled d o w n the w i n d o w - s h a d e s a n d stood frightened, w o r ried, a n d w o n d e r i n g if there w a s a n y t h i n g else she could d o
toward making herself and the m o n e y m o r e safe. She listened
awhile for burglars, then surrendered to curiosity and w e n t back
to the l a m p a n d finished reading the paper:
"I am a foreigner, a n d am presently going back to m y
o w n country, to remain there permanently. I am grateful to
America for w h a t I have received at her h a n d s d u r i n g m y
long stay u n d e r her flag; a n d to one of her citizensa
citizen of HadleyburgI am especially grateful for a great
k i n d n e s s d o n e me a year or t w o ago. Two great kindnesses,
in fact. I will explain. I w a s a gambler. I say I WAS. I w a s a
r u i n e d gambler. I arrived in this village at night, h u n g r y a n d
w i t h o u t a penny. I asked for helpin the dark; I w a s
a s h a m e d to beg in the light. I begged of the right m a n . H e
gave m e t w e n t y dollarsthat it to say, h e gave m e life, as I
considered it. H e also gave m e a fortune; for out of that
m o n e y I have m a d e myself rich at the gaming-table. A n d
finally, a remark which he m a d e to m e has remained with
m e to this day, a n d has at last conquered me; a n d in
conquering h a s saved the r e m n a n t of my morals: I shall
gamble n o more. N o w I have n o idea w h o that m a n was,
b u t I w a n t him f o u n d , a n d I w a n t him to have this money,
to give away, t h r o w away, or keep, as h e pleases. It is
merely m y w a y of testifying m y gratitude to him. If I could
stay, I w o u l d find him myself; b u t n o matter, h e will be
f o u n d . This is a n honest t o w n , an incorruptible t o w n , a n d I
k n o w I can trust it without fear. This m a n can be identified
by the remark which he m a d e to me; I feel p e r s u a d e d that
h e will r e m e m b e r it.
" A n d n o w m y plan is this: If you prefer to conduct the
inquiry privately, d o so. Tell the contents of this p r e s e n t
writing to any one w h o is likely to b e the right m a n . If h e
shall answer, 'I a m the man; the remark I m a d e w a s so-andso,' apply the testto wit: o p e n the sack, a n d in it y o u will

he Man

That

Corrupter

Hadleyburg

269

find a sealed e n v e l o p e containing that remark. If t h e r e m a r k

m e n t i o n e d by the candidate tallies w i t h it, give h i m t h e
money, a n d ask n o f u r t h e r questions, for h e is certainly t h e
right m a n .
"But if y o u shall prefer a public inquiry, t h e n p u b l i s h
this p r e s e n t writing in the local p a p e r w i t h these instructions a d d e d , to wit: Thirty d a y s f r o m now, let the c a n d i d a t e
a p p e a r at the town-hall at eight in the e v e n i n g (Friday), a n d
h a n d his remark, in a sealed envelope, to the Rev. Mr.
Burgess (if h e will be kind e n o u g h to act); a n d let Mr.
Burgess there a n d t h e n destroy the seals of the sack, o p e n
it, a n d see if the remark is correct; if correct, let t h e m o n e y
be delivered, with my sincere gratitude, to m y b e n e f a c t o r
t h u s identified."
Mrs. Richards sat d o w n , gently quivering w i t h excitement,
a n d w a s soon lost in thinkingsafter this pattern: " W h a t a
strange t h i n g it is! . . . A n d w h a t a f o r t u n e for that k i n d m a n
w h o set his b r e a d afloat u p o n the waters! . . . If it h a d only
been m y h u s b a n d that did it! . . . for w e are so poor, so old
a n d poor! . . . " Then, with a sigh"But it w a s not m y E d w a r d ;
no, it w a s not h e that gave a stranger t w e n t y dollars. It is a pity,
too; I see it n o w . . ." T h e n , w i t h a s h u d d e r " B u t it is gambler's
money! t h e w a g e s of sin: w e couldn't take it; w e couldn't t o u c h
it. I d o n ' t like to be near it; it s e e m s a d e f i l e m e n t . " She m o v e d to
a farther chair . . . "I wish E d w a r d w o u l d come, a n d take it to
the b a n k ; a burglar might come at a n y m o m e n t ; it is d r e a d f u l to
be h e r e all alone with it."
At eleven Mr. Richards arrived, a n d while his wife w a s
saving, "I a m so glad y o u ' v e come!" h e w a s saying, " I ' m so
tiredtired clear out; it is d r e a d f u l to be poor, a n d h a v e to m a k e
these dismal j o u r n e y s at m y time of life. Always at t h e grind,
grind, grind, on a salaryanother man's slave, a n d h e sitting at
h o m e in his slippers, rich a n d comfortable."
"I a m so sorry for you, E d w a r d , y o u k n o w that; b u t b e
omforted: w e have our livelihood; w e have our good n a m e "
"Yes, Mary, a n d that is everything. Don't m i n d my talkit's
iust a m o m e n t ' s irritation a n d d o e s n ' t m e a n anything. Kiss m e

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

there, it's all gone now, and I am not complaining a n y more.

What h a v e you been getting? What's in the sack?"
T h e n his wife told him the great secret. It dazed h i m for a
m o m e n t ; then he said:
"It w e i g h s a h u n d r e d a n d sixty p o u n d s ? Why, Mary, it's forty t h o u - s a n d dollarsthink of ita whole fortune! Not ten m e n
in this village are worth that m u c h . Give me the paper."
H e s k i m m e d t h r o u g h it a n d said:
"Isn't it an adventure! Why, it's a romance; it's like the
impossible things one reads about in books, a n d never sees in
life." H e w a s well stirred u p now, cheerful, even gleeful. H e
tapped his old wife on the cheek, a n d said, humorously, "Why,
w e ' r e rich, Mary, rich; all we've got to d o is to bury the m o n e y
a n d b u r n the papers. If the gambler ever comes to inquire, we'll
merely look coldly u p o n him a n d say: 'What is this n o n s e n s e
you are talking? We have never heard of you a n d your sack of
gold before'; a n d then he would look foolish, a n d "
" A n d in the meantime, while you are r u n n i n g on w i t h your
jokes, the m o n e y is still here, a n d it is fast getting along toward
burglar-time."
"True. Very well, w h a t shall w e domake the inquiry
private? N o , not that: it would spoil the romance. The public
m e t h o d is better. Think w h a t a noise it will make! A n d it will
make all the other t o w n s jealous; for no stranger w o u l d trust
such a thing to any t o w n but Hadleyburg, a n d they k n o w it. It's
a great card for us. I m u s t get to the printing-office, now, or I
shall be too late."
"But s t o p s t o p d o n ' t leave m e here alone w i t h it,
Edward!"
But h e w a s gone. For only a little while, however. Not far
from his o w n h o u s e he met the editor-proprietor of the paper,
a n d gave him the d o c u m e n t , a n d said, "Here is a good thing for
you, C o x p u t it In!"
"It m a y be too late, Mr. Richards, but I'll see."
At h o m e again he a n d his wife sat d o w n to talk the
charming mystery over; they were in n o condition for sleep. The
first question was, " W h o could the citizen have been w h o gave

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the stranger the twenty dollars?" It seemed a simple one; both

answered it in the same breath
"Barclay G o o d s o n . "
"Yes," said Richards, " h e would have d o n e it, a n d it w o u l d
have been like him, but there's not another in the t o w n . "
"Everybody will grant that, Edwardgrant it privately,
anyway. For six months, now, the village has been its o w n
proper self once morehonest, narrow, self-righteous, a n d
stingy."
"It's w h a t he always called it, to the day of his deathsaid it
right out publicly, too."
"Yes, a n d he w a s hated for it."
" O h , of course; but he didn't care. I reckon he w a s the besthated m a n a m o n g us, except the Reverend Burgess."
"Well, Burgess deserves ithe will never get a n o t h e r
congregation here. Mean as the t o w n is, it k n o w s h o w to
estimate him. Edward, doesn't it seem o d d that the stranger
should appoint Burgess to deliver the m o n e y ? "
"Well, yesit does. That isthat is"
" W h y so m u c h that-is-ing? Would you select h i m ? "
"Mary, m a y b e the stranger k n o w s him better t h a n this
village d o e s . "
" M u c h that would h e l p Burgess!"
The h u s b a n d seemed perplexed for an answer; the wife
kept a steady eye u p o n him, a n d waited. Finally Richards said,
with the hesitancy of one w h o is m a k i n g a statement w h i c h is
likely to encounter doubt,
"Mary, Burgess is not a bad m a n . "
His wife w a s certainly surprised.
" N o n s e n s e ! " she exclaimed.
" H e is not a b a d m a n . I know. The whole of his u n p o p u l a r i ty h a d its f o u n d a t i o n in that one thingthe thing that m a d e so
m u c h noise."
"That 'one thing,' indeed! As if that 'one thing' w a s n ' t
e n o u g h , all by itself."
"Plenty. Plenty. Only h e w a s n ' t guilty of it."
" H o w you talk! Not guilty of it! Everybody k n o w s h e was
guilty."

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Mary, I give you my w o r d h e w a s innocent."

"I can't believe it, and I don't. H o w d o you k n o w ? "
"It is a confession. I am a s h a m e d , but I will make it. I w a s
the only m a n w h o k n e w he w a s innocent. I could have saved
him, a n d a n d w e l l , you k n o w h o w the town w a s w r o u g h t
upI h a d n ' t the pluck to do it. It would have turned everybody
against me. I felt mean, ever so mean; but I didn't dare; I h a d n ' t
the manliness to face that."
Mary looked troubled, a n d for a while w a s silent. T h e n she
said, stammeringly:
"II d o n ' t think it would have d o n e for you totoOne
mustn'terpublic opinionone has to be so carefulso" It
w a s a difficult road, a n d she got mired; but after a little she got
started again. "It w a s a great pity, butWhy, we couldn't afford
it, E d w a r d w e couldn't indeed. O h , I w o u l d n ' t have h a d you
d o it for anything!"
"It w o u l d have lost us the good-will of so m a n y people,
Mary; a n d t h e n a n d t h e n "
" W h a t troubles m e n o w is, w h a t he thinks of us, E d w a r d . "
" H e ? He doesn't suspect that I could have saved h i m . "
" O h , " exclaimed the wife, in a tone of relief, "I a m glad of
that. As long as h e doesn't k n o w that you could have saved him,
hehewell, that makes it a great deal better. Why, I might
have k n o w n h e didn't know, because h e is always trying to be
friendly w i t h us, as little e n c o u r a g e m e n t as we'give him. More
t h a n once people have twitted m e with it. There's the Wilsons,
a n d the Wilcoxes, a n d the Harknesses, they have a m e a n
pleasure in saying, 'Your friend Burgess," because they k n o w it
pesters me. I wish h e w o u l d n ' t persist in liking us so; I can't
think w h y h e k e e p s it u p . "
"I can explain it. It's a n o t h e r confession. W h e n the thing
w a s n e w a n d hot, a n d the t o w n m a d e a plan to ride h i m on a
rail, m y conscience hurt me so that I couldn't stand it, a n d I
w e n t privately a n d gave him notice, a n d he got out of t h e t o w n
a n d staid o u t till it w a s safe to come back."
" E d w a r d ! If the t o w n h a d f o u n d it o u t "
"Don't! It scares m e yet, to think of it. I r e p e n t e d of it the
m i n u t e it w a s done; and I was even afraid to tell you, lest your

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face might betray it to somebody. I didn't sleep any that night,

for worrying. But after a few days I saw that no one w a s going to
suspect me, a n d after that I got to feeling glad I did it. A n d I feel
glad yet, Maryglad through a n d t h r o u g h . "
"So d o I, now, for it would have been a dreadful w a y to
treat him. Yes, I'm glad; for really you did owe him that, you
know. But, Edward, s u p p o s e it should come out yet, some day!"
"It w o n ' t . "
"Why?"
"Because everybody thinks it w a s G o o d s o n . "
"Of course they would!"
"Certainly. And of course he didn't care. They p e r s u a d e d
poor old Sawlsberry to go a n d charge it on him, and he w e n t
blustering over there and did it. G o o d s o n looked him over, like
as if h e w a s h u n t i n g for a place on him that he could despise the
most, t h e n h e says, 'So you are the Committee of Inquiry, are
you?' Sawlsberry said that w a s about w h a t he was. ' H m . Do
they require particulars, or d o you reckon a kind of a general
answer will do?' 'If they require particulars, I will come back,
Mr. Goodson; I will take the general answer first,' 'Very well,
then, tell t h e m to go to hellI reckon that's general e n o u g h .
And I'll give you some advice, Sawlsberry; w h e n you come back
for the particulars, fetch a basket to carry the relics of yourself
home in.'"
"Just like Goodson; it's got all the marks. He h a d only o n e
vanity: he t h o u g h t he could give advice better than any other
person."
"It settled the business, and saved us, Mary. The subject
was d r o p p e d . "
"Bless you, I'm not doubting that."
Then they took u p the gold-sack mystery again, with strong
interest. Soon the conversation began to suffer breaksinterruptions caused by absorbed thinkings. The breaks grew more
and more frequent. At last Richards lost himself wholly in
thought. H e sat long, gazing vacantly at the floor, and by and by
he began to punctuate his t h o u g h t s with little nervous movements of his h a n d s that seemed to indicate vexation. Meantime
his wife too h a d relapsed into a thoughtful silence, a n d her

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

m o v e m e n t s were beginning to s h o w a troubled discomfort.

Finally Richards got u p and strode aimlessly about the room,
plowing his h a n d s through his hair, much as a s o m n a m b u l i s t
might d o w h o was having a bad d r e a m . Then he s e e m e d to
arrive at a definite purpose; a n d without a word he p u t on his
hat and passed quickly out of the house. His wife sat brooding,
with a d r a w n face, and did not seem to be aware that she w a s
alone. N o w and then she m u r m u r e d , "Lead us not into t
. . . b u t b u t w e are so poor, so poor! . . . Lead u s not
into . . . Ah, w h o would be hurt by it?and no o n e w o u l d
ever k n o w . . . Lead us . . / ' The voice died out in m u m blings. After a little she glanced u p a n d muttered in a halffrightened, half-glad way
" H e is gone! But, oh dear, he may be too latetoo
late . . . Maybe notmaybe there is still time." She rose a n d
stood thinking, nervously clasping and unclasping her h a n d s . A
slight s h u d d e r shook her frame, a n d she said, out of a dry
throat, "God forgive meit's a w f u l to think such things
but . . . Lord, how we are m a d e h o w strangely w e are
made!"
She t u r n e d the light low, a n d slipped stealthily over a n d
kneeled d o w n by the sack a n d felt of it ridgy sides with her
h a n d s , a n d fondled them lovingly; and there was a gloating
light in her poor old eyes. She fell into fits of absence; a n d came
half out of therrf at times to mutter, "If w e had only waited!oh,
if we h a d only waited a little, a n d not been in such a hurry!"
Meantime Cox had gone h o m e from his office a n d told his
wife all about the strange things that had h a p p e n e d , a n d they
had talked it over eagerly, and guessed that the late G o o d s o n
w a s the only man in the town w h o could have helped a
suffering stranger with so noble a s u m as twenty dollars. Then
there w a s a pause, and the two became thoughtful a n d silent.
A n d by a n d by nervous and fidgety. At last the wife said, as if to
herself,
" N o b o d y k n o w s this secret but the Richardses . . . a n d
us . . . nobody."
The h u s b a n d came out of his thinkings with a slight start,
a n d gazed wistfully at his wife, w h o s e face was become very

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pale; then he hesitatingly rose, a n d glanced furtively at his hat,

then at his wifea sort of m u t e inquiry. Mrs. Cox swallowed
once or twice, with her h a n d at her throat, then in place of
speech she n o d d e d her head. In a m o m e n t she w a s alone, a n d
m u m b l i n g to herself.
A n d now Richards a n d Cox were hurrying t h r o u g h the
deserted streets, from opposite directions. They met, panting, at
the foot of the printing-office stairs; by the night-light there they
read each other's face. Cox whispered,
" N o b o d y k n o w s about this but us?"
The whispered answer was,
"Not a soulon honor, not a soul!"
"If it isn't too late to"
The m e n were starting up-stairs; at this m o m e n t they w e r e
overtaken by a boy, and Cox asked,
"Is that you, Johnny?"
"Yes, sir."
"You needn't ship the early mailnor any mail; wait till I tell
you."
"It's already gone, sir."
"Cone?" It h a d the s o u n d of an unspeakable disappointm e n t in it.
"Yes, sir. Time-table for Brixton a n d all the t o w n s b e y o n d
changed to-day, sirhad to get the papers in twenty m i n u t e s
earlier than common. I h a d to rush; if I had been two m i n u t e s
later'
The m e n turned a n d walked slowly away, not waiting to
hear the rest. Neither of t h e m spoke during ten minutes; t h e n
Cox said, in a vexed tone,
"What possessed you to be in such a hurry, I can't make
out."
The answer was humble enough:
"I see it now, but s o m e h o w I never thought, you know,
until it w a s too late. But the next time"
"Next time be hanged! It won't come in a t h o u s a n d years."
Then the friends separated without a good-night, a n d
dragged themselves h o m e with the gait of mortally stricken
men. At their homes their wives sprang u p with an eager

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"Well?"then s a w t h e a n s w e r w i t h their eyes a n d s a n k d o w n

sorrowing, w i t h o u t waiting for it to c o m e in w o r d s . In b o t h
h o u s e s a discussion followed of a h e a t e d sorta n e w thing;
there h a d b e e n discussions before, b u t n o t h e a t e d o n e s , n o t
u n g e n t l e o n e s . The discussions t o n i g h t w e r e a sort of s e e m i n g
plagiarisms of each other. Mrs. Richard said,
"If y o u h a d only waited, Edwardif you h a d only s t o p p e d
to think; b u t n o , you m u s t r u n straight to the printing-office a n d
spread it all over the w o r l d . "
"It said publish it."
"That is n o t h i n g ; it also said d o it privately, if y o u liked.
There, n o w i s that true, or not?"
"Why, yesyes, it is true; b u t w h e n I t h o u g h t w h a t a stir it
w o u l d m a k e , a n d w h a t a c o m p l i m e n t it w a s to H a d l e y b u r g that
a stranger s h o u l d trust it so"
" O h , certainly, I k n o w all that; b u t if you h a d only s t o p p e d
to think, y o u w o u l d have seen that y o u couldn't find the right
m a n , b e c a u s e h e is in his grave, a n d h a s n ' t left chick n o r child
nor relation b e h i n d him; a n d as long as the m o n e y w e n t to
s o m e b o d y that awfully n e e d e d it, a n d n o b o d y w o u l d be h u r t by
it, a n d a n d "
She b r o k e d o w n crying. Her h u s b a n d tried to think of s o m e
c o m f o r t i n g t h i n g to say, a n d p r p e s e n t l y came o u t with this:
"But after all, Mary, it m u s t be for t h e bestit must be; w e
k n o w that. A n d w e m u s t r e m e m b e r that it w a s so o r d e r e d "
" O r d e r e d ! O h , everything's ordered, w h e n a p e r s o n h a s to
find s o m e w a y o u t w h e n h e h a s b e e n s t u p i d . Just t h e s a m e , it
w a s ordered that t h e m o n e y s h o u l d c o m e to u s in this special
way, a n d it w a s y o u that m u s t take it on yourself to go m e d d l i n g
w i t h the d e s i g n s of P r o v i d e n c e a n d w h o gave y o u the right? It
w a s wicked, t h a t is w h a t is w a s j u s t b l a s p h e m o u s p r e s u m p tion, a n d n o m o r e becoming to a m e e k a n d h u m b l e p r o f e s s o r
of"
"But, Mary, you k n o w h o w w e h a v e b e e n trained all o u r
livei long, like the w h o l e village, till it is absolutely s e c o n d
n a t u r e to u s to stop not a single m o m e n t to think w h e n there's
an h o n e s t t h i n g to be d o n e "
" O h , I k n o w it, I k n o w itit's been o n e everlasting training

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a n d training a n d training in h o n e s t y h o n e s t y s h i e l d e d , f r o m
th'e very cradle, against every possible t e m p t a t i o n , a n d so it's
artificial honesty, a n d w e a k as w a t e r w h e n t e m p t a t i o n c o m e s , as
w e h a v e seen this night. G o d k n o w s I never h a d s h a d e n o r
s h a d o w of a d o u b t of my petrified a n d indestructible h o n e s t y
until n o w a n d now, u n d e r the very first big a n d real t e m p t a tion, I E d w a r d , it is m y belief that this town's h o n e s t y is as
rotten a s m i n e is; as rotten as y o u r s is. It is a m e a n t o w n , a h a r d ,
stingy t o w n , a n d hasn't a virtue in the world but this h o n e s t y it
is so celebrated for a n d so conceited about; a n d so h e l p m e , I d o
believe that if ever the day comes that its h o n e s t y falls u n d e r
great t e m p t a t i o n , its g r a n d r e p u t a t i o n will go to ruin like a
h o u s e of cards. There, now, I've m a d e confession, a n d I feel
better; I am a h u m b u g , a n d I've b e e n o n e all m y life, w i t h o u t
k n o w i n g it. Let n o m a n call m e h o n e s t againI will not h a v e it."
"Iwell, Mary, I feel a good deal as you do; I certainly do. It
s e e m s strange, too, so strange. I never could have believed it
never."
A long silence followed; both w e r e s u n k in t h o u g h t . At last
the wife looked u p a n d said,
"I k n o w w h a t you are thinking, E d w a r d . "
Richards h a d the e m b a r r a s s e d look of a person w h o is
caught.
"I am a s h a m e d to confess it, Mary, b u t "
"It's n o matter, E d w a r d , I w a s thinking the s a m e question
myself."
"I h o p e so. State it."
"You w e r e thinking, if a body could only g u e s s out what the
remark was that G o o d s o n m a d e to the stranger.
"It's perfectly true. I feel guilty a n d a s h a m e d . A n d y o u 7 "
"I m past it. Let us m a k e a pallet here, w e ' v e got to stand
w a t c h till the bank vault o p e n s in the m o r n i n g a n d a d m i t s the
sack . . . O h dear, oh dearif w e h a d n ' t m a d e the mistake!"
T h e pallet w a s m a d e , a n d Mary said:
" T h e o p e n s e s a m e w h a t could it have been? I d o w o n d e r
w h a t that remark could h a v e been? But come; we will get to bed
now."
" A n d sleep?"

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

"No: think."
"Yes, t h i n k . "
By this time the Coxes too had completed their spat a n d
their reconciliation, a n d were turning into think, to think, a n d
toss, a n d fret, a n d worry over w h a t the remark could possibly
have been which Goodson m a d e to the stranded derelict; that
golden remark; that remark worth forty t h o u s a n d dollars, cash.
The reason that the village telegraph office was o p e n later
than usual that night was this: The foreman of Cox's p a p e r w a s
the local representative of the Associated Press. O n e might say
its honorary representative, for it wasn't four times a year that
he could furnish thirty words that would be accepted. But this
time it w a s different. His dispatch stating w h a t h e h a d caught
got an instant answer:
Send the whole thingall the detailstwelve
words.

hundred

A colossal order! the foreman filled the bill; and h e w a s the

proudest m a n in the State. By breakfast-time the next m o r n i n g
the n a m e of Hadleyburg the Incorruptible w a s on every lip in
America, from Montreal to the Gulf, from the glaciers of Alaska
to the orange-groves of Florida; and millions a n d millions of
people were discussing the stranger and his money-sack, a n d
w o n d e r i n g if the right m a n would be f o u n d , and h o p i n g some
more n e w s about the matter would come soonright away.
II
H a d l e y b u r g village w o k e u p world-celebratedastonishedhappyvain. Vain beyond imagination. Its nineteen
principal citizens a n d their wives w e n t about shaking h a n d s
with each other, and beaming, and smiling, and congratulating,
and saying this thing adds a n e w word to the dictionary
Hadleyburg, s y n o n y m for incorruptibledestined
to live in dictionaries forever! A n d the minor and unimportant citizens a n d
their wives w e n t around acting in m u c h the same way. Everybody ran to the bank to see the gold-sack; and before n o o n
grieved a n d envious crowds began to flock in from Brixton a n d

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all neighboring towns; and that afternoon a n d next day reporters began to arrive from e v e r y w h e r e to verify the sack a n d its
history a n d write the whole thing u p anew, and m a k e d a s h i n g
tree-hand pictures of the sack, a n d of Richards's house, a n d the
bank, and the Presbyterian church, a n d the Baptist church, a n d
the public square, and the town-hall w h e r e the test w o u l d be
applied a n d the money delivered; a n d damnable portraits of the
Richardses, a n d Pinkerton the banker, a n d Cox, a n d the
foreman, and Reverend Burgess, a n d the postmasterand even
of Jack Halliday, w h o w a s t h e loafing, good-natured, noaccount, irreverent fisherman, tiunter, boys' friend, stray-dogs'
friend, typical "Sam Lawson" of the town. The little m e a n ,
smirking, oily Pinkerton s h o w e d the sack to all comers, a n d
rubbed his sleek palms together pleasantly, and enlarged u p o n
the town's fine old reputation for honesty and u p o n this
wonderful e n d o r s e m e n t of it, and hoped and believed that the
example would now spread far and wide over the American
world, and be epoch-making in the matter of moral regeneration. And so on, and so on.
By the end of the week things had quieted d o w n again; the
wild intoxication of pride and joy had sobered to a soft, sweet,
silent delighta sort of deep, nameless, unutterable content.
All faces bore a look of peaceful, holy happiness.
Then a change came. It was a gradual change; so gradual
that its beginnings were hardly noticed; maybe were not noticed
at all, except by Jack Halliday, w h o always noticed everything;
and always m a d e f u n of it, too, no matter w h a t it was. H e began
fo throw out chaffing remarks about people not looking quite so
happy as they did a day or two ago; a n d next he claimed that the
new aspect w a s deepening to positive sadness; next, that it w a s
taking on a sick look; and finally he said that everybody w a s
become so moody, thoughtful, and absent-minded that he could
rob the meanest man in town of a cent out of the bottom of his
"reeches pocket and not disturb his revery.
At this stageor at about this stagea saying like this w a s
dropped at bedtimewith a sigh, usuallyby the head of each
the nineteen principal households: "Ah, w h a t could have been
;v
ie remark that Goodson made?"

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I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

A n d straightwaywith a s h u d d e r c a m e this, f r o m the

man's wife:
" O h , don'tl What horrible thing are you mulling in your
mind? Put it away from you, for God's sake!"
But that question was w r u n g from those men again the next
nightand got the same retort. But weaker.
A n d the third night the m e n uttered the question yet
againwith anguish, and absently. This timeand the following nightthe wives fidgeted feebly, a n d tried to say something.
But didn't.
A n d the night after that they f o u n d their t o n g u e s a n d
respondedlongingly,
" O h , if w e could only guess!"
Halliday's comments grew daily more a n d more sparklingly
disagreeable a n d disparaging. He w e n t diligently about, laughing at the town, individually and in mass. But his laugh w a s the
only one left in the village: it fell u p o n a hollow and m o u r n f u l
vacancy a n d emptiness. Not even a smile was findable anywhere. Halliday carried a cigar-box around on a tripod, playing
that it w a s a camera, and halted all passers and aimed the thing
a n d said, "Ready!now look pleasant, please," but not even
this capital joke could surprise the dreary faces into any
softening.
So three weeks passedone week w a s left. It was Saturday
eveningafter supper. Instead of the aforetime Saturdayevening flutter a n d bustle a n d s h o p p i n g and larking, the streets
were e m p t y a n d desolate. Richards a n d his old wife sat apart in
their little parlormiserable a n d thinking. This was become
their evening habit now: the lifelong habit which had preceded
it, of reading, knitting, and contented chat, or receiving or
paying neighborly calls, w a s d e a d a n d gone a n d forgotten, ages
agotwo or three weeks ago; nobody talked now, nobody read,
nobody visitedthe whole village sat at home, sighing, worrying, silent. Trying to guess out that remark.
The p o s t m a n left a letter. Richards glanced listlessly at the
superscription a n d the postmarkunfamiliar, bothand tossed
the letter o n the table and r e s u m e d his might-have-beens a n d
his hopeless dull miseries w h e r e he had left t h e m off. Two or

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three h o u r s later his wife got wearily u p a n d was going a w a y to

bed wihtout a good-nightcustom n o w b u t she s t o p p e d near
the letter a n d eyed it awhile with a d e a d interest, then broke it
open, a n d began to skim it over. Richards, sitting there with his
chair tilted back against the wall a n d his chin between his knees,
heard something fall. It w a s his wife. He sprang to hef side, b u t
she cried out:
"Leave me alone, I am too happy. Read the letterread it!"
H e did. He d e v o u r e d it, his brain reeling. The letter w a s
from a distant State, a n d it said:
"I am a stranger to you, b u t n o matter: I have s o m e t h i n g to
tell. I have just arrived h o m e from Mexico, a n d learned
about that episode. Of course you do not k n o w w h o m a d e
that remark, but I know, a n d I am the only person living
w h o does know. It w a s G O O D S O N . I k n e w him well, m a n y
years ago. I passed t h r o u g h your village that very night,
a n d w a s his guest till the midnight train came along. I
overheard him make that remark to the stranger in the
darkit was in Hale Alley. H e a n d I talked of it the rest of
the way h o m e , a n d while smoking in his h o u s e . H e
m e n t i o n e d m a n y of your villagers in the course of his talk
m o s t of t h e m in a very u n c o m p l i m e n t a r y way, but t w o or
three favorably; a m o n g these latter yourself. I say 'favorably'nothing stronger. I r e m e m b e r his saying h e did not
actually LIKE any person in the t o w n n o t one; b u t that
youI THINK he said y o u a m almost surehad d o n e him
a very great service once, possibly without k n o w i n g the full
value of it, a n d he w i s h e d h e h a d a fortune, h e w o u l d leave
it to you w h e n he died, a n d a curse apiece for t h e rest of t h e
citizens. Now, then, if it w a s you that did him that service,
you are his legitimate heir, a n d entitled to the sack of gold. I
k n o w that I can trust to your h o n o r a n d honesty, for in a
citizen of Hadleyburg these virtues are an unfailing inheritance, a n d so I a m going to reveal to you the remark, well
satisfied that if you are not the right m a n you will seek a n d
find the right o n e a n d see that poor Goodson's debt of

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gratitude for the service referred to is paid. This is the

r e m a r k : 'You ARE FAR FROM BEING A BAD MAN: GO A N D
REFORM.'

" H o w a r d L. S t e p h e n s o n . "
" O h , Edward, the money is ours, a n d I am so grateful, oh,
so grartefulkiss me, dear, it's forever since w e kissedand w e
n e e d e d it sothe moneyand n o w you are free of Pinkerton
a n d his bank, a n d nobody's slave any more; it seems to m e I
could fly for joy."
It w a s a h a p p y half-hour that the couple spent there o n the
settee caressing each other; it w a s the old days come again
days that h a d b e g u n with their courtship a n d lasted w i t h o u t a
break till the stranger brought the deadly money. By a n d by the
wife said:
" O h , Edward, h o w lucky it w a s you did him that grand
service, poor Goodson! I never liked him, but I love h i m now.
A n d it w a s fine a n d beautiful of you never to mention it or brag
about it." Then, with a touch of reproach, "But you o u g h t to
have told me, Edward, you ought to have told your wife, you
know."
"Well, Ierwell, Mary, you see"
" N o w stop h e m m i n g a n d hawing, a n d tell m e about it,
Edward. I always loved you, a n d n o w I'm p r o u d of you.
Everybody believes there was only one good generous soul in
this village, a n d n o w it t u r n s out that youEdward, w h y don't
you tell m e ? "
"WellererWhy, Mary, I can't!"
"You can't? Why can't you?"
"You see, hewell, hehe m a d e me promise I w o u l d n ' t . "
T h e wife looked him over, a n d said, very slowly,
"Madeyoupromise? Edward, w h a t d o you tell m e that
for?"
"Mary, d o you think I would lie?"
She w a s troubled and silent for a m o m e n t , then s h e laid her
h a n d within his a n d said:
" N o . . . no. We have w a n d e r e d far e n o u g h f r o m our
bearingsGod spare us that! In all you life you have never

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uttered a lie. But n o w n o w that the f o u n d a t i o n s of t h i n g s s e e m

to be crumbling from u n d e r us, w e w e " She lost her voice
for a m o m e n t , then said, brokenly, "lead us n o t into temptation . . . I think you m a d e the promise, E d w a r d . Let it rest so.
Let us k e e p a w a y from that g r o u n d . N o w t h a t is all g o n e by;
iet us be h a p p y again; it is n o time for clouds."
E d w a r d f o u n d it s o m e t h i n g of an effort to comply, for his
mind k e p t w a n d e r i n g t r y i n g to r e m e m b e r w h a t the service
was that he h a d d o n e G o o d s o n .
The couple lay a w a k e the m o s t of the night, M a r y h a p p y
a n d busy, E d w a r d busy b u t not so happy. Mary w a s p l a n n i n g
w h a t s h e w o u l d d o with the money. E d w a r d w a s trying to recall
that service. At first his conscience w a s sore on account of the lie
he h a d told Maryif it w a s a lie. After m u c h reflection
s u p p o s e it was a lie? W h a t t h e n ? Was it such a great matter?
Aren't w e always acting lies? T h e n w h y not tell t h e m ? Look at
Marylook w h a t she h a d d o n e . While h e w a s h u r r y i n g off o n
his h o n e s t e r r a n d , w h a t w a s she doing? L a m e n t i n g b e c a u s e the
p a p e r s h a d n ' t been d e s t r o y e d a n d the m o n e y kept! Is theft
better t h a n lying?
That point lost its stingthe lie d r o p p e d into the backg r o u n d a n d left comfort b e h i n d it. The next point c a m e to the
front: Had he r e n d e r e d that service? Well, here w a s G o o d s o n ' s
o w n evidence as reported in S t e p h e n s o n ' s letter, there could be
no better evidence t h a n thatit w a s even proof that h e h a d
r e n d e r e d it. Of course. So that point w a s settled . . . N o , n o t
quite. H e recalled with a w i n c e that his u n k n o w n Mr. S t e p h e n son w a s just a trifle u n s u r e a s to w h e t h e r the p e r f o r m e r of it w a s
Richards or s o m e o t h e r a n d , o h dear, he h a d p u t Richards o n
his h o n o r ! H e m u s t himself decide w h i t h e r that m o n e y m u s t
g o a n d Mr. S t e p h e n s o n w a s not d o u b t i n g that if h e w a s the
w r o n g m a n he w o u l d go h o n o r a b l y a n d find the right o n e . O h ,
it w a s o d i o u s to p u t a m a n in such a situationah, w h y c o u l d n ' t
S t e p h e n s o n have left out that doubt! W h a t did he w a n t to
i n t r u d e that for?
Further reflection. H o w did it h a p p e n that Richards's n a m e
r e m a i n e d in S t e p h e n s o n ' s m i n d as indicating the right m a n , a n d
not s o m e other man's n a m e ? That looked good. Yes, that looked

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very good. In fact, it w e n t on looking better and better, straight

alonguntil by a n d by it grew into positive proof. A n d then
Richards p u t the matter at once out of his mind, for h e h a d a
private instinct that a proof once established is better left so.
H e w a s feeling reasonably comfortable now, but there w a s
still one other detail that kept p u s h i n g itself on his notice: of
course he h a d d o n e that servicethat w a s settled; but w h a t was
that service? H e m u s t recall ithe would not go to sleep till he
had recalled it; it would make his peace of mind perfect. A n d so
he t h o u g h t a n d thought. H e t h o u g h t of a dozen things
possible services, even probable servicesbut n o n e of t h e m
seemed adequate, n o n e of them seemed large e n o u g h , n o n e of
t h e m seemed worth the m o n e y w o r t h the fortune G o o d s o n
had w i s h e d he could leave in his will. A n d besides, he couldn't
r e m e m b e r having d o n e them, anyway. Now, thennow, t h e n
w h a t kind of a service would it be that would make a m a n so
inordinately grateful? Ahthe saving of his soul! That m u s t be
it. Yes, h e could remember, now, h o w he once set himself the
task of converting Goodson, a n d labored at it as m u c h ashe
w a s going to say three months; but u p o n closer examination it
s h r u n k to a m o n t h , then to a week, then to a day, t h e n to
n o t h i n g . Yes, he r e m e m b e r e d now, a n d with u n w e l c o m e
vividness, that Goodson had told him to go to t h u n d e r a n d
m i n d his o w n businesshe wasn't hankering to follow Hadleyburg to heaven!
So that solution was a failurehe h a d n ' t saved Goodson's
soul. Richards w a s discouraged. Then after a little came a n o t h e r
idea: h a d he saved Goodson's property? No, that w o u l d n ' t do
he h a d n ' t any. His life? That is it! Of course. Why, he might have
t h o u g h t of it before. This time he w a s on the right track, sure.
His imagination-mill was hard at work in a minute, now.
Thereafter during a stretch of two exhausting h o u r s he w a s
busy saving Goodson's life. He saved it in all kinds of difficult
a n d perilous ways. In every case he got it saved satisfactorily u p
to a certain point; then, just as he w a s beginning to get well
p e r s u a d e d that it had really h a p p e n e d , a troublesome detail
would turn u p which m a d e the whole thing impossible. As in
the matter of d r o w n i n g , for instance. In that case he h a d s w u m

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out a n d t u g g e d G o o d s o n a s h o r e in a n u n c o n s c i o u s state w i t h a
great c r o w d looking o n a n d a p p l a u d i n g , b u t w h e n h e h a d got it
all t h o u g h t out a n d w a s just b e g i n n i n g to r e m e m b e r all a b o u t it,
a w h o l e s w a r m of disqualifying details arrived on t h e g r o u n d ;
the t o w n w o u l d h a v e k n o w n of the circumstance, M a r y w o u l d
have k n o w n of it, it w o u l d glare like a limelight in his o w n
m e m o r y instead of being a n i n c o n s p i c u o u s service w h i c h h e h a d
possibly r e n d e r e d " w i t h o u t k n o w i n g its full v a l u e . " A n d at this
point h e r e m e m b e r e d that h e couldn't swim, anyway.
Ahthere w a s a point w h i c h h e h a d b e e n overlooking f r o m
the start: it h a d to be a service w h i c h h e h a d r e n d e r e d "possibly
w i t h o u t k n o w i n g the full v a l u e of it." Why, really, that o u g h t to
be a n easy h u n t m u c h easier t h a n those others. A n d s u r e
e n o u g h , by a n d by h e f o u n d it. G o o d s o n , years a n d years ago,
came near m a r r y i n g a very s w e e t a n d pretty girl, n a m e d N a n c y
Hewitt, b u t in s o m e w a y or o t h e r t h e match h a d b e e n b r o k e n
off; t h e girl died; G o o d s o n r e m a i n e d a bachelor, a n d by a n d by
oecame a s o u r e d one a n d a f r a n k despiser of t h e h u m a n species.
Soon after the girl's d e a t h t h e village f o u n d out, or t h o u g h t it
had f o u n d out, that she carried a s p o o n f u l of n e g r o blood in her
veins. Richards w o r k e d at t h e s e details a good while, a n d in t h e
e n d h e t h o u g h t he r e m e m b e r e d t h i n g s c o n c e r n i n g t h e m w h i c h
must h a v e gotten mislaid in his m e m o r y t h r o u g h long neglect.
He s e e m e d to dimly r e m e m b e r that it w a s he that f o u n d o u t
a b o u t the n e g r o blood; that it w a s h e that told the village; that
:he village told G o o d s o n w h e r e t h e y got it; that he t h u s saved
G o o d s o n f r o m m a r r y i n g the tainted girl; that he h a d d o n e h i m
this great service " w i t h o u t k n o w i n g the full value of it," in fact
w i t h o u t k n o w i n g that h e was d o i n g it; b u t that G o o d s o n k n e w
the value of it, a n d w h a t a n a r r o w escape he h a d h a d , a n d so
-vent to his grave grateful to his b e n e f a c t o r a n d w i s h i n g h e h a d a
f o r t u n e to leave him. It w a s all clear a n d simple now, a n d t h e
more h e w e n t over it the m o r e l u m i n o u s a n d certain it g r e w ; a n d
at last, w h e n he nestled to sleep satisfied a n d happy, h e
r e m e m b e r e d the w h o l e t h i n g just as if it h a d b e e n yesterday. In
tact, he dimly r e m e m b e r e d G o o d s o n ' s telling him his g r a t i t u d e
once. M e a n t i m e Mary h a d s p e n t six t h o u s a n d dollars o n a n e w

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house for herself and a pair of slippers for her pastor, a n d t h e n

h a d fallen peacefully to rest.
That same Saturday evening the p o s t m a n had delivered a
letter to each of the other principal citizensnineteen letters in
all. N o two of the envelopes were alike, and no t w o of the
superscriptions were in the same h a n d , but the letters inside
were just like each other in every detail but one. They w e r e exact
copies of the letter received by Richardshandwriting a n d all
a n d w e r e all signed by Stephenson, but in place of Richards's
n a m e each receiver's o w n n a m e a p p e a r e d .
All n i g h t j o n g eighteen principal citizens did w h a t their
caste-brother Richards was doing at the same timethey p u t in
their energies trying to r e m e m b e r w h a t notable service it was
that they h a d unconsciously d o n e Barclay Goodson. In no case
w a s it a holiday job; still they succeeded.
A n d while they were at this work, which was difficult, their
wives p u t in the night s p e n d i n g the money, which w a s easy.
During that one night the nineteen wives spent an average of
seven t h o u s a n d dollars each out of the forty t h o u s a n d in the
sacka h u n d r e d a n d thirty-three t h o u s a n d altogether.
Next day there was a surprise for jack Halliday. H e noticed
that the faces of the nineteen chief citizens and their wives bore
that expression of peaceful a n d holy h a p p i n e s s again. H e could
not u n d e r s t a n d it, neither w a s he able to invent any remarks
about it that could d a m a g e it or disturb it. A n d so it w a s his
turn to be dissatisfied with life. His private guesses at the
reasons for the h a p p i n e s s failed in all instances, u p o n examination. W h e n h e met Mrs. Wilcox a n d noticed the placid ecstasy in
her face, h e said to himself, "Her cat has had kittens"and
w e n t a n d asked the cook: but it w a s not so; the cook h a d
detected the happiness, but did not k n o w the cause. W h e n
Halliday f o u n d the duplicate ecstasy in the face of "Shadbelly"
Billson (village nickname), h e w a s sure some neighbor of
Billson's h a d broken his leg, but inquiry showed that this h a d
not h a p p e n e d . The s u b d u e d ecstasy in Gregory Yates's face
could m e a n b u t one thinghe w a s a mother-in-law short: it w a s
another mistake. " A n d PinkertonPinkertonhe has collected
ten cents that he t h o u g h t he w a s going to lose." A n d so on, a n d

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so on. In some cases the guesses h a d to remain in doubt, in the

others they proved distinct errors. In the e n d Halliday said to
himself, " A n y w a y it foots u p that there's nineteen Hadleyburg
families temporarily in heaven: I don't k n o w h o w it h a p p e n e d ; I
only k n o w Providence is off d u t y today."
An architect a n d builder f r o m the next State h a d lately
v e n t u r e d to set u p a small business in this u n p r o m i s i n g village,
a n d his sign h a d n o w been h a n g i n g out a week. Not a customer
yet; he w a s a discouraged m a n , a n d sorry he h a d come. But his
w e a t h e r changed s u d d e n l y now. First one a n d t h e n a n o t h e r
chief citizen's wife said to him privately:
" C o m e to my house M o n d a y weekbut say n o t h i n g about
it for the present. We think of building."
H e got eleven invitations that day. That night h e wrote his
d a u g h t e r a n d broke off her match with her student. H e said she
could marry a mile higher t h a n that.
Pinkerton the banker a n d t w o or three other well-to-do m e n
p l a n n e d country-seatsbut waited. That kind don't count their
chickens until they are hatched.
The Wilsons devised a grand n e w thinga fancy-dress ball.
They m a d e n o actual promises, but told all their acquaintanceship in confidence that they were thinking the matter over
a n d t h o u g h t they should give it"and if we do, you will be
invited, of course." People were surprised, a n d said, one to
another, " W h y they are crazy, those poor Wilsons, they can't
afford it." Several a m o n g the nineteen said privately to their
h u s b a n d s , "It is a good idea: w e will keep still till their c h e a p
thing is over, then we will give one that will m a k e it sick."
The days drifted along, a n d the bill of future s q u a n d e r i n g s
rose higher a n d higher, wilder a n d wilder, more a n d more
foolish a n d reckless. It began to look as if every m e m b e r of the
nineteen w o u l d not only s p e n d his whole forty t h o u s a n d dollars
before receiving-day, but be actually in debt by the time he got
the money. In some cases light-headed people did not' stop with
planning to s p e n d , they really spenton credit. They b o u g h t
land, mortgages, farms, speculative stocks, fine clothes, horses,
a n d various other things, paid d o w n the bonus, a n d m a d e
themselves liable for the restat ten days. Presently the sober

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second t h o u g h t came, a n d Halliday noticed that a ghastly

anxiety w a s beginning to s h o w u p in a good many faces. Again
he w a s puzzled, and didn't k n o w w h a t to make of it. "The
Wilcox kittens aren't dead, for they weren't born; nobody's
broken a leg; there's no shrinkage in mother-in-laws; nothing has
h a p p e n e d i t is an unsolvable mystery."
There w a s another puzzled m a n , toothe Rev. Mr. Burgess. For days, wherever he went, people seemed to follow him
or to be watching out for him; a n d if he ever f o u n d himself in a
retired spot, a m e m b e r of the nineteen would be sure to appear,
thrust an envelope privately into his h a n d , w h i s p e r "To be
o p e n e d at the town-hall Friday e v e n i n g , " then vanish a w a y like
a guilty thing. He was expecting that there might be one
claimant for the sack,doubtful, however, G o o d s o n being
d e a d , b u t it never occurred to him that all this crowd might be
claimants. W h e n the great Friday came at last, he f o u n d that he
h a d nineteen envelopes.
Ill
The towr.-hall h a d never looked finer. The platform at the
e n d of it w a s backed by a s h o w y d r a p i n g of flags; at intervals
along the walls w e r e festoons of flags; the gallery fronts were
clothed in flags; the s u p p o r t i n g columns were s w a t h e d in flags;
all this w a s to impress the stranger, for he would be there in
considerable force, a n d in a large degree he would be connected
with the press. The house w a s full. The 412 fixed seats were
occupied; also the 68 extra chairs which had been packed into
the aisles; the steps of the platform were occupied; some
distinguished strangers were given seats on the platform, at the
h o r s e s h o e of tables which fenced the front and sides of the
platform sat a strong force of special correspondents w h o h a d
come f r o m everywhere. It was the best-dressed house the t o w n
h a d ever p r o d u c e d . There were some tolerably expensive toilets
there, a n d in several cases the ladies w h o wore t h e m h a d the
look of b e i n g unfamiliar with that kind of clothes. At least the
town t h o u g h t they had that look, but the notion could have
arisen f r o m the town's knowledge of the tact thai these ladies
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The gold-sack stood on a little table at the front of the

platform w h e r e all the house could see it. The bulk of the h o u s e
gazed at it with a burning interest, a mouth-watering interest, a
wistful a n d pathetic interest; a minority of nineteen couples
gazed at it tenderly, lovingly, proprietarily, a n d the male half of
;his minority kept saying over to themselves the moving little
i m p r o m p t u speeches of t h a n k f u l n e s s for the audience's applause a n d congratulations which they were presently going to
get u p a n d deliver. Every n o w a n d then one of these got a piece
of p a p e r out of his vest pocket a n d privately glanced at it to
refresh his memory.
Of course there was a b u z z of conversation going onthere
always is; but at last w h e n the Rev. Mr. Burgess rose a n d laid his
l a n d o n the sack he could hear his microbes gnaw, the place
vas so still. H e related the curious history of the sack, then w e n t
on to speak in w a r m terms of Hadleyburg's old a n d well-earned
reputation for spotless honesty, a n d of the town's pride in this
r
e p u t a t i o n . H e said that this reputation w a s a treasure of
priceless value; that u n d e r Providence its value h a d n o w
become inestimably e n h a n c e d , for the recent episode h a d
spread this fame far and wide, a n d t h u s had focused the eyes or
the American world u p o n this village, and m a d e its n a m e for all
time, as he h o p e d and believed, a synonym for commerical
incorruptibility. [Applause.] " A n d w h o is to be the guardian of
this noble treasurethe community as a whole? No! The
responsibility is individual, not communal. From this day forth
each a n d every one of you is in his o w n person its special
guardian, and individually responsible that no h a r m shall come
of it. Do youdoes each of youaccept this great trust?
[Tumultuous assent.] Then all is well. Transmit it to your children
a n d to your children's children. Today your purity is beyond
reproachsee to it that it shall remain so. Today there is not a
person in your community w h o could be beguiled to touch a
p e n n y not his ownsee to it that you abide in this grace. ["We
will! We will!"] This is not the place to make comparisons
b e t w e e n ourselves a n d other communitiessome of t h e m
ungracious toward us; they have their ways, we have ours, let
us be content. [Applause.] I am done. Under my h a n d , my

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friends, rests a stranger's eloquent recognition of w h a t w e are;

t h r o u g h him the world will always henceforth k n o w w h a t w e
are. We d o not know w h o he is, but in your n a m e I utter your
gratitude, a n d ask you to raise your voices in e n d o r s e m e n t . "
The house rose in a body and m a d e the walls q u a k e with
the t h u n d e r s of its thankfulness for the space of a long minute.
Then it sat d o w n , and Mr. Burgess took an envelope out of his
pocket. The h o u s e held its breath while he slit the envelope
open a n d took from it a slip of paper. He reads its contents
slowly a n d impressivelythe;audience listening with tranced
attention to this magic d o c u m e n t , each of whose w o r d s stood
for an ingot of gold:
"The remark,which I made to the distressed stranger zvas this:
"You are very far from being a bad man; go, and reform.'"" Then he
continued:
"We shall k n o w in a m o m e n t now w h e t h e r the remark here
quoted corresponds with the one concealed in the sack; a n d if
that shall prove to be soand it u n d o u b t e d l y willthis sack of
gold belongs to a fellow-citizen w h o will henceforth stand
before the nation as a symbol of the special virtue which has
m a d e our town famous t h r o u g h o u t the landMr. Billson!"
The h o u s e had gotten itself all ready to burst into the proper
tornado of applause; but instead of doing it, it seemed stricken
with a paralysis; there was a d e e p h u s h for a m o m e n t or two,
then a w a v e of whispered m u r m u r s swept the placeof about
this tenor: "Billson! oh, come, this is too thin! Twenty dollars to a
strangeror anybodyBillsonl tell it to the marines!" A n d n o w
at this point the house caught its breath all of a s u d d e n in a n e w
access of astonishment, for it discovered that whereas in one
part of the hall Deacon Billson was standing up with his head
meekly b o w e d , in another part of it Lawyer Wilson w a s doing
the same. There was a wondering silence now for a while.
Everybody was puzzled, and nineteen couples were surprised and indignant.
Billson and Wilson turned and stared at each other. Billson
asked, bitingly,
"Why do you rise, Mr. Wilson?"

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"Because I have a right to. Perhaps you will be good e n o u g h

to explain to the house w h y you rise?"
"With great pleasure. Because I wrote that p a p e r . "
"It is an i m p u d e n t falsity! I wrote it myself."
It w a s Burgess's t u r n to be paralyzed. He stood looking
vacantly at first one of the m e n a n d then the other, a n d did not
seem to k n o w w h a t to do. The h o u s e w a s stupefied. Lawyer
Wilson spoke u p , now, a n d said,
"I ask the Chair to read the n a m e signed to that paper."
That brought the Chair to itself, and it read out the n a m e ,
' " J o h n Wharton Billson.'"
"There!" shouted Billson, " w h a t have you got to say for
yourself, now? And w h a t kind of apology are you going to m a k e
to m e a n d to this insulted house for the imposture which you
have attempted to play here?"
" N o apologies are due, sir; a n d as for the rest of it, I publicly
charge you with pilfering my note from Mr. Burgess a n d
substituting a copy of it signed with your o w n n a m e . There is n o
other way by which you could have gotten hold of the testremark; I alone, of living m e n , possessed the secret of its
wording."
There was likely to be a scandalous state of things if this
w e n t on; everybody noticed with distress that the short-hand
scribes were scribbling like mad; many people w e r e crying
"Chair, Chair! Order! order!" Burges rapped with his gavel, a n d
said:
"Let us not forget the proprieties due. There has evidently
been a mistake somewhere, but surely that is all. If Mr. Wilson
gave me an envelopeand I remember n o w that h e didI still
have it."
He took one out of his pocket, opened it, glanced at it,
looked surprised and worried, and stood silent a few m o m e n t s .
Then he waved his h a n d in a w a n d e r i n g and mechanical way,
a n d m a d e an effort or two to say something, then gave it u p ,
despondently. Several voices cried out:
"Read it! read it! What is it?"
So he began in a dazed and sleep walker fashion:
" 'The remark which I made to the unhappy stranger was this:

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"You are far from being a bad man. [The house gazed at him,
marveling.] Go, and reform."' [Murmurs: "Amazing! w h a t can
this*mean?"] This o n e , " said the Chair, "is signed Thurlow G.
Wilson."
"There!" cried Wilson, "I reckon that settles it! I k n e w
perfectly well my note w a s p u r l o i n e d . "
"Purloined!" retorted Billson. "I'll let you k n o w that neither
you nor a n y m a n of your kidney m u s t venture to"
The Chair. "Order, gentlemen, order! Take your seats, both
of you, please."
They obeyed, shaking their h e a d s a n d grumbling angrily.
The h o u s e w a s profoundly puzzled; it did not k n o w w h a t to d o
with this curious emergency. Presently T h o m p s o n got up.
T h o m p s o n w a s the hatter. H e would have liked to be a
Nineteener; b u t such was not for him: his stock of hats w a s not
considerable e n o u g h for the position. H e said:
"Mr. Chairman, if I may be permitted to make a suggestion,
can both of these gentlemen be right? I put it to you, sir, can
both have h a p p e n e d to say the very same words to the stranger?
It seems to me"
The tanner got u p a n d interrupted him. The tanner w a s a
disgruntled m a n ; h e believed himself entitled to be a Nineteener, b u t h e couldn't get recognition. It m a d e him a little
u n p l e a s a n t in his ways and speech. Said he:
."Sho, that's not the point! That could happentwice in a
h u n d r e d yearsbut not the other thing. Neither of t h e m gave
the t w e n t y dollars!"
[A ripple of applause.]
Billson. "I did!"
Wilson. "I did!"
Then each accused the other of pilfering.
The Chair. "Order! Sit d o w n , if you pleaseboth of you.
Neither of the notes has been out of my possession at any
moment."
A Voice. "Goodthat settles that]"
The Tanner. "Mr. Chairman, one thing is n o w plain: one of
these m e n has been eavesdropping u n d e r the other one's bed,
a n d filching family secrets. If it is not unparliamentary to

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s u g g e s t it, I will remark that both are equal to it. [The Chair.
"Order! order!"] I w i t h d r a w the remark, sir, a n d will confine
myself to suggesting that if o n e of t h e m h a s o v e r h e a r d t h e o t h e r
reveal t h e test-remark to his wife, w e shall catch h i m n o w . "
A Voice. " H o w ? "
The Tanner. "Easily. T h e t w o h a v e not quoted the r e m a r k in
exactly the same w o r d s . You w o u l d have noticed that, if there
h a d n ' t been a considerable stretch of time a n d an exciting
quarrel inserted b e t w e e n the t w o readings."
A Voice. " N a m e the difference."
The Tanner. "The w o r d very is in Billson's note, a n d not in the
other."
Many Voices. "That's sohe's right!"
The Tanner. " A n d so, if the Chair will examine the testremark in the sack, w e shall k n o w which of these t w o f r a u d s [The Chair. "Order!")which of these t w o adventurers|77?c
Chair. " O r d e r ! o r d e r ! " ) w h i c h of t h e s e t w o g e n t l e m e n
ihmghter and applause]is entitled to wear the belt as being the
first d i s h o n e s t blatherskite ever bred in this t o w n w h i c h he has
d i s h o n o r e d , a n d which will be a sultry place for him from n o w
out!" [Vigorous applause. [
Many Voices. " O p e n it!open the sack!"
Mr. Burgess m a d e a slit in the sack, slid his h a n d in a n d
b r o u g h t out an envelope. In it were a couple of folded notes. He
said:
" O n e of these is m a r k e d , 'Not to be e x a m i n e d until all
written c o m m u n i c a t i o n s which have been a d d r e s s e d to the
Chairif anvshall h a v e b e e n read.' T h e other is m a r k e d 'The
Test.' Allow me. It is w o r d e d t o wit:
" 'I do not require that the first half of the remark which w a s
m a d e to me bv mv benefactor shall be quoted with exactness, for
it w a s not striking, and could be forgotten; but its closing fifteen
w o r d s are quite striking, a n d 1 think easily r e m e m b e r a b l e ;
unless these shall be accurately r e p r o d u c e d , let the applicant be
regarded as an impostor. My benefactor began by saying he
-eldom gave advice to anv one, but that it alwavs bore the hallmark ot high value w h e n he did give it. Then he said this and

I'HE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

294

it h a s n e v e r f a d e d f r o m m y m e m o r y : "You are far from being a bad

man"'"
/
Fifty Voices. "That settles itthe m o n e y ' s Wilson's! Wilson?
Wilson! Speech! Speech!"
'
People j u m p e d u p a n d c r o w d e d a r o u n d Wilson, w r i n g i n g
his h a n d a n d congratulating f e r v e n t l y m e a n t i m e t h e Chair w a s
h a m m e r i n g w i t h the gavel a n d shouting:
" O r d e r , g e n t l e m e n ! O r d e r ! Order! Let m e finish r e a d i n g ,
p l e a s e . " W h e n quiet w a s restored, the reading w a s r e s u m e d
as follows:
"' "Go, and reformor, mark my wordssome day, for your sins,
you will die and go to hell or HadleyburgTRY A N D MAKE IT THE
FORMER" ' "

A ghastly silence followed. First an angry cloud b e g a n to

settle darkly u p o n the faces of the citizenship; after a p a u s e the
cloud b e g a n to rise, a n d a tickled expression tried to take its
place; tried so h a r d that it w a s only kept u n d e r w i t h great a n d
p a i n f u l difficulty; t h e reporters, the Brixtonites, a n d other
strangers b e n t their h e a d s d o w n a n d shielded their faces w i t h
their h a n d s , a n d m a n a g e d to hold in by m a i n s t r e n g t h a n d
heroic courtesy. At this m o s t i n o p p o r t u n e time b u r s t u p o n the
stillness t h e roar of a solitary voiceJack Halliday's:
"That's got the hall-mark on it!"
T h e n t h e h o u s e let go, s t r a n g e r s a n d all. Even Mr. Burgess's
gravity b r o k e d o w n presently, t h e n the a u d i e n c e c o n s i d e r e d
itself officially absolved f r o m all restraint, a n d it m a d e t h e m o s t
of its privilege. It w a s a good long laugh, a n d a t e m p e s t u o u s l y
w h o l e - h e a r t e d one, b u t it ceased at lastlong e n o u g h for Mr.
Burgess to try to r e s u m e , a n d for the people to get their eyes
partially w i p e d ; t h e n it broke o u t again; a n d a f t e r w a r d yet again;
t h e n at last Mr. Burgess w a s able to get out these serious w o r d s :
"It is useless to try to disguise the factwe find ourselves in
the p r e s e n c e of a matter of g r a v e import. It involves t h e h o n o r of
y o u r t o w n , it strikes at the t o w n ' s good n a m e . The difference of
a single w o r d b e t w e e n the test-remarks offered by Mr. Wilson

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a n d Mr. Billson was itself a serious thing, since it indicated that

one or the other of these gentlemen had committed a theft
The two men were sitting limp, nerveless, crushed; but at
these w o r d s both were electrified into m o v e m e n t , a n d started to
get u p
"Sit down!" said the Chair, sharply, a n d they obeyed.
"That, as I have said, w a s a serious thing. And it w a s b u t for
only one of them. But the matter has become graver; for the
h o n o r of both is now in formidable peril. Shall I go even further,
a n d say in inextricable peril? Both left out the crucial fifteen
w o r d s . " He paused. During several m o m e n t s he allowed the
p e r v a d i n g stillness to gather a n d d e e p e n its impressive effects,
then a d d e d : "There would seem to be but one w a y w h e r e b y this
could h a p p e n . I ask these gentlemenWas there collusion?
agreement!"
A low m u r m u r sifted through the house; its import was,
"He's got them both."
Billson was not used to emergencies; he sat in a helpless
collapse. But Wilson was a lawyer. He struggled to his feet, pale
a n d worried, and said:
"I ask the indulgence of the h o u s e while I explain this most
painful matter. I am sorry to say w h a t I am about to say, since it
m u s t inflict irreparable injury u p o n Mr. Billson, w h o m I have
always esteemed a n d respected until now, a n d in w h o s e
invulnerability to temptation I entirely believedas did you all.
But for the preservation, of my own honor I m u s t speakand
with frankness. I confess with shameand I n o w beseech your
p a r d o n for itthat I said to the ruined stranger all of the w o r d s
contained in the test-remark, including the disparaging fifteen.
[Sensation.] When the late publication was m a d e I recalled them,
a n d resolved to claim the sack of coin, for by every right I w a s
entitled to it. N o w I will ask you to consider this point, a n d
weigh it well: that stranger's gratitude to me that night k n e w n o
b o u n d s ; he said himself that he could find no w o r d s for it that
were adequate, and that if he should ever be able h e would
repay me a thousand fold. Now, then, I ask you this: Could I
expectcould I believecould I even remotely imaginethat,
feeling as 1 did, he would d o so ungrateful a thing as to a d d

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those quite unnecessary fifteen w o r d s to his test?set a trap for

me?expose m e as a slanderer of my own town before m y o w n
people assembled in a public hall? It was preposterous; it w a s
impossible. His test would contain only the kindly o p e n i n g
clause of my remark. Of that I h a d n o s h a d o w of doubt. You
would have t h o u g h t as I did. You would not have expected a
base betrayal from one w h o m you had befriended a n d against
w h o m you h a d committed n o offense. A n d so, with perfect
confidence, perfect trust, I wrote on a piece of paper the o p e n i n g
w o r d s e n d i n g with 'Go, a n d reform,'and signed it. W h e n I
w a s about to p u t it in an envelope I was called into m y back
office, a n d without thinking I left the paper lying o p e n on my
d e s k . " H e stopped, turned his head slowly toward Billson,
waited a m o m e n t , then a d d e d : "I ask you to note this: w h e n I
returned, a little later, Mr. Billson w a s retiring by m y street
door." [Sensation.]
In a m o m e n t Billson w a s on his feet a n d shouting:
"It's a lie! It's an infamous lie!"
The Chair. "Be seated, sir! Mr. Wilson has the floor."
Billson's friends pulled him into his seat a n d quieted him,
a n d Wilson w e n t on:
"Those are the simple facts. My note w a s now lying in a
different place on the table from w h e r e I had left it. I noticed
that, but attached no importance to it, thinking a d r a u g h t had
b l o w n it there. That Mr. Billson w o u l d read a private p a p e r w a s
a thing which could not occur to me; he was an honorable m a n ,
a n d h e would be above that. If you will allow me to say it, I
think his extra w o r d 'very' stands explained; it is atttributable to
a defect of memory. I was the only m a n in the world w h o could
furnish h e r e any detail of the test-remarkby honorable m e a n s . I
have
finished."
There is nothing in the world like a persuasive speech to
f u d d l e the mental a p p a r a t u s a n d upset the convictions a n d
debauch the emotions of an audience not practiced in the tricks
and elusions of oratory. Wilson sat d o w n victorious. The h o u s e
s u b m e r g e d h i m in tides of a p p r o v i n g a p p l a u s e ; f r i e n d s
s w a r m e d to him a n d shook him by the hand and congratulated
him, a n d Billson was shouted d o w n and not allowed to say a

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297

w o r d . T h e Chair h a m m e r e d a n d h a m m e r e d w i t h its gavel, a n d

kept shouting.
"But let us proceed, g e n t l e m e n , let us proceed!"
At last there w a s a m e a s u r a b l e degree of quiet, a n d t h e
h a t t e r said:
"But w h a t is there to proceed with, sir, b u t to deliver the
money?"
Voices. "That's it! That's it! C o m e f o r w a r d , Wilson!"
The Hatter. "I m o v e t h r e e cheers for Mr. Wilson, Symbol of
t h e special virtue w h i c h "
T h e cheers burst forth before he could finish; a n d in the
m i d s t of t h e m a n d in t h e midst of t h e clamor of t h e gavel
a l s o s o m e e n t h u s i a s t s m o u n t e d Wilson o n a big friend's
s h o u l d e r a n d w e r e g o i n g to fetch him in t r i u m p h to the
p l a t f o r m . The Chair's voice n o w rose above t h e noise
" O r d e r ! To y o u r places! You forget that there is still a
d o c u m e n t to r e a d . " W h e n quiet h a d been restored h e took u p
the d o c u m e n t , a n d w a s g o i n g to read it, b u t laid it d o w n again,
saying, "I forgot; this is not to be read until all written
c o m m u n i c a t i o n s received b y m e h a v e first b e e n r e a d . " H e took
a n e n v e l o p e out of his pocket, r e m o v e d its enclosure, glanced at
i t s e e m e d a s t o n i s h e d h e l d it out a n d g a z e d at itstared at it.
Twenty or thirty voices cried out:
" W h a t is it? Read it! read it!
A n d he didslowly, a n d w o n d e r i n g :
" ' T h e r e m a r k w h i c h I m a d e to t h e stranger[Voices. "Hello!
h o w ' s this?"]was this: "You are far f r o m b e i n g a b a d m a n .
[Voices. "Great Scott!"] Go, a n d r e f o r m . " ' [Voice. " O h , s a w m y
leg off!"] Signed by Mr. P i n k e r t o n the b a n k e r . "
T h e p a n d e m o n i u m of delight w h i c h t u r n e d itself loose n o w
w a s of a sort to m a k e t h e judicious w e e p . T h o s e w h o s e withers
w e r e u n w r u n g l a u g h e d till the tears ran d o w n ; t h e reporters, in
t h r o e s of laughter, set d o w n d i s o r d e r e d p o t - h o o k s w h i c h w o u l d
n e v e r in the world b e decipherable; a n d a sleeping d o g j u m p e d
u p , scared out of its wits, a n d barked itself crazy at t h e turmoil.
All m a n n e r of cries w e r e scattered t h r o u g h t h e din: "We're
getting richtwo Symbols of Incorruptibility!without counting Billson!" "Threelcount
Shadbelly i n w e can't h a v e too

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many!" "All rightBillson's elected!" "Alas, poor Wilson

victim of two thieves!"
A Powerful Voice. "Silence! The chair's fished u p s o m e t h i n g
more out of its pocket."
Voices. "Hurrah! Is it something fresh? Read it! read it!
read!"
The Chair [reading.] ' " T h e remark which I m a d e , ' etc.: '"You
are far from being a bad man. G o , ' " etc. Signed, Gregory
Yates.'"
Tornado of Voices. "Four symbols!" " ' R a h for Yates!" "Fish
again!"
The house was in a roaring h u m o r now, and ready to get all
the f u n out of the occasion that might be in it. Several
Nineteeners, looking pale and distressed, got u p a n d began to
work their way toward the aisles, but a score of shouts w e n t up:
"The doors, the doorsclose the doors; no Incorruptible
shall leave this place! Sit d o w n , everybody!"
The m a n d a t e was obeyed.
"Fish again! Read! read!"
The Chair fished again, and once more the familiar w o r d s
began to fall from its lips"'You are far from being a bad
man"
"Name! name! What's his name?"
' " L . Ingoldsby S a r g e n t . ' "
"Five elected! Pile u p the Symbols! Go on, go on!"
"'You are far from being a b a d ' "
"Name! name!"
'"Nicholas W h i t w o r t h . ' "
"Hooray! hooray! it's a symbolical day!"
Somebody wailed in, a n d began to sing this r h y m e (leaving
out "it's") to the lovely "Mikado" tune of "When a man's afraid,
a beautiful maid"; the audience joined in, with joy; then, just
in time, somebody contributed another line
And don't you this forget
The h o u s e roared it out. A third line was at once f u r n i s h e d
Corruptibles far from Had'iyburg

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299

The h o u s e roared that one too. As the last note died, Jack
Halliday's voice rose high a n d clear, freighted with a final line
But the Symbols are here, you bet!
That w a s sung with b o o m i n g enthusiasm. Then the h a p p y
house started in at the beginning and sang the four lines
t h r o u g h twice, with i m m e n s e swing a n d dash, a n d finished u p
with a crashing three-times-three and a tiger for "Hadleyburg
the Incorruptible and all Symbols of it which w e shall find
worthy to receive the hall-mark tonight."
Then the shouting at the Chair began again, all over the
place:
"Go on! go on! Read! read some more! Read all you've got!"
"That's itgo on! We are winning eternal celebrity!"
A dozen men got u p n o w a n d began to protest. They-'said
that this farce was the work of some a b a n d o n e d joker, a n d w a s
an insult to the whole community. Without a d o u b t these
signatures were all forgeries
"Sit d o w n ! sit d o w n ! Shut up! You are confessing. We'll find
your names in the lot."
"Mr. Chairman, h o w many of those envelopes have you
got?"
The Chair counted.
"Together with those that have been already examined,
there are nineteen."
A storm of derisive applause broke out.
"Perhaps they all contain the secret. I move that you o p e n
t h e m all and read every signature that is attached to a note of
that sortand read also the first eight w o r d s of the n o t e . "
"Second the motion!"
It was p u t a n d carrieduproariously. Then poor old
Richards got up, and his wife rose and stood at his side. Her
head bent d o w n , so that none might see that she was crying.
Her h u s b a n d gave her his arm, and so supporting her, he began
to speak in a quavering voice:
"My friends, you have k n o w n us twoMary and meall
our lives, and I think you have liked us and respected us"

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The Chair interrupted him:

"Allow me. It is quite truethat which you are saying, Mr.
Richards: this town does k n o w you two; it does like you; it does
respect you; moreit h o n o r s you and loves y o u "
Halliday's voice rang out:
"That's the hall-marked truth, too! If the Chair is right, let
the h o u s e speak u p and say it. Rise! Now, thenhip! hip! hip!
all together!"
The h o u s e rose in mass, faced toward the old couple
eagerly, filled the air with a snowstorm of waving h a n d k e r chiefs, a n d delivered the cheers with all its affectionate heart.
The Chair then continued:
"What I was going to say is this: We know your good heart,
Mr. Richards, but this is not a time for the exercise of charity
toward offenders. [Shouts of "Right! right!"] I see your g e n e r o u s
p u r p o s e in your face, but I cannot allow you to plead for these
men'
"But I was going to"
"Please take your seat, Mr. Richards. We m u s t examine the
rest of these notessimple fairness to the men w h o have
already been exposed requires this. As soon as that has been
doneI give you my word for thisyou shall be h e a r d . "
Many Voices. 'Right!the Chair is rightno interruption
can be permitted at this stage! Go on!the names! the names!
according to the terms of the motion!"
The old couple sat reluctantly d o w n , and the h u s b a n d
w h i s p e r e d to the wife, "It is pitifully hard to have to wait; the
s h a m e will be greater than ever w h e n they find w e w e r e only
going to plead for ourselves."
Straightway the jollity broke loose again with the reading of
the n a m e s .
'"You are far from being a bad man' Signature, Robert}.
Titmarsh.'
" 'You are far from being a bad man' Signature, 'Eliphalet
Weeks.'
" 'You are far from being a bad man' Signature, 'Oscar B.
Wilder.'"
At this point the house lit u p o n the idea of taking the eight

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w o r d s out of the Chairman's h a n d s . He w a s not u n t h a n k f u l for

tljat. Thenceforward he held u p each note in its turn, a n d
waited. The house d r o n e d out the eight word's in a massed a n d
m e a s u r e d and musical d e e p volume of s o u n d (with a daringly
close resemblance to a well-known church chant)"'You are
f-a-r from being a b-a-a-a-d m a n . ' " Then the Chair said,
"Signature, 'Archibald Wilcox.'" And so on, a n d so on, n a m e
after name, and everybody had an increasingly a n d gloriously
good time except the wretched Nineteen. N o w a n d then, w h e n
a particularly shining n a m e was called, the h o u s e m a d e the
Chair wait while it changed the whole of the test-remark from
the beginning to the closing words, " A n d go to hell or
Hadleyburg-try and make it the for-or-m-e-r!" a n d in these
special cases they a d d e d a grand a n d agonized a n d imposing
"A-a-a-a-men\"
The list dwindled, d w i n d l e d , dwindled, poor old Richards
keeping tally of the count, wincing w h e n a n a m e resembling his
o w n w a s pronounced, a n d waiting in miserable s u s p e n s e for
the time to come w h e n it would be his humiliating privilege to
rise with Mary and finish his plea, which he w a s intending to
w o r d thus: " . . . for until n o w we have never d o n e any w r o n g
thing, but have gone our h u m b l e way u n r e p r o a c h e d . We are
very poor, we are old, a n d have no chick nor child to help us; w e
were sorely tempted, a n d w e fell. It was my p u r p o s e w h e n I got
u p before to make confession and beg that my n a m e might not
be read out in this public place, for it seemed to us that we could
not bear it; but I was prevented. It was just; it w a s our place to
suffer with the rest. It has been hard for us. It is the first time we
have ever heard our n a m e fall from any one's lipssullied. Be
mercifulfor the sake of the better days; make our shame as
light to bear as in your charity you can." At this point in his
revery Mary n u d g e d him, perceiving that his mind w a s absent.
The h o u s e was chanting, "You are f-a-r," etc.
"Be ready," Mary whispered. "Your name comes now; he
has read eighteen."
The chant ended.
"Next! next! next!" came volleying from all over the house.

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Burgess put his h a n d into his pocket. The old couple,

trembling, began to rise. Burgess fumbled a m o m e n t , t h e n said,
"I find I have read t h e m all."
Faint with joy a n d surprise, the couple sank into their seats,
a n d Mary whispered,
" O h , bless God, w e are saved!he h a s lost oursI
w o u l d n ' t give this for a h u n d r e d of those sacks!"
The house burst out with its "Mikado" travesty, a n d sang it
three times with ever-increasing enthusiasm, rising to its feet
w h e n it reached for the third time the closing line
But the Symbols are here, you bet!
a n d finishing u p with cheers a n d a tiger for " H a d l e y b u r g purity
a n d our eighteen immortal representatives of it."
Then Wingate, the saddler, got u p and proposed cheers "for
the cleanest m a n in town, the one solitary important citizen in it
w h o didn't try to steal that moneyEdward Richards."
They were given with great a n d moving heartiness; then
s o m e b o d y proposed that Richards be elected sole g u a r d i a n and
Symbol of the n o w Sacred Hadleyburg Tradition, with p o w e r
a n d right to stand u p a n d look the whole sarcastic world in the
face.
Passed, by acclamation; then they sang the "Mikado"
again, a n d e n d e d it with,
And there's one Symbol left, you bet!
There w a s a pause; t h e n
A Voice. "Now, then, who's to get the sack?"
The Tanner (with bitter sarcasm). "That's easy. The m o n e y has
to be divided a m o n g the eighteen Incorruptibles. They gave the
suffering stranger twenty dollars apieceand that remark
each in his turnit took twenty-two minutes for the procession
to move past. Staked the strangertotal contribution, $360. All
they w a n t is just the loan backand interestforty t h o u s a n d
dollars altogether."

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Many Voices Iderisively.] "That's it! Divvy! divvy! Be kind to

the poordon't keep t h e m waiting!"
The Chair. "Order! I n o w offer the stranger's remaining
d o c u m e n t . It says: 'If n o claimant shall a p p e a r [grand chorus of
groans.], I desire that you o p e n the sack a n d count out the
m o n e y to the principal citizens of your town, they to take it in
trust [cries of "Oh! Oh! Oh!"], a n d use it in such w a y s as to t h e m
shall seem best for the propagation and preservation of your
community's noble reputation for incorruptible h o n e s t y [more
cries]a reputation to which their names a n d their efforts will
a d d a n e w and far-reaching lustre.' [Enthusiastic outburst of
sarcastic applause.] That seems to be all. Nohere is a postscript:
'"P.S.CITIZENS OF HADLEYBURG: There is n o test-remark
n o b o d y m a d e one. [Great sensation.] There wasn't any p a u p e r
stranger, nor any twenty-dollar contribution, nor any accomp a n y i n g benediction a n d complimentthese are all inventions.
[General buzz and hum of astonishment and delight.] Allow m e to tell
m y storyit will take but a word or two. I passed t h r o u g h your
t o w n at a certain time, a n d received a d e e p offense which I had
not e a r n e d . Any other m a n w o u l d have been content to kill o n e
or t w o of you and call it square, but to me that w o u l d h a v e been
a trivial revenge, a n d inadequate; for the d e a d d o not suffer.
Besides, I could not kill you alland, anyway, m a d e as I a m ,
even that would not have satisfied me. I w a n t e d to d a m a g e
every m a n in t h e place, and every w o m a n a n d not in their
bodies or in their estate, ,but in their vanitythe place w h e r e
feeble a n d foolish people are most vulnerable. So I disguised
myself and came back a n d studied you. You w e r e easy game.
You h a d an old and lofty reputation for honesty, a n d naturally
you were proud of itit w a s your treasure of treasures, the very
apple of your eye. As soon as I f o u n d out that you carefully a n d
vigilantly kept yourselves a n d your children out of temptation, I
k n e w h o w to proceed. Why, you simple creatures, the weakest
of all weak things is a virtue which has not been tested in the
fire. I laid a plan, and gathered a list of names. My project w a s to
corrupt Hadleyburg the Incorruptible. My idea w a s to m a k e liars
a n d thieves of nearly half a h u n d r e d smirchless m e n a n d
w o m e n w h o had never in their lives uttered a lie or stolen a

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penny. I w a s afraid of Goodson. H e w a s neither born nor reared

in Hadleyburg. I was afraid that if I started to operate m y
scheme by getting my letter laid before you, you w o u l d say to
yourselves, "Goodson is the only m a n a m o n g u s w h o w o u l d
give a w a y twenty dollars to a poor devil"and then you might
not bite at my bait. But H e a v e n took Goodson; then I k n e w I w a s
safe, a n d I set my trap a n d baited it. It may be that I shall not
catch all the m e n to w h o m I mailed the p r e t e n d e d test secret,
but I shall catch the most of them, if I k n o w Hadleyburg nature.
[Voices. "Righthe got every last one of t h e m . " ] I believe they
will even steal ostensible gamble-money, rather t h a n miss, poor,
t e m p t e d , a n d mistrained fellows. I am hoping to eternally and
everlastingly squelch your vanity and give H a d l e y b u r g a n e w
r e k n o w n o n e that will stickand spread far. If I have succeeded, open the sack a n d s u m m o n the Committee on Propagation a n d Preservation of the Hadleyburg R e p u t a t i o n . ' "
A Cyclone of Voices. " O p e n it! Open it! The Eighteen to the
front! Committee on Propagation of the Trandition! Forward
the Incorruptibles!"
The Chair ripped the sack wide, and gathered u p a h a n d f u l
of bright, broad, yellow coins, shook them together, then
examined them
"Friends, they are only gilded disks of lead!"
There was a crashing outbreak of delight over this news,
a n d w h e n the noise had subsided, the tanner called out:
"By right of apparent seniority in this business, Mr. Wilson
is Chairman of the Committee on Propagation of the Tradition. I
suggest that he step forward on behalf of his pals, a n d receive in
trust the money."
A Hundred Voices. "Wilson! Wilson! Wilson! Speech!
Speech!"
Wilson [in a voice trembling with anger.] "You will allow me to
say, a n d without apologies for my language, damn the money!"
/4 Voice. "Oh, and him a Baptist!"
A Voice. "Seventeen Symbols left! Step up, gentlemen, and
a s s u m e your trust!"
There was a pauseno response.
The Saddler. "Mr. Chairman, we've got one clean man left,

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anyway, out of the late aristocracy; a n d he n e e d s money, a n d

deserves it. I move that you appoint Jack Halliday to get u p
there a n d auction off that sack of gilt twenty-dollar pieces, a n d
give the result to the right m a n t h e m a n w h o m H a d l e y b u r g
delights to h o n o r E d w a r d Richards."
This w a s received with great enthusiasm, the d o g taking a
h a n d again; the saddler started the bids at a dollar, the Brixton
folk a n d Barnum's representative fought hard for it, the people
cheered every j u m p that the bids m a d e , the excitement climbed
m o m e n t by m o m e n t higher a n d higher, the b i d d e r s got on their
mettle a n d grew steadily m o r e a n d more daring, m o r e a n d more
d e t e r m i n e d , the j u m p s w e n t from a dollar u p to five, then to
ten, t h e n to twenty, t h e n fifty, then to a h u n d r e d , t h e n
At the beginning of the auction Richards w h i s p e r e d in
distress to his wife: " O Mary, can w e allow it? Itityou see, it
is a n honor-reward, a testimonial to purity of character, a n d
a n d c a n w e allow it? H a d n ' t I better get u p a n d O Mary, w h a t
o u g h t w e to d o ? w h a t d o you think we[Halliday's voice.
"Fifteen I'm bid!fifteen for the sack!twenty!ah,
thanks!
thirtythanks again! Thirty, thirty, thirty!do I hear forty?forty it
is! Keep the ball rolling, gentlemen, keep it
rolling!fifty!thanks,
noble Roman! going at fifty, fifty,
fifty!seventy!ninety!splendid!a hundred!pile it up, pile it up!hundred and twenty!
forty!just in time!hundred and fifty!two hundred!superb! Do
I hear two hthanks!two hundred and fifty!"]
"It is another temptation, E d w a r d I ' m all in a tremble
but, oh, w e ' v e escaped one temptation, a n d that o u g h t to w a r n
us to {"Six did I hear?thanks!six fifty, six fSEVEN hundred!"]
A n d yet, E d w a r d , w h e n you t h i n k n o b o d y s u s p ["Eight
hundred dollars!hurrah!make it nine!Mr. Parsons, did I hear
you saythanksnine!this
noble sack of virgin lead going at only
nine hundred dollars, gilding and allcome! do I heara thousand!
gratfully yours!did some one say eleven?a sack which is going to be
the most celebrated in the whole Uni"] O E d w a r d " (beginning to
sob), " w e are so poor!butbutdo as you think bestdo as
you think best."
E d w a r d fellthat is, he sat still; sat with a conscience which

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w a s not satisfied, but which w a s overpowered by circumstances.

Meantime a stranger, w h o looked like an a m a t e u r detective
gotten u p as an impossible English earl, h a d been watching the
evenings's proceedings with manifest interest, a n d with a
contented expression in his face; and he h a d b e e n privately
c o m m e n t i n g to himself. He w a s n o w soliloquizing s o m e w h a t
like this: " N o n e of the Eighteen are bidding; that is not
satisfactory; I m u s t change thatthe dramatic unities require it;
they m u s t b u y the sack they tried to steal; they m u s t pay a heavy
price, toosome of t h e m are rich. And another thing, w h e n I
m a k e a mistake in Hadleyburg nature the man that p u t s that
error u p o n me is entitled to a high honorarium, a n d some one
m u s t pay it. This poor old Richards has brought m y j u d g m e n t to
shame; he is an honest man:I don't u n d e r s t a n d it, b u t I
acknowledge it. Yes, he saw my deuces and with a straight flush,
a n d by rights the pot is his. A n d it shall be a jack-pot, too, if I
can m a n a g e it. He disappointed me, but let that p a s s . "
H e w a s watching the bidding. At a t h o u s a n d , the market
broke; the prices tumbled swiftly. He waitedand still w a t c h e d .
O n e competitor d r o p p e d out, then another, a n d another. He p u t
in a bid or two, now. W h e n the bids had sunk to ten dollars, he
a d d e d a five; some one raiseti him a three; he waited a m o m e n t ,
t h e n flung in a fifty-dollar j u m p , and the sack w a s hisat
$1,282. The house broke out in cheersthen s t o p p e d ; for h e
w a s o n his feet, a n d h a d lifted his h a n d . He began to speak.
"I desire to say a w o r d , a n d ask a favor. I a m a speculator in
rarities, a n d I have dealings with persons interested in numismatics all over the world. I can make a profit on this purchase,
just as it stands; b u t there is a way, if I can get y o u r approval,
w h e r e b y I can make every one of these leaden twenty-dollar
pieces w o r t h its face in gold, a n d p e r h a p s more. Grant me that
approval, a n d I will give part of my gains to your Mr. Richards,
w h o s e invulnerable probity you have so justly a n d so cordially
recognized to-night; his share shall be ten t h o u s a n d dollars, a n d
I will h a n d him the m o n e y to-morrow. [Great applause from the
house. But the "invulnerable probity" m a d e the Richardses blush
prettily; however, it w e n t for modesty, a n d did n o h a r m . ] If you

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will pass my proposition by a good majorityI w o u l d like a

two-thirds voteI will regard that as the town's consent, a n d
that is all I ask. Rarities are always helped by any device which
will rouse curiosity a n d compel remark. N o w if I may have your
permission to stamp u p o n the faces of each of these ostensible
coins the n a m e s of the eighteen gentlemen w h o "
N i n e - t e n t h s of t h e a u d i e n c e were on their feet in a
m o m e n t d o g and alland the proposition w a s carried with a
whirlwind of approving applause and laughter.
They sat d o w n , a n d all the Symbols except "Dr." Clay
H a r k n e s s got u p , violently protesting against the proposed
outrage, a n d threatening to
"I beg you not to threaten m e , " said the stranger, calmly. "I
k n o w m y legal rights, a n d am not accustomed to being
frightened at bluster." [Applause.] H e sat d o w n . "Dr." H a r k n e s s
saw an opportunity here. H e w a s one of the t w o very rich m e n
of the place, and Pinkerton w a s the other. H a r k n e s s w a s
proprietor of a mint; that is to say, a popular patent medicine.
H e w a s r u n n i n g for the Legislature on one ticket, a n d Pinkerton
o n the other. It was a close race a n d a hot one, a n d getting hotter
every day. Both h a d strong appetites for money; each h a d
b o u g h t a great tract of land, with a purpose; there w a s going to
be a n e w railway, and each w a n t e d to be in the Legislature a n d
h e l p locate the route to his o w n advantage; a single vote might
m a k e the decision, a n d with it two or three fortunes. The stake
w a s large, a n d H a r k n e s s w a s a daring speculator. H e w a s sitting
close to the stranger. H e leaned over while one or a n o t h e r of the
other Symbols w a s entertaining the house with protests a n d
appeals, a n d asked, in a whisper,
" W h a t is your price for the sack?"
"Forty t h o u s a n d dollars."
"I'll give you twenty."
"No."
"Twenty-five."
"No."
"Say thirty."
"The price is forty t h o u s a n d dollars; not a p e n n y less."

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"All right, I'll give it. I will come to the hotel at ten in the
morning. I don't w a n t it k n o w n ; will see you privately."
"Very good." Then the stranger got u p a n d said to the
house:
"I find it late. The speeches of these gentlemen are not
w i t h o u t merit, not without interest, not without grace; yet if I
may be excused I will take m y leave. I thank you for the great
favor which you have s h o w n me in granting my petition. I ask
the Chair to keep the sack for me until to-morrow, a n d to h a n d
these three five-hundred-dollar notes to Mr. Richards." They
were passed u p to the Chair. "At nine I will call for the sack, a n d
at eleven will deliver the rest of the ten thousand to Mr. Richards
in person, at his home. Good night."
Then he slipped out, a n d left the audience m a k i n g a vast
noise, w h i c h w a s c o m p o s e d of a mixture of cheers, the
" M i k a d o " song, dog-disapproval, a n d the chant, "You are f-a-r
f r o m being a b-a-a-d mana-a-a-a-men!"
IV
At h o m e the Richardses h a d to e n d u r e congratulations a n d
compliments until midnight. Then they were left to themselves.
They looked a little sad, a n d they sat silent a n d thinking. Finally
Mary sighed a n d said,
"Do you think w e are to blame, Edwardmuch to blame?"
a n d her eyes w a n d e r e d to the accusing triplet of big b a n k notes
lying on the table, w h e r e the congratulators h a d been gloating
over t h e m a n d reverently fingering them. E d w a r d did not
a n s w e r at once; then he brought out a sigh a n d said, hesitatingly:
"Wewe couldn't help it, Mary. Itwell, it w a s ordered.
All things are."
Mary glanced u p a n d looked at him steadily, but he didn't
return the look. Presently she said:
"I t h o u g h t congratulations a n d praises always tasted good.
Butit seems to me, n o w E d w a r d ? "
"Well?"
"Are you going to stay in the bank?"

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"N-no."
"Resign?"
"In the morningby note."
"It does seem best."
Richards bowed his head in his h a n d s a n d m u t t e r e d :
"Before, I was not afraid to let oceans of people's m o n e y
p o u r t h r o u g h my h a n d s , butMary, I am so tired, so tired"
"We will go to b e d . "
At nine in the m o r n i n g the stranger called for the sack a n d
took it to the hotel in a cab. At ten Harkness h a d a talk with him
privately. The stranger asked for a n d got five checks on a
metropolitan b a n k d r a w n to "Bearer,"four for $1,500 each,
a n d o n e for $34,000. He p u t one of the former in his pocketbook,
a n d the remainder, representing $38,500, he p u t in an envelope,
a n d with these he a d d e d a note, which he wrote after Harkness
w a s gone. At eleven h e called at the Richards h o u s e and
knocked. Mrs. Richards p e e p e d through the shutters, t h e n w e n t
a n d received the envelope, a n d the stranger disappeared
w i t h o u t a word. She came back flushed and a little u n s t e a d y on
her legs, and gasped out:
"I am sure I recognized him! Last night it seemed to m e that
m a y b e I h a d seen him s o m e w h e r e before."
" H e is the m a n that brought the sack here?"
"I am almost sure of it."
"Then he is the ostensible Stephenson, too, a n d sold every
important citizen in this t o w n with his bogus secret. N o w if he
h a s sent checks instead of money, w e are sold, too, after w e
t h o u g h t w e h a d escaped. I w a s beginning to feel fairly comfortable once more, after my night's rest, but the look of that
envelope makes me sick. It isn't fat enough; $8,500 in even the
largest bank notes makes more bulk than that."
" E d w a r d , w h y do you object to checks?"
"Checks signed by Stephenson! I am resigned to take the
$8,500 if it could come in bank notesfor it does seem that it
w a s so ordered, Marybut I have never h a d m u c h courage, and
I have not the pluck to try to market a check signed with that
disastrous n a m e . It w o u l d be a trap. That m a n tried to catch me,

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w e escaped s o m e h o w or other; a n d now he is trying a n e w way.

If it is checks"
" O h , Edward, it is too bad!" a n d she held u p the checks a n d
began to cry.
"Put t h e m in the fire! quick! w e mustn't be t e m p t e d . It is a
trick to make the world laugh at us, along with the rest, a n d
Give t h e m to me, since you can't do it!" He snatched t h e m a n d
tried to hold his grip till he could get to the stove; but he w a s
h u m a n , he w a s a cashier, a n d he stopped a m o m e n t to m a k e
sure of the signature. Then he came near to fainting.
"Fan me, Mary, fan me! They are the same as gold!"
" O h , h o w lovely, Edward! Why?"
"Signed by Harkness. What can the mystery of that be,
Mary?"
" E d w a r d , do you think"
"Look herelook at this! Fifteenfifteenfifteenthirtyfour. Thirty-eight t h o u s a n d five h u n d r e d ! Mary, the sack isn't
w o r t h twelve dollars, a n d Harknessapparentlyhas paid
about par for it."
" A n d does it all come to us, do you thinkinstead of the
ten t h o u s a n d ? "
"Why, it looks like it. A n d the checks are m a d e to 'Bearer,'
too."
"Is that good, Edward? What is it for?"
"A hint to collect t h e m at some distant bank, I reckon.
P e r h a p s Harkness doesn't w a n t the matter k n o w n . What is
thata note?"
"Yes. It w a s with the checks."
It w a s in the " S t e p h e n s o n " handwriting, b u t there w a s no
signature. It said:
"I am a disappointed man. Your honesty is beyond the reach of
temptation. I had a different idea about it, but I wronged you in
that and 1 beg pardon, and do it sincerely. I honor youand that is
sincere too. This town is not worthy to kiss the hem of your
garment. Dear sir, 1 made a square bet with myself that there were
nineteen debauchable men in your self-righteous community. I
have lost. Take the whole pot, you are entitled to it."

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Richards drew a d e e p sigh, a n d said:

"It seems written with fireit b u r n s so. MaryI am
miserable again."
"I, too. Ah, dear, I w i s h "
"To think, Maryhe believes in m e . "
"If those beautiful w o r d s were deserved, M a r y a n d God
k n o w s I believed I deserved them onceI think I could give the
forty t h o u s a n d dollars for t h e m . A n d I w o u l d p u t that p a p e r
away, as representing more than gold a n d jewels, a n d k e e p it
always. But nowWe could not live in the s h a d o w of its
accusing presence, Mary."
H e p u t it in the fire.
A messenger arrived a n d delivered an envelope.
Richards took f r o m it a note a n d read it; it w a s f r o m
Burgess.
You saved me in a difficult time. 1 saved you last night. It was at
cost of a lie, but I made the sacrifice freely, and out of a grateful
heart. None in this village knows so well as I know how brave and
good and noble you are. At bottom you cannot respect me,
knowing as you do of that matter of which I am accused, and by the
general voice condemned; but I beg that you will at least believe
that I am a grateful man; it will help me to bear my burden.
[Signed]
Burgess
"Saved, once more. A n d on such terms!" H e p u t the n o t e in
the fire. "II wish I w e r e d e a d , Mary, I wish I w e r e out of it all."
" O h , these are bitter, bitter days, E d w a r d . The stabs,
t h r o u g h their very generosity, are so d e e p a n d they come so
fast!"
Three days before the election each of t w o t h o u s a n d voters
s u d d e n l y f o u n d himself in possession of a prized m e m e n t o
one of the r e n o w n e d b o g u s double-eagles. A r o u n d o n e of its
faces w a s stamped these w o r d s : " T H E REMARK I MADE TO THE POOR
STRANGER W A S " A r o u n d the other face w a s s t a m p e d these: "GO
A N D REFORM. [SIGNED] P I N K E R T O N . " T h u s the entire remaining
refuse of the r e n o w n e d joke was emptied u p o n a single head,
a n d with calamitous effect. It revived the recent vast laugh a n d

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concentrated it u p o n Pinkerton; a n d Harkness's election was a

walkover.
Within twenty-four h o u r s after they Richardses had received their checks their consciences were quieting d o w n , d i s couraged; the old couple were learning to reconcile themselves
to the sin which they had committed. But they were to learn,
now, that a sin takes on n e w and real terrors w h e n there seems a
chance that it is going to be f o u n d out. This gives it a fresh and
m o s t substantial a n d important aspect. At church the m o r n i n g
s e r m o n w a s of the usual pattern; it w a s the same old things said
in the same old way; they h a d heard them a t h o u s a n d times and
f o u n d t h e m innocuous, next to meaningless, a n d easy to sleep
u n d e r ; but n o w it w a s different: the sermon seemed to bristle
with accusations; it seemed aimed straight a n d specially at
people w h o were concealing deadly sins. After church they got
a w a y f r o m the mob of congratulators as soon as they could, and
hurried h o m e w a r d , chilled to the bone at they did not k n o w
w h a t v a g u e , shadowy, indefinite fears. A n d by chance they
c a u g h t a glimpse of Mr. Burgess as he turned a corner. H e paid
n o attention to their nod of recognition! He h a d n ' t seen it; but
they did not know that. What could his conduct m e a n ? It might
meanit might m e a n o h , a dozen dreadful things. Was it
possible that he k n e w that Richards could have cleared him of
guilt in that by gone time, a n d h a d been silently waiting for a
chance to even u p accounts? At h o m e , in their distress they got
to imagining that their servant might have been in the next room
listening w h e n Richards revealed the secret to his wife that he
k n e w of Burgess's innocence; next, Richards began to imagine
that h e h a d heard the swish of a g o w n in there at that time; next,
h e w a s sure he had h e a r d it. They would call Sarah in, on a
pretext, a n d watch her face: if she had been betraying t h e m to
Mr. Burgess, it would s h o w in her manner. They asked her some
questionsquestions which were so r a n d o m a n d incoherent
a n d seemingly purposeless that the girl felt sure that the old
people's m i n d s h a d been affected by their s u d d e n good fortune;
t h e s h a r p a n d w a t c h f u l gaze which they b e n t u p o n her
f r i g h t e n e d her, a n d that completed the business. She blushed,
s h e became n e r v o u s a n d c o n f u s e d , a n d to the old people these

he Man

That

Corrupter

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313

were plain signs of guiltguilt of some fearful sort or other

without doubt she w a s a spy a n d a traitor. W h e n they were
alone again they began to piece m a n y unrelated things together
a n d get horrible results out of the combination. W h e n things
had got about to the worst, Richard was delivered of a s u d d e n
gasp, a n d his wife asked,
" O h , w h a t is it? w h a t is it?"
"The noteBurgess's note! Its language w a s sarcastic, I see
it n o w . " H e quoted: " ' A t bottom you cannot respect me,
knowing, as you do, of that matter of which I am accused'oh, it
is perfectly plain, now, God help me! He k n o w s that I know! You
see the ingenuity of the phrasing. It w a s a trapand like a fool, I
walked into it. And Mary?"
" O h , it is dreadfulI k n o w w h a t you are going to sayhe
didn't return your transcript of the pretended test-remark."
"Nokept it to destroy us with. Mary, he h a s exposed us to
some already. I k n o w itI k n o w it well. I saw it in a d o z e n faces
after church. Ah, he w o u l d n ' t answer our nod of recognition
he k n e w w h a t he had been doing!"
In the night the doctor w a s called. The n e w s w e n t a r o u n d
in the morning that the old couple were rather seriously ill
prostrated by the exhausting excitement growing out of their
great windfall, the congratulations, and the late hours, the
doctor said. The t o w n w a s sincerely distressed; for these old
people were about all it h a d left ot be p r o u d of, now.
Two days later the n e w s w a s worse. The old couple were
delirious, and were doing strange things. By witness of the
nurses, Richards had exhibited checksfor $8,500? Nofor an
amazing sum$38,500! W h a t could be the explanation of this
gigantic piece of luck?
The following day the nurses had more n e w s a n d wonderful. They had concluded to hide the checks, lest h a r m come
to them; but w h e n they searched they were g o n e from u n d e r the
patient's pillowvanished away. The patient said:
"Let the pillow alone; w h a t do you want?"
"We thought it best that the checks"
"You will never see t h e m againthey are destroyed. They
came from Satan. I saw the hell-brand on them, a n d I k n e w they

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were sent to betray me to sin." Then he fell to gabbling strange

a n d d r e a d f u l things which w e r e not clearly u n d e r s t a n d a b l e , and
which the doctor a d m o n i s h e d t h e m to keep to themselves.
Richards w a s right; the checks were never seen again.
A nurse must have talked in her sleep, for within t w o days
the forbidden gabblings were the property of the town; a n d they
w e r e of a surprising sort. They seemed to indicate that Richards
h a d been a claimant for the sack himself, a n d that Burgess had
concealed that fact a n d t h e n maliciously betrayed it.
Burgess was taxed with this a n d stoutly denied it. A n d he
said it w a s not fair to attach weight to the chatter of a sick old
m a n w h o w a s out of his m i n d . Still, suspicion w a s in the air, and
there w a s much talk.
After a day or two it w a s reported that Mrs. Richards's
delirious deliveries w e r e getting to be duplicates of her husband's. Suspicion flamed u p into conviction, now, a n d the
town's pride in the purity of its one undiscredited important
citizen began to dim d o w n and flicker toward extinction.
Six days passed, then came more news. The old couple
w e r e dying. Richards's mind cleared in his latest hour, a n d he
sent for Burgess. Burgess said:
"Let the room be cleared. I think he w i s h e s to say
s o m e t h i n g in privacy."
"No!" said Richards: "I w a n t witnesses. I w a n t you all to
hear m y confession, so that I may die a man, a n d not a dog. I
w a s cleanartificiallylike the rest; and like the rest I fell w h e n
temptation came. I signed a lie, a n d claimed the miserable sack.
Mr. Burgess remembered that I h a d done him a service, a n d in
gratitude (and ignorance) he suppressed my claim a n d saved
me. You k n o w the thing that was charged against Burgess years
ago. My testimony, and mine alone, could have cleared him,
a n d I w a s a coward, a n d left him to suffer disgrace"
"NonoMr. Richards, you"
"My servant betrayed my secret to him"
" N o one has betrayed anything to me"
" a n d then he did a natural and justifiable thing, he
repented of the saving kindness he had d o n e me, a n d he exposed
meas I deserved"

he Man

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315

"Never!I make oath"

'
" O u t of my heart I forgive him."
Burgess's impassioned protestations fell u p o n deaf ears; the
dying m a n passed away w i t h o u t knowing that once more he
had d o n e poor Burgess a w r o n g . The old wife died that night.
The last of the sacred Nineteen had fallen a prey to the
fiendish sack; the town w a s stripped of the last rag of its ancient
glory. Its m o u r n i n g w a s not showy, but it was d e e p .
By act of the Legislatureupon prayer a n d petition
Hadleyburg was allowed to change its n a m e to (never mind
whatI will not give it away), a n d leave one w o r d out of the
motto that for m a n y generations had graced the town's official
stai.
It is an honest town once more, and the m a n will have to
rise early that catches it n a p p i n g again.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

G r a n t Allen
Charles Grant Blairfindie Allen (1848-1899) is best remembered in the mystery genre for his h u m o r o u s stories about
Colonel Clay, the first heroic rogue of short crime fiction (An
African Millionaire, 1897). However, Allen also wrote a n u m b e r of
popularly received fantastic novels and short stories. A m o n g his
contemporaries, Allen w a s most noted for The Woman Who
Did a n d The British Barbarians, two controversial novels of 1895.
The first novel outraged moralists by suggesting justification for
a girl's desire to avoid marriage while conducting an affair
resulting in a love child. The second outraged nearly everybody
by suggesting a twenty-fifth century anthropologist w o u l d find
Victorian customs irrational, parochial, and incomprehensible.
Allen's shorter works of science fiction and fantasy are very well
written. M a n y can be f o u n d in Strange Stories (1884) a n d Twelve
Tales (1899), but they have never been assembled into one
volume. His final work, a novel called Hilda Wade, w a s a
collaboration with his good friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, w h o
followed Allen's d e a t h b e d instructions for its completion.
Robert Barr
The family of Robert Barr (1850-1912) emigrated from
Glasgow, Scotland to Canada w h e n he was four. Educated in
Toronto, Barr became h e a d m a s t e r of a junior school while still in
his teens. After marrying in 1876, he became a reporter for the
tree Press ;n Detroit. There he is said to have "rifled mail bags,
crossed a river on ice floes, a n d run a revolver gauntletal! in
;f i:- ; .uit of n e w s . " In 1881 his paper sent him to England as a
31 f.

About

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317

correspondent. H e started a British edition, m a d e f r i e n d s with

Kipling a n d Doyle and, in 1892, along with Jerome K. Jerome,
f o u n d e d his o w n magazine, The Idler. A p a r o d y of Sherlock
Holmes, "Detective Stories Gone Wrong: The A d v e n t u r e s of
Sherlaw Kombs," a p p e a r e d in The Idler (May 1892) u n d e r Barr's
p s e u d o n y m , Luke Sharp. (The story was subsequently retitled
"The Great Pegram Mystery.") The magazine w a s a literary and
financial success, b u t a lawsuit e n d e d its life five years later.
Barr remained in England, earning his living as a writer,
a n d is chiefly r e m e m b e r e d for fast-moving tales that were
extremely popular with m a s s audiences. M a n y featured his
egomaniacal French detective, Eugene Valmont, collected in the
1906 volme, The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont. Barr's mystery
novels and short story collections include Strange Happenings
(1883), From Whose Bourne (1893), The Face and the Mask (1894),
Revenge! (1896), Jennie Baxter, Journalist (1899), Tales of Two
Continents (1902), The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont (1906), a n d The
Girl in the Case (1910).
Wilkie Collins
William Wilkie Collins (1824-1889), often called "the father
of the English detective story," wrote his first novel, Antonina at
the age of seventeen while apprenticed to a tea merchant.
Following its publication in 1850, Collins completed his law
d e g r e e a n d subsequently met Charles Dickens d u r i n g an
a m a t e u r theatrical. The t w o writers forged an enormously fruitful lifelong friendship. Each m a n influenced the other's work;
Collins' mastery of plot paralleled Dickens' expert characterizations. O f t e n they collaborated on articles a n d ideas.
Always in poor health, Collins' dedication to writing
b o r d e r e d on valor for he often was in extreme pain and dictated
text to secretaries, n o n e of w h o m could e n d u r e his cries and
groans for long.
His two most famous works, The Woman in White (1860) and
The Moonstone (1868) were based, in part, on actual events.
These long novels with complex plots, suspense, and redherrings, neared the popularity of Dickens' work. The Woman in
White appeared in serial form in -England in All the Year Round

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a n d America in Harper's Weekly (November 1859). T.S. Eliot

called The Moonstone " t h e first, the longest, a n d the best of
m o d e r n English detective novels." It featured Sergeant Cuff,
w h o w a s bcsed on a contemporary detective.
A n u m b e r of Collins' short stories concern mystery a n d
detection. His collections After Dark (1856), The Queen of Hearts
(1859), Little Novels (1887) a n d Alicia Warlock, A Mystery, and
Other Stories (1875) all contain such works. Some are milestones,
as "The Biter Bit," the first h u m o r o u s detective story.
Richard Harding Davis
It w a s probably inevitable that Richard H a r d i n g Davis
(1864-1916) became a fiction writer a n d p e r h a p s the best k n o w n
reporter of his day. His father, L. Clarke Davis, editor of the
Philadelphia Public Ledger, a n d his mother, pioneer naturalistic
novelist Rebecca Harding Davis, not only passed on their
literary enthusiasm, b u t also gave their son entree to their peers:
writers, actors, a n d playwrights.
During college at Swarthmore, Lehigh, a n d John Hopkins,
Davis began writing fiction. H e landed his first n e w s p a p e r job in
1886 at the Philadelphia Record. Always, his work as reporter
w a s f o d d e r for fiction, a n d his first important story, "Gallegher,"
w a s the product of this job. It appeared in Scribner's in A u g u s t
1890, became an immediate hit, was translated into French a n d
G e r m a n , a n d incorporated into his first collection, Gallegher and
Other Stories, in 1891.
H e w o v e his travels, m a n y of t h e m as a war correspondent,
into novels, twenty-five plays, non-fiction travelogues a n d
eleven short story collections. A love of cities, p e r h a p s for the
a b u n d a n c e of situations they afford, an ability to create memorable characters, and an instinct for contrasts, especially moral
contrasts, fill Davis' work. Stories based on his n e w s p a p e r
experiences p e r h a p s ring truest, amalgamating fiction a n d
reporting.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) was a strange blend of
rationalist, idealist, romantic, a n d mystic w h o p r o d u c e d out-

About

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319

s t a n d i n g w o r k s of a d v e n t u r e , fantasy, science fiction, a n d

horror. Doyle b e g a n w r i t i n g while s t u d y i n g m e d i c i n e at the
University of E d i n b u r g h in 1879. It w a s there h e m e t his m o d e l s
for G e o r g e Challenger a n d Sherlock Holmes: P r o f e s s o r s Rutherford a n d Beli. After g r a d u a t i n g in 1881, Doyle h a d difficulty
b u i l d i n g a successful practice, so h e signed on as ship's doctor
for a n Arctic w h a l e r a n d a n African steamer, while c o n t i n u i n g to
s u p p l e m e n t his income t h r o u g h writing.
In 1891, the editors of The Strand Magazine, i m p r e s s e d by
Doyle's first Sherlock H o l m e s novel, A Study in Scarlet (1882),
c o m m i s s i o n e d h i m to write a series featuring t h e s a m e character.
T h e public w e n t wild over t h e s e short stories, a n d , by escalating
prices for s u b s e q u e n t series, Doyle gained financial security.
T h e r e a f t e r he b e g a n d e v o t i n g his energies to w h a t interested
h i m m o r e : participating in c u r r e n t affairs a n d w r i t i n g nonfiction.
H i s t w o books explaining a n d justifying t h e Boer War (The Great
Boer War, 1900, a n d The War in South Africa: Its Cause and Conduct,
1902) resulted in his k n i g h t h o o d .
W h e n his son Kingsley died of p n e u m o n i a a f t e r b e i n g
severely w o u n d e d in World War I, Doyle b e c a m e a n avid
spiritualist a n d e x p e n d e d m u c h of his r e m a i n i n g life p e n n i n g
b o o k s a b o u t psychic p h e n o m e n a a n d t h e existence of a n
afterlife. Ironically, it is h i s character, Sherlock H o l m e s , w h o m
h e tried to kill off, w h o h a s b r o u g h t him "literary immortality."
Harry Stillwell Edwards
H a r r y Stillwell E d w a r d s (1855-1938) s p e n t all b u t three
years of his life in M a c o n , Georgia. H e b e g a n w r i t i n g in private
school a n d , after receiving a Bachelor of Law f r o m Mercer
University at age t w e n t y o n e , c o n t i n u e d , c o n t r i b u t i n g to t h e
M a c o n Telegraph a n d the Macon Evening News. He married
children's writer Mary Roxie Lane in 1881, a n d s h e e n c o u r a g e d
h i m to submit his first story, "Elder Brown's Backslide" to
Harper's Magazine. This a n d his second, "Two R u n a w a y s , "
p u b l i s h e d in the Century, s h o w e d great sensitivity to black
dialect a n d culture.
A love of the S o u t h , its traditions, speech, a n d culture
p e r v a d e s E d w a r d s ' w o r k . In his approximately o n e h u n d r e d

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stories, h e wrote of real people, often empathetically about

blacks, as in his best k n o w n tale, Eneas Africanus. Most f a m o u s
for his n e w s p a p e r work, E d w a r d s w o n a $10,000 prize for his
first novel, Sons and Fathers, which has been called the best
mystery novel ever written by an American.
T h o m a s Hardy
T h o m a s Hardy (1840-1928) w a s thought dead w h e n born,
a n d his extreme delicacy w a s the reason he w a s t a u g h t at h o m e
until the age of eight. H e lived to be eighty-seven, his m i n d clear
to the last, dying of a cold.
At sixteen, apprenticed to a local ecclesiastical architect,
H a r d y studied more philosophy a n d poetry than architecture,
b u t still worked for six years, after 1867, as a practising architect.
In 1874 h e married E m m a Lavinia Gifford, the sister-in-law of
the vicar of one of his projects, a n d devoted himself in off-hours
to poetry, although n o n e w a s published until 1898. His first wellreceived novel, Far From the Madding Crowd (1874), gave H a r d y
e n o u g h success to s u p p o r t his wife, and settle near London.
A l t h o u g h he produced his novels annually or biennially, he
never took them seriously. Everyone else did, however. Critical
acclaim a n d notoriety greeted each one. Tess of the D'Urbervilles
(1891) a n d Jude the Obscure (1896), both had to be " e x p u r g a t e d "
w h e n published in magazines, especially in America. Called
"obscene" and "filthy" w h e n they came out, they offended
Victorian sensibilities. As years w e n t by, they were reevaluated
as masterpieces, and H a r d y received n u m e r o u s h o n o r s for his
work. By that time he h a d a b a n d o n e d fiction for his first, his
true, literary love, poetry. After his first wife died, h e married
his secretary in 1914, w h e n h e w a s seventy-four. She devoted
herself to him and wrote his biography. Hardy's heart is buried
in his first wife's grave; his ashes rest in the Poet's Corner of
Westminster Abbey.
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Born in Salem, Massachussetts, Nathaniel H a w t h o r n e
(1804-1864) came from a long line of Puritans, some of w h o m
had been cursed by a victim of the Salem witch trials. Most of his

About

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321

w o r k is strongly allegorical a n d a w a r n i n g against pride,

particularly intellectual pride. After majoring in literature at
Bowdoin College, w h e r e h e m a d e some extremely valuable
contacts, he w a s d e t e r m i n e d to become a writer. T h e lack of
international copyright laws m a d e it very difficult for a y o u n g
American writer to succeed, however. American publishers
f o u n d it more profitable to reprint British a u t h o r s , to w h o m n o
royalties w e r e paid, t h a n to cultivate costly native talent.
In 1828 H a w t h o r n e completed Fanshawe, a vanity novel,
w h i c h caught the attention of Boston publisher Samuel Goodrich. During the next eleven years Goodrich p u b l i s h e d m o r e
t h a n twenty-five of H a w t h o r n e ' s a n o n y m o u s w o r k s in his
a n n u a l short story collections, The Token. A t t e m p t s to s u p p o r t
his family by writing faltered until Boston publisher James T.
Fields stumbled across the first draft of The Scarlet Letter. This
novel m a d e its t r i u m p h a n t appearance in 1850 a n d w a s followed
a year later by the Poelike masterpiece, The House of the Seven
Gables. W h e n old college c h u m Franklin Pierce b e c a m e president
in 1853, H a w t h o r n e w a s r e w a r d e d with a c o n s u l s h i p in Liverpool, England. Increasing royalties, plus five years of lucrative
service, finally provided financial security. So he retired, a n d
after a two-year sojourn in Italy r e t u r n e d h o m e to continue
writing, rather unsuccessfully, until his d e a t h four years later.
A r t h u r Morrison
Born in a slum near L o n d o n , self-educated A r t h u r Morrison
(1863-1945) w a s secretive about his private life. In his public life,
h e w a s m a n y things; art expert, dramatist, journalist, b u t h e is
probably best r e m e m b e r e d for his twenty-five Martin H e w e t t
storiesmaking him about the only c o n t e m p o r a r y rival of
Sherlock Holmes to stand the test of time. The stories are wellstructured, often imaginative, and nicely written. They were
collected as Martin Hewitt, Investigator (1894), Chronicles of Martin
Hewett (1895), and Adventures of Martin Hewett (1896). Ironically,
Morrison had little e n t h u s i a s m for them.
Other mystery-related books he wrote are The Dorrington
Deed-Box (1897), Cunning Murrell (1900), The Hole in the Wall
(1902), a n d The Green Eye of Goona (1903). Morrison is considered

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o n e of the leaders in the d e v e l o p m e n t of naturalistic fiction in

England in the 1890s. His Tales of Mean Streets (1894) a n d A Child
of the Jago (1896) are classic studies of the hopelessness of slum
life, a n d were instrumental in initiating social reforms.
After the t u r n of the century, he devoted m u c h of his time to
the s t u d y of Oriental art, became the owner of one of the great
collections of English a n d Oriental masters a n d a n o t e d authority o n the subject. During this time his writing centered a r o u n d
t h e m o n u m e n t a l The Painters of japan (1911).
Rodriguez Ottolengui
A well k n o w n dentist, Rodriguez Ottolengui (18617-1937)
p u b l i s h e d o n e volume of short detective stories, called The Final
Proof; or, The Value of Evidence (Putnam 1898). Never published in
England, four stories from it a p p e a r e d in the Idler magazine (See
Robert Barr), which seldom published detective stories.
Ottolengui's stories have been faulted for stilted dialogue
a n d melodramatic disclosures, but they're told w i t h o u t pretensiousness, in a straight f o r w a r d way, and all the pieces of the
puzzle w o r k out. These stories about professional detective Mr.
Barnes a n d the rich amateur, Mr. Mitchel, contain enjoyable
interactions b e t w e e n the two, but were discounted by his peers,
w h o delighted in his expertise in root canal therapy. W h e n h e
died, his book, Methods of Filling Teeth, was considered his
masterpiece.
Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), often called " t h e f o u n d e r in
the m o d e r n detective story," w a s the seminal genre writer of the
n i n e t e e n t h century. H e popularized stories of science fiction a n d
psychological terror in England, America, a n d France. H e
i n v e n t e d stories of detection a n d he influenced A r t h u r C o n a n
Doyle, Jules Verne, a n d Guy de Maupassant. Despite his place
in history, his life was filled with poverty, failure, a n d tragedy.
Shortly after Poe's birth in Boston, his father ran away; his
m o t h e r succumbed to c o n s u m p t i o n three years later. Cared for
by the John Allans, to w h o m he initially brought great joy, Poe
lost their favor by behaving disgracefully at the University of

About

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323

Virginia. After t w o abortive tries at an army career, Poe began to

write full-time. Winning the 1833 Baltimore Sunday Visitor short
story contest ("Ms F o u n d in a Bottle") brought his first of several
editorial jobs. But he w a s invariably fired by his employers
because.of his arrogance, strong views, and antisocial behavior.
H e moved to N e w York, living a n d writing in abject
poverty, as his cousin-bride wasted away. Masterpieces such as
" T h e Raven" a n d "The Purloined Letter," brought scant f u n d s ,
or w e r e simply given away. Yet he w a s prolific, p r o d u c i n g a
short science fiction novel a n d several volumes w o r t h of p o e m s
a n d short stories in a brief period of time.
In 1849, just as h e seemed on the verge of straightening out
his life, h e disappeared a n d w a s discovered dying in a Baltimore
gutter.
Melville Davisson Post
Melville D a v i s s o n Post (1871-1930) w a s b o r n in rural
Romines Milles, West Virginia, an area that w a s to become the
setting of m u c h of his fiction. Graduating f r o m West Virginia
University, h e practiced criminal law a n d w a s in Democratic
politics for several years before deciding to write full-time. H e
became one of the best paid magazine writers in America, a n d
w a s admired for technical plotting skill.
His mission always to entertain the reader, he created t w o
antithetical series characters, both of w h o m s t e m m e d from his
upbringing a n d interests. The first w a s the strange, embittered
lawyer, R a n d o l p h M a s o n . O n the verge of insanity, Mason used
his impeccable k n o w l e d g e of the law to circumvent it, enabling
criminals to escape p u n i s h m e n t . In 1911, M a s o n r e p e n t e d , a n d
subsequently Post replaced him with one of the most original
detectives in America literature. Uncle Abner, w h o had no
k n o w n s u r n a m e , a god-fearing, Bible-toting Methodist frontier
m a n , sought justice in the u n t a m e d West Virginia of the early
nineteenth century. His mission w a s to mete out God's justice,
which didn't always equate with the letter of the law, to his
c o u n t r y m e n , in the most practical way possible. The well m a d e
stories, which often b e g a n after the crime w a s committed a n d

324

I'HE BEST C R I M E S T O R I E S O F T H E N I N E T E E N T H

CENTURY

m u c h of the fevidence w a s in h a n d , were immediately popular.

A b n e r sought truth t h r o u g h reasoning a n d painstaking examination of the evidence, tension growing as the mystery simultaneously unfolded with its solution.
William Russell
Almost nothing is k n o w n of William Russell's life. Even his
n a m e is incorrectly printed as Thomas Russell o n s o m e early
American editions of his book. He is best k n o w n by his
p s e u d o n y m , "Waters," b u t he also wrote novels a b o u t the sea as
"Lieutenant Warneford."
His tales, told in the first person, of a L o n d o n police
detective, first appeared in Chamber's Edinburgh Journal on July
28, 1849. The first short detective stories by an English author,
they w e r e collected in The Recollections of a Policeman, published
in N e w York in 1852, in England in 1856, a n d reprinted
n u m e r o u s times u n d e r n u m e r o u s titles.
"Waters," the writer-narrator, a member of the Metropolitan
Police, solves cases with the help of two assistants. Approximately thirteen collections of these stories, issued f r o m 1857 to
1870, a p p e a r e d , a n d n u m e r o u s ersatz Waters soon surfaced in
his wake.
Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)
Samuel C l e m e n s (1835-1910) grew u p in H a n n i b a l , Missouri, a n d w a s educated largely in the printing offices of the
Missouri Courier a n d the Hannibal journal. H e w o r k e d as a
journalist, and did a stint as a Mississippi steamboat pilot. W h e n
o n the river, he met an older pilot, Isaiah Sellers, w h o w r o t e
stories for the N e w Orleans Picayune, u n d e r the p s e u d o n y m of
"Mark Twain," a river term. Clemens so well imitated a n d
exceeded Sellers' style in a river story published by the N e w
Orleans True Delta, Sellers stopped writing. C l e m e n s thereafter
u s e d his p e n n a m e , in apology, p e r h a p s .
His h u m o r o u s , anecdotal, seemingly s p o n t a n e o u s stories
mixed m e m o r y with improbability a n d were often told w i t h an
imperturbable innocence. H e wrote tirelessly, in almost every
genre imaginable, his short stories succeeding m o r e o f t e n t h a n

About

the

Authors

325

longer works. The best of these tales appear effortless. Many,

written for ready cash, have not aged well. His forte was a
romantic realism, seen t h r o u g h the eyes of a y o u n g boy. Indeed,
his wife's n a m e for him, "Youth," reveals his secret: the voice he
u s e d for Tom Sawyer a n d Huck Finn rang true; his stories had
such vitality, because he never grew old.
Israel Zangwill
The son of a Russian Jewish refugee, Israel Zangwill (18641926) grew u p in a London ghetto, and had a life-long devotion
to Jewish causes. His o u t s p o k e n views on zionism, woman's
suffrage and the League of Nations (he s u p p o r t e d the first two,
d e n o u n c e d the latter as the "League of Damnations") were not
always well received.
Because of his novel, The Big Bow Mystery (1892), he has
gone d o w n in mystery history as the "father of the locked-room
mystery." Although Poe's "The Murders in the Rue Morgue"
preceded him (1841), The Big Bow Mystery, a parody on detective
stories, is the first longer work (a novelette) to use this plot
device. It was written in t w o weeks, first published in the London
Star. Several films have been based on Zangwill's work, including The Perfect Crime, 1928, and The Verdict, 1946.

THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE 19TH CENTURY

The nineteenth century is considered by many the Golden Age of the modern
detective story. From the birth of the genre through Edger Allen Poe's C. Auguste
Dupin, to the most famous clue seeking sleuth of them all, Arthur Conan Doyle's
Sherlock Holmes, a variety of literary minds turned to crime writing.
Each story in this highly entertaining collection is significant for its contribution
to the development of crime solving literature. There are ghastly crimes
committed in the dark of night and master detectives at work to insure that justice
is served. In a story by Thomas Hardy, we are introduced to a thief who outwits his
hangman, and in an attack on civic self- righteousness, Mark Twain shows us a
man who succeeds in stealing virtue from an entire town.
Other writers in this collection include the great American author Nathaniel
Hawthorne, Wilkie Collins-often called " the father of the English detective
story,"- and Grant Allen, best remembered for his humorous stories of Colonel
Clay, the first heroic rogue character of short crime fiction.
In total, there are 15 stories of criminal mystery and detection included in ISAAC
ASIMOV PRESENTS THE BEST CRIME STORIES OF THE 19TH
CENTURY;enough clue seeking and cleverness in the pursuit of justice to please
the most avid devotee to the genre.
Internationally acclaimed and known for his science-fiction work, ISAAC
ASI MOV also edited numerous science-fiction and non -fiction anthologies.
MARTIN H. GREENBERG and CHARLES G.WAUGH are established sciencefiction writers who, as part of the Asimov editorial team, have distinguished
themselves also as experts in the field of short stories about crime, mystery and
detection.

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