The Red Thumb Mark

by R. Austin Freeman

  CHAPTER X

  POLTON IS MYSTIFIED

  A couple of days sufficed to prove that Thorndyke's mishap was not to beproductive of any permanent ill consequences; his wounds progressedfavourably and he was able to resume his ordinary avocations.

  Miss Gibson's visit--but why should I speak of her in these formalterms? To me, when I thought of her, which I did only too often, she wasJuliet, with perhaps an adjective thrown in; and as Juliet I shallhenceforth speak of her (but without the adjective) in this narrative,wherein nothing has been kept back from the reader--Juliet's visit,then, had been a great success, for my colleague was really pleased bythe attention, and displayed a quiet geniality that filled our visitorwith delight.

  He talked a good deal of Reuben, and I could see that he wasendeavouring to settle in his own mind the vexed question of herrelations with and sentiments towards our unfortunate client; but whatconclusions he arrived at I was unable to discover, for he was by nomeans communicative after she had left. Nor was there any repetition ofthe visit--greatly to my regret--since, as I have said, he was able, ina day or two, to resume his ordinary mode of life.

  The first evidence I had of his renewed activity appeared when Ireturned to the chambers at about eleven o'clock in the morning, to findPolton hovering dejectedly about the sitting-room, apparentlyperpetrating as near an approach to a "spring clean" as could bepermitted in a bachelor establishment.

  "Hallo, Polton!" I exclaimed, "have you contrived to tear yourself awayfrom the laboratory for an hour or two?"

  "No, sir," he answered gloomily. "The laboratory has torn itself awayfrom me."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "The Doctor has shut himself in and locked the door, and he says I amnot to disturb him. It will be a cold lunch to-day."

  "What is he doing in there?" I inquired.

  "Ah!" said Polton, "that's just what I should like to know. I'm faireaten up with curiosity. He is making some experiments in connectionwith some of his cases, and when the Doctor locks himself in to makeexperiments, something interesting generally follows. I should like toknow what it is this time."

  "I suppose there is a keyhole in the laboratory door?" I suggested, witha grin.

  "Sir!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Dr. Jervis, I am surprised at you."Then, perceiving my facetious intent, he smiled also and added: "Butthere _is_ a keyhole if you'd like to try it, though I'll wager theDoctor would see more of you than you would of him."

  "You are mighty secret about your doings, you and the Doctor," I said.

  "Yes," he answered. "You see, it's a queer trade this of the Doctor's,and there are some queer secrets in it. Now, for instance, what do youmake of this?"

  He produced from his pocket a leather case, whence he took a piece ofpaper which he handed to me. On it was a neatly executed drawing of whatlooked like one of a set of chessmen, with the dimensions written on themargin.

  "It looks like a pawn--one of the Staunton pattern," I said.

  "Just what I thought; but it isn't. I've got to make twenty-four ofthem, and what the Doctor is going to do with them fairly beats me."

  "Perhaps he has invented some new game," I suggested facetiously. "Heis always inventing new games and playing them mostly in courts of law,and then the other players generally lose. But this is a puzzler, and nomistake. Twenty-four of these to be turned up in the best-seasonedboxwood! What can they be for? Something to do with the experiments heis carrying on upstairs at this very moment, I expect." He shook hishead, and, having carefully returned the drawing to his pocket-book,said, in a solemn tone--"Sir, there are times when the Doctor makes mefairly dance with curiosity. And this is one of them."

  Although not afflicted with a curiosity so acute as that of Polton, Ifound myself speculating at intervals on the nature of my colleague'sexperiments and the purpose of the singular little objects which he hadordered to be made; but I was unacquainted with any of the cases onwhich he was engaged, excepting that of Reuben Hornby, and with thelatter I was quite unable to connect a set of twenty-four boxwoodchessmen. Moreover, on this day, I was to accompany Juliet on her secondvisit to Holloway, and that circumstance gave me abundant mentaloccupation of another kind.

  At lunch, Thorndyke was animated and talkative but not communicative. He"had some work in the laboratory that he must do himself," he said, butgave no hint as to its nature; and as soon as our meal was finished, hereturned to his labours, leaving me to pace up and down the walk,listening with ridiculous eagerness for the sound of the hansom that wasto transport me to the regions of the blest, and--incidentally--toHolloway Prison.

  When I returned to the Temple, the sitting-room was empty and hideouslyneat, as the result of Polton's spring-cleaning efforts. My colleaguewas evidently still at work in the laboratory, and, from thecircumstance that the tea-things were set out on the table and a kettleof water placed in readiness on the gas-ring by the fireplace, Igathered that Polton also was full of business and anxious not to bedisturbed.

  Accordingly, I lit the gas and made my tea, enlivening my solitude byturning over in my mind the events of the afternoon.

  Juliet had been charming--as she always was--frank, friendly andunaffectedly pleased to have my companionship. She evidently liked meand did not disguise the fact--why should she indeed?--but treated mewith a freedom, almost affectionate, as though I had been a favouritebrother; which was very delightful, and would have been more so if Icould have accepted the relationship. As to her feelings towards me, Ihad not the slightest misgiving, and so my conscience was clear; forJuliet was as innocent as a child, with the innocence that belongs tothe direct, straightforward nature that neither does evil itself norlooks for evil motives in others. For myself, I was past praying for.The thing was done and I must pay the price hereafter, content toreflect that I had trespassed against no one but myself. It was amiserable affair, and many a heartache did it promise me in the lonelydays that were to come, when I should have said "good-bye" to the Templeand gone back to my old nomadic life; and yet I would not have had itchanged if I could; would not have bartered the bitter-sweet memoriesfor dull forgetfulness.

  But other matters had transpired in the course of our drive than thosethat loomed so large to me in the egotism of my love. We had spoken ofMr. Hornby and his affairs, and from our talk there had emerged certainfacts of no little moment to the inquiry on which I was engaged.

  "Misfortunes are proverbially sociable," Juliet had remarked, inreference to her adopted uncle. "As if this trouble about Reuben werenot enough, there are worries in the city. Perhaps you have heard ofthem."

  I replied that Walter had mentioned the matter to me.

  "Yes," said Juliet rather viciously; "I am not quite clear as to whatpart that good gentleman has played in the matter. It has come out,quite accidentally, that he had a large holding in the mines himself,but he seems to have 'cut his loss,' as the phrase goes, and got out ofthem; though how he managed to pay such large differences is more thanwe can understand. We think he must have raised money somehow to do it."

  "Do you know when the mines began to depreciate?" I asked.

  "Yes, it was quite a sudden affair--what Walter calls 'a slump'--and itoccurred only a few days before the robbery. Mr. Hornby was telling meabout it only yesterday, and he recalled it to me by a ridiculousaccident that happened on that day."

  "What was that?" I inquired.

  "Why, I cut my finger and nearly fainted," she answered, with ashamefaced little laugh. "It was rather a bad cut, you know, but Ididn't notice it until I found my hand covered with blood. Then I turnedsuddenly faint, and had to lie down on the hearthrug--it was in Mr.Hornby's study, which I was tidying up at the time. Here I was found byReuben, and a dreadful fright it gave him at first; and then he tore uphis handkerchief to tie up the wounded finger, and you never saw such anawful mess as he got his hands in. He might have been arrested as amurderer, poor boy, from the condition he was in. It will make yourprofessional gorge rise to learn that he fastened up
the extemporisedbandage with red tape, which he got from the writing table after rootingabout among the sacred papers in the most ruthless fashion.

  "When he had gone I tried to put the things on the table straight again,and really you might have thought some horrible crime had beencommitted; the envelopes and papers were all smeared with blood andmarked with the print of gory fingers. I remembered it afterwards, whenReuben's thumb-mark was identified, and thought that perhaps one of thepapers might have got into the safe by accident; but Mr. Hornby told methat was impossible; he tore the leaf off his memorandum block at thetime when he put away the diamonds."

  Such was the gist of our conversation as the cab rattled through thestreets on the way to the prison; and certainly it contained mattersufficiently important to draw away my thoughts from other subjects,more agreeable, but less relevant to the case. With a sudden remembranceof my duty, I drew forth my notebook, and was in the act of committingthe statements to writing, when Thorndyke entered the room.

  "Don't let me interrupt you, Jervis," said he. "I will make myself a cupof tea while you finish your writing, and then you shall exhibit theday's catch and hang your nets out to dry."

  I was not long in finishing my notes, for I was in a fever of impatienceto hear Thorndyke's comments on my latest addition to our store ofinformation. By the time the kettle was boiling my entries werecompleted, and I proceeded forthwith to retail to my colleague thoseextracts from my conversation with Juliet that I have just recorded.

  He listened, as usual, with deep and critical attention.

  "This is very interesting and important," he said, when I had finished;"really, Jervis, you are a most invaluable coadjutor. It seems thatinformation, which would be strictly withheld from the forbiddingJorkins, trickles freely and unasked into the ear of the genial Spenlow.Now, I suppose you regard your hypothesis as having received verysubstantial confirmation?"

  "Certainly, I do."

  "And very justifiably. You see now how completely you were in the rightwhen you allowed yourself to entertain this theory of the crime in spiteof its apparent improbability. By the light of these new facts it hasbecome quite a probable explanation of the whole affair, and if it couldonly be shown that Mr. Hornby's memorandum block was among the papers onthe table, it would rise to a high degree of probability. The obviousmoral is, never disregard the improbable. By the way, it is odd thatReuben failed to recall this occurrence when I questioned him. Ofcourse, the bloody finger-marks were not discovered until he had gone,but one would have expected him to recall the circumstance when I askedhim, pointedly, if he had never left bloody finger-prints on anypapers."

  "I must try to find out if Mr. Hornby's memorandum block was on thetable and among the marked papers," I said.

  "Yes, that would be wise," he answered, "though I don't suppose theinformation will be forthcoming."

  My colleague's manner rather disappointed me. He had heard my reportwith the greatest attention, he had discussed it with animation, but yethe seemed to attach to the new and--as they appeared to me--highlyimportant facts an interest that was academic rather than practical. Ofcourse, his calmness might be assumed; but this did not seem likely, forJohn Thorndyke was far too sincere and dignified a character tocultivate in private life the artifices of the actor. To strangers,indeed, he presented habitually a calm and impassive exterior; but thiswas natural to him, and was but the outward sign of his even andjudicial habit of mind.

  No; there was no doubt that my startling news had left him unmoved, andthis must be for one of two reasons: either he already knew all that Ihad told him (which was perfectly possible), or he had some other andbetter means of explaining the crime. I was turning over these twoalternatives, not unobserved by my watchful colleague, when Poltonentered the room; a broad grin was on his face, and a drawing-board,that he carried like a tray, bore twenty-four neatly turned boxwoodpieces.

  Thorndyke at once entered into the unspoken jest that beamed from thecountenance of his subordinate.

  "Here is Polton with a problem for you, Jervis," he said. "He assumesthat I have invented a new parlour game, and has been trying to work outthe moves. Have you succeeded yet, Polton?"

  "No, sir, I haven't; but I suspect that one of the players will be a manin a wig and gown."

  "Perhaps you are right," said Thorndyke; "but that doesn't take you veryfar. Let us hear what Dr. Jervis has to say."

  "I can make nothing of them," I answered. "Polton showed me the drawingthis morning, and then was terrified lest he had committed a breach ofconfidence, and I have been trying ever since, without a glimmer ofsuccess, to guess what they can be for."

  "H'm," grunted Thorndyke, as he sauntered up and down the room, teacupin hand, "to guess, eh? I like not that word 'guess' in the mouth of aman of science. What do you mean by a 'guess'?"

  His manner was wholly facetious, but I professed to take his questionseriously, and replied--

  "By a guess, I mean a conclusion arrived at without data."

  "Impossible!" he exclaimed, with mock sternness. "Nobody but an utterfool arrives at a conclusion without data."

  "Then I must revise my definition instantly," I rejoined. "Let us saythat a guess is a conclusion drawn from insufficient facts."

  "That is better," said he; "but perhaps it would be better still to saythat a guess is a particular and definite conclusion deduced from factswhich properly yield only a general and indefinite one. Let us take aninstance," he continued. "Looking out of the window, I see a man walkinground Paper Buildings. Now suppose I say, after the fashion of theinspired detective of the romances, 'That man is a stationmaster orinspector,' that would be a guess. The observed facts do not yield theconclusion, though they do warrant a conclusion less definite and moregeneral."

  "You'd have been right though, sir!" exclaimed Polton, who had steppedforward with me to examine the unconscious subject of the demonstration."That gent used to be the stationmaster at Camberwell. I remember himwell." The little man was evidently greatly impressed.

  "I happen to be right, you see," said Thorndyke; "but I might as easilyhave been wrong."

  "You weren't though, sir," said Polton. "You spotted him at a glance."

  In his admiration of the result he cared not a fig for the correctnessof the means by which it had been attained.

  "Now why do I suggest that he is a stationmaster?" pursued Thorndyke,disregarding his assistant's comment.

  "I suppose you were looking at his feet," I answered. "I seem to havenoticed that peculiar, splay-footed gait in stationmasters, now that youmention it."

  "Quite so. The arch of the foot has given way; the plantar ligamentshave become stretched and the deep calf muscles weakened. Then, sincebending of the weakened arch causes discomfort, the feet have becometurned outwards, by which the bending of the foot is reduced to aminimum; and as the left foot is the more flattened, so it is turned outmore than the right. Then the turning out of the toes causes the legs tosplay outward from the knees downwards--a very conspicuous condition ina tall man like this one--and you notice that the left leg splays outmore than the other.

  "But we know that depression of the arch of the foot is brought about bystanding for long periods. Continuous pressure on a living structureweakens it, while intermittent pressure strengthens it; so the man whostands on his feet continuously develops a flat instep and a weak calf,while the professional dancer or runner acquires a high instep and astrong calf. Now there are many occupations which involve prolongedstanding and so induce the condition of flat foot: waiters,hall-porters, hawkers, policemen, shop-walkers, salesmen, and stationofficials are examples. But the waiter's gait is characteristic--aquick, shuffling walk which enables him to carry liquids withoutspilling them. This man walks with a long, swinging stride; he isobviously not a waiter. His dress and appearance in general exclude theidea of a hawker or even a hall-porter; he is a man of poor physique andso cannot be a policeman. The shop-walker or salesman is accustomed tomove in relatively confined spaces, and
so acquires a short, brisk step,and his dress tends to rather exuberant smartness; the station officialpatrols long platforms, often at a rapid pace, and so tends to take longstrides, while his dress is dignified and neat rather than florid. Thelast-mentioned characteristics, you see, appear in the subject of ouranalysis; he agrees with the general description of a stationmaster. Butif we therefore conclude that he _is_ a stationmaster, we fall into thetime-honoured fallacy of the undistributed middle term--the fallacy thathaunts all brilliant guessers, including the detective, not only ofromance, but too often also of real life. All that the observed factsjustify us in inferring is that this man is engaged in some mode of lifethat necessitates a good deal of standing; the rest is mere guess-work."

  "It's wonderful," said Polton, gazing at the now distant figure;"perfectly wonderful. I should never have known he was a stationmaster."With this and a glance of deep admiration at his employer, he took hisdeparture.

  "You will also observe," said Thorndyke, with a smile, "that a fortunateguess often brings more credit than a piece of sound reasoning with aless striking result."

  "Yes, that is unfortunately the case, and it is certainly true in thepresent instance. Your reputation, as far as Polton is concerned, is nowfirmly established even if it was not before. In his eyes you are awizard from whom nothing is hidden. But to return to these littlepieces, as I must call them, for the lack of a better name. I can formno hypothesis as to their use. I seem to have no 'departure,' as thenautical phrase goes, from which to start an inquiry. I haven't even thematerial for guess-work. Ought I to be able to arrive at any opinion onthe subject?"

  Thorndyke picked up one of the pieces, fingering it delicately andinspecting with a critical eye the flat base on which it stood, andreflected for a few moments.

  "It is easy to trace a connection when one knows all the facts," he saidat length, "but it seems to me that you have the materials from which toform a conjecture. Perhaps I am wrong, but I think, when you have hadmore experience, you will find yourself able to work out a problem ofthis kind. What is required is constructive imagination and a rigorousexactness in reasoning. Now, you are a good reasoner, and you haverecently shown me that you have the necessary imagination; you merelylack experience in the use of your faculties. When you learn my purposein having these things made--as you will before long--you will probablybe surprised that their use did not occur to you. And now let us goforth and take a brisk walk to refresh ourselves (or perhaps I shouldsay myself) after the day's labour.