‘Was anyone else present in the room at the time you found it? Did you find anything else?’
‘There were three other persons present in the room. That bag was the first thing I touched. When I opened it and saw what was inside, I thought that, for the present, that would be enough. I think you also will be of my opinion when you see what it contains.’
Then the manager opened the bag. He looked inside, then he turned it upside down and allowed the whole contents to fall out on to the table. Of all the extraordinary collections! I believe there were articles belonging to every person in the hotel. When you came to think of it, it was amazing how they had been gathered together – in what could only have been a short space of time – without the gatherer being detected. As for the behaviour of the guests of the hotel, it was like Bedlam broken loose. They pressed forward all together, ejaculating, exclaiming, snatching at this and that, as each saw some personal belonging,
‘Keep back! Keep back!’ shouted the manager. ‘Will you not keep back?’ As he positively roared at them they did shrink back as if a trifle startled. ‘If you will only have a little patience each lady shall have what belongs to her – if it is here.’
Mrs Anstruther’s voice was heard above the hubbub: ‘Are my diamonds there?’ Then Mrs Newball’s: ‘And my pearls?’
The under-strapper was examining the miscellaneous collection which my bag had contained with all those women breaking into continual exclamations, watching him with hungry eyes. He announced the result of his examination.
‘No; Mrs Anstruther’s diamonds do not appear to be here, nor Mrs Newball’s pearls; there is nothing here which at all resembles them.’
The manager held out towards me a minatory finger; everyone seemed to have developed a sudden mania for pointing, particularly at me.
‘You! Where have you put Mrs Newball’s pearls and Mrs Anstruther’s diamonds? Better make a clean breast of it, and no longer play the hypocrite. We will find them, if you do not tell us where they are, be sure of it. Now tell us at once.’
How he thundered at me! It was most embarrassing, or it would have been if I had not been conscious that I held the key of the situation in my hand. As it was, I minded his thunder scarcely a little bit, though I always have hated being shouted at. I was very calm – certainly the calmest person there – which, of course, was not saying very much.
‘I can tell you where they are, if that is what you mean.’
‘You know that is what I mean. Tell us at once! At once!’
He banged his fist upon the table so that that miscellaneous collection trembled. I did not tremble, though perhaps it was his intention that I should. I was growing calmer and calmer.
‘In the first place, let me inform you that if you suppose I put those things in my bag – the bag is certainly mine – or had anything to do with their getting there, you are mistaken.’
My words, and perhaps my manner, created a small diversion. ‘What impudence!’ ‘What assurance!’ ‘Did you ever see anything like it?’ ‘So young and so brazen!’ ‘The impudent baggage!’ Those were some of the things which they said, which were very nice for me to have to listen to. But I was sure, from a glimpse I had caught of Mr and Miss Sterndale, that they were not quite at their ease, and that was such a comfort.
‘No lies!’ thundered the manager, whose English became a little vulgar. ‘No foolery! No stuck-up rubbish! Tell us the truth – where are these ladies’ jewels?’
‘I propose to tell you the truth, if you will have a little patience.’ I returned him look for look; I was not the least afraid of him. ‘I am going to give you a little surprise.’ I was so conscious of that that I was beginning to feel almost amused. ‘I have a power of which I think none of you has any conception, especially two of you. I know what people are saying although I do not hear them; like the deaf and dumb, who know what a person is saying by merely watching his lips.’
There were some very rude interruptions, to which I paid no notice whatever. An elderly man whom I had never seen before, and who spoke with an air of authority, advised them to give me a hearing. They did let me go on.
I told them what I had seen Miss Sterndale say to her brother on the balcony the morning before. It was some satisfaction to see the startled look which came upon the faces of both the brother and the sister. They made some very noisy and uncivil comments, but, as I could see how uncomfortable they were feeling, I let them make them. I went on. I told how unhappy I had been all day, and how, when I returned, I found under the bottom tray of my jewel-case the diamond pendant. How, astounded, I went down to ask Miss Sterndale why she had put it there, and how, encountering Miss Goodridge bewailing her loss, utterly taken aback, I held out to her her pendant in a manner which, I admitted, might very easily have seemed suspicious.
By this time the manager’s room was in a delightful state of din. Mr and Miss Sterndale were both of them shouting together, declaring that it was shocking that such a creature as I was should be allowed to make such monstrous insinuations. I believe, if it had not been for that grey-haired man who had suddenly assumed a position of authority, that Miss Sterndale would have made a personal assault on me. She seemed half beside herself with rage – and, I was quite sure, with something else as well.
I continued – in spite of the Sterndales. I could see that I was creating a state of perplexity in the minds of my hearers which might very shortly induce them to take up an entirely different attitude towards me. I told of the brief dialogue which had taken place between the sister and brother that very morning. And then you should have seen how the Sterndales stormed and raged.
‘It seems to me,’ observed the grey-haired man to Mr Sterndale, ‘that you protest too much, sir. If this young lady is all the things you say she is, presently you will have every opportunity of proving it. Since she is one young girl among all us grown-ups, it is only right and decent that we should hear what she has to say for herself. We can condemn her afterwards – that part will be easy.’
So I went on again. There was very little to add. They knew almost as much of the rest as I did. Someone had effected a wholesale clearance of pretty nearly every valuable which the house contained. I did not pretend to be certain, but I thought it extremely probable that it was Miss Sterndale who had done this, while her brother kept the owners occupied in other directions. At this point glances were exchanged. I afterwards learned that Mr Sterndale had organised a party for an excursion on the Lake of Brienz, which had been joined by nearly everyone in the place with the exception of Miss Sterndale, who was supposed to have gone for a solitary expedition up the Schynnige Platte. When Miss Sterndale saw those glances, as I have no doubt she did, she commenced to storm and rage again, and continued to the end. I do not think, even then, she guessed what was coming; but she was already more uncomfortable than she had expected to be, and I could see that her brother felt the same.
His face was white and set; he looked like a man who was trying to think of the best way in which to confront a desperate situation.
I went on to explain, quite calmly, that as, owing to the machinations of Mr Sterndale and his sister, everyone in the house had come to look upon me as a thief, their evident intention was to allow suspicion to be centred on me, and that that was why they put those things in my bag.
‘But what were they going to gain by that?’ asked the grey-haired man, rather pertinently. His question was echoed in a chorus by the rest – particularly, I noticed, by the Sterndales, who laid emphasis on the transparent absurdity of what I was saying.
‘If you will allow me to continue, I will soon make it perfectly clear to you what they were going to gain. If you remember, when Mr Sterndale was talking to his sister on the balcony this morning, I saw him say to her that there were only two things in the house worth having.’
Here Mr Sterndale burst into a very hurricane of adjectives. The grey-haired man
addressed him with rather unlooked-for vigour.
‘Silence, sir! Allow Miss Lee to continue.’
Mr Sterndale was silent. I fancy he was rather cowed by what he saw in the speaker’s eyes. I did continue.
‘The only two things which, according to Mr Sterndale, were worth having were Mrs Anstruther’s diamonds and Mrs Newball’s pearls. If they put the whole of the rest of the stolen things into my bag it would be taken for granted that I was the thief, and they would be able to continue in unsuspected possession of the two things which were worth much more than all the rest put together.’
The moment I stopped the clamour began again.
‘And where do you suggest, young lady,’ asked the grey-haired man, ‘that those two articles are?’
‘I will tell you.’ I looked at Miss Sterndale and then at her brother. I believe they would both have liked to have killed and eaten me. They can scarcely have been sure, even then, of what I was going to say, but I could see that they were devoured by anxiety and fear. ‘I have told you that I can see what people are saying by merely watching their lips. When Miss Sterndale came into the room she whispered something to her brother, in so faint a whisper that her words could have been scarcely audible even to themselves; but I saw their faces, and I knew what they had said as plainly as if they had shouted it. He told her that he had Mrs Anstruther’s diamonds in the pocket of the jacket he has on.’
I paused. The first expression on Mr Sterndale’s face was one of blank astonishment. Then he broke into Billingsgate abuse of me.
‘You infernal liar! You two-faced cat! You dirty little witch! I’m not going to stay in this room to be insulted by a miserable creature –’
He made for the door. ‘Stop him!’ I cried. As he reached the door it was thrown back almost in his face, and who should come into the room but Mr and Mrs Travers. How glad I was to see them! ‘Stop him!’ I cried to Mr Travers. ‘Stop that man!’ And Mr Travers stopped him. ‘Put your hand into the pocket of his jacket and take out what he has there.’
Mr Travers, knowing nothing of what had been taking place, must have been rather at a loss as to what I might mean by such a request; but he did as I told him, all the same. Mr Sterndale struggled; he did his best to protect himself and his pocket; but he was rather a small man, and Mr Travers was a giant, both in stature and in strength. In a very few seconds he was staring at the contents of his hand.
‘From the look of things, this gentleman’s pocket seems to be stuffed with diamonds. Here’s a diamond necklace.’
He held one up in the air. Heavy weight though she was, I believe that Mrs Anstruther sprang several inches from the floor.
‘It’s my necklace!’ she screamed.
‘And where are my pearls?’ demanded Mrs Newball.
‘Miss Sterndale whispered to her brother that your pearls were inside the bodice of her dress.’
The words were scarcely out of my lips before Mrs Newball sprang at Miss Sterndale, and there ensued a really painful scene. Had she not been restrained, I dare say she would have torn Miss Sterndale’s clothes right off her. As it was, someone opened her bodice, and the pearls were produced.
The scene which followed was like pandemonium on a small scale. It seemed as if everyone had gone stark, staring mad. Guests, manager, and staff were all shouting together. I know that Mrs Travers had her arm round me, and I was happier than – only a few minutes before – I thought that I should ever feel again.
We did not prosecute the Sterndales – which turned out not to be their name, and they were proved not to be sister and brother. Law in Switzerland does not move too quickly; the formalities to be observed are numerous. I did not very much want to have to remain in Switzerland for an indefinite period, at my own expense, to give evidence in a case in which I was not in the faintest degree interested. The others, the guests in the hotel, did not want to do that anymore than I did. Their property was restored to them – that was what they wanted.
They would have liked to punish the thieves, but not at the cost of so much inconvenience to themselves. So far as we were concerned, the criminals got off scot-free; but, none the less, they did not escape the vengeance of the law. That night they were arrested at Interlaken on another charge. It seemed that they were the perpetrators of that robbery in the hotel at Pontresina which, according to Mr Sterndale, his apocryphal clerical friend had laid at my door. They had passed there as Mr and Mrs Burnett, and were found guilty and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. I have not seen or heard anything of that pseudonymous brother and sister since. I hope I never shall.
To find out what people are saying to each other in confidence, when they suppose themselves to be out of the reach of curious ears, may be very like eavesdropping. If it is, I am very glad that, on various occasions in my life, I have been enabled to be an eavesdropper in that sense. Had I not, at Interlaken, had the power which made of me an eavesdropper, I might have been branded as a criminal, and my happiness, my whole life, have been destroyed for ever.
DIANA MARBURG, ‘THE ORACLE OF MADDOX STREET’
Created by LT Meade (1844-1914) and Robert Eustace (1854-1943)
She appeared in only a handful of stories, first published in Pearson’s Magazine in 1902, but Diana Marburg is one of the most interesting and offbeat women detectives of the period. A palmist by profession, with an interest in the occult and what she calls ‘strange mysteries of the unseen world’, she is invited to use her expertise in solving crimes. Although palm-reading plays its part in the Diana Marburg stories, the explanations and motives for the wrongdoings in them are rooted very firmly in the natural world rather than the realm of the supernatural. One tale provides an early example of the use of fingerprints (the first UK Fingerprint Bureau was only established in Scotland Yard the year before the story’s publication); another contains arguably the most ingenious, if wildly implausible, method of murder in all of Edwardian crime fiction. There is no murder in ‘Sir Penn Caryll’s Engagement’, only fraud and deception, but the perpetrators certainly display plenty of ingenuity in the means they employ to carry out their scam. Whether it is plausible or not is up to the individual reader to decide. Diana Marburg was created by the same writing partnership that produced Florence Cusack (see p. 48). LT Meade was a feminist, novelist and founder-editor in 1887 of Atalanta, a well-known magazine for girls. She was an almost ridiculously productive writer who published more than 300 books in her lifetime. Robert Eustace was the pen name of an English doctor named Eustace Robert Barton who collaborated with several other writers, including, later in his career, Dorothy L Sayers. Meade and Eustace were also responsible for several other memorable characters who appeared in the magazines of the period, including a femme fatale and supervillain named Madame Sara and John Bell, an investigator of the supernatural.
SIR PENN CARYLL’S ENGAGEMENT
Sir Penn Caryll’s engagement was the talk of all his friends. He was a man of about forty, of good family, fairly rich, and boasting of two nice country seats. He also kept a racing stable and added thereby considerably to his income. Sir Penn was so good-looking, so cheery and gay of heart, that he was a great favourite, and more than one eager mother thought of him as an excellent husband for her daughter, and more than one pretty girl looked at him with eyes of favour.
Nevertheless Sir Penn had proved himself impervious to the charms of all fair women, until a certain day when a bright-eyed Tasmanian girl, who went by the name of Esther Haldane, brought him to her feet. The girl in question was only nineteen, was to all appearances poor, and seemed to have no relations in London, except a brother, who was considered by those who knew best to be a somewhat questionable possession. Karl Haldane was a man without apparent profession, and with no certain income, and there was little doubt that he and his sister lived, before the engagement, more or less as adventurers.
After Sir Penn declared his attachment to Miss Hald
ane, however, he placed his country seat in Sussex at her disposal, putting her under the charge of his aunt, a certain Mrs Percival, and going there himself at intervals. The wedding was to take place early in July. Sir Penn received the congratulations of his friends, and Miss Haldane was thought one of the luckiest girls of the day.
The time was the fourth of May. I was dining alone and was somewhat surprised when Sir Penn’s card was brought to me with a request scribbled in writing that I would see him without a moment’s delay. I hurried at once into his presence. His face was as a rule remarkable for its serenity, and I was startled when I observed the change in it.
‘I fear you are not well,’ I said. ‘I hope there is nothing wrong.’
‘I am afraid there is,’ he replied. ‘May I tell you the object of my visit?’
I asked him to seat himself, and prepared to listen with attention.
‘I have decided to ask you to help me,’ he said abruptly. ‘An ordinary detective would be worse than useless. I have been brought into contact lately with the most extraordinary and uncanny phenomenon, and unless matters are put right without delay, I shall find myself in a serious financial difficulty. You may be certain I would not say these things to you without grave reason, and I must ask for the utmost secrecy on your part.’
‘Of course,’ I replied.
He bent forward and looked at me keenly.
‘Have you ever, in all your experience of occult matters, come across a case of thought-reading in which you were satisfied that imposture was absolutely excluded, and that the thoughts of one person were really conveyed to the brain of another? Do such things exist in this world of reality?’
I paused before replying.
‘You ask me a strange question, Sir Penn, and if you want my true opinion I do think such things possible.’
‘You think so? Who, then, can be safe? Now listen to my own personal experience. You know, of course, that I am the owner of a number of racehorses. Horse-racing is an expensive game, and my expenses are principally met by successful speculation on my horses. Now, of course, there are many secrets in a stable, such as which is the best horse for a certain race, or the capacity of any other horse. These things have to be kept from the outside world. The most important of all our secrets are obtained by what we call “trials”.
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