Chapter XIII
The Statement of Samuel Wilkins
As soon as I was alone, I commenced my investigations with a ratherdesperate hope of eliciting some startling and unsuspected facts. Iopened the drawer and taking from it the two pieces of reed and theshattered remains of the spectacles, laid them on the table. The repairsthat Thorndyke had contemplated in the case of the spectacles, had notbeen made. Apparently they had not been necessary. The battered wreckthat lay before me, just as we had found it, had evidently furnished thenecessary information; for, since Thorndyke was in possession of aportrait of Mr. Graves, it was clear that he had succeeded inidentifying him so far as to get into communication with some one whohad known him intimately.
The circumstance should have been encouraging. But somehow it was not.What was possible to Thorndyke was, theoretically, possible to me--or toanyone else. But the possibility did not realize itself in practice.There was the personal equation. Thorndyke's brain was not an ordinarybrain. Facts of which his mind instantly perceived the relation remainedto other people unconnected and without meaning. His powers ofobservation and rapid inference were almost incredible, as I had noticedagain and again, and always with undiminished wonder. He seemed to takein everything at a single glance and in an instant to appreciate themeaning of everything that he had seen.
Here was a case in point. I had myself seen all that he had seen, and,indeed, much more; for I had looked on the very people and witnessedtheir actions, whereas he had never set eyes on any of them. I hadexamined the little handful of rubbish that he had gathered up socarefully, and would have flung it back under the grate without a qualm.Not a glimmer of light had I perceived in the cloud of mystery, nor evena hint of the direction in which to seek enlightenment. And yetThorndyke had, in some incomprehensible manner, contrived to piecetogether facts that I had probably not even observed, and that socompletely that he had already, in these few days, narrowed down thefield of inquiry to quite a small area.
From these reflections I returned to the objects on the table. Thespectacles, as things of which I had some expert knowledge, were not soprofound a mystery to me. A pair of spectacles might easily afford goodevidence for identification; that I perceived clearly enough. Not aready-made pair, picked up casually at a shop, but a pair constructed bya skilled optician to remedy a particular defect of vision and to fit aparticular face. And such were the spectacles before me. The build ofthe frames was peculiar; the existence of a cylindrical lens--which Icould easily make out from the remaining fragments--showed that oneglass had been cut to a prescribed shape and almost certainly ground toa particular formula, and also that the distance between centres musthave been carefully secured. Hence these spectacles had an individualcharacter. But it was manifestly impossible to inquire of all thespectacle-makers in Europe--for the glasses were not necessarily made inEngland. As confirmation the spectacles might be valuable; as astarting-point they were of no use at all.
From the spectacles I turned to the pieces of reed. These were what hadgiven Thorndyke his start. Would they give me a leading hint too? Ilooked at them and wondered what it was that they had told Thorndyke.The little fragment of the red paper label had a dark-brown or thinblack border ornamented with a fret-pattern, and on it I detected acouple of tiny points of gold like the dust from leaf-gilding. But Ilearned nothing from that. Then the shorter piece of reed wasartificially hollowed to fit on the longer piece. Apparently it formed aprotective sheath or cap. But what did it protect? Presumably a point oredge of some kind. Could this be a pocket-knife of any sort, such as asmall stencil-knife? No; the material was too fragile for aknife-handle. It could not be an etching-needle for the same reason; andit was not a surgical appliance--at least it was not like any surgicalinstrument that was known to me.
I turned it over and over and cudgelled my brains; and then I had abrilliant idea. Was it a reed pen of which the point had been brokenoff? I knew that reed pens were still in use by draughtsmen ofdecorative leanings with an affection for the "fat line." Could any ofour friends be draughtsmen? This seemed the most probable solution ofthe difficulty, and the more I thought about it the more likely itseemed. Draughtsmen usually sign their work intelligibly, and even whenthey use a device instead of a signature their identity is easilytraceable. Could it be that Mr. Graves, for instance, was anillustrator, and that Thorndyke had established his identity by lookingthrough the works of all the well-known thick-line draughtsmen?
This problem occupied me for the rest of the day. My explanation did notseem quite to fit Thorndyke's description of his methods; but I couldthink of no other. I turned it over during my solitary lunch; Imeditated on it with the aid of several pipes in the afternoon; andhaving refreshed my brain with a cup of tea, I went forth to walk in theTemple gardens--which I was permitted to do without breaking myparole--to think it out afresh.
The result was disappointing. I was basing my reasoning on theassumption that the pieces of reed were parts of a particular appliance,appertaining to a particular craft; whereas they might be the remains ofsomething quite different, appertaining to a totally different craft orto no craft at all. And in no case did they point to any knownindividual or indicate any but the vaguest kind of search. After pacingthe pleasant walks for upwards of two hours, I at length turned backtowards our chambers, where I arrived as the lamp-lighter was justfinishing his round.
My fruitless speculations had left me somewhat irritable. The lightedwindows that I had noticed as I approached had given me the impressionthat Thorndyke had returned. I had intended to press him for a littlefurther information. When, therefore, I let myself into our chambers andfound, instead of my colleague, a total stranger--and only a back viewat that--I was disappointed and annoyed.
The stranger was seated by the table, reading a large document thatlooked like a lease. He made no movement when I entered, but when Icrossed the room and wished him "Good evening," he half rose and bowedsilently. It was then that I first saw his face, and a mighty start hegave me. For one moment I actually thought he was Mr. Weiss, so closewas the resemblance, but immediately I perceived that he was a muchsmaller man.
I sat down nearly opposite and stole an occasional furtive glance athim. The resemblance to Weiss was really remarkable. The same flaxenhair, the same ragged beard and a similar red nose, with the patches ofacne rosacea spreading to the adjacent cheeks. He wore spectacles,too, through which he took a quick glance at me now and again, returningimmediately to his document.
After some moments of rather embarrassing silence, I ventured to remarkthat it was a mild evening; to which he assented with a sort of Scotch"Hm--hm" and nodded slowly. Then came another interval of silence,during which I speculated on the possibility of his being a relative ofMr. Weiss and wondered what the deuce he was doing in our chambers.
"Have you an appointment with Dr. Thorndyke?" I asked, at length.
He bowed solemnly, and by way of reply--in the affirmative, as Iassumed--emitted another "hm--hm."
I looked at him sharply, a little nettled by his lack of manners;whereupon he opened out the lease so that it screened his face, and as Iglanced at the back of the document, I was astonished to observe that itwas shaking rapidly.
The fellow was actually laughing! What he found in my simple question tocause him so much amusement I was totally unable to imagine. But thereit was. The tremulous movements of the document left me in no possibledoubt that he was for some reason convulsed with laughter.
It was extremely mysterious. Also, it was rather embarrassing. I tookout my pocket file and began to look over my notes. Then the documentwas lowered and I was able to get another look at the stranger's face.He was really extraordinarily like Weiss. The shaggy eyebrows, throwingthe eye-sockets into shadow, gave him, in conjunction with thespectacles, the same owlish, solemn expression that I had noticed in myKennington acquaintance; and which, by the way, was singularly out ofcharacter with the frivolous behaviour that I had just witnessed.
From time to
time as I looked at him, he caught my eye and instantlyaverted his own, turning rather red. Apparently he was a shy, nervousman, which might account for his giggling; for I have noticed that shyor nervous people have a habit of smiling inopportunely and evengiggling when embarrassed by meeting an over-steady eye. And it seemedmy own eye had this disconcerting quality, for even as I looked at him,the document suddenly went up again and began to shake violently.
I stood it for a minute or two, but, finding the situation intolerablyembarrassing, I rose, and brusquely excusing myself, went up to thelaboratory to look for Polton and inquire at what time Thorndyke wasexpected home. To my surprise, however, on entering, I discoveredThorndyke himself just finishing the mounting of a microscopicalspecimen.
"Did you know that there is some one below waiting to see you?" I asked.
"Is it anyone you know?" he inquired.
"No," I answered. "It is a red-nosed, sniggering fool in spectacles. Hehas got a lease or a deed or some other sort of document which he hasbeen using to play a sort of idiotic game of Peep-Bo! I couldn't standhim, so I came up here."
Thorndyke laughed heartily at my description of his client.
"What are you laughing at?" I asked sourly; at which he laughed yet moreheartily and added to the aggravation by wiping his eyes.
"Our friend seems to have put you out," he remarked.
"He put me out literally. If I had stayed much longer I should havepunched his head."
"In that case," said Thorndyke, "I am glad you didn't stay. But comedown and let me introduce you."
"No, thank you. I've had enough of him for the present."
"But I have a very special reason for wishing to introduce you. I thinkyou will get some information from him that will interest you very much;and you needn't quarrel with a man for being of a cheerful disposition."
"Cheerful be hanged!" I exclaimed. "I don't call a man cheerful becausehe behaves like a gibbering idiot."
To this Thorndyke made no reply but a broad and appreciative smile, andwe descended to the lower floor. As we entered the room, the strangerrose, and, glancing in an embarrassed way from one of us to the other,suddenly broke out into an undeniable snigger. I looked at him sternly,and Thorndyke, quite unmoved by his indecorous behaviour, said in agrave voice:
"Let me introduce you, Jervis; though I think you have met thisgentleman before."
"I think not," I said stiffly.
"Oh yes, you have, sir," interposed the stranger; and, as he spoke, Istarted; for the voice was uncommonly like the familiar voice of Polton.
I looked at the speaker with sudden suspicion. And now I could see thatthe flaxen hair was a wig; that the beard had a decidedly artificiallook, and that the eyes that beamed through the spectacles wereremarkably like the eyes of our factotum. But the blotchy face, thebulbous nose and the shaggy, overhanging eyebrows were alien featuresthat I could not reconcile with the personality of our refined andaristocratic-looking little assistant.
"Is this a practical joke?" I asked.
"No," replied Thorndyke; "it is a demonstration. When we were talkingthis morning it appeared to me that you did not realize the extent towhich it is possible to conceal identity under suitable conditions oflight. So I arranged, with Polton's rather reluctant assistance, to giveyou ocular evidence. The conditions are not favourable--which makes thedemonstration more convincing. This is a very well-lighted room andPolton is a very poor actor; in spite of which it has been possible foryou to sit opposite him for several minutes and look at him, I have nodoubt, very attentively, without discovering his identity. If the roomhad been lighted only with a candle, and Polton had been equal to thetask of supporting his make-up with an appropriate voice and manner, thedeception would have been perfect."
"I can see that he has a wig on, quite plainly," said I.
"Yes; but you would not in a dimly lighted room. On the other hand, ifPolton were to walk down Fleet Street at mid-day in this condition, themake-up would be conspicuously evident to any moderately observantpasser-by. The secret of making up consists in a careful adjustment tothe conditions of light and distance in which the make-up is to be seen.That in use on the stage would look ridiculous in an ordinary room; thatwhich would serve in an artificially lighted room would look ridiculousout of doors by daylight."
"Is any effective make-up possible out of doors in ordinary daylight?" Iasked.
"Oh, yes," replied Thorndyke. "But it must be on a totally differentscale from that of the stage. A wig, and especially a beard ormoustache, must be joined up at the edges with hair actually stuck onthe skin with transparent cement and carefully trimmed with scissors.The same applies to eyebrows; and alterations in the colour of the skinmust be carried out much more subtly. Polton's nose has been built upwith a small covering of toupee-paste, the pimples on the cheeksproduced with little particles of the same material; and the generaltinting has been done with grease-paint with a very light scumble ofpowder colour to take off some of the shine. This would be possible inoutdoor make-up, but it would have to be done with the greatest care anddelicacy; in fact, with what the art-critics call 'reticence.' A verylittle make-up is sufficient and too much is fatal. You would besurprised to see how little paste is required to alter the shape of thenose and the entire character of the face."
At this moment there came a loud knock at the door; a single, solid dabof the knocker which Polton seemed to recognize, for he ejaculated:
"Good lord, sir! That'll be Wilkins, the cabman! I'd forgotten allabout him. Whatever's to be done?"
He stared at us in ludicrous horror for a moment or two, and then,snatching off his wig, beard and spectacles, poked them into a cupboard.But his appearance was now too much even for Thorndyke--who hastily gotbehind him--for he had now resumed his ordinary personality--but with avery material difference.
"Oh, it's nothing to laugh at, sir," he exclaimed indignantly as Icrammed my handkerchief into my mouth. "Somebody's got to let him in, orhe'll go away."
"Yes; and that won't do," said Thorndyke. "But don't worry, Polton. Youcan step into the office. I'll open the door."
Polton's presence of mind, however, seemed to have entirely forsakenhim, for he only hovered irresolutely in the wake of his principal. Asthe door opened, a thick and husky voice inquired:
"Gent of the name of Polton live here?"
"Yes, quite right," said Thorndyke. "Come in. Your name is Wilkins, Ithink?"
"That's me, sir," said the voice; and in response to Thorndyke'sinvitation, a typical "growler" cabman of the old school, complete evento imbricated cape and dangling badge, stalked into the room, andglancing round with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance, suddenlyfixed on Polton's nose a look of devouring curiosity.
"Here you are, then," Polton remarked nervously.
"Yus," replied the cabman in a slightly hostile tone. "Here I am. Whatam I wanted to do? And where's this here Mr. Polton?"
"I am Mr. Polton," replied our abashed assistant.
"Well, it's the other Mr. Polton what I want," said the cabman, with hiseyes still riveted on the olfactory prominence.
"There isn't any other Mr. Polton," our subordinate replied irritably."I am the--er--person who spoke to you in the shelter."
"Are you though?" said the manifestly incredulous cabby. "I shouldn'thave thought it; but you ought to know. What do you want me to do?"
"We want you," said Thorndyke, "to answer one or two questions. And thefirst one is, Are you a teetotaller?"
The question being illustrated by the production of a decanter, thecabman's dignity relaxed somewhat.
"I ain't bigoted," said he.
"Then sit down and mix yourself a glass of grog. Soda or plain water?"
"May as well have all the extries," replied the cabman, sitting down andgrasping the decanter with the air of a man who means business. "Per'apsyou wouldn't mind squirtin' out the soda, sir, bein' more used to it."
While these preliminaries were being arranged, Polton silently slip
pedout of the room, and when our visitor had fortified himself with a gulpof the uncommonly stiff mixture, the examination began.
"Your name, I think, is Wilkins?" said Thorndyke.
"That's me, sir. Samuel Wilkins is my name."
"And your occupation?"
"Is a very tryin' one and not paid for as it deserves. I drives a cab,sir; a four-wheeled cab is what I drives; and a very poor job it is."
"Do you happen to remember a very foggy day about a month ago?"
"Do I not, sir! A regler sneezer that was! Wednesday, the fourteenth ofMarch. I remember the date because my benefit society came down on mefor arrears that morning."
"Will you tell us what happened to you between six and seven in theevening of that day?"
"I will, sir," replied the cabman, emptying his tumbler by way ofbracing himself up for the effort. "A little before six I was waiting onthe arrival side of the Great Northern Station, King's Cross, when I seea gentleman and a lady coming out. The gentleman he looks up and downand then he sees me and walks up to the cab and opens the door and helpsthe lady in. Then he says to me: 'Do you know New Inn?' he says. That'swhat he says to me what was born and brought up in White Horse Alley,Drury Lane.
"'Get inside,' says I.
"'Well,' says he, 'you drive in through the gate in Wych Street,' hesays, as if he expected me to go in by Houghton Street and down thesteps, 'and then,' he says, 'you drive nearly to the end and you'll seea house with a large brass plate at the corner of the doorway. That'swhere we want to be set down,' he says, and with that he nips in andpulls up the windows and off we goes.
"It took us a full half-hour to get to New Inn through the fog, for Ihad to get down and lead the horse part of the way. As I drove in underthe archway, I saw it was half-past six by the clock in the porter'slodge. I drove down nearly to the end of the inn and drew up opposite ahouse where there was a big brass plate by the doorway. It was numberthirty-one. Then the gent crawls out and hands me five bob--two'arf-crowns--and then he helps the lady out, and away they waddles tothe doorway and I see them start up the stairs very slow--reglerPilgrim's Progress. And that was the last I see of 'em."
Thorndyke wrote down the cabman's statement verbatim together with hisown questions, and then asked:
"Can you give us any description of the gentleman?"
"The gent," said Wilkins, was a very respectable-looking gent, though hedid look as if he'd had a drop of something short, and small blame tohim on a day like that. But he was all there, and he knew what was theproper fare for a foggy evening, which is more than some of 'em do. Hewas a elderly gent, about sixty, and he wore spectacles, but he didn'tseem to be able to see much through 'em. He was a funny 'un to look at;as round in the back as a turtle and he walked with his head stuckforward like a goose."
"What made you think he had been drinking?"
"Well, he wasn't as steady as he might have been on his pins. But hewasn't drunk, you know. Only a bit wobbly on the plates."
"And the lady; what was she like?"
"I couldn't see much of her because her head was wrapped up in a sort ofwoollen veil. But I should say she wasn't a chicken. Might have beenabout the same age as the gent, but I couldn't swear to that. She seemeda trifle rickety on the pins too; in fact they were a rum-lookingcouple. I watched 'em tottering across the pavement and up the stairs,hanging on to each other, him peering through his blinkers and shetrying to see through her veil, and I thought it was a jolly good jobthey'd got a nice sound cab and a steady driver to bring 'em safe home."
"How was the lady dressed?"
"Can't rightly say, not being a hexpert. Her head was done up in thishere veil like a pudden in a cloth and she had a small hat on. She had adark brown mantle with a fringe of beads round it and a black dress; andI noticed when she got into the cab at the station that one of herstockings looked like the bellows of a concertina. That's all I can tellyou."
Thorndyke wrote down the last answer, and, having read the entirestatement aloud, handed the pen to our visitor.
"If that is all correct," he said, "I will ask you to sign your name atthe bottom."
"Do you want me to swear a affidavy that it's all true?" asked Wilkins.
"No, thank you," replied Thorndyke. "We may have to call you to giveevidence in court, and then you'll be sworn; and you'll also be paid foryour attendance. For the present I want you to keep your own counsel andsay nothing to anybody about having been here. We have to make someother inquiries and we don't want the affair talked about."
"I see, sir," said Wilkins, as he laboriously traced his signature atthe foot of the statement; "you don't want the other parties for to ogleyour lay. All right, sir; you can depend on me. I'm fly, I am."
"Thank you, Wilkins," said Thorndyke. "And now what are we to give youfor your trouble in coming here?"
"I'll leave the fare to you, sir. You know what the information's worth;but I should think 'arf a thick-un wouldn't hurt you."
Thorndyke laid on the table a couple of sovereigns, at the sight ofwhich the cabman's eyes glistened.
"We have your address, Wilkins," said he. "If we want you as a witnesswe shall let you know, and if not, there will be another two pounds foryou at the end of a fortnight, provided you have not let this littleinterview leak out."
Wilkins gathered up the spoils gleefully. "You can trust me, sir," saidhe, "for to keep my mouth shut. I knows which side my bread's buttered.Good night, gentlemen all."
With this comprehensive salute he moved towards the door and lethimself out.
"Well, Jervis; what do you think of it?" Thorndyke asked, as thecabman's footsteps faded away in a creaky diminuendo.
"I don't know what to think. This woman is a new factor in the case andI don't know how to place her."
"Not entirely new," said Thorndyke. "You have not forgotten those beadsthat we found in Jeffrey's bedroom, have you?"
"No, I had not forgotten them, but I did not see that they told us muchexcepting that some woman had apparently been in his bedroom at sometime."
"That, I think, is all that they did tell us. But now they tell us thata particular woman was in his bedroom at a particular time, which is agood deal more significant."
"Yes. It almost looks as if she must have been there when he made awaywith himself."
"It does, very much."
"By the way, you were right about the colours of those beads, and alsoabout the way they were used."
"As to their use, that was a mere guess; but it has turned out to becorrect. It was well that we found the beads, for, small as is theamount of information they give, it is still enough to carry us a stagefurther."
"How so?"
"I mean that the cabman's evidence tells us only that this woman enteredthe house. The beads tell us that she was in the bedroom; which, as yousay, seems to connect her to some extent with Jeffrey's death. Notnecessarily, of course. It is only a suggestion; but a rather strongsuggestion under the peculiar circumstances."
"Even so," said I, "this new fact seems to me so far from clearing upthe mystery, only to add to it a fresh element of still deeper mystery.The porter's evidence at the inquest could leave no doubt that Jeffreycontemplated suicide, and his preparations pointedly suggest thisparticular night as the time selected by him for doing away withhimself. Is not that so?"
"Certainly. The porter's evidence was very clear on that point."
"Then I don't see where this woman comes in. It is obvious that herpresence at the inn, and especially in the bedroom, on this occasion andin these strange, secret circumstances, has a rather sinister look; butyet I do not see in what way she could have been connected with thetragedy. Perhaps, after all, she has nothing to do with it. You rememberthat Jeffrey went to the lodge about eight o'clock, to pay his rent, andchatted for some time with the porter. That looks as if the lady hadalready left."
"Yes," said Thorndyke. "But, on the other hand, Jeffrey's remarks to theporter with reference to the cab do not quite agree with the a
ccountthat we have just heard from Wilkins. Which suggests--as does Wilkins'saccount generally--some secrecy as to the lady's visit to his chambers."
"Do you know who the woman was?" I asked.
"No, I don't know," he replied. "I have a rather strong suspicion that Ican identify her, but I am waiting for some further facts."
"Is your suspicion founded on some new matter that you have discovered,or is it deducible from facts that are known to me?"
"I think," he replied, "that you know practically all that I know,although I have, in one instance, turned a very strong suspicion into acertainty by further inquiries. But I think you ought to be able to formsome idea as to who this lady probably was."
"But no woman has been mentioned in the case at all."
"No; but I think you should be able to give this lady a name,notwithstanding."
"Should I? Then I begin to suspect that I am not cut out formedico-legal practice, for I don't see the faintest glimmer of asuggestion."
Thorndyke smiled benevolently. "Don't be discouraged, Jervis," said he."I expect that when you first began to go round the wards, you doubtedwhether you were cut out for medical practice. I did. For special workone needs special knowledge and an acquired faculty for making use ofit. What does a second year's student make of a small thoracic aneurysm?He knows the anatomy of the chest; he begins to know the normal heartsounds and areas of dullness; but he cannot yet fit his various items ofknowledge together. Then comes the experienced physician and perhapsmakes a complete diagnosis without any examination at all, merely fromhearing the patient speak or cough. He has the same facts as thestudent, but he has acquired the faculty of instantly connecting anabnormality of function with its correleated anatomical change. It is amatter of experience. And, with your previous training, you will soonacquire the faculty. Try to observe everything. Let nothing escape you.And try constantly to find some connection between facts and events thatseem to be unconnected. That is my advice to you; and with that we willput away the Blackmore case for the present and consider our day's workat an end."
The Mystery of 31 New Inn Page 13
