“Thus, you see, the whole matter had been examined in advance, so that, if a forgery should be offered in evidence, we knew exactly what it would be like. And when it did appear, it corresponded perfectly with the hypothetical forgery. We heard McGonnell read out, in his opening statement, a number of quotations from the diary, all very vague and unconvincing; and then, at the end, a single short entry of an entirely different character, explicitly implying the identity of the two persons, Josiah and the Earl. Here was one of the characters of the possible forgery; and when Anstey had elicited in cross-examination that neither you nor your sister had seen it before the book went into the hands of Mr. Gimbler, it became a probable forgery. Then, on inspection, it was seen to have another of the postulated characters; it was at the end of a blank space. Finally, on closer examination, it was found to have the third character; it was written in an ink which was different from that used in the rest of the diary.
“So much for the forgery. In the case of the coffin a similar method was used. I put myself in Gimbler’s place and considered the best way in which to carry out the substitution.”
“But,” objected Mr. Pippet, “Gimbler had never suggested any examination of the coffin. On the contrary he had decided to avoid any reference to an examination until the case went to the House of Lords. I thought he was giving that coffin as wide a berth as he could.”
“Exactly,” said Thorndyke. “That was the impression that he managed to convey to us all. And it was that which made me suspect strongly that a substitution was intended. It looked to me like a very subtle and admirable tactical manoeuvre. For, you see, the examination could not be avoided. It was impossible to burke the coffin, and Gimbler knew it. Not only was it the one piece of definite and undeniable evidence in the case; it contained the means of settling conclusively the whole issue that was before the court. If Gimbler did not produce the coffin, himself, it would certainly be demanded by the other side or by the judge.
“But now observe the subtlety of Gimbler’s tactics. The crude thing to do would have been to make the substitution and then apply for an order of the court to have the coffin examined. But in that case, the coffin would have been approached by the other side with a certain amount of suspicion, and minutely scrutinized. But when Gimbler seemed to have been taken by surprise, and to agree reluctantly to the examination of the coffin, the suspicion that he had got it all ready and prepared for the examination would be unlikely to arise. ‘The other side’ would be caught off their guard.”
“Yes, by Jove!” chuckled Brodribb, “and so they were. I was quite shocked and embarrassed when I saw you sniffing round that coffin and openly showing that you suspected a fraud; and McGonnell was really and genuinely indignant.”
“Yes,” said Pippet, “he very much resented the implied doubt as to his good faith, and I must admit that I thought the Doctor a trifle over-sceptical. But don’t let me interrupt. I want to hear how you anticipated so exactly what Gimbler would do.”
“As I said,” Thorndyke resumed, “it was by putting myself in Gimbler’s place and considering how I should go about making this substitution. There were two possible methods. One was to open the old coffin and take out the body, if there was one there; the other was to prepare a new coffin to look like an old one. The first method was much the better if it could have been properly carried out. But there were one or two serious difficulties. In the first place, there would, presumably, have been a corpse to dispose of, and the operators might have objected to handling it. But the most serious objection was the possibility of a mishap in opening the coffin. It was an old coffin, and the wood might be extensively decayed. If, in the process of opening it, the lid should have broken or some other damage should have been done, the fraud would have been hopelessly exposed. For no repair would be possible. But in any case, an ancient coffin could not have been opened without leaving some plainly visible traces.
“The second plan had several advantages. The new coffin could be prepared at leisure and thoroughly examined, and the proceedings on the spot could be quite short. You remember that there is, adjoining the burial ground, a stable yard with an empty cart shed in which a van could be housed while the substitution was being made. There would be little more to do than drive into the yard, exchange the coffins and drive away again. I considered both plans in detail and eventually decided that the second one was the one that would be more probably adopted.
“Now, suppose that it was; what would the exact procedure be, and what pit-falls lay in wait for the operators? What would they have to do, and what mistakes would they probably make in doing it? In the first place, the coffin would pretty certainly be made by a regular coffin-maker; and the chances were a hundred to one, or more, that he would use modern screws and try to produce the appearance of age by rusting them. If he did, the coffin would be definitely labelled as a fabrication beyond any possible dispute.
“Then there was the sheet-lead. What he would put in would most probably be modern, silver-free milled lead, whereas the original would almost certainly have been cast sheet. Still, he might have got some old sheet lead; and in any case the discrepancy would not have been conclusive or very convincing to the judge. We could not have given a definite date, as in the case of the screws.
“The next pit-fall would be the dust. In that vault, everything would be covered with a mantle of dust of eighty years’ growth. But if once that dust were disturbed—as it necessarily would be in moving the coffin—there would be no possibility of obliterating the marks of disturbance. There would be nothing for it but to sweep the vault out clean and blow in a fresh supply of dust which would settle down in a smooth and even layer. And there one could confidently expect that a serious mistake would be made. To most persons, dust is just simply dust; a material quite devoid of individual character. Few people realize consciously that dust is merely a collection of particles detached from larger bodies, and that when those particles are magnified by the microscope, they reveal themselves as recognizable fragments of those bodies. If our friends blew dust into the vault, it would be dust that had been collected ad hoc and would be demonstrably the wrong sort of dust.
“That was how I reasoned the matter out in advance; and you will see that, when I came to the vault, all that I had to do was to note whether the appearances were normal or whether they corresponded to the false appearances which were already in my mind. As soon as I saw the screws, the question was answered. It remained only to look for additional details of evidence such as the dust and anything that might be distinctive in the character of the lead.”
“The platinum, I take it,” said Pippet, “had not been included in your forecast?”
“No,” replied Thorndyke. “That was a free gift of Providence. It came as a complete surprise; and I might easily have missed it but for the rule that I have made to let nothing pass without examination. In accordance with this routine procedure, I took up each piece of lead and inspected it to see if it showed any peculiarities by which it would be possible to date it. As soon as I lifted the first lump of platinum alloy, I realized that Providence had delivered the gay deceiver into our hands.”
“Yes,” said Pippet, “that was a stroke of pure luck. But it wasn’t necessary. I can see that your method of playing a trial game over in advance—of ascertaining what your adversary may do, instead of waiting to see what he does do—brings you to the table with all the trumps up your sleeve, ready to be produced if the chance occurs.”
He reflected awhile, stirring his coffee thoughtfully, and, apparently turning something over in his mind. At length, he looked up at Thorndyke and disclosed the subject of his cogitations.
“You have told us, Doctor,” said he, “that you got this vanishing coffin stunt worked out in advance in all its details. But there is one little matter that you have not referred to, and it happens to be one which interests me a good deal. I am wondering what has become of Josiah. It may seem only a matter of sentiment; but he was my gra
ndfather, and I feel that it is up to me to see him put back in his proper residence in accordance with his wishes and the arrangements which he made during his life. Now, did the advance scheme that you drew up include any plans for disposing of Josiah?”
“Certainly,” replied Thorndyke, “Assuming a new coffin to be used, the disposal of the old one was an important part of the problem; important to those who had to carry out the proceedings, and to us who had to prove that they had been carried out. The recovery and production of the old coffin would be conclusive evidence for the prosecution.”
“Well, now,” said Pippet, “tell us how you proposed to dispose of Josiah and how you intend to go about getting him back.”
“There were two possible methods,” said Thorndyke, “of getting rid of the old coffin. First, since a van or cart must have been used to bring the new coffin to the vault, it would have been available to take the old one away. This would have been a bad method, both for the plotters and for us; for it would have left them with the coffin on their hands, and us with the task of finding out where it had been hidden. So we will leave it until we have dealt with the more obvious and reasonable plan. I did not propose to bring the coffin away at all.”
“You don’t mean that you proposed to bury it?” said Pippet.
“No,” replied Thorndyke. “There was no need to. You have forgotten the arrangement of the place. There were six vaults, each secured only by a large, simple lock. Now, our friends must have had a big, strong skeleton key to open Josiah’s vault. With the same key they could have opened any of the other vaults; and there was a perfectly excellent and convenient hiding-place.”
“Gee!” chuckled Mr. Pippet. “That’s a quaint idea! To think that, while we were poring over that dummy coffin, Josiah, himself, was quietly reposing next door! But I guess you are right, Doctor; and the question is, what are you going to do about it?”
Thorndyke looked at the Superintendent.
“It is your move, Miller,” said he. “You have got the skeleton key, and you have the Home Office authority.”
“That is all very well,” Miller replied, cautiously, “but the judge’s order doesn’t authorize us to break into any of the other vaults.”
“The judge’s order,” said Thorndyke, “doesn’t say anything about a particular vault. It authorizes and directs you to open and examine the coffin of Josiah Pippet. But you haven’t done anything of the sort. You opened the wrong coffin. You have not complied with the judge’s order, and it is your duty to do so without delay.”
Miller grinned and glanced knowingly at Mr. Pippet.
“That’s the sort of hair-pin the Doctor is,” he said, admiringly. “Thomas a Didymus combined with a casuist of the deepest dye. He could argue the hind leg off a donkey; and that donkey would have nothing for it but to get a wooden leg.”
Here Mr. Brodribb intervened with some warmth. “You are doing Dr. Thorndyke an injustice, Superintendent,” said he. “There is nothing casuistical in his argument. He has stated the legal position quite correctly, not only in the letter but in the spirit. The judge made an order for the examination of the coffin of Josiah Pippet for the declared purpose of ascertaining the nature of its contents. But we have not examined that coffin, and we still do not know the nature of its contents. You will remember that the judge, himself, pointed that out at this morning’s proceedings.”
Miller was visibly impressed by these observations from the very correct and experienced old lawyer; and I could see that he was quite willing to be impressed, for he was as keen on the examination as any of us. But he was a police officer, and, as such, Josiah Pippet was not his pigeon. Civil cases were not in his province.
Thorndyke evidently saw the difficulty, and proceeded adroitly to turn his flank.
“Besides, Miller,” he said, “you seem to be overlooking the importance of this matter in relation to a possible prosecution. A police officer of your experience is lawyer enough to realize the great difference in value between positive and negative evidence. Now, at present, all that we can do is to show cause for the belief that the coffin that we found in the vault was not Josiah’s coffin. But suppose that we are able to produce the actual coffin of Josiah Pippet. That would leave the defence nothing to say. And, in any case, for the sake of your own reputation and that of the C.I.D., that coffin has got to be found; and common sense suggests that we begin the search in the most likely place.”
This argument disposed effectually of Miller’s difficulties.
“You are quite right, Doctor,” he agreed. “We shall be expected to produce that coffin, or, at least, to prove its existence and its whereabouts; and I certainly agree with you that the vault is the most likely place in which to look for it. I hope we are both right, for, if it isn’t there, we may be let in for a mighty long chase before we get hold of it.”
Agreement on the principle having been reached, it remained only to settle the details. Mr. Pippet, with characteristic American eagerness to “get on with it,” would have started forthwith for the burial ground; but, as Miller, naturally, had not got the keys about him, and as Thorndyke had certain preparations to make, it was arranged that the parties to the expedition should meet at the latter’s chambers at ten o’clock on the following morning.
CHAPTER XIX
Josiah?
There was something distinctly furtive and conspiratorial in the appearance and bearing of the party of six which filed into the burial ground under the guidance of Superintendent Miller. At least, so it seemed to me, though the impression may have been due to Polton; who carried a small suitcase with a secretive and burglarious air, persisted in walking on tiptoe, and generally surrounded himself with the atmosphere of a veritable Guy Fawkes.
As soon as we were all in, the Superintendent closed the gate and locked it from the inside, putting the key in his pocket. Then he followed us to the neighbourhood of the vaults, where we were screened from the gaze of possible onlookers.
“Well,” he remarked, stating an undeniable truth, “here we are, and here are the vaults. We’ve got five to choose from, and the chances are that we shall open four wrong ones before we come to the right one—if there is a right one. What do you say, Doctor? Any choice?”
“On general grounds,” said Thorndyke, “it would seem that one is as likely as another; but on psychological grounds, I should say that there is a slight probability in favour of the sixth vault.”
“Why?” demanded Miller.
“Because,” replied Thorndyke, “although, as a hiding-place, any one vault would be as good as any other, I think there would be a tendency to get as far as possible from the vault in which the dummy coffin had been planted. It is merely a guess; but, as we have nothing else to guide us, I would suggest that we begin with number six.”
While the brief discussion had been taking place, Polton had been peering into the keyholes with the aid of a small electric lamp and inspecting the edges of the respective doors. He now reported the results of his observations. “I think you are right, sir,” said he. “There seems to be a trace of grease in the inside of the lock of the last door, and there is something that looks rather like the mark of a jemmy on the jamb of the door. Perhaps Mr. Miller might take a look at it.”
Mr. Miller, as an expert on jemmy-marks, accordingly did take a look at it, and was inclined to confirm our artificer’s opinion; on which it was decided to begin operations on number six. The big skeleton key was produced from the Superintendent’s pocket and handed to Polton, by whom it was tenderly anointed with oil. Then a dressing of oil was applied to the rusty wards of the lock by means of a feather poked in through the keyhole, and the key inserted. As it refused to turn, in spite of the oil, Polton produced from his case a “tommy”—a steel bar about a foot long—which he passed through the bow of the key and worked gently backwards and forwards to distribute the oil and avoid the risk of wrenching off the bow. After a few trials, the key made a complete turn, and we heard the rusty bolt
grate back into the lock.
“I expect we shall have to prise the door open,” said Polton, after one or two vigorous tugs at the key, using the tommy as a handle. He threw back the lid of his suitcase, which was lying on the ground at his side, and looked into it—as, also, did the Superintendent.
“Well, I’m sure, Mr. Polton!” the latter exclaimed. “Are you aware that it is a misdemeanour to go abroad with housebreaking implements in your possession?”
Polton regarded him with a cunning and crinkly smile.
“May I ask, Mr. Miller,” he demanded, “what you would use to force open a jammed door? Would you use a corkscrew or a sardine opener?”
Miller chuckled, appreciatively. “Well,” he said, as Polton selected a powerful telescopic jemmy from his outfit, “I suppose the end justifies the means.”
“You can take it, sir,” said Polton, sententiously, “that people whose business it is to open doors have found out the best tools to do it with.”
Having delivered himself of this profound truth, he inserted the beak of the jemmy between the door and the jamb, gave it one or two tweaks at different levels, and then, grasping the key and the tommy, pulled the complaining door wide open.
The first glance into the mouldy and dusty interior showed that Thorndyke’s selection had been correct. There were two names on the stone slab above the vault, but there were three coffins; two lying in orderly fashion on the stone shelf, and a third flung untidily across them. That the latter was the coffin which we were seeking was at once suggested by the fact that the handles and name-plate were missing, though the spaces which they had occupied and the holes for the screws were conspicuously visible.
“That is Josiah’s coffin right enough,” said Mr. Pippet, pointing to these marks. “There can’t be a shadow of doubt.”
“No,” agreed Thorndyke, “but we mustn’t leave it at that. We must put the two coffins side by side and make an exact comparison which can be described in evidence in terms of actual measurement. I noticed that the beadle had not taken away the trestles. We had better set them up and put this coffin on them. The other one can be put on the ground alongside.”
The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 160
