“In the first place, we were glad to learn that Dr. Peck was in England. He had just returned from a long voyage; a very long voyage, for it had taken him close upon two years. And what instantly struck me when I made a rough estimate of the dates was that he appeared to have started on his voyage just about the time when John Gillum’s tenancy at Clifford’s Inn began and that he had returned a short time after John Gillum’s death. This must be admitted to be a very remarkable coincidence. And there were certain other circumstances that were at least rather singular. For instance, he went away with a full beard and moustache and came back clean-shaved; and he had not come back to Staple Inn although he had chambers there ready to receive him, and which he had always kept so that he should have some place to come to when he returned from a voyage. Instead of this, he had gone straight, as soon as he had landed, to some premises in Whitechapel where he had put up a brass plate and started in practice.
“All this was rather odd; but, of the facts disclosed by the porter’s rambling discourse, I was most interested in certain preparations which Dr. Peck had made before he had started on his voyage. These included a pair of portable bookcases in which he proposed to carry his travelling library, packed for transport and yet instantly available for use. Of these, the porter was able to give us fairly exact particulars; and, as he gave us the name and address of the man who had made them, I had—and took—the opportunity to fill in the precise details. And, as those details are highly material to the subject of our inquiry, I ask you to give very particular attention to them, both in regard to dimensions and construction.
“These bookcases were very ingeniously planned. The idea was that they could be filled with books in their proper order on the shelves and could then be closed by simply screwing on the fronts; when they would be ready for transport either by rail or sea. On arrival at their destination, they could be stowed in the doctor’s cabin and the fronts removed, and they would be ready for immediate use. Furthermore, they could, if necessary, be quite easily taken apart for storage. There were no dovetails or other permanent joints. The parts were simply screwed together with well-greased screws, and when these had been withdrawn, the cases could be resolved into a collection of boards which would lie flat for stowage and take up a minimum of space.
“Now, as to the alleged disposal of these cases. They were delivered by the maker, Mr. Crow, of Baldwin’s Gardens, at Peck’s chambers in Staple Inn, and, so far as I could learn, were never seen again. The statement is that Peck took them with him when he started on his voyage—he is said to have travelled overland to Marseilles and embarked there on a foreign ship—to have had them in use throughout that voyage, and finally to have sold them, with the books that they contained, to the captain of the ship from which he landed at Marseilles.
“That is the story. Now we return to the cases. They were made throughout of one-inch board, excepting the three equi-distant shelves, which were of half-inch stuff and slid freely in grooves. Each case was three feet three inches high, twenty inches wide and fourteen inches deep. The depth, you notice, was inconveniently great, as the books which would stand in the nine-inch spaces between the shelves would not be more than six or seven inches deep. But the dimensions as a whole interested me profoundly. I wonder whether you notice anything significant in them.”
“I certainly do not,” said Anstey, glancing enquiringly at Miller, who shook his head with a hopeless expression; “in fact, I cannot imagine what possible bearing these cases can have on the matter that we are considering.”
“Their significance,” Thorndyke explained, “lies in the possibility of their conversion into something totally different. Each is three feet three inches high; the two placed end to end with the shelves and the adjoining ends removed, would form a long case with an interior capacity of six feet four inches by eighteen inches by thirteen inches. Such a case would hold quite conveniently the body of a tall man; and it would go into the coal-bin with eighteen inches to spare in the length, ten inches in the width and fifteen inches in the depth; of which ten inches must be subtracted for the false bottom, leaving a space of five inches. The two halves of the case could be secured together firmly enough for practical purposes by screwing to each side a short board such as one of the shelves.”
Anstey looked at me with a somewhat wry smile. “This is ingenuity with a vengeance,” said he. “It almost looks like perverted ingenuity; for even the Great Unraveller must admit that there are plenty of quite innocent containers which would accommodate a human body perfectly well. The mere suitability is of no evidential value excepting as corroboration of evidence showing that it was in fact so used.”
“Exactly,” Thorndyke agreed. “But at present I am merely proving that such a container existed. The other evidence comes later.”
“But,” Anstey objected, “the container appears to have been disposed of at Marseilles and to be, at present, somewhere on the high seas.”
“My thesis,” Thorndyke rejoined, “is that Peck’s voyage was a myth; that the cases never went to sea at all, but were simply dismantled and conveyed piecemeal to Clifford’s Inn. But may I suggest that my learned friend should allow me to produce my evidence in the appointed order and to defer argument until the facts have been presented?”
“I am sat upon,” said Anstey. “Deservedly. I admit it. Let the demonstration proceed.”
“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that you hardly appreciate the extraordinary suitability of these cases for the use that I suggest. I thought it might be so, and I have accordingly asked Polton to make a set of scale models—two inches to the foot—to help your imaginations, and, if necessary, to produce in court. The models are on the table, but we shall have to find Polton to demonstrate the method of conversion.”
The necessity of finding Polton, however, did not arise, for even as Thorndyke spoke, he emerged unblushingly from the office and enquired if anything was wanted. Miller greeted his arrival with a broad grin and bluntly accused him of eavesdropping; to which Polton made no reply beyond a bland and crinkly smile, but, producing from his pocket a pair of forceps and a watchmaker’s screwdriver, bore down on the models.
“We will begin with the coal-bin,” said Thorndyke, picking up the long, narrow box and handing it to Polton, “and I shall refer to the real dimensions, of which all these models are exactly one-sixth—two inches to the foot. This bin is eight feet long by thirty inches wide and twenty-nine inches deep. On opening the lid, you see the false bottom with a cavity above it nine inches deep—deep enough to accommodate a good supply of coal. But I need not continue the description. You can see the details for yourselves.”
Our friends watched with profound interest while Polton picked up with his forceps the little sunk rings in the false bottom and lifted the latter out in its two halves, displaying in the cavity underneath a number of flat pads of cotton wool, which he picked out and laid on the table.
“What are those little pads?” Anstey asked.
“They represent the pads of insulating material,” Thorndyke replied. “You will see their use presently. The actual pads were almost certainly made of silicate wool.”
Having passed the bin round, Polton took up one of the model bookcases, and with his screwdriver extracted the little screws from the front, when the latter came off, displaying the interior with its three shelves. When he had repeated the operation on the other one, and passed both round for inspection, Thorndyke replaced them on the table.
“You have seen these cases,” said he, “in their ostensible character as bookcases, and you will agree that their appearance is quite convincing. Now we shall see the transformation.”
It was very interesting to observe how complete the transformation was. Polton began by drawing out the shelves, which slid freely in their grooves. Then, having extracted the lower screws, he let the bottom of each fall out. Next, laying the two cases on their backs, he brought the two open ends together, when they formed a long, narrow box, simila
r in shape to, but smaller than, the bin. Then he took two of the shelves, each of which was perforated by six holes, and laying them on either side of the long box across the junction of the two halves, fixed them in position with screws. Lifting the box, he demonstrated that the two cases had now become united to form a single structure with a continuous cavity.
When this had been passed round and examined, he took up one or two of the pads and laid them on the floor of the bin. Then he placed the box inside the bin, packed some more of the pads at the ends and sides, put the fronts on, laid the rest of the pads over them, and finally replaced the false bottom, which dropped comfortably into its place on top of the pads.
“You now see for yourselves,” said Thorndyke, “how perfectly these cases are adapted to the purpose that I have suggested. The adaptability seems too perfect to be accidental. Not only is the long case exactly the right size and shape to accommodate the body of a tall man; it is also exactly the right size and shape to lie in the bin with enough space around it for the insulating pads and still room enough for the false bottom. There is not an inch to spare in any direction. Those cases have the appearance of having been carefully designed for this very purpose. And I submit that they were.”
We were all deeply impressed by the demonstration, and Anstey expressed the sentiments of us all when he remarked: “You were wise, Thorndyke, to have these models made. Seeing is not only believing; it is understanding. No amount of verbal description could have conveyed the extraordinary fitness of these cases for the purpose that you suggest. I take off my hat to you and Polton. I am even prepared to take off my wig; but I will defer that until you have produced the rest of the evidence.”
The demonstration completed, Polton made as if to retire to the office, but before he could escape, Miller grabbed him and pulled him into a chair. “What’s the use of pretending, Mr. Polton?” said he. “You know you have been listening all the time. Better sit here and listen in comfort,” which view, being endorsed by Thorndyke, was duly carried into effect.
“The fact that we have established,” said Thorndyke, “is that these bookcases were capable of being converted into a receptacle which would hold the body of a tall man and which would fit the interior of the coal-bin. The objection to the suggestion that they were so used is that they are said to have been taken overseas and never brought back. I now proceed to deal with that objection.
“On the floor above Gillum’s chambers at Clifford’s Inn is a large lumber-room which has been used by the authorities of the Inn for storing old furniture and other bulky rubbish left by outgoing tenants in their chambers; but I learn that it has been out of use and undisturbed for some years. Now, it occurred to me, as a bare possibility, that the Tenant might, at the end of his tenancy when his proceedings would necessarily be somewhat hurried, find himself burdened with some objects which he would not wish to leave in the chambers but which he had no opportunity to take away or destroy; and, in fact, I had these very cases in mind. Accordingly, I decided to take a look round the lumber-room and see if anything appeared to have been deposited there; and did so, assisted by Jervis and Polton.”
“Wasn’t the room locked?” asked Miller.
“It was,” Thorndyke replied. “A common builder’s lock which could have been turned with a stiff wire. We actually used a provisional key.”
Miller chuckled delightedly. “A provisional key,” he repeated. “I must remember that expression. Sounds so much better than skeleton key. Yes, doctor; and, of course, you did find something.”
“We did,” Thorndyke replied. “Perhaps Polton will be so good as to produce our gleanings for your inspection.”
Thereupon Polton retired to the office and immediately returned bearing a bundle of pieces of board which he laid out in order on the table.
“These,” said Thorndyke, “we found hidden under a pile of much older lumber. The wood is obviously comparatively new and the broken edges quite fresh. Let us fit those broken edges together and see what results. Here, for instance, are three pieces which fit together perfectly and form a rectangle with finished edges. It is three feet three inches long by twenty inches wide, the exact dimensions of the front or back of Peck’s bookcases. Moreover, there are twelve countersunk screw-holes, each of which fits a number eight screw, and those screws are not only the same size as those in Peck’s cases, but have the same distribution; namely, four equidistant holes on each side and two at either end.
“Then, here are two pieces which evidently formed part of a similar structure. They fit together exactly and their screw-holes are the same size and have the same distribution. Finally, here is a complete piece which corresponds completely with the sides of Peck’s cases. It is three feet three inches long, thirteen inches wide, it has three equidistant half-inch grooves, and the screw-holes in the edges correspond exactly in size and position with those on the back and the front. But there is in addition an extremely interesting feature. At one end of this side are three holes which have been made by screws, showing that something, not part of the original structure, had been screwed on to the outside. Now, if you will look at Polton’s model of the long case, you will see that the two halves are secured together by screwing on one of the shelves on either side, forming a sort of fish-plate; and I submit that these screw-holes afford evidence that a precisely similar procedure had been followed in the cases of which these fragments are part.”
Miller and Anstey were both greatly impressed. Nevertheless, the latter objected: “What you have proved, Thorndyke—and proved most conclusively—is that these fragments are parts of some structure which was exactly like one of Peck’s bookcases. But you haven’t proved that it actually was one of his cases.”
“No,” Thorndyke agreed, “I admit the objection, and I shall now proceed to dispose of it. I sent Polton with the complete back to show it to Mr. Crow, who made Peck’s cases. He shall tell you what Mr. Crow said.”
“I went to Mr. Crow,” said Polton, “and showed him the three pieces and we put them together on his bench. Then he looked up his book and compared the dimensions and the size and position of the screw-holes, and he said that the three pieces made up some thing that was exactly like the back or front of one of the cases that he had made for Dr. Peck. I told him that we knew that, and I asked him if he couldn’t be more definite. So he took another look at the pieces, and then he noticed this bit of American white wood—” Here Polton pointed out the strip of foreign wood. “—and that brought the job back to his memory. He remembered that he had then had a small piece of good American white wood left over from another job, and as the case was going to be stained, he thought he might as well use it up. So he did; and by that piece of white wood he was able to swear, and he was prepared to swear, that these pieces were actually the back of one of the cases that he had made for Dr. Peck.”
“I think that is good enough,” said Miller; and, as Anstey agreed, the evidence as to the cases was accepted as complete, so far as it went.
“We are agreed, then,” said Thorndyke, “as to the identity of the cases, and that somebody brought them from Staple Inn to Clifford’s Inn. The next question that we have to settle is: Who brought them? Fortunately, we have some fairly conclusive evidence on that point. I have mentioned that the lumber-room had not been disturbed, or even entered, for at least several years. Apart from Weech’s statement, this was evident from the appearance of the place. Everything in it, including the floor and the steps leading up to it, was covered with a thick, even coating of dust, almost like a thin covering of snow. Now, when we started to ascend the steps, we could see on them the very distinct footprints of some person who had gone up a short time previously; and when we reached the room, we could see a double line of footprints extending from the head of the steps to the farther end of the room—actually, as we found later, to the pile of lumber under which the fragments of the cases were hidden.
“As the dust must have been something like an eighth of an inch thic
k, these footprints were extraordinarily distinct. Like footprints in the snow, they were actual impressions, having a sensible depth and showing some detailed characters of the feet that made them; and their distinctness emphasised the fact that there was no trace whatever of any other footprints. As it happened that Polton had a camera with him in the chambers below, I asked him to photograph two of the footprints, a right and a left, selecting those which showed the most detail.
“This he did, laying a footrule beside each print to give a measuring standard and including the rule in the photograph. I produce here enlargements of the two photographs of the footprints, and I also produce photographs to the same scale, likewise including a footrule, of a pair of house-shoes which I found in the bedroom of the chambers and which seemed to correspond to the footprints. If you examine the two sets of photographs, you will see that the correspondence is quite unmistakeable, even to the position of the brads in the soles and heels, which, as well as the various dimensions, you can verify with a pair of dividers and the footrule. I have done this, and I am prepared to swear, and to prove, that the footprints were made by these shoes. Whence it follows—since there were no other footprints, and the cases must have been deposited after the last previous visit to the room—that the fragments of the cases must have been put where we found them by the Tenant, whoever he may have been. Do you agree to that?”
“It is impossible not to agree,” replied Anstey. “The proof is absolutely conclusive.”
“Then,” said Thorndyke, “we will consider the cases as disposed of, and I shall now pass on to another investigation which yielded evidence on two separate aspects of our inquiry. On Jervis’s suggestion, I decided to make a systematic collection of dust from the floor of Gillum’s chambers. The collection was carried out by Polton with a vacuum cleaner; and he not only kept the dust from the different areas separate, but, finding that the Tenant had used a carpet-sweeper, he extracted the dust from that and also carefully combed out its brushes. The same evening, we formed a sort of committee, with three microscopes, and went through the entire collection of dust. I need not trouble you with details of the procedure. Of the objects brought to light by our microscopes, there were only two kinds that are of interest to us; human hairs and particles of silicate wool.”
The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 212
