† The first story appeared on Saturday, April 2, 1892, and was “The Gracely Jewels,” followed on succeeding Saturdays by “Black Magic, or the Veiled Lady,” “Catching a Burglar,” “Kleptomaniac and Thief,” “Maimed for Life,” “The Forged Love Letter,” “The Stolen Child,” “Levying Blackmail,” “Mrs. Bouverie’s Will,” and “Number 203,421.”
‡ The first story appeared on Saturday, April 14, 1894, and was “SW-E-E-EP,” followed on succeeding Saturdays by “Hoist on Her Own Petard,” “One of Dora’s Failures,” “Dora Turns the Tables,” “The Acquaintance Dodge,” “Broken Trust,” “Madame Duchesne’s Garden Party,” “Pattern of Virtue,” “Miss Rankin’s Rival,” “The Path to Fame,” “The Recluse of Hallow Hall,” and “The Mysterious Thief.”
§ In chapter 7 of the Secrets volume, Bell expressly states that White’s niece Dora assists. However, in the 1892 series, Dora is clearly identified as “Dora Bell.” In a story in The Adventures of Dora Bell, Detective, Dora notes that White had sold out, and she identifies Mr. Bell (as she consistently refers to him) as her uncle. Thus, unless at some point Mr. Bell married Dora’s father’s sister, Corbett reinvented her lineage!
CATCHING A BURGLAR
ELIZABETH CORBETT*
Dora,” said Mr. Bell, to me one day, “I have a critical piece of work for you. Mr. Blanke, of West Kensington, has been very unfortunate of late. Just before Christmas his house was entered by burglars, who removed plate and valuables worth £300 therefrom. Every effort was made to trace the thief or thieves, and recover the stolen goods, but without the slightest success. This week Mr. Blanke’s house has again been robbed, and he vows that if it costs him all he has left, he will bring the offenders to book. He has laid every particular of his case before me, and has empowered us to use whatever means we please, so long as we fathom the mystery. I suggested collusion with the thieves on the part of some of the domestics, basing my theory on certain details which he gave me. He was somewhat startled at first, for he has deemed his servants incorruptible. His household is not a large one, consisting only of himself and two sisters, and a small staff of servants, who have always given every satisfaction. Nevertheless all other means of detection having failed, he is willing to have our lady detective in the house for a time, but hardly expects any definite results. You are to go in the character of lady’s-maid to the Misses Blanke, who will, of course, both be in the secret, and the sooner you begin operations, the better.”
A few more somewhat meagre details were submitted to me, and the next day, it being the first of the month, saw me introduced to a new sphere of action. I was very well pleased with my reception, for the ladies had evidently thoroughly entered into the spirit of the thing, and neither the butler-footman, nor any of the other servants, could have the faintest suspicion that I was anything but a “bona fide” lady’s-maid. The farce was kept up very gravely until we were all in the privacy of the Misses Blanke’s dressing-room, which communicated “en suite” with their bedrooms.
Their stilted ceremony was thrown on one side, and I was fairly besieged with questions. “Oh! You wonderful girl!” exclaimed Miss Ida, who was a bright, charming girl of about my own age. “We expected to receive an elderly, sedate individual, for we never dreamed of finding so young a woman engaged in detective work. Have you ever caught anybody? And do you actually send people to prison, just like a real detective would do?”
“My dear madam,” I replied, “the line of demarcation between what you called a ‘real’ detective and myself is invisible to me. It is my vocation, anomalous as you seem to think it, to frustrate the designs of the wicked, and bring evil-doers to justice. But my plans are not carried out simply by talking, and it is necessary that my assumed work shall bear investigation in a sufficient degree to prevent all suspicion of ulterior design on my part. I would like, therefore, with your permission, to do something in the way of justifying my presence in the house, and we can meanwhile talk things over, as I must, if possible, know all about my ‘fellow servants’ before I go down to have dinner with them.”
“You certainly are very business-like and matter of fact,” put in Miss Alice, the younger of the two sisters. “But I have no doubt you are right, so while we are talking you shall plan some fresh mode of putting our hair up—but can you dress hair?”
“Messrs. Bell and White, foreseeing that the art would be useful to us, paid thirty pounds for a course of lessons with Mademoiselle Clair. Suppose I try your hair first, Miss Alice—it is not dressed in harmony with the contour of your face. Splendid—quite a wealth to work upon. And now—while I do my best with it, we will proceed with our real business. Tell me all about the servants.”
“There is not much to tell,” said Miss Blanke. “Hodgson has been with us fifteen years. He was butler down at Ilvington when our father was still living. When my brother, who is a barrister, found it necessary to come to London, Hodgson came with us. So did Grey, the gardener, who lives in the little lodge with his wife. Pearson, as we still call her, has been with us two years, and was married about twelve months ago to Hodgson. She is our cook. The upper and under housemaids are sisters, who have been in our service six months. They are all careful and attentive, and I really do not think they can possibly be connected with the burglaries.”
“Perhaps not—at least not consciously. Have the two housemaids any admirers?”
“I believe they are both ‘keeping company,’ as they call it.”
“With whom?”
“That I cannot say. But of course the young men are respectable, or Hodgson would not permit them to home into the house.”
“Have the servants any special evening for receiving visitors?”
“They are allowed to receive a friend on Tuesday evenings, and they have an evening out in turn each week.”
“Were they all in the house on the occasions of the robberies?”
“Yes.”
“Was their baggage searched?”
“They all insisted on its being done. Pearson was particularly anxious to be ‘justified,’ as she expressed it, and threatened to leave if her boxes and Hodgson’s were not searched. Oh, how beautifully you have done Alice’s hair! Why, Alice, you look like a fairy edition of yourself; I only hope mine will be as charming. But it is lunch-time. I hear the bell.”
In fact, we all heard the bell, for it made noise enough; and while the young ladies went to the morning-room, where lunch was always laid, I brushed my own hair a little, and washed my hands, preparatory to venturing among the servants. I did not need to introduce myself, for Hodgson, who was now attending to his mistresses’ needs, had opened the door for me when I arrived, and had evidently been favourably impressed by my appearance, and by my respectful attitudes towards himself, judging by the warmth with which I was welcomed downstairs.
“Which I am sure you are welcome, Miss—Miss—”
“Jenkins.”
“Miss Jenkins, ma’am. As I said to Hodgson—it’ll be rele comfort to ’ave a rele lady in the servants’ ’all, which I’m sure you looks it, too.”
“I’m glad you think so. You see, I’ve always been very careful to take pattern† quite as much from married ladies, like yourself, as from the young ladies I have had to wait upon—sometimes, in fact, you find the truest ladies in the servants’ hall.”
This flattery, gross as it was, had its intended effect, and put me at once in the good graces of Mrs. Pearson Hodgson. The housemaids smiled good-humouredly; but the younger one gave me a sly, quizzical glance, which warned me that she had too much common-sense to accept extravagant praise seriously.
I did not make much progress with my case that day, for it was part of my policy not to mention anything about the burglaries until some one else took the initiative. But I made myself very agreeable downstairs, and, while preserving a certain staidness of manner, as became an accomplished lady’s-maid, I gave myself no airs of superiority, but became quietly confidential with all the kitcheners.
>
Neither Miss Ida nor Miss Alice were disposed to work me too hard, and when the first visiting night came round, it was quietly arranged that I should have the time to use as I liked. Mr. Blanke and his sisters were going to a “Patti Concert”‡ at the Albert Hall. All hands being thus free to follow their own devices, it was resolved to make a merry evening of it.
The first visitors to arrive were Mr. and Mrs. Blandford, brother and sister-in-law of Pearson, who welcomed them very warmly. I noticed, however, that Hodgson did not seem to share his wife’s enthusiasm, for he frigidly held out the tips of his fingers, by way of shaking hands, and immediately turned to welcome two young men, who came together, on the strength of their acquaintanceship with the two pretty housemaids.
I watched these young men narrowly, for I had held the theory that they knew more about the burglaries than they would like to transpire. But, looking at their fresh, open countenances, and listening to their frank, hearty talk about home affairs, and about their work, I was fain to banish my suspicion. Just before all sat down to a very capital supper, my own “young gentleman” popped in, and certainly no one but myself would have dreamed that he was the smartest private detective our firm had had for many a day. He was very polite to everybody present, and audaciously kissed me before all these people, smilingly apologizing to the others for doing it in their presence.
Of course I dared not resent his impertinence, by seeming really angry, for had I not tacitly pledged myself to receive his attentions by introducing him to these new acquaintances as “my young gentleman”? Such are some of the penalties one has to submit to when one enters the detective business. Still, after all, when the culprit is jolly and good-looking and bright-witted, and—in fact, when he is everything that is nice, it is no very terrible matter to be the object of his salutations, especially if he likes you, and you like him—but that by the way.
“Good evening, sir. Any friends of Miss Jenkins’s is welcome. You find us very plain and homely here; but such as we have you are welcome to share.”
Mr. Hodgson said this with all the air of one lording it in his own home, and Mr. Adam Henniker at once won his favour by expressing his deep sense of the kindness extended to him—a stranger.
“Pray don’t mention it,” said Hodgson, loftily; “we never stand on ceremony here, and can at least pride ourselves upon being as hospitable as our poor means will permit. What shall I give you, sir? A little of this game-pie? Or would you prefer some turkey and ham? Yes? Here you are, then, and some of this splendid sausage—my wife defies any one to produce anything daintier. They never tire of the dish upstairs. But it does not do to spoil one’s people by over-indulgence.”
Thus meandered Mr. Hodgson, while we all did full justice to the ample supply of viands. I noticed that, whether purposely or accidentally, Hodgson forgot to serve his wife’s relations. She, however, amply made up for his neglect by heaping their plates with plenty of good things. I noticed also that Mr. Blandford indulged in an occasional scowl at his sister, which seemed to put that pleasant body into a state of nervousness not quite in keeping with mere sisterly deference. There was something behind, I felt convinced, and of course I resolved to discover what that something was.
Mrs. Blandford, too, appeared very much in awe of her husband, and hardly ventured to speak without casting a glance into his face, as if to ascertain whether she was displeasing him or not.
“Blandford is evidently a domestic tyrant,” I thought. “Is he anything worse? I must find out.”
Supper over, a round game at cards was proposed and acceded to by nearly all present. The exceptions were Blandford, Pearson, Adam Henniker, and myself. There was a good deal of laughter round the card-table, but Pearson and her brother settled down for a quiet chat. So also, apparently, did “my young gentleman” and myself. Nevertheless, the whole four of us had a keen eye to business, and it did not escape my notice that Pearson, after glancing rapidly round, to make sure she was unobserved, slipped a small piece of paper in her brother’s hand. The latter pretended to take up the Daily News, and, under its cover, read the note, smiled triumphantly, put the paper, after crumpling it up, into his coat-pocket, and then suddenly bethought him that it was time to be on the move.
“I say, Ann,” he called out to his wife, “we mustn’t be much longer before we go. You know I have to be up at three o’clock.”
Could it be fancy, or did the words, “I must be up at three o’clock,” bring an answering gleam of intelligence and satisfaction to the woman’s face? And did she really throw a glance of approval at Pearson? And was it also a fact that Pearson was as pale as death, and that she was clutching wildly at her chair, to keep herself from falling?
I certainly thought so. So did Adam Henniker, who was no less observant than myself. Adam bent towards me, and, assuming a very lover-like attitude, whispered, “Something fresh in the wind, eh? I think I could put my hand on the people we are hunting.”
As he said this, he gave my hand a squeeze, and as my responses were whispered with a downcast, blushing face, it is not surprising that somebody giggled something about “two spoons.” The company would have been very much astonished if they could have guessed the real purport of our conversation.
“Come, Ann! Didn’t you hear me say it was time to move?” snarled Blandford; receiving for reply, “Yes, yes, Andrew; in a minute,” as the lady hastily rose.
“Oh, dear! Don’t go yet!” pleaded the pretty upper-housemaid. “There is only you and me left in the game now, and I don’t want to be left an ‘old maid.’”
“Neither you shall,” exclaimed her admirer, fervently; “we’ll be married at Christmas, if you will.”
This prompt sally provoked a laugh all round, but did not serve to induce the Blandfords to wait until the game was finished. Indeed, the party was practically broken up, and I heard Hodgson mutter something to the effect that such marplots§ should never enter “his house” again. Adam Henniker followed Blandford’s lead, saying that as he also had to go to work early in the morning, he had better be moving, too. He was exceedingly polite to his fellow-visitors, even going the length of assisting Blandford to put his topcoat on, and handing Mrs. Blandford her gloves, bonnet, cloak, and umbrella. Then he whispered to me, knowing that his assumed “role” of lover would serve to excuse the want of manners, “Tell Mr. Blanke I will be back at 2:30 A.M. Have picked this fellow’s pocket of the note Pearson gave him. New plot under way. Let me in through the drawing-room window.”
I nodded my comprehension of all that Adam had said, and then excused myself also, on the plea that the young ladies would be home soon, and that I must be in readiness for them. About an hour later the family returned. Of course, I lost no time in telling Miss Blanke that I had some important information for her brother, and that I was anxious to confer with him without the other servants being cognizant of the fact.
“That is easily managed,” said Miss Blanke. “We are all three hungry, and I will ask Sidney to come and have a little refreshment here. Is there anything nice in the larder, do you know?”
There were plenty of good things in the larder, I knew, but I thought Hodgson had better answer for himself. I therefore went to the kitchen, to see what there was forthcoming, and surprised Hodgson and Pearson in the middle of a conjugal squabble, which I rightly assumed to refer to the Blandfords.
“The young ladies would like some refreshment, before going to bed. What can you give me for them? I asked.
“Refreshments? At this time of night? Didn’t they have a good dinner before they went out? But employers have no consideration now-a-days!”
Thus grumbled Hodgson; but my opinion of him rose a little, when I noticed that he was filling a tray with dainties enough to have done justice to a spread in honour of his own friends, for, from his previous talk, I had almost formed the opinion that he considered the wants of his employers as a very secondary consideration. He then carried the tray to the young ladies’ boudoir for me, an
d was informed that his services were not required any more that night.
Meanwhile Mr. Blanke had joined his sisters, and while the trio warmed themselves, and partook of the food brought for them, I gave them a rapid account of the events of the evening, so far as they appertained to the hunt for the burglars.
“Why, it looks as if Pearson were at the bottom of the mischief,” said Mr. Blanke. “I wish this friend of yours would come, for I am all anxiety to learn more.”
So said he, and it is not surprising that the young ladies also resolved to wait up, in order to satisfy their natural curiosity. As my services might possibly be required, I was also included among the watchers. When it drew near the appointed time, Mr. Blanke and his sisters, all breathless and on tiptoe, accompanied me to the drawing-room, where Adam could be admitted without the rattling of chains which was inseparable from the opening of outer doors.
A little before half-past two there was a gentle tap at the window, which was immediately opened. We were excited before, but when we saw that Adam was followed into the room by no less than four big policemen, our excitement reached boiling-pitch, though we were all careful to speak in a low tone of voice, the two young ladies showing as much discretion as anybody.
We were soon put into possession of all the facts of the case. The note which Adam had contrived to abstract from Blandford ran as follows:—“The master has bought some beautiful plate. It came home yesterday. I will see that the pantry window is unfastened for you at three o’clock. After this job I have your promise to let me go my own way, and I mean to hold you to your promise, or I, in my turn, will split.¶ The Police shall know that you are ‘Dick the Switcher.’ For the last time, three o’clock, and if you lay Jake on to me, I’ll lay the police on to you.”
In the Shadow of Agatha Christie Page 11
