If he had been over-cautious, it was unfortunate, for he had missed an opportunity. The death of Arnold Blake without a direct successor would have made things comparatively easy for a new claimant with a good case, whereas now, with Arthur Blake in possession, the difficulties would be much greater. It is one thing to maintain a claim against other claimants, but quite another to oust a tenant who has established a title by actual possession. And, to judge by their surroundings and mode of life, my friends were but poorly equipped for any action at all.
From the manuscripts and their story my thoughts strayed to the woman whom I had seen examining Miss Blake's nameplate. I did not like that incident at all. It might mean nothing. The woman might happen to live in the neighbourhood and have made her inspection from mere idle curiosity. But that was not what the appearances suggested. The woman had been at the inquest, and from Hampstead she must have travelled in the same tramcar that had conveyed Miss Blake and me. Then she had seemed to have followed Miss Blake, at some distance, on the opposite side of the road. There was a suggestion of purpose in the whole proceeding that I found disquieting and rather sinister, and it was not made less so by the very unprepossessing appearance of the woman herself.
When I let myself into our chambers with my key—or rather Jervis'—I found the sitting-room vacant; but as an inspection of the hat-rack in the lobby suggested that Thorndyke was somewhere on the premises, I went up to the laboratory, and there I found him in company with Polton and an uncanny-looking apparatus consisting of a microscope with an attachment of miniature hot-water pipes.
'This is a new form of magic,' said I, 'at least it is new to me. What is going on?'
'This is just a microscope with a warm stage,' Thorndyke explained. 'We are making it a hot stage for the purposes of the present experiment.'
'And what is the experiment?' I asked with sudden curiosity, for I had just observed that the object on the microscope stage was an irregular-shaped piece of glass on which I could distinguish a very clear fingerprint.
'The experiment is connected with the fingerprints on the piece of glass that you so very fortunately secured at "The Rowans." This is a portion of it which I have cut off with a glazier's diamond and which bears a duplicate print. You remember my pointing out to you that a real fingerprint—as distinguished from a statistical or mathematical fingerprint—has chemical and physical properties. Well, we are endeavouring to determine the chemical nature of the substance of which this fingerprint is composed by inference from its physical properties. We are now ascertaining its melting-point; in fact I may say that we have ascertained it. It is fifty-three degrees centigrade. And this fact, in conjunction with its other observed physical properties, tells us that it is Japanese wax.'
'Indeed,' said I. 'Then that goes to show that the man who made these fingerprints had been handling Japanese wax.'
'That is the obvious inference.'
'Does that throw any light on the man's personality or occupation? What is Japanese wax used for?'
'For a variety of purposes. Very largely for the manufacture of wax polishes for boots and furniture, for the preparation of foundry wax and the various waxes used by jewellers, engravers, and lapidaries. It is also used in pharmacy in the making of certain plasters and cerates.'
'Do you think,' I asked, 'that this man could have got it on his fingers by touching the furniture?'
'No,' replied Thorndyke. 'The cabinets were French-polished, and I saw no trace of wax polish on them. Besides, there is more wax than would have been taken up in that way.'
'Does the presence of this wax suggest anything to you?'
'Well,' replied Thorndyke, 'of course there are possibilities. But one mustn't expect to apply a fact as soon as it is discovered. We have ascertained what this substance is. Let us put this item of knowledge in its proper mental pigeon-hole and hope that we shall find a use for it presently.'
'I have a strong suspicion, Thorndyke,' said I, 'that you have found a use for it already. However, I won't press you. I know my place. The mantle of Jervis is on me—and trailing a few yards along the ground. I am not permitted to cross-examine my reverend senior.'
'There really isn't any need for you to do so,' said he. 'I have no exclusive information. You are in possession of all the facts that are known to me.'
That is not strictly true, you know, Thorndyke,' I objected. 'We share the mere observed facts of this case, I admit; but you have a body of general knowledge which I have not, and which gives many of these observed facts a significance that is hidden from me. However, we will let that pass. You are the investigating wizard, I am only a sort of familiar demon. Which reminds me that I have been devilling for you this afternoon. I think you said that you would like to look over the documents relating to Miss Blake's claim.'
'Yes, I should be interested to see them.'
'Well, I've got a copy, which I have compared with the originals, and which I am to hand over Drayton. Would you like to have it now?'
'Yes; I have finished up here. Let us go downstairs and look over the documents together.'
'You had better take the copy down with you and run through it while I am having a wash. Then I will come down and hear your reverend pronouncements on the case.' I produced the manuscript book from my pocket and having handed it to him, retired to the bedroom of which I was tenant ex officio, while he descended to the sitting-room with the manuscript in his hand.
When I came down after a leisurely wash and brush up, I found Thorndyke sitting with the open book before him and a slip of paper and a pencil in his hand. Apparently he had finished the reading and was jotting down a few dates and other particulars.
'This is a singularly interesting story, Anstey,' said he, 'and extraordinarily picturesque in its setting. It enables us to understand Miss Blake's view as to her brother's claim, which sounded a little extravagant when baldly stated in her evidence. And, in fact, it looks as if that claim were a perfectly sound one. If it were only possible to produce satisfactory evidence of the marriage of Percival and Judith Blake and of the legitimacy of James, I should take the case into Court with perfect confidence—under suitable conditions, of course.'
'You mean, if there were any question as to the succession.'
'Yes. And such a question may arise at any moment if the present tenant is unmarried. It seems to me a matter of vital importance to find out as much as possible about this present tenant, Arthur Blake; I mean as to his heir, his relatives and connections generally, and the chances of his marrying. Miss Blake's brother is but a child, and many things may happen before he is a middle-aged man.'
'Yes,' I agreed. 'It would be a good deal more to the point than fussing about this ridiculous cat's eye. Miss Blake's keenness about that is a mystery to me.'
'Don't forget,' said Thorndyke, 'that the pendant is believed to bear an inscription that might be helpful to the possessor, though it is difficult to imagine in what way it could be.'
'Very difficult,' said I. 'But it isn't the inscription that she is so keen on, it is the thing itself. She has a sort of half-belief in some occult quality inherent in this jewel, in fact she is infected by the family superstition. It is incomprehensible to me.'
'It is always difficult for one temperament to understand another,' said he. 'But this state of mind is quite a common one. That absurd little bone of Halliburton's is a case in point, and quite a representative instance. It was obviously a mascot—that is to say, an object credited with occult properties and the power to influence events; and how many people are there who, openly or secretly, cherish similar charms or fetishes. The Stock Exchange, the Stage, and the Sporting Clubs are full of them.'
'Yes,' that is true,' I agreed; and then, suddenly remembering the mysterious woman, I said: 'By the way, a rather queer thing happened this afternoon. I accompanied Miss Blake home from Hampstead, but I got off the tram to get some tobacco and let her go on ahead. She had gone indoors before I arrived at the studio, and as I was
approaching her house, I saw a woman cross the road and go deliberately up to the door and read the name on the plate.'
'Yes,' said Thorndyke, looking at me interrogatively.
'Well, the point is that that woman had followed us from Hampstead.'
'Indeed!' he exclaimed with sudden gravity. 'You are sure of that?'
'Yes. I recognised her before she crossed. You may have noticed her at the inquest, a brassy-haired baggage with a spotted veil and a face powdered like a clown's.'
'Yes, I noticed her. She was sitting near to you, by the door. I took particular note of her because she stood up while Miss Blake was giving her evidence, and seemed deeply interested in her and in you.'
'Well, that is the woman.'
'But this is very serious, Anstey. What a pity you didn't follow her and find out where she went to!'
'I had half a mind to, but Master Percy—Miss Blake's brother—came to the door at that moment and saw me, so it was hardly possible.'
'It is very unfortunate,' said Thorndyke. 'You see the importance of the matter? Miss Blake stood up in open Court and swore that she was confident she could identify the man who stabbed her. Now that man is not only a robber. He is, at least, an accessory to the murder of Andrew Drayton, and his apprehension would probably reveal the identity of the actual murderer—if he is not the murderer himself—to say nothing of the charge against him of wounding with intent. Of course, if the police are right about those fingerprints, there is not so much in it. They will arrest Moakey and probably get the other man as well. But if the police clue should fail—and I should not be surprised if it does—Miss Blake represents the whole of the evidence against these two men. Apart from her, a conviction would be impossible unless the men were taken with the stolen property in their possession, which they are not likely to be. Even if the men were arrested they could not be identified, excepting by her, and would have to be released. I consider that her position is one of extreme danger. Did you tell her of this incident?'
'No; I thought there was no use in making her uneasy.'
'She ought to be warned, Anstey. And she ought to be most cautious about exposing herself to the possibility of an attack of any kind. I am expecting a visit from Superintendent Miller—he sent me a note asking for an interview at seven o'clock, so he will be here in a few minutes. When we have seen him, we shall know how the case stands, but the fact of his wanting an interview suggests that the police bark has got into shoal water.'
Punctually at seven o'clock the Superintendent's characteristic official rat-tat announced his arrival, and as I let him in, a subtle something in his manner seemed to confirm Thorndyke's surmises.
'I suppose,' said he as he took the armchair and lighted the customary cigar, 'you've guessed what I wanted to talk to you about? It's this Drayton case, you know.'
Thorndyke nodded. 'Any new developments?' lie asked.
'Well, yes, there are. We've got a bit of a setback. It seems that the fingerprint people made a mistake. Never known them to do such a thing before, but I suppose nobody is infallible. It turns out that those fingerprints are not Moakey's after all.'
As the Superintendent made this statement, he fixed a stony gaze on the opposite wall. Glancing at Thorndyke, I noted that my colleague's countenance had taken on that peculiar woodenness that I had learned to associate with intense attention not unmingled with suspicion.
'I can't think how they came to make such a stupid mistake,' the Superintendent continued, still staring fixedly at the wall. 'Might have got us into a horrid mess.'
'I should have thought,' said Thorndyke, 'that mistakes might easily be made with such multitudes of records. Whose fingerprints are they?'
'Ah!' said Miller, 'there you are. We don't know. They don't seem to have 'em at the registry. So our only clue is gone.'
'Haven't you opened up in any other direction?' Thorndyke asked.
'We've notified all the likely fences, of course, but that's no good. These coveys are not likely to try to plant the stuff with a murder charge hanging over them. Then we made some inquiries about that man Halliburton. But they turned out a frost. The chap has disappeared and left no address. We've got his signature, and we've got a damn silly rabbit bone that some fool has taken the trouble to cut a pattern on, that he left behind at the hotel; and as he seemed to value the thing, we put an advertisement in the papers saying that it had been found. But there are no answers up to the present, and not likely to be. And then Halliburton probably had nothing to do with the affair. So we're rather up a tree. And it's annoying, after thinking it was all plain sailing, and letting the papers give out that we were in full cry. Of course, they are all agog for the next act—and, by the way, one of them has got a portrait of you—I think I've got it. Yes, here it is.'
He produced from his pocket a copy of the Evening Courier and opened it out. On the front page was an excellent portrait of my colleague, with the descriptive title: 'Dr John Thorndyke, the famous criminal expert, whose services are being retained in the case.'
'That ought to help you, sir,' said the Superintendent with a grin. 'You won't be a stranger to our friends if you should happen to meet them. It is a pity their photographs can't be given, too.'
'Yes, it would be more to the point. But now, Miller, what is it that you want me to do? I assume that you have come to suggest some sort of co-operation?'
'Well,' said Miller, 'you are retained in the case, and I rather suspect that Sir Lawrence would like you to carry on independently. But there is no sense in our getting at cross-purposes.'
'Not the least,' Thorndyke agreed. 'It is a criminal case, and our objects are identical—to secure the offenders and recover the property. Do I understand that you are prepared to offer me facilities?'
'What facilities do you want?'
'At this moment I am not wanting any, excepting that I should like to look at the fingerprints. There would be no objection to that. I suppose?'
The Superintendent looked uncomfortable. 'I don't know why there should be,' said he, 'but you know what Singleton and his crowd are. They don't like unofficial investigators in their department. And,' Miller added with a grin, 'they aren't very fond of you, and no wonder; they haven't forgotten that Hornby case. But it wouldn't help you a bit if you did look at the prints. You can take it from me that Moakey is not the man. There's no mistake this time. They have checked the fingerprints quite carefully, and you can rely on what they say. So it would be no use your examining them—unless,' he added with a shrewd look at Thorndyke, 'you've got a fingerprint registry of your own'
As a matter of fact it was known to me that Thorndyke had a collection in a card-index file, but it was a mere appendix to the reports of cases dealt with, which had no bearing on the present case.
'I daresay you are right,' Thorndyke agreed 'One doesn't learn much from stray fingerprints And you've nothing more to tell us?'
'Nothing 'was the reply. 'And you, sir? I suppose you haven't struck anything that would give us a lead?'
'I have not begun to work at the case,' said Thorndyke. 'I have been waiting for your report, to see if the case was as simple as it appeared'
'Yes,' said Miller, 'it did look simple. Seemed as if there was nothing to do but make the arrest. And now we have nothing to go on at all. Well,' here he rose and began to move towards the door, 'if we can help you in any way I hope you will let us know, and, of course, if you can put us on to anything we shall thank you kindly.'
As our visitor's footsteps died away on the stairs, Thorndyke softly closed the door and moved to the window, where he stood meditatively regarding the retreating officer as the latter crossed to Crown Office Row.
'That was a queer interview,' said he.
'Yes,' I agreed 'I don't see why he made the appointment. He hadn't much to tell us'
'I am not quite sure of that,' said Thorndyke 'I have a sort of feeling that he came here to tell us something and didn't tell it—at least he thinks he didn't.'
'It seemed to me that he told us nothing,' said I.
'It probably seemed so to him,' replied Thorndyke 'Whereas, if I am not mistaken, he has made us a free gift of a really valuable piece of information.'
'Well, it may be so,' said I, 'but for my part, I can't see that he gave us a particle of information excepting that the case against Moakey has fallen through. Perhaps it is a technical point that is outside my range.'
'Not at all,' he replied. 'It is just a matter of observation and comparison. You were present when Miller called last time and you have been present today. You have heard all that passed and have had the privilege of observing the Superintendent's by no means unexpressive countenance. Just recall the conversation and consider it by the light of all the known circumstances and see if it does not yield a very interesting suggestion.'
I recalled without difficulty the brief conversation and reflected on it in connection with the Superintendent's rather aggressively nonchalant air. But from that reflection nothing emerged but wonder at my colleague's amazing power of rapid inference. Finally I resolved to write down the conversation and think it over at my leisure.
'I take it,' said I, 'that you don't believe Miller is in such a fog as he professes to be?'
'On the contrary,' Thorndyke replied, 'I think that he is not only in a fog but hard aground. The fact that he meant to conceal and in effect disclosed (as I believe) is a leading fact. But I don't think he realises whither it leads. And, of course, it may not be a fact, after all. I may have drawn an erroneous inference. Obviously, the first thing to do is to test my hypothesis rigorously. In twenty-four hours I shall know whether it is true or false, since the means of verification are quite simple.'
'I am glad of that,' I said sourly, 'for the fog in which you assume that Miller is enveloped is clear daylight compared to that which surrounds me.'
'I think you will find that the fog will clear up under the influence of a little reflection,' said Thorndyke. 'But we are forgetting Miss Blake. You see the bearing of Miller's tidings on her position. Moakey is out of the case. The fingerprints are unknown, and therefore practically valueless. The police evidently have no clue at all. Miss Blake represents the only danger that threatens these men, and we may be pretty sure that they know it. If she could be eliminated their position would be absolutely secure. And, remember, these are desperate men to whom a human life is of no account when set against their own safety. It is an unseemly hour at which to call on a lady, but I think she ought to be warned without delay.'
Dr. Thorndyke Omnibus Vol 3 Page 12
