Recollections of a Policeman

by William Russell

  Part XIII.

  THREE "DETECTIVE" ANECDOTES.

  THE PAIR OF GLOVES.

  "It's a singular story, Sir," said Inspector Wield, of the DetectivePolice, who, in company with Sergeants Dornton and Mith, paid us anothertwilight visit, one July evening; "and I've been thinking you might liketo know it.

  "It's concerning the murder of the young woman, Eliza Grimwood, someyears ago, over in the Waterloo Road. She was commonly called TheCountess, because of her handsome appearance, and her proud way ofcarrying of herself; and when I saw the poor Countess (I had known herwell to speak to), lying dead, with her throat cut, on the floor of herbedroom, you'll believe me that a variety of reflections calculated tomake a man rather low in his spirits, came into my head.

  "That's neither here nor there. I went to the house the morning afterthe murder, and examined the body, and made a general observation of thebedroom where it was. Turning down the pillow of the bed with my hand, Ifound, underneath it, a pair of gloves. A pair of gentleman's dressgloves, very dirty; and inside the lining, the letters TR, and a cross.

  "Well, Sir, I took them gloves away, and I showed 'em to the magistrate,over at Union Hall, before whom the case was. He says, 'Wield,' he says,'there's no doubt this is a discovery that may lead to something veryimportant; and what you have got to do, Wield, is, to find out the ownerof these gloves.'

  "I was of the same opinion, of course, and I went at it immediately. Ilooked at the gloves pretty narrowly, and it was my opinion that theyhad been cleaned. There was a smell of sulphur and rosin about 'em, youknow, which cleaned gloves usually have, more or less. I took 'em overto a friend of mine at Kennington, who was in that line, and I put it tohim. 'What do you say now? Have these gloves been cleaned?' 'Thesegloves have been cleaned,' says he. 'Have you any idea who cleanedthem?' says I. 'Not at all,' says he; 'I've a very distinct idea who_didn't_ clean 'em, and that's myself. But I'll tell you what, Wield,there ain't above eight or nine reg'lar glove cleaners inLondon,'--there were not, at that time, it seems--'and I think I cangive you their addresses, and you may find out, by that means, who didclean 'em.' Accordingly, he gave me the directions, and I went here, andI went there, and I looked up this man, and I looked up that man; but,though they all agreed that the gloves had been cleaned, I couldn't findthe man, woman, or child, that had cleaned that aforesaid pair ofgloves.

  "What with this person not being at home, and that person being expectedhome in the afternoon, and so forth, the inquiry took me three days. Onthe evening of the third day, coming over Waterloo Bridge from theSurrey side of the river, quite beat, and very much vexed anddisappointed, I thought I'd have a shilling's worth of entertainment atthe Lyceum Theatre to freshen myself up. So I went into the Pit, athalf-price, and I sat myself down next to a very quiet, modest sort ofyoung man. Seeing I was a stranger (which I thought it just as well toappear to be) he told me the names of the actors on the stage, and wegot into conversation. When the play was over, we came out together, andI said, 'We've been very companionable and agreeable, and perhaps youwouldn't object to a drain?' 'Well, you're very good,' says he; 'I_shouldn't_ object to a drain.' Accordingly, we went to a public house,near the Theatre, sat ourselves down in a quiet room up stairs on thefirst floor, and called for a pint of half-and-half, a-piece, and apipe.

  "Well, Sir, we put our pipes aboard, and we drank our half-and-half, andsat a talking, very sociably, when the young man says, 'You must excuseme stopping very long,' he says, 'because I'm forced to go home in goodtime. I must be at work all night.' 'At work all night?' says I. 'Youain't a Baker?' 'No,' he says, laughing, 'I ain't a baker.' 'I thoughtnot,' says I, 'you haven't the looks of a baker.' 'No,' says he, 'I'm aglove cleaner.'

  "I never was more astonished in my life, than when I heard them wordscome out of his lips. 'You're a glove cleaner, are you?' says I. 'Yes,'he says, 'I am.' 'Then, perhaps,' says I, taking the gloves out of mypocket, 'you can tell me who cleaned this pair of gloves? It's a rumstory,' I says. 'I was dining over at Lambeth, the other day, at afree-and-easy--quite promiscuous--with a public company--when somegentleman, he left these gloves behind him! Another gentleman and me,you see, we laid a wager of a sovereign, that I wouldn't find out whothey belonged to. I've spent as much as seven shillings already, intrying to discover; but, if you could help me, I'd stand another sevenand welcome. You see there's TR and a cross, inside.' '_I_ see,' hesays. 'Bless you, _I_ know these gloves very well! I've seen dozens ofpairs belonging to the same party.' 'No?' says I. 'Yes,' says he. 'Thenyou know who cleaned 'em?' says I. 'Rather so,' says he. 'My fathercleaned 'em.'

  "'Where does your father live?' says I. 'Just round the corner,' saysthe young man, 'near Exeter Street, here. He'll tell you who they belongto, directly.' 'Would you come round with me now?' says I. 'Certainly,'says he, 'but you needn't tell my father that you found me at the play,you know, because he mightn't like it.' 'All right!' We went round tothe place, and there we found an old man in a white apron, with two orthree daughters, all rubbing and cleaning away at lots of gloves, in afront parlor. 'Oh, Father!' says the young man, 'here's a person beenand made a bet about the ownership of a pair of gloves, and I've toldhim you can settle it.' 'Good evening, Sir,' says I to the oldgentleman. 'Here's the gloves your son speaks of. Letters TR, you see,and a cross.' 'Oh yes,' he says, 'I know these gloves very well; I'vecleaned dozens of pairs of 'em. They belong to Mr. Trinkle, the greatupholsterer in Cheapside.' 'Did you get 'em from Mr. Trinkle, direct,'says I, 'if you'll excuse my asking the question?' 'No,' says he; 'Mr.Trinkle always sends 'em to Mr. Phibbs's, the haberdasher's opposite hisshop, and the haberdasher sends 'em to me.' 'Perhaps _you_ wouldn'tobject to a drain?' says I. 'Not in the least!' says he. So I took theold gentleman out, and had a little more talk with him and his son, overa glass, and we parted ex-cellent friends.

  "This was late on a Saturday night. First thing on the Monday morning, Iwent to the haberdasher's shop, opposite Mr. Trinkle's, the greatupholsterer's in Cheapside. 'Mr. Phibbs in the way?' 'My name isPhibbs.' 'Oh! I believe you sent this pair of gloves to be cleaned?''Yes, I did, for young Mr. Trinkle over the way. There he is, in theshop!' 'Oh! that's him in the shop, is it? Him in the green coat?' 'Thesame individual.' 'Well, Mr. Phibbs, this is an unpleasant affair; butthe fact is, I am Inspector Wield of the Detective Police, and I foundthese gloves under the pillow of the young woman that was murdered theother day, over in the Waterloo Road?' 'Good Heaven!' says he. 'He's amost respectable young man, and if his father was to hear of it, itwould be the ruin of him!' 'I'm very sorry for it,' says I, 'but I musttake him into custody.' 'Good Heaven!' says Mr. Phibbs, again; 'cannothing be done?' 'Nothing,' says I. 'Will you allow me to call him overhere,' says he, 'that his father may not see it done?' 'I don't objectto that,' says I; 'but unfortunately, Mr. Phibbs, I can't allow of anycommunication between you. If any was attempted, I should have tointerfere directly. Perhaps you'll beckon him over here?' Mr Phibbs wentto the door and beckoned, and the young fellow came across the streetdirectly; a smart, brisk young fellow.

  "'Good morning, Sir' says I. 'Good morning, Sir,' says he 'Would youallow me to inquire, Sir,' says I, 'if you ever had any acquaintancewith a party of the name of Grimwood?' 'Grimwood! Grimwood!' says he,'No!' 'You know the Waterloo Road?' 'Oh! of course I know the WaterlooRoad!' 'Happen to have heard of a young woman being murdered there?''Yes, I read it in the paper, and very sorry I was to read it.' 'Here'sa pair of gloves belonging to you, that I found under her pillow themorning afterwards!'

  'He was in a dreadful state, Sir; a dreadful state!' 'Mr. Wield,' hesays, 'upon my solemn oath I never was there I never so much as saw her,to my knowledge, in my life!' 'I am very sorry,' says I. 'To tell youthe truth; I don't think you _are_ the murderer, but I must take you toUnion Hall in a cab. However, I think it's a case of that sort, that, atpresent, at all events, the magistrate will hear it in private.'

  A private examination took place, and then it came out that this youngman was acquainted with a cousin
of the unfortunate Eliza Grimwoods, andthat, calling to see this cousin a day or two before the murder, he leftthese gloves upon the table. Who should come in, shortly afterwards, butEliza Grimwood! 'Whose gloves are these?' she says, taking 'em up.'Those are Mr. Trinkle's gloves,' says her cousin. 'Oh!' says she, 'theyare very dirty, and of no use to him, I am sure, I shall take 'em awayfor my girl to clean the stoves with.' And she put 'em in her pocket.The girl had used 'em to clean the stoves, and, I have no doubt, hadleft 'em lying on the bedroom mantel-piece, or on the drawers, orsomewhere; and her mistress, looking round to see that the room wastidy, had caught 'em up and put 'em under the pillow where I found 'em.

  "That's the story, Sir."

  THE ARTFUL TOUCH.

  "One of the most _beautiful_ things that ever was done, perhaps," saidInspector Wield, emphasising the adjective, as preparing us to expectdexterity or ingenuity rather than strong interest, "was a move ofSerjeant Witchem's. It was a lovely idea!

  "Witchem and me were down at Epsom one Derby Day, waiting at the stationfor the Swell Mob. As I mentioned, when we were talking about thesethings before, we are ready at the station when there's races, or anAgricultural Show, or a Chancellor sworn in for an university, or JennyLind, or any thing of that sort; and as the Swell Mob come down, we send'em back again by the next train. But some of the Swell Mob, on theoccasion of this Derby that I refer to, so far kiddied us as to hire ahorse and shay; start away from London by Whitechapel, and miles round;come into Epsom from the opposite direction; and go to work, right andleft, on the course, while we were waiting for 'em at the Rail. That,however, ain't the point of what I'm going to tell you.

  "While Witchem and me were waiting at the station, there comes up oneMr. Tatt; a gentleman formerly in the public line, quite an amateurDetective in his way, and very much respected. 'Halloa, Charley Wield,'he says. 'What are you doing here? On the look out for some of your oldfriends?' 'Yes, the old move, Mr. Tatt.' 'Come along,' he says, 'you andWitchem, and have a glass of sherry.' 'We can't stir from the place,'says I, 'till the next train comes in; but after that, we will withpleasure.' Mr. Tatt waits, and the train comes in, and then Witchem andme go off with him to the Hotel. Mr. Tatt he's got up quite regardlessof expense, for the occasion; and in his shirt-front there's a beautifuldiamond prop, cost him fifteen or twenty pound--a very handsome pinindeed. We drink our sherry at the bar, and have had our three or fourglasses, when Witchem cries, suddenly, 'Look out, Mr. Wield! standfast!' and a dash is made into the place by the swell mob--four of'em--that have come down as I tell you, and in a moment Mr. Tatt's propis gone! Witchem, he cuts 'em off at the door, I lay about me as hard asI can, Mr. Tatt shows fight like a good 'un, and there we are, all downtogether, heads and heels, knocking about on the floor of thebar--perhaps you never see such a scene of confusion! However, we stickto our men (Mr. Tatt being as good as any officer), and we take 'em all,and carry 'em off to the station. The station's full of people, who havebeen took on the course; and it's a precious piece of work to get 'emsecured. However, we do it at last, and we search 'em; but nothing'sfound upon 'em, and they're locked up; and a pretty state of heat we arein by that time, I assure you!

  "I was very blank over it, myself, to think that the prop had beenpassed away; and I said to Witchem, when we had set 'em to rights, andwere cooling ourselves along with Mr. Tatt, 'we don't take much by_this_ move, any way, for nothing's found upon 'em, and it's only thebraggadocia[C] after all.' 'What do you mean, Mr. Wield?' says Witchem.'Here's the diamond pin!' and in the palm of his hand there it was, safeand sound! 'Why, in the name of wonder,' says me and Mr. Tatt, inastonishment, 'how did you come by that?' 'I'll tell you how I come byit,' says he. 'I saw which of 'em took it; and when we were all down onthe floor together, knocking about, I just gave him a little touch onthe back of his hand, as I knew his pal would; and he thought it WAS hispal; and gave it me!' It was beautiful, beau-ti-ful!

  [C] Three months' imprisonment as reputed thieves

  "Even that was hardly the best of the case, for that chap was tried atthe Quarter Sessions at Gruildford. You know what Quarter Sessions are,Sir. Well, if you'll believe me, while them slow justices were lookingover the Acts of Parliament, to see what they could do to him, I'mblowed if he didn't cut out of the dock before their faces! He cut outof the dock, Sir, then and there; swam across a river; and got up into atree to dry himself. In the tree he was took--an old woman having seenhim climb up--and Witchem's artful touch transported him!"

  THE SOFA.

  "What young men will do, sometimes, to ruin themselves and break theirfriends' hearts," said Serjeant Dornton, "it's surprising! I had a caseat Saint Blank's Hospital which was of this sort. A bad case, indeed,with a bad end!

  "The Secretary, and the House-Surgeon, and the Treasurer, of SaintBlank's Hospital, came to Scotland Yard to give information of numerousrobberies having been committed on the students. The students couldleave nothing in the pockets of their great-coats, while the great-coatswere hanging at the Hospital, but it was almost certain to be stolen.Property of various descriptions was constantly being lost; and thegentlemen were naturally uneasy about it, and anxious, for the credit ofthe Institution, that the thief or thieves should be discovered. Thecase was entrusted to me, and I went to the Hospital.

  "'Now, gentlemen,' said I, after we had talked it over, 'I understandthis property is usually lost from one room.'

  "Yes, they said. It was.

  "'I should wish, if you please,' said I, 'to see that room.'

  "It was a good-sized bare-room down stairs, with a few tables and formsin it, and a row of pegs, all round, for hats and coats.

  "'Next, gentlemen,' said I, 'do you suspect anybody?'

  "Yes, they said. They did suspect somebody. They were sorry to say, theysuspected one of the porters.

  "'I should like,' said I, 'to have that man pointed out to me, and tohave a little time to look after him.'

  "He was pointed out, and I looked after him, and then I went back to theHospital, and said, 'Now, gentlemen, it's not the porter. He's,unfortunately for himself, a little too fond of drink, but he's nothingworse. My suspicion is, that these robberies are committed by one of thestudents; and if you'll put me a sofa into that room where the pegsare--as there's no closet--I think I shall be able to detect the thief.I wish the sofa, if you please, to be covered with chintz, or somethingof that sort, so that I may lie on my chest, underneath it, withoutbeing seen.'

  "The sofa was provided, and next day at eleven o'clock, before any ofthe students came, I went there, with those gentlemen, to get underneathit. It turned out to be one of those old-fashioned sofas with a greatcross beam at the bottom, that would have broken my back in no time if Icould ever have got below it. We had quite a job to break all this awayin the time: however, I fell to work, and they fell to work, and webroke it out, and made a clear place for me. I got under the sofa, laydown on my chest, took out my knife, and made a convenient hole in thechintz to look through. It was then settled between me and the gentlementhat when the students were all up in the wards, one of the gentlemenshould come in, and hang up a great-coat on one of the pegs. And thatthat great-coat should have, in one of the pockets, a pocket-bookcontaining marked money.

  "After I had been there some time, the students began to drop into theroom, by ones, and twos, and threes, and to talk about all sorts ofthings, little thinking there was anybody under the sofa--and then to goup stairs. At last there came in one who remained until he was alone inthe room by himself. A tallish, good-looking young man of one or two andtwenty, with a light whisker. He went to a particular hat-peg, took offa good hat that was hanging there, tried it on, hung his own hat in itsplace, and hung that hat on another peg, nearly opposite to me. I thenfelt quite certain that he was the thief, and would come backby-and-bye.

  "When they were all up stairs, the gentleman came in with thegreat-coat. I showed him where to hang it, so that I might have a goodview of it; and he went away; and I lay under the sofa on my ches
t, fora couple of hours or so, waiting.

  "At last, the same young man came down. He walked across the room,whistling--stopped and listened--took another walk and whistled--stoppedagain, and listened--then began to go regularly round the pegs, feelingin the pockets of all the coats. When he came to THE great-coat, andfelt the pocket-book, he was so eager and so hurried that he broke thestrap in tearing it open. As he began to put the money in his pocket, Icrawled out from under the sofa, and his eyes met mine.

  "My face, as you may perceive, is brown now, but it was pale at thattime, my health not being good; and looked as long as a horse's. Besideswhich, there was a great draught of air from the door, underneath thesofa, and I had tied a handkerchief round my head; so what I lookedlike, altogether, I don't know. He turned blue--literally blue--when hesaw me crawling out, and I couldn't feel surprised at it.

  "'I am an officer of the Detective Police,' said I, 'and have been lyinghere, since you first came in this morning. I regret, for the sake ofyourself and your friends, that you should have done what you have; butthis case is complete. You have the pocket-book in your hand and themoney upon you; and I must take you into custody!'

  "It was impossible to make out any case in his behalf, and on his trialhe pleaded guilty. How or when he got the means I don't know; but whilehe was awaiting his sentence, he poisoned himself in Newgate."

  We inquired of this officer, on the conclusion of the foregoinganecdote, whether the time appeared long, or short, when he lay in thatconstrained position under the sofa?

  "'Why, you see, Sir,' he replied, 'if he hadn't come in, the first time,and I had not been quite sure he was the thief, and would return, thetime would have seemed long. But, as it was, I being dead-certain of myman, the time seemed pretty short.'"