AN ORIGINAL PLOT.

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 37, 13 February 1937, Page 15 (Supplement)

AN ORIGINAL PLOT.

(By D. H. FABER)

44\7ES, the most remarkable instance 1 of thought transference I ever experienced," said the pompous little man seated in the corner of the carriage, "occurred to me some years ago." As a-matter of fact we had not really asked for his opinion. Briscoe and I were the only other occupants of the compartment. We had finished reading our papers, and were chatting of this and that as one does an a railway journey. The conversation had turned somewhat naturally to the topic of telepathy, for as 1 hud walked along the platform I had been thinking of Briscoe for no apparent reason, and who should 1 meet but the man himself, travelling in the same train. "A most extraordinary experience, it was," continued the man, for all the world as if he were a character in a story, "and, strangely enough, it happened on a railway journey, just as it might be to-day, if one of you gentlemen were not here, and the other were the fellows have in mind. • • ♦ # "Well, to begin with, you must understand that I am now going back some ten or eleven years," explained the man.

"In those days I used to oarn a precarious livelihood writing short stories and articles and that sort of thing. "Plots were my difficulty to begin with. You would bo ama/ed at the amount of time I have wasted waiting for ideas to arrive. To-day I can sit down and they simply come and ask to be written. However, even in those days I could always be sure of getting a. plot in one way. If I took a journey by train, by the time I had reached my destination the fitory was as good as finished. I would commence by making my mind a complete blank. "I would gaze out at the landscape, the germ of an idea would occur to me, and gradually the story would unfold itself. But oii the occasion which 1 have in mind I was never able to use the plot." Our companion heaved a deep Bigh of regret. "I was travelling from London to my home at Bramlingham, a journey of some two hours or so. BVirtunately, the train was not very full, and I selected a carriage where there was only one other occupant "He was putting up his bag on the rack as I entered; imagine my dismay when ho turned round and I recognised him. He was a fellow named—er—well we will call him Williams, and incidentally he was an analytical chemist. . "What annoyed me so much was that he was such a frightful bore; it meant that not only should I fail to get my plot, but that he would make unnecessary conversation all the way. • ■ • • • "It was then that I had a complete surprise. Beyond the first 'Good evening, and the usual fatuous comments about the weather, Williams had nothing whatever to say for himself. Not knowing Williams, that will not be such a surprise to you, but I can assure you that generally speaking ho was the world's biggest talker. "I took out my notebook, ready to jot down any ideas, and sat looking out of the window, my mind very much in the eamo state as I imagine a medium's must be in before receiving a message. Before long an idea for a murder story started to form itself. I have no doubt that the plot will not appeal very much to vou, but you must remember that this* happened in the days before authors began murdering people in hermetically sealed rooms, and at the- time it struck me as being rather good. "The idea was roughly this. A woman was found dead in a house, by herself. She was lying in front of a bureau, a drawer of which was open. There was nothing to indicate foul play, and the only conclusion which the doctors could come to was that she had died of heart "The husband would confirm that she was subject to heart attacks. All would have gone well, if a certain friend had not arrived at the house shortly after the body had been discovered and noticed that the telephone receiver in the hall had been removed from its hook. "That, if I may say so, was the crux of the whole plot, the one thing which the murderer had overlooked. It was this that set the friend thinking, or it may have been the Scotland Yard detective; I had not decided on that little detail. *

'"He reasoned on these lines. Who had removed the receiver? Obviously. the woman, since she was alouc in the house; her husband was away on business. Secondly, since she had removed the receiver, then she had intended to return to the telephone. Thirdly, the conversation on the telephone must have necessitated her going to the bureau to obtain some information which she had been asked for. Fourthly, the bureau only contained papers belonging to her husband, which showed that he was the only person likely to require the information. "Mind you, this is all very sketchy, for I had not worked the thing out fully. However, you will see the general idea. The husband would ring up, say, from another town, and' ask for an address which was in the bureau. He would have contrived something at the desk which would cause the death of his wife. After ho had made his request lie would continue to listen. If she did not return he would know, that his object was achieved. If, on the other hand, she did return, he would know that he had failed, and would return home as if nothing had happened. Of course, he would do so in any case, but he would be prepared and act accordingly. "You see the beauty of the thing. He would have had a perfect alibi, if he had not overlooked the fact that the plan necessitated the receiver not being replaced. "It would hare been easy for me to have contrived a motive for the crime, and to have worked out the steps by which' the murderer wae discovered, but you will realise that my difficulty was to find a reasonable explanation of why the woman had died. "I am a great stickler for accuracy in these things. My first idea was that the handles of th'e bureau drawer should be

connected in some way with an electric charge, but that was too crude. I could think of no way of removing the wires bc-fore the body was discovered, and, besides, I am not an electrician. "Jly next thought was poison. Perhaps a needle could be concealed ill the handle of the drawer, which would pierce the woman's hand, leaving only a small puncture, which would not be discovered except by the closest scrutiny. But then, again, I knew nothing of poisons, and it was essential to have something which would not make the cause of death selfevident, t * • • "As I sat puzzling it over in my mind, it suddenly occurred to me that Williams Was a chemist and might be able to assist me. 1 decided to ask his opinion, and opened the conversation. "'lf you were, thinking of poisoning someone, how would you da if;' The effect on Williams was amazing. He started from his seat as if I had accused him of murder, and, then, seeing my look of surprise, he sat down again. " 'What do you mean,' he asked in a frightened whisper. " '1 want to know of a poison which could be injected with fatal results and yet leave no outward trace of the cause of death.' "Williams became still more perturbed,, so that I hastened to explain the reason for my question. That seemed to pacify him to some extent, but he was still most decidedly ill at ease. " 'There is no such poison, , he said, with what I thought was unnecessary vehemence, and so our conversation ended and I was left to puzzle out another way of overcoming my difficulties. I have no doubt that eventually I should have contrived some quite ingenious solution to the problem, but. as it happened, circumstances prevented me from finishing the story. "Two or three days later, I opened my paper to see a photo of Williams. The police were anxious to trace him. His wife had been found dead alone in their house, and he was missing. There was no hint of murder, and for all I know it may not have been suspected, but Williams was never traced from that day to this. I had quite unwittingly discovered his crime, and he was afraid to return." **, • * The train had nearly reached our destination; Briscoe and*l stood up to get our coats from the rack. '■The explanation is quite simple, ,, continued the pompous little man. ''You see, when I sat looking out of the window, waiting for an idea for a story, my mind was in a state of trance. On the other hand, Williams, the murderer, could think of nothing but his crime. Gradually his thoughts reflected themselves on my brain. Thought transference —that's what it was; transference of thought." "I prefer your first explanation," said Brjscoe. The train had come to a standstill, and I had opened the door. ■ "My first explanation. What was that?" asked the man. "That, once again, a train journey has been conducive to a short story plot Good-night."