BAROM ZERO.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6126, 12 March 1898, Page 1

BAROM ZERO.

_Bt Eot Teliett .] Author of" The Outcasts," "A Draught of Lethe," &c. (All Bights Reserved.) " If," said the Baron, " the forces of crime were as highly-organised as the forces of law, Society would have no chance against them." , „ _ " But luckily thoy cannot be, I answered. " Law is the expression of the collective will of the community ; crime is the selfish and short-sighted antagonism of the individual." "Both are equally founded on selfishness," said the Baron drily. "No doubt those on the side of law and order are in the majority, but it is not their numbers but their superior organisation which gives them tho advantage. Organise crime to j the same extent, and crime, will be the j stronger." i " Why the stronger, if the other party has '• the majority ?" "Just because it has the majority" answered the Baron sententiously. " Just because you can never organise a heterogenous multitude as you can a comparatively small and compact body." " But criminals, as a class, are by no means intellectual." " Oh, I can't allow that. Many of them are very clever. How often do you hear it said of some notorious criminal that, if he had devoted himself to honest industry, he must infallibly have made his mark in the world. Besides, some of the cleverest criminals are so clever that they manage always to keep just outside the meshes of the law. No ; the material is good enough ; all it wants is proper organisation." " Doesn't it want money also ?" I asked. " Wealth, with all its advantages, is on the side of Society ; poverty, with all its disadvantages, on the side of crime." " That is perfectly true at present, but wealth would come with due organisation. So long as each criminal works for himself alone, and there is no real community of interest, all that is earned is disposed of under the most unfavourable conditions, and the amount is quickly squandered. But, with a proper central authority, it would be possible to establish a reserve fund which would in time attain such dimensions that the war against society might be carried out on more than equal terms." I looked at the Baron in some astonishment. He was for once a little excited. Beyond an occasional sparkle in the deepset eyes, and the merest flicker of a smile around the well-cut lips, his face seldom i betrayed the least emotion. His features, admirably chiselled in the classic style, had the immobility of a statue. Though he must have been between forty and fifty, no trace of a wrinkle was perceptible in the broad, polished forehead, set round with short, jet-black hair. And the impression of impassivity thus given was heightened by the clear olive complexion, lending, as it did, to hie countenance, something of the aspect of bronze. He was a comparatively new acquaintance of mine. I had met him abroad, and had been greatly fascinated by him. He for his part seemed to take to me. He had told me he was an Italian, and his title and his general appearance tended to confirm his statement. But there wae nothing foreign in his accent. He spoke English with perfect ease and purity. But then he spoke with equal ease and purity at least half-a-dozen other languages. He seemed to have been everywhere and to have known everybody. To me, young as I was — I had only just come of age, and succeeded to the family estates — he appeared to be a man so much out of the common that I felt honoured by the notice which he bestowed upon me, and pressed him to come aud stay with me in London. This he had declined, but he had promised when next he should be there to call upon me. He had now been a fortnight in London, and it was during breakfast in my rodins in Jermyn Street that the above conversation took place. " We should still have our detectives," I said, in answer to his last remark. "Society would not be defenceless. They are very clever." "No doubt, as against ordinary crime and ordinary criminals. But, having no imagination, they are impotent in the face of any abnormal crime. See how helpless they were in the case of tho Whitechapel murders. These were crimes committed by an exceptional criminal with an exceptional motive, and, as a consequence, the cleverness of your detectives proved to bo absolutely useless. Their fox-like cunuing is only valuable on a lower plane." We had finished breakfast, and now rose from tho table. I offered the Baron a cigar, forgetting for the moment that he did not smoke. "I should enjoy it," he said, " but even the best tobacco is apt to enervate tho will. And lam a man of action." " I smiled and remarked that, so far as I could see, he lived a tolerably easy life, like other men of rank and wealth. . "On tho contrary, I work very hard," be said, "and life would have no interest for mo unless I did. And now, with your permission, I will glance at tho papers." . " Does your work lie in that direction r" I asked, laughingly, for, of course, I knew hat it did not. "No ; but the record of it does." I thought that he must be referring to tbe racecourse, where his horses sometimes figured, and I handed him the Times. .He scanned it with a swift and comprehensive glance, which I had frequently wondered at before. It was tbe look of a man eager to gather results and content to neglect the details. In five minutes he had seen all that he cared to see, and laid the paper down again. "Not much news, apparently, to-day," I said, taking it up and glancing at the page which he had been looking at last. " Hullo ! What is this ?" I added at once, as my eye caught the heading, "Great Jewel Robbery." " Why, it is my aunt !" " Who is your aunt ?" asked the Baron, quietly. " Why, Lady Aliscourt, whose jewels havo beon stolen." " How very unfortunate," said the Baron " I had no idea she was related to you. Wore the jewels valuable?" " I think they have been valued at ten thousand pounds." "But your aunt, I suppose, is very rich ?" "No, not very rich. She will feel the loss and so shall I." "How so?" "Well, she is a widow and has no children, and lam her favourite nephew. So the jewels would have come to me one of these days." " You mean to your wife ?" Baid the Baron. I glanced at him in some embarrassment. What did he mean ? Was it a mere bantering remark ? — a shaft shot at random ?— or did he know that I was secretly engaged ? 1 could learn nothing from the expression of his face. " I soe the thieves have not been caught," I continued. " How was it done ?" he aßked. " I only, just glanced at it. In the usual way, I suppose, through a bedroom window, by means of a ladder, while her ladyship was at dinner?" « Yes."

"Itis a good way," he said, * r bufc the operators mußt be thoroughly respectable in appearanoe." "Why so P" "Oh, a great deal depends upon the, proper ohoice of agents in such oases, and, if crime were ever organised in the way I mentioned, this would be an important detail." I own I was at the moment too. much concerned at my aunt's misfortune to bo greatly interested in my f Head's phßo* sophical remarks. Perhaps _ie»_oti(»(Wfai-> for he changed his tone. " I wish I could. help you," lie said. "Bfcji, you know, I have no particular principles. I think that the common standard of morality is purely conventional, and thai law is only the formulated selfishness of the majority. Bnt I recognise two ennobling elements in life. The one Ja love ; the other friend-hip. You and I are friends, and I would gladly do what I couid, to help a friend." " I am sure you would ; but. Ldo_.ofc<see how you can help me in this. We must leave it to the -police." The Baron shrugged his _houlders. "They are not ltkely to help you mtich in this case." " Why not P" " Because I fanoy intellect haß iwea^ai} work in the crime." " How do you know that?" The Baron took up the paper, glancediafc the account of the robbery, and drew my attention to two or three lines at the^end of it. "Tbis was the only thing besides the heading that caught my eye/ he said, "The rest was not worth reading." The lineß were these: — "Two Btrangers who were found not far from the house soon after the robbery was committed were arrested by the police and searched, but, as nothing suspicious was found |upon them, and they were able to give a satisfactory account of their movements, they were speedily released with apologies fox* their detention." "But what does this prove P" lasted, when I had read the lines. " It proveß nothing," said the Baron; "it suggests much. The house is -in the country, where strangers are always noticed. It is almost certain to my mind that the two men who were arrested were the actual thieves. They had foreseen that they would be suspected, and had laid their plans accordingly. I think it probable that they had even laid themselves out for arrest. It is the best way to embarrass the police and to throw them off the scent." " But where are the jewels ?" I asked. "That is their secret," he answered. "They doubtless provided a suitable biding place before they committed tbe robbery. If, as seems likely, they are not pressed for money, the jewelß may be left where they are just as long as may be convenient." "Then there is very little ohance that my aunt will ever recover them?" " There is none. The detectives will bustle about the house for a while, and keep a Bharp eye on the London pawnbrokers. Then their vigilance will relax ; the jewels will be removed from their hiding place; the stones taken out of their settings ; an eminently respectable British citizen, well-equipped with money, will start for the Continent, fend the stones will be disposed of at their fair market value. All things come round to the man who<3an afford to wait." "You seem to be well up in the modus operandi," I said. But then, you know everything." "I have observed much, and refleoted* little," said the Baron. "By the way, to change the subject for a moment, do you Lord Coniston ? Perhaps he is, also, one of your relations ?" " No ; he is only a friend, and not much at that. Entre nous, I don't quite like his style at cards." "He has rooked you— eh ?" " I have certainly lost money to him. Still, I am going to stay with him for the races." " Then we shall be there together, for I am going to the races also. I believe hit wife is a very fine woman ?" "Yes." "And dresses magnificently?" "It is her main occupation in life, and no doubt Bhe does it well. She is famous for her diamonds." We had a little further conversation, and then the Baron took leave of me. During the next few days I saw him oo k casionally. He had the secret of popularity, and was a great deal in society; No doubt he had everything to recommend him — a good position, considerable wealth, a distinguished appearance, fascinating manners. Altogether, he was regarded as an acquisition to any cirole. We went down to Murfleet Towers, I/ord Coniston's place, together. Lord Conistott was a dark, somewhat sinister-looking man. who, before he had c.uio into the title, hadbeen much abroad, whereat seemed he had already made the acquaintance of my" friend. Lady Coniston was a woman of stinking beauty, muoh younger thanhef lord, without much intellect, but with ft genius for dressing handsomely. The house-party was but small when we arrived. The. bulk of the guests were expected on the following day. To the best of my belief there were only eight of us at dinner — just the right number for enjoyment, if only the elements had been judiciously selected. As it was, the meal dragged its length along with a kind of mercilesi tedioußness-, But it did not lack excitement at the end, for just as the ladies were rising, the stately family butler entered the room with something less than hid usual dignity, and going up to his master uttered in an excited whisper the words : — "Beg pardon, my lord; thieves in the 'ouse." Something very like a aoream-tißma© from the group of ladies near the door, who had overheard the remark. "What do you mean P" asked Lord Coniston, angrily. " Speak out, man." But the butler was too asthmatic and too much frightened to give any connected account of what had happened. However, we gathered from him that my lady's bedroom was the scene of action, and our host accordingly led the way thither. It then appeared tbat the door had been Becured on the inside by n wedge. This was so firmly fixed that the door was forced. off its hinges when we burst it open. The ap» pearance of the room showed at onoe that a thief had been at work. Borne articles of jewellery were scattered about in disorder. One of the windows, throngb whioh, no doubt, the man had made hiß entry and effected his escape, was wide open. At first it seemed as if he must have been disturbed before he had had time to carry off the booty, but a oloser investigation revealed the fact that one" ornament, the most valuable of all, a tiara of brilliants, was missing. Lady Coniston, who, with the other ladies, had followed at a respeotful distance in our wake, was disconsolate. She would, so she said, rather have lost all her other ornaments than this. " The thief must have known about it," she said. " Why should he have picked out this particular thing P" " That ib not so strange as that he Bhould leave all the others, when they were equally at his disposal," observed the Baron. "I fancy intellect has been at work here." "Where does the intellect come inP" asked Lord Conißton. "It seems to me the man was a fool not to have made a clean sweep while he was about it." The Baron did not answer. He drew back towards the door, and, when there, stooped down and picked up some small objeot from the floor. I fanoy that Xwad

the only one who observed this movement, and it seemed to me that he knew I had observed it. Meanwhile, the men-servants had been scouring the grounds and park, but had discovered no ono except the village policeman, who made his appearance with a somewhat frightened manner, as if he felt a certain sense of guilt for not having seen acd prevented tho robbery. Lord Coniston treated him with scant consideration. "Go aud telegraph to London in my name for a detective," ho said, " you are no good in a caso like this." , The man saluted humbly enough and retired. By degrees the excitement subsided tmd most of us returned to the drawingroom to discuss the matter more at our ease. The Baron retired early, ahd I followed him almost immediately. He had asked me to como to liis room. "Now," he said, " you will see the use of n. detective. One of -the best in England probably Inspector Maskolyne, will be sent here to - morrow, and he will make a, report which will be absolutely convincing and absolutely inoorrect." " And have you any idea what view of the case he will take ?" " Oh, yes ; I know the mental calibre of these men. He will begin by examining the ground at the foot of the window. That will either not help him at all or will tfcnd, to confuse him, for a dozen people have been about the place since tho robbery However, amongst __ the marks, it will be hard if he does not discover some like those made by a ladder. Then he will leave a ladder fetched and climb up it himself— t_at is a great point, you know, with such niea and, always inspires confidence: it seems such an exact following up of the trail. 'Then he. will. examine tho bedroom, making a cfireful hunt for apy piece of clothing tho criminal may have left behind him. Then he will stoop down and examine the lower-portion of the door and will find there an indentation cbfrespo'nding with the wedgo which we know was underneath it. Then he will lcok round witfrun air of conscious wisdom and will say : '•' Perfectly plain case, my lord. It's the old gangpat work. Probably two men : ope tq hold the la dder and keep a look out, tho other to get up it and enter the room. Everyone 'dctwnstairs at the time. A wedge slipped vmderthedoor to prevent intrusion — there's the mark of itony lord. There's nothing more to be dene here. They're back in London by this time. If s there we must.look for them, my lord." " WeU," I said, " isn't that the true explanation'?" The Baron^ smiled. "In ninefrp-nine cases. out of a hundred it would be, but I fancy tliis is the hundredth. A common tbrief follows blindly the traditions of his 'profession. A detective follows blindly in his wake. This gives to genius its opportunity. The old forms are used ostensibly, but merely as a blind. Thus justice, so called, is thrown off the scent." "What I can't make out is how you know all this," I remarked. The Baron smiled again. " Afterall, I can give you no proof," he said. But that he was perfectly Jright as regards the detective's report, waa proved the next day. " There never was a plainer case," said the Inspeotor. And he felt almost certain that he knew who the Criminals were, and should be able to lay his hands on them. But nothing came of it, and Lady Coniston never recovered her tiara. Some months later I was again in London, and went to see the Baron. He was living in sumptuously furnished apartments in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor Square. Whether by accident or design, the conversation turned on the robbery at Murfleet Towers. " Would you like to know how it was done ?" he asked. "Yea; very much." He drew from his waistcoat a little brass object. " That is the whole explanation," he said. I looked at the thing. It was simply a brass wedge with, a ring at the thick end and a hole bored in the 'thin end. " But this explains nothing," I said. "It is a mere ordinary wedge, and we knew already that a wedge had been used." "Spoken like a detective," cried the Baron gaily. " A wedge, if you like, but not quite an ordinary wedge. What do you think is the use of this little hole at the thin end ?" " None, I should think. I hardly noticed it." ■ "On the^ contrary, it is a stroke of genius," said the Baron. He drew from his pocket a string with a small metal swivel at the end. " Look," he said ; "we attach the string to the thin end of the wedge by means of this swivel. Now we can drag it along the floor, thin end foremost. Put your foot on it, then watch me give a sudden jerk, and the swivel detaches itself, the wedge remaining imposition. Now you can understand that it does not follow, merely because you find a door wedged on the in_ide, that some one must have got in at the window. The thief was in the house all the time. He watched his opportunity to enter the-room and take what he wanted. Then he opened a window, placed the string under the door, aud retired, drawing the string after him. Then he shut the- door from the outside, drew the wedge under it tightly, detached the string and returned, leaving the door wedged on the inside." "But the ladder, what about that?" l asked. " There was no ladder, except a logical one. The window was open, the door was secured from the inside, the ladder followed as a logical necessity. It must have been there and must have been removed. Where there is no fertility of imagination, the mind becomes the urey of a mere delusive routine of tboxight. " But why were tiie other jewels left ?" " Because, the criminal knew what he was about. He- did not wish to encumber himself with a-quantity of comparatively worthless articles. The ordinary thief lays his hand on everything. But every fresh object taken means a fresh risk of detection. If you wish to have a career, you must refrain from reckless cupidity ! and be content to make your fortune with a minimum, of risk. Bbsides, leaving the other jewellery scattered about as it was, helped to put the detective on the wrong scent. ..H.j fancied at once that the thief must Tsa^e been alarmed almost at the beginr_ng£ and that, this being so, he had been qufcsk to carry off the ladder before anyone'was on the spot to see him." " Burt, if you are so sure of all this, why didn't, you give the detective a hint ?" " P»o you think he would have taken it ?" he /asked. " Why, the man never even searrched for the wedge. From his point oftview there was no object in finding it ; rk-ould not possibly lead to the identification of the thief. He was quite satisfied with the fact, to which we could all testify, that the door had been wedged. That was all he wanted for his theory." " And you picked up the wedge ?" I said. "Yes ! I saw you had noticed me. I had an idea that it might throw some light on the affair, so I picked it up and studied it a little. And I have now given you the result of my study." " And is it now too late tb give the result to the police?" " Quite. The diamonds have long since .been taken out of their settings and disposed of. They have passed into what you may call the common fund of precious stones. Why, it is quite possible I may have some of them myself. I bought a parcel of unset brilliants not long ago. And those diamonds, by-the-way, were just right from a purloiner's point of view." " How so ?" " They were just the right size. That was perhaps another reason why the thief chose the tiara. It does not do to steal very large diamonds. They cau always ba identified. But, owing to there being only •one-way of cutting brilliants, all"diamonds of a certain size and a certain water are so much alike that, when once taken out of their settings, identification is impossible. I am a connoisseur, you kftow, in such matters. 1 have a rather pretty collection of brilliants, but none of them very large. *Wou_d you like to soe them ?" He went to a little, safe, opened it, put

1 bis hand into it, and drew out a handful of unset atones. These he poured in a little 3:iscade from one hand into the other, enjoying, as it were, their wealth of flitter. " I wish you would accept some- of them a'om me, Gresham," he said, "in anticipation of your wedding. If you do not care vor them yourself, your wife would be sure j io like them. And 1 have always been so I ;orry to think that you should suffer from -lie robbery of your aunt's jewels." "At any rate," I said, laughing, "you jould not" help that. And it would be unlucky to accept a wedding present just yet." "Well, well, perhaps it is better not. Ihey might not bring yon luck." I glanced at him. There was something in his voice that mystified me. Then a -iionstrous idea slid into my mind, but ouly for a second.' ■'■-"• '■■■.. What if this man should be at the head if an organisation of crime such as he had 3 ace described to nic ? I laughed to myself — the idea was too vidioulous.