The Amateur Detectives.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVIII, Issue 20, 13 November 1912, Page 51

The Amateur Detectives.

By

F. HARRIS DEANS.

VjTj'V HEX 1 opened the door and y> I peeped in, Mrs. Veralour and 111 Elizabeth were looking at each other, pictures of misery, while Mrs. Pattison, our hostess—a lady whom I already knew by sight—was so near tears that “he was beginning to wonder where she had left her handkerchief. Before I could back out Elizabeth •'lanced up and' saw me. "Morning, Pick!" she said, dolefully. . - "Morning, all!" I returned, entering. • Nice blight sort of morning.' isn't it?" Mrs. Veralour sighed deeply by way „f answer; and Airs. Pattison, giving up worrying about her handkerchief, .labbed at her eyelashes with her forelinger. "Oh. Mr. —— I don't know your name." -• "Blake." I said. “I'm only here for Ihe week-end." One did not. of course, expect her to remember the names of all her week-enders.' - "Mr. latke', I'm so upset." . I lucking at her sympathetically, t east a "lam e of urgent inquiry at Mrs. X eralour. I was not sure whether the wo-, man had lost her husband or her money, nr buth. •For such a thing to happen at such a time!"* went on Mrs. Pattison. “Beastly inopportune, l*m sure! * I murmured. “Misfortunes always do happen when you don’t want 'em —that s Im If the trouble/? "1 must *ush it up,”, she. continued, growing careless with emotion; “her-ush it up, I should say. Don't you think ]*d better? It's so awkward. What could 1 say to the Duchess about it?” •H’m!" 1 said. "I shouldn't worry about her: one can say almost anything to the Duchess.” “if you carried out your idea of calling in a detective,” said Elizabeth, apparently returning to an earlier suggestion. “think of the unpleasantness to your guests.” “Yes,” put in Mrs. Veralour, “it would be almost sure to get into the paper.” "Do you really think so?” said Airs. Pattison, brightening with the suddenness of a flashlight advertisement.. She rose to her feet .and. hesitated a moment while, she sought for a graceful phrase with which to withdraw. “Oh, well. I mustn't waste all the day with you lot.” “She’s awfully upset.” said Airs. \ eralour. half apologetically, as 1 closed the <loor behind her. “Mm!” 1 said. “Lost her husband?” “Gracious, no; worse than that —a 1»1 acclet !” “Stolen?” “Well—gone, anyhow! she was going to send for detectives. Iler first big house-party, too. Of course 1 told her ■die mustn’t <lb anything so absurd until Im r footing is more secure. Because you •bui’t know who the detectives may find t<» have taken it, do you?” “Of course not. Besides, she must e.xP< < t to pay her footing in Society. By th<‘ way, how is it J got an invitation? Am I Society?” “Oh. no,” said Airs. A’eralour. consolingly; “nor Elizabeth! T got her to ask you as a friend of mine.” “Good! So long as my reputation isn't likely to suffer. But I can quite understand her being upset at losing her bracelet —up to now, I take it. she’s mixed almost exclusively with the rich but honest classes.*’ “Yes. she was just a little bit difficult at first, wasn’t she. Elizabeth? Until I told her to leave it to me.” Oh,” I said, a trifle blandly, "she's having it to you. is she?” Mrs. Veralour gave a confident nod. ‘A es. I promised to find out for her "ho took it.” “It may be one of the servants, you know, Dick.” put in Elizabeth. "Not a bit of it! She mayn’t bo up Io her duties as a hostess, but I bet she's had servants before. I’d wager anything there’s not a servant in the house who hasn’t got a character. I believe it’s quite customary to expect one with a servant. Of course, with guests it’s different.” I hardly think it’s a servant myself.** ngiifed Mrs. Veralour; “it’s only in cheap action you find that sort of thing. It’s

not that they’re more honest,*? she added thoughtfully, “but they’ve got more to lose.” “That’s what T meant.*’ I explained. “Dishonesty itself isn’t the privilege of any class. How are you going to set about finding out the culprit ?” "It’ll have to be done pretty tactfully,” opined Elizabeth. ” Yes,” admitted Mrs. Veralour, that’s why 1 said no detectives.” She glanced at me doubtfully. “ What do you think is the best thing to do ?” Nothing,’’ I said promptly. But I shall have to do something. I’ve given my word. Don’t detectives start by making inquiries ?” I believe so. But suppose the criminal is untruthful as well as dishonest, how then ?” “Then,” said Mrs. Veralour firmly, I should look for clues.’’ “Glues?” echoed Elizabeth, breathlessly. “Clues !” repeated Mrs. Veralour sternly. I gazed at her admiringly. “ Airs. Veralour, you wear your hair too low down on your forehead for a brain like that. Were it scraped well back, these Hashes of inspiration would not catch us unprepared. Fancy thinking of clues. Why, it’s—it’s clever-!” With an excellent air of unconsciousness Mrs. Veralour pushed her hair back from her brow. ” It seemed obvious to me,” she said modestly. ”Of course it is. that’s why it’s so clever of you : it takes an exceptionally clever person to grasp the obvious nowadays. Where were you thinking of looking for clues ?” Airs. Veralour nodded hor head wisely. “ I’ve got a theory she bv“A theory !’’ T cried, rising agitatedly to my feet. " A the My dear Holmes, what an admirable disguise ! Of course, now I know, 1 can see little differences : for example, Airs. Veralour was somewhat shorter.” I gasped as another idea occurred to me, and turned pleadingly towards Elizabeth. " Don’t tell me it's Dr. Watson I” "If it was after lunch,” said Airs, Veralour acidly—and left it at that. “ Airs. Veralour,” I said sadly. " it’s you. Sherlock hadn't your gift for elegant repartee.” ” Don't take any notice of him. Mrs. A ’era lour,” begged Elizabeth. “Tell us your theory.” “ Well, my theory is that the bracelet was either stolen by a thief, or —or it wasn’t.” “ Mrs. Veralour,” I said no joke—you've misled your vocation. That’s one of the finest theories I’ve ever heard. Pure deductive reasoning.” ” I do wish you’d be quiet !” she snapped. “ What 1. meant was the person who took it had either done that sort of thing before, or else it was the first time.” “Admirable. The adept or the novice, so to say. You certainly appear to have thinned it down to one or the ot her.” " Very well, then she cried triumphantly. “ Now. having got the bracelet, what would tin* hardened thief do next ?’’ " What would a homing pigeon do ? Take it right away Io mother, of course, by the first train.” “Absurd! Of course lie wouldn’t. He'd go back ami try to get some more. Now, wouldn’t he ?” “Mm ! Well, yes, he might.” “On tin* other hand,” she went on, “if it was a beginner ” “All,” I said, nodding at Elizabeth, “ now this is the problem. What would he do ?’’ “Can't you guess?” I shook my head blankly. " Elizabeth ?*’ “ I haven't the faintest idea. A|rs. Vcialotir. IM say if I had, really.” “ W by, repent, of course.” “ Repent. would he ?’’ I murmured dubiously. “i)pvi<iedl\ : or at least he would if im was a nice boy at heart just tempted you know.” ‘.‘Well, yes, he’d be bound to repent if he was a nice boy at heart,” 1 was compelled V) admit.

“Of course he would.” ufied Mrs. Veralour triumphantly. • “And having repented, what would lx* tin* first thing he’d do? Oh, you don’t try-? ’’-she said impatiently, as 1 shook my head. “Elizabeth, you say.” “Well, of course, he’d be very sorry for what he’d done,” said Elizabeth halfheartedly. “In that case, Mrs. Veralour.” I said, "you’ve got a pretty good cliaiuv of laying hands on him—at least, it always seems to me it’s the repentant criminals who get caught.’’ "Is that really true?” said Elizabeth, who appeared tu think she had suddenly encountered one of life’s subtler problem*. “I wonder why?” “ Because being caught’s the only thing anybody’s ever sorry for,” I explained. “But, ssh. we’re derailing Mrs. Veralour’s train of ideas. What would he do, Mrs. Veralour, besides b* sorry?” "Go and put it back,” she said. “Put it back?" repeated Elizabeth in amazement. "What, alter taking it?” ‘lf be really repejited. he would,” insisted Mrs. Veralour. "And if he didn’t repent he’d try to steal something else.” “Ah." 1 said contentedly, "there’s a distinctly more human touch about that last suggestion." “So,", pursued Mrs. Veralour. resolutely refusing to be annoyed, “all we shall have to do will be to hide in the bedroom io catch both of them.” “Both! Oh, you think there are two in it ?” "taich either of them, 1 mean: whoever's taken it.” “Oh, 1 see! Wh<ih<*r it's disagreed with his conscience. <>r whether he’s come back for another helping. H’m, well, there’s’certainly something in your idea.” “I think it’s frifjhti'ully clever,” asserted Elizabeth. “But about hiding in the Iwdroom.*’ I inquired, “do you mean, really hide?” “Of course. You can hide under the bed, and Elizabeth and I ” "No!" I shouted, jumping to my foot. “Why ever not?” “No,” I reptated vehemently, "not evenchaperoned by the two of you will 1 hide under Mrs. Pattison's bed.” “Don’t be so ridiculous, Di<k!” said Elizabeth scornfully. "Ridiculous or not.” 1 said, obstinately. “I won’t. I think it’s a s<andalous suggestion altogether. I don't mind measuring footprints or any other respectable detective work, but hide under—no, ]’m hanged if T do.” “Well, anyhow.” said Mrs. Veralour, “you’ll have to lx* somewhere in the neighbourhood, in case the thief shows light.” “Oh. 1 don’t mind doing that!” I saKl, relieved. “I’ll lurk — is lurk the right expressicn. Mrs. Veralour y—about in the corridor.” “You’ll have to hide. mind. The thief won’t come if hr sees \ <>u hanging about.” “I low’d it be.” J suggested, struck with a bright idea, “if I were to disguise myself ?” “How??’ said Mrs Veralour doubt fulh. “Why. dress up as one of the maids, with a dustpan—or whatever they use. One of those knobbly lit th* brushes thev have would come in jolly useful if there was a scrimmage.” “1 shall down him with a pillow if he shows fight.” said Elizabeth, feeling her biceps complacently; ‘‘l often have pillow tights with my brothers, and I always win until they start getting rough.” “I shall punch him.” said Mrs. Veralour threateningly, “hard.’’ “By Jove." I said; “poor old chap. I don’t think I shall disguise myself after all. If he thinks he’s got thriv women against him he’ll probably die of fright.” "We shall want some rope.*’ said Airs. Veralour thoughtfully, "to tie him up with afterwauls.” "Tie him with, you mean — after you two have finished with him.” During the rest of the day Mrs. Veralour cont♦•tiled herself with maturing her plans, but the tolh»wing afternoon, after lunch, when the house was deserted, she marshalled her for* s and- got ready for action. With a coil of rope over my arm, I w.is wcreted in a large enpltoard in the corridor. At the last moment Elizabeth decided she c< v Id Im» more stealthy in her st<M-kinged fret. -<» I had to hold her sho's for her. For about ten minutes I -tood crouching in (hat eiipboard. with a e<»l<| draught playing on my straining eye through tho keyhole. At length. a<-liing in every muscle, I felt it was time for me to start lurking. So* 1 remove*! my shoes, and, carrying them in one hand. Elizidwth’s in the other, and the coil of rope hang-

ing round my neck, I stole forth. Feeling like a bloodhound straining at &e leash; I cr<*pt up the corridor, and, placing my ear against the keyhole of Mrs. Pattison’s room. I listened. Except for shrill whispers of instruction from Mrs. Veralour (who was apparently hidden behind the window curtains), and gasps of anguish from ELiziiheth (who aeeined to be under the |x*d, ami bumping her head every time she moved), there was a perfec*t silence. Feeling that iny presenc<» outsi<k- the door might make the thief think he Was intruding if he came along and saw’ me, I was just about to move away when a heavy hand was laid on the ba*k of my neck, my legs were Licked away from under m<», and 1 fell heavily on my nose. "Nabbed!” «ri<*<l a voice exultantly. I struggled desperately, amidst a sort of volcanic eruption of shoes; but reinforcements coining to my assailant’s ahi. I was quickly bound with tl. ( > rope I had 1 houghtiully provided, and hauled to my leet. Without being given an opportunity to protest, | vva> bust hi! downstairs into the library, into the presence of my hostess. Its Mr. Mr. she cried. :uid hesitated. “ Blake,” I said. “Wake. Ami after you pretending not to know anything about it.” Then for the first time I i<>alised the reason for my capture. “ ludch Mrs. \\ralour,” I cried wildly ; “she’ll explain everything.” Even as I made the request, the door once more opened, and Mrs. Veralour, looking very crestfallen, ami Elizabeth, very militant, onterTMl the room. “Caught, 'em in the act.” said the leader of the thre<* detectives who brought up ihe rear : “ leastways, in the bedroom. This here young female was under the bed.” “ Oh, Airs. Veralour.” wailed our hostess, “ no wonder you didn’t want me to have detectives.” And if she hadn’t that some evening discovered the missing bracelet in the wrong compartment of her jewel-case. I firmly believa* we should all three have been doing three years’ hard.