The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 1 September 1910, Page 1383

The Storyteller

THE MISSING MANUSCRIPT or, It se G ms . strange that, considering the extraordinary amount of literature at . present before the public dealing with the experiences of detectives, secret agents, Government spies, etc., I should be overwhelmed with requests recmi .?® rsona J fiends an , d anonymous correspondents to KflU'U bn ° liubllCo so ™ e of the adventures met with y me whilst pursuing my calling as a private investigator Nevertheless it is true; and although I have oftentimes when g T my f eqU ® red f career looked Ward to that period when I could retire from an existence fraught with many dangers to one of forgetfulness and security, I still find it impossible to disappoint those of the public who have thod? beGn Staunch admirers both of myself and my mem £ warn them, however that those details, coming from my pen, are very likely to fall far short of their expectatW in point of interest. Whatever talents I may P have displayed in the profession to which I have given my attention for so many years, I can certainly lay claim i to none embark- Ca T e b r evefn;: i am ™w; reluctantly^abouHo embark. Therefore, readers, should my literary efforts not come up to your expectations, remember that I inflict the punishment only iin deference to your own wishes Strange to say, the first case from which I derived any meed of emolument and notoriety took me to Dublin. But last week we were all lamenting the early demise of Captain Herbert Pigott, of his Majesty’s Light Hussars • and as he was intimately associated with that Dublin case perhaps I might do worse than make a start with it 5 P Looking back now after all these years, I may safely *i a ?i? rG absurd 1 case no detective ever took in hands. In those days, however, it aroused an abnormal amount of interest, not alone throughout Ireland, but even m Lon and all the cities of the Kingdom. ’ . When you have read the details of the little problem w!n C 1 . + m °it n i tc> p , ld before you as clearly -as I can&yoijis mil naturally laugh at the whole affair, and on earth people could dub a man clever who oeciip whole week in arriving at the solution. Laugh on if ill amuses you, but let me say that it was no laughing matter " in those days, and had the case not been cleared up, and his VcuTh. * someone would laugh on the wrong side of Stuart e -p C - aSe ++ I re T e / to is ’ of course, the one of Professor Stuart Pigott. It was purely by accident that I came ka,rf + Tl conne ction whatsoever with the mystery, as had it not been for the fact that I was just then enjoying a holiday m Ireland, the services of Malcolm Phair would - probably never have been brought into requisition in connection with it at all. ,m. Tl i?. newspapers used to speak of the case as that of +r iJT SSl s£ Manuscript, and I intend to persevere with *4XI heading. Ido not propose to enter into any eulogy of the late Professor Pigott here. Suffice it to say that his services to the scientific world, both as an explorer and geographer, are such as to make his name worthy of classification with the names of those who as pioneers have done so much for civilisation in days gone by. After the whole affair had been most satisfactorily cleared up the Professor, who throughout the whole course or his life was strangely sensitive to public opinion, expressed the wish that the matter should be hushed, and that no details should find their way into the newspaper columns Having nothing to gam one way or the other, I, of course, acceded to the request. Thus it is, readers, that the circumstances connected with the discovery of the Missing Manuscript have up to the present, despite the efforts of editors and reporters, remained an unknown quantity to the world at large. Now that all who might be inclined to take umbrage at their publication have passed away to a land where newspaper reporters, if they are present at all, at least have to hold their tongues, I shall proceed, after all this rigmarole, to give you what Micky Free calls the whole, full, and true account.’ I. . ‘Twenty past nine, sir, and breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.’ J So spoke the hotel man as he came in with my boots and forthwith proceeded to draw up the blind. ’ rm i j rigb j>. John, or Tom, or whatever your name is; 111 be down directly. Order me a thin rasher for breakfast; and you might tell the waiter to leave the morning paper on my plate.’ ‘ Very well, sir. There’s a special edition out this morning; I suppose it is on account of the robbery ’ What robbery are you talking about?’ I said, as I proceeded to put on my clothes. Oh, some robbery that was perpetrated at Professor Pigott’s house in Dundal avenue last night. I don’t know exactly what was stolen, papers or notes or something- but it was the whole talk in the dining-room this morning Ten minutes later I sat down to my breakfast of rashers and coffee in the cosy room of the National. Propping up

my paper against the toastrack, I proceeded, between the mouthfuls, to peruse the columns devoted to * The Pigott Mystery,’ which was the paper’s piece-de-resistance for the day. Despite the three columns devoted to the theft by the paper, I was really very little wiser as to the exact facts when I got up from breakfast. Some very valuable documents had been stolen from the safe in the Professor’s library. So much was clear from the nature and length of the report, but no information was .vouchsafed as to the probable culprit or culprits, or as to whether they had left any clue which might be instrumental in bringing about their downfall. It was presumed that there were more than one responsible for the act. I learned a good deal, though, of the ProfessorV deeds of daring in his many explorations, and the success which had attended his researches in unknown lands. Particular mention was made of his recent journey to Central Africa to endeavor to trace the source of the river Tale, and I discovered that a lecture was shortly to be delivered by the learned Professor, in the Rotunda, when he intended to give the public a full account of his progress there ; his experiences, impressions, and opinions as to the possibilities of the country. Donning my straw hat, I strolled forth, with the intention of getting a shave, only to have my ears assailed by the shrill cries of the newsboys, yelling, ‘Stop Press!’ Stop Press!’ Being curious to know something more of what promised to be an interesting case, I called an urchin, who, in addition to the paper, afforded me the gratuitous information that there were ‘ spechul details.’ The tonsorial artists were all engaged when I entered Shirley’s establishment, so I sat down to find out exactly what those 1 spechul details ’ were. On the third page I read : THE PIGOTT MYSTERY. VALUABLE MANUSCRIPTS STOLEN. NO CLUE. POLICE OUTWITTED. This morning all Dublin was thrown into consternation by the news that Professor Pigott’s house, in Dundal avenue, had been broken into during the night and very valuable documents stolen. Since our last publication we learn that while the papers have, unfortunately, been taken, there is no evidence to show that the act has been done by external marauders. From special information we have received it appears that the learned Professor has been in the habit of keeping all his business papers, writings, correspondence, as well as his cheques, receipts, etc,, in a large safe in his library. This room is situated in the rear end of his house, in Dundal avenue, overlooking the garden, and is two storeys from the ground. Unlike the other windows in this part of the dwelling, the library one is guarded by nine perpendicular bars, the distance between each bar being about six inches. The Professor, who was reading there last night until almost midnight, had occasion to open the safe before retiring in order to glance through some manuscript which he intended for publication. About five minutes to twelve he replaced the papers, locked the safe door, turned off the gas, and left the library, locking the door on the outside. As all in the house had been to bed by this time he turned off the gas on the landing and proceeded straight to his own room. It is customary with him to sleep with his window, or rather windows, wide open, but with his door locked — everything was as usual with him last night. Before retiring he placed his keys excepting, of course, that of the room door, under his pillow together with a small Knock revolver, then put out the light and slept until seven this morning. On awaking everything was as usual in his room. He performed his ablutions, replaced the firearm on the mantel, took his keys and, unlocking the door, went down to the library. He was somewhat surprised to find the door of that room standing wide open as he had a distinct recollection of having locked it the night before. He felt reassured, however, on looking round the room and at the window to discover that there -were no signs of an intruder. It has been the habit of the Professor when engaged on any literary work to do two hours’ writing before breakfast. As usual he went to the safe for his papers and we can well imagine his astonishment and consternation when, on opening the door, he found his valued manuscript missing, and the whole contents of the safe in disorder, Strange to say, the manuscript on which the Professor was engaged, and which, we believe, was almost complete, was alone missing from the library. Everything else, including his money, was in the safe, as on the preceding night; the only difference being that extreme disorder took the place of order. The police were at once sent for, and strict inquiries entered into, but up to the resent all trace and tidings of the papers are missing, he Professor’s son, the butler, and the two female servants, who all slept' in the house last night, have been examined, but no information has been elicited. The whole house has been systematically searched, and the windows and garden thoroughly scrutinised, but all in vain. The police agents are completely baffled. It is rumored that the missing documents are those dealing with his recent visit to Central Africa. Should such be the case, their complete loss would come almost in the nature of a calamity to the scientific world; as we had

reason to believe that the intrepid explorer had in this trip made discoveries which would be of invaluable utility to Science. We sincerely sympathise with Professor Pigott, and express the wish that the mystery of his manuscript will be speedily unravelled. As Irishmen, we are proud of his talents and daring, and we can well realise what the loss of the fruit of all his labors must mean to him. Any further details or developments will be chronicled in our evening issue. Such was the Post’s account of the business, and I saw that the police had a very pretty problem confronting them indeed. However, it was no affair of mine, and I proceeded to get the train at Westland row for Kingstown, feeling much better for my barber’s efforts. I returned home to dinner at five, and on my way up town bought the evening paper to see if any clue had been found. Between the courses I glanced at it, and found that the police were still completely at sea. Notwithstanding all their cross-examinations and suggestions, they could not fairly attach suspicion to anybody. That evening I strolled down to the Royal, where Sir Henry Irving was playing in * The Bells.’ After the first act I read the last edition of the Observer, and found very startling and discouraging news. The Observer confirmed the report made by the Post in the morning with regard to the particular manuscript stolen. It was only too true the missing papers were those which related to Professor Pigott’s expedition in Central Africa. More startling still was the announcement that those papers were the only records extant dealing with the discoveries and progress in the Dark Continent. By some unknown accident the diary which he had kept very carefully, and from which he had written his work, in many places word for word, got burnt, and was now practically of no use whatsoever. However, before the accident happened the papers were almost complete, so that the loss of the diary was only a trifle. Under present circumstances it became an irremediable calamity. Plainly speaking, it meant that Professor Pigott might as well have not gone to Africa at all, and that the labors, privations, and hardships undergone by him for nine long months were utterly without fruit or success. That was bad, indeed, and I felt genuinely sorry for the poor Professor, although I had not the honor of his acquaintance, and, to my shame be it said, until the present had never taken the slightest interest in his doings. Under the ‘Latest News heading I came across the most serious development of all. The report was as follows : ‘SAD OUTCOME OF THE PIGOTT CASE. ‘ PROFESSOR SERIOUSLY ILL. ‘We chronicle, with genuine regret, the news which has just reached us of the rather serious indisposition of Professor Pigott, directly due, no doubt, to the shock sustained by him from the mysterious disappearance of hia very valuable papers. As soon as he heard this evening that the police had absolutely failed to discover any clue he retired to his room, and in a few hours became so irritable and nervous that his son decided to call in the most eminent nerve specialist, Dr. Hornby, who immediately ordered the Professor to bed, and gave instructions that he should be prevented, as far as possible, from brooding over the misfortune which has befallen him. ‘ This is the saddest phase of the case which has been as yet presented to us, and we respectfully express the hope that his illness may only be slight, and also that the unfortunate occurrence which has given rise to it may speedily be righted.’ It was this last report that decided me. I was young, energetic, and as yet did not know what failure meant, when there was question of a mystery to be cleared up. The picture of the Professor, after his months of toil and labor, stricken down, practically in the hour of triumph, rose before me, and I went home from the theatre and to bed with the resolution formed that if the talents of Malcolm Phair could avail aught, they would be used to the utmost in striving to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair, on the success of which I knew the happiness and health of the clever Professor in a great measure depended. 11. Next morning after breakfast, I strolled casually down to the Professor’s house, in Dundal avenue, which was pointed out to me by a policeman. Looking at the house, I saw that the blinds were in two windows, from which I inferred that the unlucky gentleman was as yet confined to his room. Accordingly, I decided to interview his son instead, and I sent my card to him by the smart maid who answered my knock, with the request that he would see me as soon as possible. Whilst awaiting him I spent my time studying a magnificent life-size photograph of Professor Pigott, which immediately took the eye on entering the visitors’ recep-tion-room. It was a fine face, strikingly handsome, possessing plenty of character, and well set off by his strong whiskers and beard. A pair of dark-blue eyes looked out at you, as if they were real. Courage and daring were the predominant features of the likeness, and I was just wondering at the force of the blow which could overwhelm such a man, when his son, Herbert Pigott, was announced.

Mr. Malcolm Phair, I believe,’ said a fine, tall, goodlooking young fellow, whose face bore a striking resemblance to the one in the picture, save that he was cleanshaven. 1 Yes, sir,’ I answered. 1 I came to proffer my services to your father in this trouble. The whole aspect of the case has wonderfully interested, not to say touched, me, and I thought that my assistance, which has often proved helpful in cases of this kind, might prove welcome to you.’ ‘ On my father’s behalf and my own I thank you very sincerely, said he, shaking my hand. ‘ I have heard of you before, and your unexpected appearance here this morning gives me the first ray of hope which I have experienced since the beginning of this terrible trouble. I am afraid it will be impossible to interview my father until, at least, evening. He was restless last night, and Dr. Hornby, who called _ early this morning, seeing his state, administered a sleeping draught. At present he is sleeping quietly. _ I shall be glad to give you any help in the way of details possible.’ . Thank you,’ I said, ‘ I have always been very successful in matters of this kind when they have seemed—of them impossible of explanation as this one, and 1 feel that with a little care and trouble we will effectually clear away the clouds of mystery which at present appear to envelop this whole affair.’ ‘God grant, for my father’s sake, that your words come true,’ he answered, ‘Now to business,’ said I; will you be good enough to give me in detail, as far as you know or think, all the circumstances in connection with the theft.’ His narrative differed very little from that afforded,, by the newspapers, so I proceeded to question him. ‘ Has your father, to your knowledge, any enemies or rivals who would be likely to inflict this injury upon him?’ None whatsoever ; he has always lived in perfect harmony with his associates.’ ‘ Is he in good circumstances l mean does he owe money to anybody? You know in cases of this kind the debtor often seizes on something which may be worth infinitely more than the value of the debt.’ ‘ I don’t think, Mr, Phair, that aspect worthy of consideration. My father is very strict in the matter of money, and as to his circumstances he is very well off in fact as money goes at the present day he is wealthy.’ ‘ He, of course, is always generous with you in the matter of allowance?’ He did not see the point in my question, and I felt very sorry for putting it, so animatedly did he answer in the affirmative. I questioned him about the servants and butler, only to find that the latter could not read or write, whilst the other two knew absolutely nothing about the papers or publication of the Professor. Nothing was to be learned by questioning so I asked the young man to conduct me over the house. | , I examined the library first, and found it as described. The window was heavily barred, and the safe, built into the wall, was facing it, being practically behind the door. I examined the locks both of the safe and library door, but beyond finding that the former was a very complicated one and in perfect working order, and the latter an ordinary strong lock, discovered nothing. The contents of the safe were as the Professor found them, in the utmost disorder. Banknotes, cheques, receipts, letters, and pamphlets were mixed promiscuously. One question occurred to me. ‘ Where exactly did your father place those papers before he locked the safe?’ I asked. He located the exact position, which was the left-hand corner of the bottom shelf, on the inside. I drew one inference from that, namely, that the marauder, although he got the door open, was apparently unaware of the position of things in the safe. We proceeded to examine all the rooms, windows, doors, landings, etc., of the house, but could find nothing to arouse suspicion. In the garden the same fate awaited us. I looked around for tracks or footprints, placed a ladder to the library window, and examined the wall from bottom to top. I paid particular attention to the aspect of the bars and their fastenings; but everything was as it should be; not the slightest scratch or scrape was visible. I was about to leave the house, rather crestfallen, I must say, when one of the maids announced that, the Professor was awake and would see me in his room. He was all anxiety to meet me when he heard of my arrival, although I was altogether an unknown quantity to him. When I entered the bedroom I was somewhat shocked at his appearance. He was. flushed after his sleep; but his eyes had a certain look which was altogether absent from the picture. He appeared to be in great mental distress. His welcome was effusive, almost childish and I read from his son’s eyes that such a thing was altogether foreign to his father’s usual mode of procedure. . Although I was anxious to disturb him only as little as possible, he insisted on repeating the history of the affair, which was only a complete revision of what I had heard from Herbert. During the recital I took a few discreet glances round the room, which was fine, large, and comfortable, though sparsely furnished. I examined the windows casually, but they were all right. It was the same in fact as the other rooms except that it contained a safe also embedded in the wall like the library safe. This I found, on inquiry, contained nothing but a facsimile of the Pro-

fessor’s will,- the will itself being in the possession of the Bank of Ireland, Halving heard the story, I saw there was nothing more to be done, so I left the house to think—not before promising the Professor that I would call back the following . The case was absolutely new to me on account of this all-important point. In the other cases in which I had been engaged I always had something to start onsometimes, indeed, it was small and ’insignificant but still 't was something. Here I had nothing, and, judging from how the Professor and his son spoke, I realised that there was more at stake in this case than there had been in any case in which I had ever played a part before. I strolled to the Park after dinner, threw myself on the grass, and tried to reason the thing out. The more I reasoned the more inexplicable the thing seemed. The papers were gone, and no violence had been done to the safe. Nothing was taken but the documents of his travels. Apparently nobody knew he was engaged on them but his son. He was above suspicion. Yet the papers were gone. I got up and went back to the hotel as far from the solution as ever. T smoked a cigar before retiring to bed, but it brought no inspiration. I was just as helpless as the police in the matter. On the following morning the papers announced that the mystery was a mystery still. At my express wish my name was not mentioned in connection with the case by either the Professor or his son. Pretty early in the day I called at Dundal avenue. The look of disappointment which clouded the face of Herbert Pigott when he learned that 1 could offer no clue was almost laughable. He apparently thought I had only to go and smoke a pipe over it and come back with the solution. Many people held such opinions. Unfortunately for detectives, such is not the case. I did not see the Professor then, but had a long chat with Herbert. I asked him to introduce me to Dr. Hornby, who was then in the house, as I .wanted to know the exact nature and danger of the Professor’s illness. The doctor, a very old, benignant-looking man, was exceedingly generous in his information. From his conversation I learned that the sickness, whilst not exactly dangerous, might develop into melancholia. For months past the Professor had been a very poor sleeper; this fact was attributable almost entirely to his habit of working far into the night. When he did sleep, he was generally the victim of wild dreams. At present a man had to remain by his bedside whenever he slept. I thanked the doctor for his kindness, which did not make me much wiser. I thought and pondered, but thought nothing. One day passed. Two. Two and a half; and then, at dinner, it crashed upon me like a hundred of bricks. The people in the room must have thought I was mad as I rushed out, jumped on a car, and ordered the jarvey to drive me to Professor Pigott’s house. I rushed past the maid and up the stairs with a good deal more haste than grace,. and was fortunate enough to find the Professor sitting in a chair and chatting with his son. • ‘ My dear Professor,’ I burst out, ‘ I have arrived at the secret at last, and have been metaphorically kicking myself that I haven’t done so sooner.’ ‘ Who is he?’ Where, is he?’ they both burst out, in their eagerness. ‘ Oh, never mind. I have him safe. By the way, show me your keys—the whole secret lies there.’ I saw they were mystified, so I said, holding up a key : ‘ This is the key of the safe, is it not?’ -Yes,’ said the Professor, hardly able to speak with excitement. ‘ And this I said . ‘ Oh, that’s my trunk key.’ ‘And this?’ ‘That rusty one belongs to the old safe in the wall yonder.’ Indeed!’ said I. ‘Watch, then, gentlemen.’ I went over, put the key in the lock, turned the handle, and just caught a large bundle of papers as they were falling to the ground. Allow me, Professor, to present you with your own papers,’ I said. ‘ You stole them yourself in your sleep. Two days ago, Dr. Hornby gave me the clue, but not until a quarter of an hour ago did I realise it. See how delightfully everything works —the locked safe and tossed papers.’ Herbert began to laugh. The Professor, looking dazed, smiled, then laughed. I laughed; and, readers, I am laughing now —at my own ignorance.— Weekly Freeman.