THE DUKE'S MYSTERY
Little more than five years ago, a series of robberies on a grand scalewas perpetrated at the West End of London. There was hardly a tradesmanof note who did not suffer from these depredations, which for a longwhile baffled all the skill and vigilance of the police.
After a lapse of perhaps six months from the formation of the beliefthat these robberies were the result of a concerted action by therascaldom of the metropolis, the victims and their friends formedthemselves into a committee, and I was retained to investigate theaffair.
As the matter had by this time assumed great importance, I employed fiveor six assistants, and systematically went to work. The police were alsoon the alert, and special instructions were given from Scotland Yardthat they should cooeperate with me, or practically, I may say, act undermy instructions.
It would be tedious to relate all the disguises and stratagems which Iassumed and devised. It must suffice to say, that half a dozen men wentthrough more variations in their appearance than the chameleon, and werenearly or quite ubiquitous during the investigation.
I saw that a gang had to be crushed. I knew that success or failure wasbut an issue of time and money. Of the former I could give and get asmuch as the associated tradesmen would pay for. Of the latter therewould, I believed, be no stint. The parties affected, and liable to beaffected, by the operations of the gang, were prepared to lay out allthe cash needful to secure the punishment of the criminals.
The job was not a light one. We made a few mistakes, to the injury,however, of no one who had a character worth keeping. We got at times onwrong tracks. We were often on the heels of the thieves, and yet failedto grasp them. We were none of us faint-hearted, or lacking in patience.Each trip only made us walk the more carefully. Each blunder only madeus wary. Each divergence only made us examine the supposed clues withgreater nicety.
One morning a police constable and one of my men came to me with news.
"We have a clue, sir," said police constable U 99.
"That's well. What is it?" I observed.
"At least we think we have," said my assistant.
"I told him of it. I found it out," added the constable.
"No, don't say that. I had most to do with it."
"How do you make that out?"
"Well, how much did you know about it before I told you of it?"
"And how much did you know when you told me of it?"
I saw that there was a pretty quarrel brewing between this pair ofworthies, and I tried to stop it; but that was not so easy a task asthe reader may at first be inclined to suppose. If I put a restraint onmy assistant for the sake of peace, I might be incidentally puffing upthe constable's vanity, and wantonly injuring the laudable pride of myown staff. If I attempted to curb the policeman, I might drive him offto Scotland Yard, where the clue would be followed up, and my ownprofessional credit with the tradesmen injured. I must put up with alittle of this altercation, and endeavour to soothe the irritation ofboth.
The fact is, that somebody--an omnibus driver, I believe--had told thepolice officer that something he was accustomed to see was "a jolly rumaffair." The policeman, being on the beat along which my man had totravel, and knowing him, repeated his information, and echoed the'busman's opinion in his own vernacular. My assistant joined in theopinion already expressed, and went beyond it.
"It is a rum affair, as you say," observed my man. "I think," he added,"that it's a clue to what we very particularly want to find out. Youcome up to the governor with me to-morrow, when you're off duty, andI'll introduce you. If we turn it to account, mind, he'll not beunhandsome. He'll make it worth your while, that _I_ warrant."
They then chatted over the business, and I dare say my assistant let theofficer into the secret of our instructions far enough to aid hiscomprehension of the gravity of the effects to which this clue mightlead.
"What, then, was this clue?" I dare say asks the always impatientreader.
It was a small matter. It did not seem to point directly at theinformation I wanted, but many a real clue has not been more definite orreliable than that now to be followed to its end. It was a little nut,which required cracking. There might be in it the kernel I wanted, orthere might not.
With nothing like regularity of time or periodicity, but with greatfrequency, a shabby hack brougham might be seen about or after duskproceeding along a road leading through a western reach of themetropolis into the most picturesque western suburb. My clue began withthe vehicle at the north-eastern corner of the Green Park, and endedjust on the eastern entrance to the village of ----. It was a suspiciousfact that this hack brougham was not driven by the same man throughoutthe entire distance. One driver was met about half way on the road, whenhe alighted from the box, and handed the whip to the person (always thesame) who met him.
The brougham was one of those registered at Somerset House as a cab. Itwas a private vehicle, which appeared like the property of some indigentpostmaster or jobber.
Where could this vehicle go to and come from?
Among the difficulties in our case was that of tracing the goods. Itwas, I confess, not a little remarkable that no part of the goods couldbe traced. We had searched all the most notorious "fences." I do notthink there was one known place in which goods of the kind in questionwould be brought that we had not examined. Could this brougham be themeans of conveying the plunder in small quantities to and from its placeof concealment to the place or places of conversion into money? Thosewere questions we determined to solve.
A diligent watch was set at stages from the Green Park to ----.
Next evening the carriage did not present itself, nor the next; but onthe third evening it was seen to emerge from a lane in Piccadilly, nearto a street in which there is an inferior livery-stable. It was nowfollowed and kept in sight during its entire journey. I saw the driverchanged.
I critically scanned the hirsute visage of the rider.
Just outside the village of ----, on the high road, there stood, and yetstands, a cottage residence, in not the finest state, with coachhouseand stabling for more carriages and horses than the occupant seemed tomake use of. The house was, I may also explain, shut out from the viewof travellers by a close wooden paling, a high gate, and a tall, dense,leafy hedge.
At this cottage the brougham stopped. The rider alighted, and theservant placed the horse and vehicle in the outbuildings allotted tothem, which were entered by the rear.
All this looked to me very suspicious. I determined, however, to pursuemy inquiries. There was not yet enough evidence, in my own opinion, tojustify an application for a search-warrant, and less justification forany one's arrest on a criminal charge.
Inquiries in the village and neighbourhood elicited not much; but thefew scraps of fact that we did get tended to fortify a suspicion thathere was a depot of the plunder.
The tradespeople were pumped, but those wells of gossip or scandal werenearly dry. The truth was, this cottage neither excited remark byostentation, nor the reverse. What it required, it ordered and paid for.The trade done with its inmates by the shopkeepers who were honouredwith their patronage was not large enough to arouse the envy of theirrivals. It may astonish some people, who are tormented by scandal, toknow that rumour may be either avoided or "manipulated," if you know howto go about the task.
While I was engaged in these inquiries, with two of my assistants, theman who had the words with the policeman, as described, had another, andwhat he called "a jolly row," with that officer. The matter was, Ibelieve, through this, mentioned at the headquarters of the metropolitanpolice, and the authorities took it up.
An active sergeant of the detective police called upon me, and asked forinformation, which I thought myself scarcely at liberty to refuse togive, so gave it. He forthwith set to work, and got warrants to searchthe premises and arrest the inmates.
The time he selected for pouncing on the suspects was twelve at night.
That evening the shabby brougham turned out of
the livery-stables,wended its way through slush and traffic along Piccadilly, and at aboutthe usual spot the driver was changed. Away the brougham went again, ata slightly accelerated pace, as though the horse's head was lightened.The party alighted at the cottage, and the stable was occupied asbefore.
About half-past twelve o'clock a body of police effected an entranceinto the cottage by the rear. The whole of the small household wasaroused. Great was the consternation of Miss Goodwin, and her brotherwas nearly killed by alarm. Of the rest not much different can be said.Groom and coachman (one person), housekeeper and general servant (alsoone person), who completed the human establishment, were awfullyfrightened.
The highly intelligent sergeant insisted upon ransacking the house,searching the stables, and exploring the garden. In the mean time thelady, gentleman, and servants were told to consider themselves incustody.
In vain the gentleman protested against this outrage, and sometimesgently threatened to bring down all the vengeance of the law upon hissister's tormentors. The sergeant treated the threat with disdain, andridiculed the claim of his prisoner to kinship with Miss Goodwin. Allentreaties, menaces, expostulations, and threats were answered byreferences to his duty, or intimations that he knew what he was about.
The search and exploration revealed nothing. The officer was sorelydisappointed, but not yet discomfited. He saw that, at all events, hewas safe if he went on, and that if he turned back he might exposehimself to the charge of negligence. There was enough that was wrong,more than sufficient that was mysterious, to cover any excess ofvigilance, or any stretch of duty. So on he resolved to go.
When Mr. Goodwin was told that he must accompany the officer as hisprisoner, and that the lady must also share that inconvenience, theyagain put forth every form of remonstrance. All were useless. Theofficer was inexorable and unbelieving. He rudely expressed hisdisbelief of the assertion that the fair tenant of the cottage was apure and innocent young lady, of small independent estate, and that thevisitor was her brother and guardian. Those explanations, he said, mightdo for the magistrate to-morrow, but they would not do for the police.
There was no getting out of the awful mess. Mr. and Miss Goodwin wereremoved by the sergeant, under his warrants, to the chief metropolitanpolice station, and there confined in vulgar cells.
At times during the wretched journey to London the prisoners weredefiant, and at others they sank into despair.
Once, on the way to the metropolis, the lady remarked to her companion,
"Never mind, dear George; we're not thieves; they have searched my housein every part, but they have found nothing."
"Now," observed the officer, "don't say any thing that'll injureyourselves while I'm with you. I don't want you to criminate yourselves.Only mind, I shall give all that I hear as evidence; and I don't mindsaying that I don't like the look of things. 'Found nothing!' well, ifthat sort of talk ain't thieves' patter, I don't know what is. I ain'tfound nothing yet; but if I get a remand, won't I find nothing!"
Mr. Goodwin shuddered. Miss Goodwin was eloquent in the form ofdenunciation.
The gentleman, by the time of the arrival of the party at thestation-house, had recovered his self-possession. He demanded the meansof communicating with a solicitor. This was afforded him. He chose thename of a well-known criminal practitioner, one of the cleverest and oneof the most respectable of his class.
The professional man recognised his client. He had before been employedas the agent of that client's family solicitor in a prosecution.
Within ten minutes after the arrival of the lawyer at the station, thedoor of Mr. Goodwin's cell was opened, and that gentlemen with hisattorney were shown into the head private apartment of the officer wholives on the premises. Miss Goodwin was also looked after with as muchtenderness during her stay in this urban hostelry.
After a short further interview between the attorney and gentleman, anda few words with the lady in compulsory waiting, a conference was heldbetween the magistrate, his learned clerk, and the attorney.
Mr. and Miss Goodwin were then next shown into his worship's privateroom, and the brother and sister were liberated on their ownrecognisances.
Nothing further was done in the case against the occupants of thesuburban cottage. Nothing was done by that lady and gentleman againstany other person for setting the law in motion against them. Thevigilant sergeant got promoted. On what theory and by what influences,let the reader guess. Was it as a reward for past clever and prudentservice? Was it the price of perpetual silence? Was it the seal upon amystery?
I cannot explain why the sergeant was thus dealt with; but as much ofsome other things as I can properly explain, I will.
First, let me say that I had no further interference by the police withmy plans for the detection of the real thieves, and that I hunted themdown to conviction.
In the second place, I may inform the reader that Mr. Goodwin was noother than an _alias_ for his Grace the Duke of Nomatterwhere, anobleman who boasts of a long pedigree, and whose own father was not alittle proud of the historic traditions of the house of Nomatterwhere.The living duke has a large rent-roll, an almost infinitessimal portionof which goes to Miss Goodwin, who, although not a sister, is in veryintimate relationship towards him. He had reasons of his own, I daresay, for the quiet, or, as I should say, mysterious manner in which hisvisits to the cottage in the western suburb were shrouded.