The following is a Gaslight etext....
from The old man in the corner
Popular edition with frontispiece by H.M. Brock
LONDON
GREENING & CO., LTD.
1910
WHETHER Miss Polly Burton really did expect to see the man in the corner that Saturday afternoon, 'twere difficult to say; certain it is that when she found her way to the table close by the window and realized that he was not there, she felt conscious of an overwhelming sense of disappointment. And yet during the whole of the week she had, with more pride than wisdom, avoided this particular A.B.C. shop.
"I thought you would not keep away very long," said a quiet voice close to her ear.
She nearly lost her balance--where in the
world had he come from? She certainly had not heard the
slightest sound, and yet there he sat, in the corner, like a
veritable Jack-in- The waitress brought him his glass of milk
and a cheese-cake. He ate it in silence, while his piece of
string lay idly beside him on the table. When he had
finished he fumbled in his capacious pockets, and drew out
the inevitable pocket-book.
Placing a small photograph before the girl,
he said quietly:
"That is the back of the houses in
Phillimore Terrace, which overlook Adam and Eve Mews."
She looked at the photograph, then at him,
with a kindly look of indulgent expectancy.
"You will notice that the row of back
gardens have each an exit into the mews. These mews are
built in the shape of a capital F. The photograph is taken
looking straight down the short horizontal line, which ends,
as you see, in a cul-de-sac. The bottom of the
vertical line turns into Phillimore Terrace, and the end of
the upper long horizontal line into High Street, Kensington.
Now, on that particular night, or rather early morning, of
January 15th, Constable D 21, having turned into the mews
from Phillimore Terrace, stood for a moment at the angle
formed by the long vertical artery of the mews and the short
horizontal one which, as I observed before, looks on to the
back gardens of the Terrace houses, and ends in a
cul-de-sac.
"How long D 21 stood at that particular
corner he could not exactly say, but he thinks it must have
been three or four minutes before he noticed a
suspicious-looking shambling along under the shadow of the
garden walls. He was working his way cautiously in the
direction of the cul-de-sac, and D 21, also keeping
well within the shadow, went noiselessly after him.
"He had almost overtaken him--was, in
fact, not more than thirty yards from him--when from out of
one of the two end houses--No. 22, Phillimore Terrace, in
fact--a man, in nothing but his night-shirt, rushed out
excitedly, and, before D 21 had time to intervene, literally
threw himself upon the suspected individual, rolling over
and over with him on the hard cobble-stones, and frantically
shrieking, 'Thief! Thief! Police!'
"It was some time before the constable
succeeded in rescuing the tramp from the excited grip of his
assailant, and several minutes before he could make himself
heard.
"'There! there! that'll do!' he managed
to say at last, as he gave the man in the shirt a vigorous
shove, which silenced him for the moment. 'Leave the man
alone now, you mustn't make that noise this time o' night,
wakin' up all the folks.' The unfortunate tramp, who in the
meanwhile had managed to get on to his feet again, made no
attempt to get away; probably he thought he would stand but
a poor chance. But the man in the shirt had partly recovered
his power of speech, and was now blurting out jerky,
half-intelligible sentences:
"'I have been
robbed "'Now then--that'll do!' admonished D 21
as soon as he could get a word in, 'stop that row, will
you?'
"The man in the shirt was gradually
recovering from his excitement.
"'Can I give this man in charge?' he
asked.
"'What for?'
"'Burglary and housebreaking. I heard
him, I tell you. He must have Mr. Knopf's diamonds about him
at this moment.'
"'Where is Mr. Knopf?'
"'Out of town,' groaned the man in the
shirt. 'He went to Brighton last night, and left me in
charge, and now this thief has been and----'
"The tramp shrugged his shoulders and
suddenly, without a word, he quietly began taking off his
coat and waistcoat. These he handed across to the constable.
Eagerly the man in the shirt fell on them, and turned the
ragged pockets inside out. From one of the windows a
hilarious voice made some facetious remark, as the tramp
with equal solemnity began divesting himself of his nether
garments.
"'Now then, stop that nonsense,'
pronounced D 21 severely, 'what were you doing here this
time o' night, anyway?'
"'The streets o' London is free to the
public, ain't they?' queried the tramp.
"'This don't lead nowhere, my man.'
"'Then I've lost my way, that's all,'
growled the man surlily, 'and p'raps you'll let me get along
now.'
"By this time a couple of constables had
appeared upon the scene. D 21 had no intention of losing
sight of his friend the tramp, and the man in the shirt had
again made a dash for the latter's collar at the bare idea
that he should be allowed to 'get along.'
"I think D 21 was alive to the humour of
the situation. He suggested that Robertson (the man in the
night-shirt) should go in and get some clothes on, whilst he
himself would wait for the inspector and the detective, whom
D 15 would send round from the station immediately.
"Poor Robertson's teeth were chattering
with cold. He had a violent fit of sneezing as D 21 hurried
him into the house. The latter, with another constable,
remained to watch the but
glared premises both back and front, and D 15
took the wretched tramp to the station with 3 view to
sending an inspector and a detective round immediately.
"When the two latter gentlemen arrived
at No. 22, Phillimore Terrace, they found poor old Robertson
in bed, shivering, and still quite blue. He had got himself
a hot drink, but his eyes were streaming and his voice was
terribly husky. D 21 had stationed himself in the
dining-room, where Robertson had pointed the desk out to
him, with its broken lock and scattered contents.
"Robertson, between his sneezes, gave
what account he could of the events which happened
immediately before the robbery.
"His master, Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, he
said, was a diamond merchant, and a bachelor. He himself had
been in Mr. Knopf's employ over fifteen years, and was his
only indoor servant. A charwoman came every day to do the
housework.
"Last night Mr. Knopf dined at the house
of Mr. Shipman, at No. 26, lower down. Mr. Shipman is the
great jeweller who has his place of business in South Audley
Street. By the last post there came a letter with the
Brighton postmark, and marked 'urgent,' for Mr. Knopf, and
he (Robertson) was just wondering if he should run over to
No. 26 with it, when his master returned. He gave one glance
at the contents of the letter, asked for his A.B.C. Railway
Guide, and ordered him (Robertson) to pack his bag at once
and fetch him a cab.
"'I guessed what it was,' continued
Robertson after another violent fit of sneezing. 'Mr. Knopf
has a brother, Mr. Emile Knopf, to whom he is very much
attached, and who is a great invalid. He generally goes
about from one seaside place to another. He is now at
Brighton, and has recently been very ill.
"'If you will take the trouble to go
downstairs I think you will still find the letter lying on
the hall table.
"'I read it after Mr. Knopf left; it was
not from his brother, but from a gentleman who signed
himself J. Collins, M.D. I don't remember the exact words,
but, of course, you'll be able to read the letter--Mr. J.
Collins said he had been called in very suddenly to see Mr.
Emile Knopf, who, he added, had not many hours to live, and
had begged of the doctor to communicate at once with his
brother in London.
"'Before leaving, Mr. Knopf warned me
that there were some valuables in his desk--diamonds mostly,
and told me to be particularly careful about locking up the
house. He often has left me like this in charge of his
premises, and usually there have been diamonds in his desk,
for Mr. Knopf has no regular City office, as he is a
commercial traveller,'
"This, briefly, was the gist of the
matter which Robertson related to the inspector with many
repetitions and persistent volubility.
"The detective and inspector, before
returning to the station with their report, thought they
would call at No. 26, on Mr. Shipman, the great jeweller.
"You remember, of course," added
the man in the corner, dreamily contemplating his bit of
string, "the exciting developments of this
extraordinary case. Mr. Arthur Shipman is the head of the
firm of Shipman and Co., the wealthy jewellers. He is a
widower, and lives very quietly by himself in his own
old-fashioned way in the small Kensington house, leaving it
to his two married sons to keep up the style and swagger
befitting the representatives of so wealthy a firm.
"'I have only known Mr. Knopf a very
little while,' he explained to the detectives. 'He sold me
two or three stones once or twice, I think; but we are both
single men, and we have often dined together. Last night he
dined with me. He had that afternoon received a very fine
consignment of Brazilian diamonds, as he told me, and
knowing how beset I am with callers at my business place, he
had brought the stones with him, hoping, perhaps, to do a
bit of trade over the nuts and wine.
"'I bought £25,000 worth of him,'
added the jeweller, as if he were speaking of so many
farthings, 'and gave him a cheque across the dinner table
for that amount. I think we were both pleased with our
bargain, and we had a final bottle of '48 port over it
together. Mr. Knopf left me at about 9.30, for he knows I go
very early to bed, and I took my new stock upstairs with me,
and locked it up in the safe. I certainly heard nothing of
the noise in the mews last night. I sleep on the second
floor, in the front of the house, and this is the first I
have heard of poor Mr. Knopf's loss----'
"At this point of his narrative Mr.
Shipman very suddenly paused, and his face became very pale.
With a hasty word of excuse he unceremoniously left the
room, and the detective heard him running quickly upstairs.
"Less than two minutes later Mr. Shipman
returned. There was no need for him to speak; both the
detective and the inspector guessed the truth in a moment by
the look upon his face.
"'The diamonds----!' he gasped. 'I have
been robbed.'"
"NOW I must tell you,"
continued the man in the corner, "that after I had read
the account of the double robbery, which appeared in the
early afternoon papers, I set to work and had a good
think--yes!" he added with a smile, noting Polly's look
at the bit of string, on which he was still at work,
"yes! aided by this small adjunct to continued
thought--I made notes as to how I should proceed to discover
the clever thief, who had carried off a small fortune in a
single night. Of course, my methods are not those of a
London detective; he has his own way of going to work. The
one who was conducting this case questioned the unfortunate
jeweller very closely about his servants and his household
generally.
"'I have three servants,' explained Mr.
Shipman, 'two of whom have been with me for many years; one,
the housemaid, is a fairly new comer--she has been here
about six months. She came recommended by a friend, and bore
an excellent character. She and the parlourmaid room
together. The cook, who knew me when I was a schoolboy,
sleeps alone; all three servants sleep on the floor above. I
locked the jewels up in the safe which stands in the
dressing-room. My keys and watch I placed, as usual, beside
my bed. As a rule, I am a fairly light sleeper.
"'I cannot understand how it could have
happened "The detective and the inspector went up
to have a look at the safe. The lock had in no way been
tampered with--it had been opened with its own key. The
detective spoke of chloroform, but Mr. Shipman declared that
when he woke in the morning at about half-past seven there
vas no smell of chloroform in the room. However, the
proceedings of the daring thief certainly pointed to the use
of an anæsthetic. An examination of the premises
brought to light the fact that the burglar had, as in Mr.
Knopf's house, used the glass-panelled door from the garden
as a means of entrance, but in this instance he had
carefully cut out the pane of glass with a diamond, slipped
the bolts, turned the key, and walked in.
"'Which among your servants knew that
you had the diamonds in your house last night, Mr. Shipman?'
asked the detective.
"'Not one, I should say,' replied the
jeweller, 'though, perhaps, the parlourmaid, whilst waiting
at table, may have heard me and Mr. Knopf discussing our
bargain.'
"'Would yon object to my searching all
your servants' boxes?'
"'Certainly not. They would not object,
either, I am sure. They are perfectly honest.'
"The searching of servants' belongings
is invariably a useless proceeding," added the man in
the corner, with a shrug of the shoulders. "No one, not
even a latter-day domestic, would be fool enough to keep
stolen property in the house. However, the usual farce was
gone through, with more or less protest on the part of Mr.
Shipman's servants, and with the usual result.
"The jeweller could give no further
information; the detective and inspector, to do them
justice. did their work of investigation minutely and, what
is more, intelligently. It seemed evident, from their
deductions, that the burglar had commenced proceedings on
No. 26, Phillimore Terrace, and had then gone on, probably
climbing over the garden walls between the houses to No. 22,
where he was almost caught in the act by Robertson. The
facts were simple enough, but the mystery remained as to the
individual who had managed to glean the information of the
presence of the diamonds in both the houses, and the means
which he had adopted to get that information. It was obvious
that the thief or thieves knew more about Mr. Knopf's
affairs than Mr. Shipman's, since they had known how to use
Mr. Emile Knopf's name in order to get his brother out of
the way.
"It was now nearly ten o'clock, and the
detectives, having taken leave of Mr. Shipman, went back to
No. 22, in order to ascertain whether Mr. Knopf had come
back; the door was opened by the old charwoman, who said
that her master had returned, and was having some breakfast
in the dining-room.
"Mr. Ferdinand Knopf was a middle-aged
man, with sallow complexion, black hair and beard, of
obviously Hebrew extraction. He spoke with a marked foreign
accent, but very courteously, to the two officials, who, he
begged, would excuse him if he went on with his breakfast.
"'I was fully prepared to hear the bad
news,' he explained, 'which my man Robertson told me when I
arrived. The letter I got last night was a bogus one; there
is no such person as J. Collins, M D. My brother had never
felt better in his life. You will, I am sure, very soon
trace the cunning writer of that epistle--ah! but I was in a
rage, I can tell you, when I got to the Metropole at
Brighton, and found that Emile, my brother, had never heard
of any Doctor Collins.
"The last train to town had gone,
although I raced back to the station as hard as I could.
Poor old Robert,son, he has a terrible cold. Ah yes! my
loss! it is for me a very serious one; if I had not made
that lucky bargain with Mr. Shipman last night I should,
perhaps, at this moment be a ruined man.
"'The stones I had yesterday were,
firstly, some magnificent Brazilians; these I sold to Mr.
Shipman mostly. Then I had some very good Cape diamonds--all
gone; and some quite special Parisians, of wonderful work
and finish, entrusted to me for sale by a great French
house. I tell you, sir, my loss will be nearly £10,000
altogether. I sell on commission, and, of course, have to
make good the loss.'
"He was evidently trying to bear up
manfully, and as a business man should, under his sad fate.
He refused in any way to attach the slightest blame to his
old and faithful servant Robertson, who had caught, perhaps,
his death of cold in his zeal for his absent master. As for
any hint of suspicion falling even remotely upon the man,
the very idea appeared to Mr. Knopf absolutely preposterous.
"With regard to the old charwoman, Mr.
Knopf certainly knew nothing about her, beyond the fact that
she had been recommended to him by one of the tradespeople
in the neighbourhood, and seemed perfectly honest,
respectable, and sober.
"About the tramp Mr. Knopf knew still
less, nor could he imagine how he, or in fact anybody else,
could possibly know that he happened to have diamonds in his
house that night.
"This certainly seemed the great hitch
in the case.
"Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, at the instance of
the police, later on went to the station and had a look at
the suspected tramp. He declared that he had never set eyes
on him before.
"Mr. Shipman, on his way home from
business in the afternoon, had done likewise, and made a
similar statement.
"Brought before the magistrate, the
tramp gave but a poor account of himself. He gave a name and
address, which latter, of course, proved to be false. After
that he absolutely refused to speak. He seemed not to care
whether he was kept in custody or not. Very soon even the
police realized that, for the present, at any rate, nothing
could be got out of the suspected tramp.
"Mr. Francis Howard, the detective, who
had charge of the case, though he would not admit it even to
himself, was at his wits' ends. You must remember that the
burglary, through its very simplicity, was an exceedingly
mysterious affair. The constable, D 21, who had stood in
Adam and Eve Mews, presumably while Mr. Knopf's house was
being robbed, had seen no one turn out from the
cul-de-sac into the main passage of the mews.
"The stables, which immediately faced
the back entrance of the Phillimore Terrace houses, were all
private ones belonging to residents in the neighbourhood.
The coachmen, their families, and all the grooms who slept
in the stablings were rigidly watched and questioned. One
and all had seen nothing, heard nothing, until Robertson's
shrieks had roused them from their sleep.
"As for the letter from Brighton, it was
absolutely commonplace, and written upon notepaper which the
detective, with Machiavellian cunning, traced to a
stationer's shop in West Street. But the trade at that
particular shop was a very brisk one; scores of people had
bought note-paper there, similar to that on which the
supposed doctor had written his tricky letter. The
handwriting was cramped, perhaps a disguised one; in any
case, except under very exceptional circumstances, it could
afford no clue to the identity of the thief. Needless to
say, the tramp, who told to write his name, wrote a totally
different and absolutely uneducated hand.
"Matters stood, however, in the same
persistently mysterious state when a small discovery was
made, which suggested to Mr. Francis Howard an idea, which,
if properly carried out, would, he hoped, inevitably bring
the cunning burglar safely within the grasp of the police.
"That was the discovery of a few of Mr.
Knopf's diamonds," continued the man in the comer after
a slight pause, "evidently trampled into the ground by
the thief whilst making his hurried exit through the garden
of No. 22, Phillimore Terrace.
"At the end of this garden there is a
small studio which had been built by a former owner of the
house, and behind it a small piece of waste ground about
seven feet square which had once been a rockery, and is
still filled with large loose stones, in the shadow of which
earwigs and woodlice innumerable have made a happy hunting
ground.
"It was Robertson who, two days after
the robbery, having need of a large stone, for some
household purpose or other, dislodged one from that piece of
waste ground, and found a few shining pebbles beneath it.
Mr. Knopf took them round to the police-station himself
immediately, and identified the stones as some of his
Parisian ones.
"Later on the detective went to view the
place where the find had been made, and there conceived the
plan upon which he built his cherished hopes.
"Acting upon the advice of Mr. Francis
Howard, the police decided to let the anonymous tramp out of
his safe retreat within the station, and to allow him to
wander whithersoever he chose. A good idea, perhaps--the
presumption being that, sooner or later, if the man was in
any way mixed up with the cunning thieves, he would either
rejoin his comrades or even lead the police to where the
remnant of his hoard lay hidden; needless to say, his
footsteps were to be literally dogged.
"The wretched tramp, on his discharge,
wandered out of the yard, wrapping his thin coat round his
shoulders, for it was a bitterly cold afternoon. He began
operations by turning into the Town Hall Tavern for a good
feed and a copious drink. Mr. Francis Howard noted that he
seemed to eye every passer-by with suspicion, but he seemed
to enjoy his dinner, and sat some time over his bottle of
wine.
"It was close upon four o'clock when he
left the tavern, and then began for the indefatigable Mr.
Howard one of the most wearisome and uninteresting chases,
through the mazes of the London streets, he ever remembers
to have made. Up Notting Hill, down the slums of Notting
Dale, along the High Street, beyond Hammersmith, and through
Shepherd's Bush did that anonymous tramp lead the
unfortunate detective, never hurrying himself, stopping
every now and then at a public-house to get a drink, whither
Mr. Howard did not always care to follow him.
"In spite of his fatigue, Mr. Francis
Howard's hopes rose with every half-hour of this weary
tramp. The man was obviously striving to kill time; he
seemed to feel no weariness, but walked on and on, perhaps
suspecting that he was being followed.
"At last, with a beating heart, though
half perished with cold, and with terribly sore feet, the
detective began to realize that the tramp was gradually
working his way back towards Kensington. It was then close
upon eleven o'clock at night; once or twice the man had
walked up and down the High Street, from St. Paul's School
to Derry and Toms' shops and back again, he had looked down
one or two of the side streets and--at last--he turned into
Phillimore Terrace. He seemed in no hurry, he even stopped
once in the middle of the road, trying to light a pipe,
which, as there was a high east wind, took him some
considerable time. Then he leisurely sauntered down the
street, and turned into Adam and Eve Mews, with Mr. Francis
Howard close at his heels.
"Acting upon the detective's
instructions, there were several men in plain clothes ready
to his call in the immediate neighbourhood. Two stood within
the shadow of the steps of the Congregational Church at the
corner of the mews, others were stationed well within a soft
call.
"Hardly, therefore, had the hare turned
into the cul-de-sac at the back of Phillimore Terrace
than, at a slight sound from Mr. Francis Howard, every
egress was barred to him, and he was caught like a rat in a
trap.
"As soon as the tramp had advanced some
thirty yards or so (the whole length of this part of the
mews is about one hundred yards) and was lost in the shadow,
Mr. Francis Howard directed four or five of his men to
proceed cautiously up the mews, whilst the same number were
to form a line all along the front of Phillimore Terrace
between the mews and the High Street.
"Remember, the back-garden walls threw
long and dense shadows, but the silhouette of the man would
be clearly outlined if he made any attempt at climbing over
them. Mr. Howard felt quite sure that the thief was bent on
recovering the stolen goods, which, no doubt, he had hidden
in the rear of one of the houses. He would be caught in
flagrante delicto, and, with a heavy sentence hovering
over him, he would probably be induced to name his
accomplice, Mr. Francis Howard was thoroughly enjoying
himself.
"The minutes sped on; absolute silence,
in spite of the presence of so many men, reigned in the dark
and deserted mews.
"Of course, this night's adventure was
never allowed to get into the papers," added the man in
the corner with his mild smile. "Had the plan been
successful, we should have heard all about it, with a long
eulogistic article as to the astuteness of our police; but
as it was--well, the tramp sauntered up the
mews-- "One of the servants in the Phillimore
Terrace houses must have belonged to the gang," said
Polly with quick decision.
"Ah, yes! but which?" said the man
in the corner, making a beautiful knot in his bit of string.
"I can assure you that the police left not a stone
unturned once more to catch sight of that tramp whom they
had had in custody for two days, but not a trace of him
could they find, nor of the diamonds, from that day to
this.'
"THE tramp was missing,"
continued the man in the corner, "and Mr. Francis
Howard tried to find the missing tramp. Going round to the
front, and seeing the lights at No. 26 still in, he called
upon Mr. Shipman. The jeweller had had a few friends to
dinner, and was giving them whiskies "Mr. Francis Howard went on to see Mr.
Ferdinand Knopf. This gentleman was having his warm bath,
preparatory to going to bed. So Robertson told the
detective. However, Mr. Knopf insisted on talking to Mr.
Howard through his bath-room door. Mr. Knopf thanked him for
all the trouble he was talking, and felt sure that he and
Mr. Shipman would soon recover possession of their diamonds,
thanks to the persevering detective.
"He! he! he!" laughed the man in
the corner. "Poor Mr. Howard. He persevered "Now, follow my reasoning, point by
point," he added eagerly.
"Who knew of the presence of the
diamonds in the house of Mr. Shipman and Mr. Knopf?
Firstly," he said, putting up an ugly clawlike finger,
"Mr. Shipman, then Mr. Knopf, then, presumably, the man
Robertson."
"And the tramp?" said Polly.
"Leave the tramp alone for the present
since he has vanished, and take point number two. Mr.
Shipman was drugged. That was pretty obvious; no man under
ordinary circumstances would, without waking, have his keys
abstracted and then replaced at his own bedside. Mr. Howard
suggested that the thief was armed with some
anæsthetic; but how did the thief get into Mr.
Shipman's room without waking him from his natural sleep? Is
it not simpler to suppose that the thief had taken the
precaution to drug the jeweller before the latter
went to bed?"
"But----"
"Wait a moment, and take point number
three. Though there was every proof that Mr. Shipman had
been in possession of £25,000 worth of goods since Mr.
Knopf had a cheque from him for that amount, there was no
proof that in Mr. Knopf's house there was even an odd stone
worth a sovereign.
"And then again," went on the
scarecrow, getting more and more excited, "did it ever
strike you, or anybody else, that at no time, while
the tramp was in custody, while all that searching
examination was being gone on with, no one ever saw Mr.
Knopf and his man Robertson together at the same time?
"Ah!" he continued, whilst suddenly
the young girl seemed to see the whole thing as in a vision,
"they did not forget a single detail "Then the Brazilian diamonds, and the
Parisians "Mr. Shipman bought--but with the
morning would have come sober sense, the cheque stopped
before it could have been presented, the swindler caught.
No! those exquisite Parisians were never intended to rest in
Mr. Shipman's safe until the morning. That last bottle of
'48 port, with the aid of a powerful soporific, ensured that
Mr. Shipman would sleep undisturbed during the night.
"Ah! remember all the details, they were
so admirable! the letter posted in Brighton by the cunning
rogue to himself, the smashed desk, the broken pane of glass
in his own house. The man Robertson on the watch, while
Knopf himself in ragged clothing found his way into No. 26.
If Constable D 21 had not appeared upon the scene that
exciting comedy in the early morning would not have been
enacted. As it was, in the supposed fight, Mr. Shipman's
diamonds passed from the hands of the tramp into those of
his accomplice.
"Then, later on, Robertson, ill in bed,
while his master was supposed to have returned--by the way,
it never struck anybody that no one saw Mr. Knopf come home,
though he surely would have driven up in a cab. Then the
double part played by one man for the next two days. It
certainly never struck either the police or the inspector.
Remember they only saw Robertson when in bed with a
streaming cold. But Knopf had to be got out of gaol as soon
as possible; the dual rôle could not have been
kept up for long. Hence the story of the diamonds found in
the garden of No. 22. The cunning rogues guessed that the
usual plan would be acted upon, and the suspected thief
allowed to visit the scene where his hoard lay hidden.
"It had all been foreseen, and Robertson
must have been constantly on the watch. The tramp stopped,
mind you, in Phillimore Terrace for some moments, lighting a
pipe. The accomplice, then, was fully on the alert; he
slipped the bolts of the back garden gate. Five minutes
later Knopf was in the house, in a hot bath, getting rid of
the disguise of our friend the tramp. Remember that again
here the detective did not actually see him.
"The next morning Mr. Knopf, black hair
and beard and all, was himself again. The whole trick lay in
one simple art, which those two cunning rascals knew to
absolute perfection, the art of impersonating one another.
"They are brothers, presumably--twin
brothers, I should say."
"But Mr. Knopf----" suggested
Polly.
"Well, look in the Trades' Directory;
you will see F. Knopf & Co., diamond merchants, of some
City address. Ask about the firm among the trade; you will
hear that it is firmly established on a sound financial
basis. He! he! he! and it deserves to be," added the
man in the corner, as, calling for the waitress, he received
his ticket, and taking up his shabby hat, took himself and
his bit of string rapidly out of the room.
(End.)
Go to the next episodeCHAPTER V
A NIGHT'S ADVENTURECHAPTER VI
ALL HE KNEW
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