The Lenton Croft Robberies





Those who retain any memory of the great law cases of fifteen or twenty

years back will remember, at least, the title of that extraordinary will

case, "Bartley v. Bartley and others," which occupied the Probate Court

for some weeks on end, and caused an amount of public interest rarely

accorded to any but the cases considered in the other division of the same

court. The case itself was noted for the large quantity of remarkable and

unusual evidence presented by the plaintiff's side--evidence that took the

other party completely by surprise, and overthrew their case like a house

of cards. The affair will, perhaps, be more readily recalled as the

occasion of the sudden rise to eminence in their profession of Messrs.

Crellan, Hunt & Crellan, solicitors for the plaintiff--a result due

entirely to the wonderful ability shown in this case of building up,

apparently out of nothing, a smashing weight of irresistible evidence.

That the firm has since maintained--indeed enhanced--the position it then

won for itself need scarcely be said here; its name is familiar to

everybody. But there are not many of the outside public who know that the

credit of the whole performance was primarily due to a young clerk in the

employ of Messrs. Crellan, who had been given charge of the seemingly

desperate task of collecting evidence in the case.



This Mr. Martin Hewitt had, however, full credit and reward for his

exploit from his firm and from their client, and more than one other firm

of lawyers engaged in contentious work made good offers to entice Hewitt

to change his employers. Instead of this, however, he determined to work

independently for the future, having conceived the idea of making a

regular business of doing, on behalf of such clients as might retain him,

similar work to that he had just done with such conspicuous success for

Messrs. Crellan, Hunt & Crellan. This was the beginning of the private

detective business of Martin Hewitt, and his action at that time has been

completely justified by the brilliant professional successes he has since

achieved.



His business has always been conducted in the most private manner, and he

has always declined the help of professional assistants, preferring to

carry out himself such of the many investigations offered him as he could

manage. He has always maintained that he has never lost by this policy,

since the chance of his refusing a case begets competition for his

services, and his fees rise by a natural process. At the same time, no man

could know better how to employ casual assistance at the right time.



Some curiosity has been expressed as to Mr. Martin Hewitt's system, and,

as he himself always consistently maintains that he has no system beyond a

judicious use of ordinary faculties, I intend setting forth in detail a

few of the more interesting of his cases in order that the public may

judge for itself if I am right in estimating Mr. Hewitt's "ordinary

faculties" as faculties very extraordinary indeed. He is not a man who has

made many friendships (this, probably, for professional reasons),

notwithstanding his genial and companionable manners. I myself first made

his acquaintance as a result of an accident resulting in a fire at the old

house in which Hewitt's office was situated, and in an upper floor of

which I occupied bachelor chambers. I was able to help in saving a

quantity of extremely important papers relating to his business, and,

while repairs were being made, allowed him to lock them in an old

wall-safe in one of my rooms which the fire had scarcely damaged.



The acquaintance thus begun has lasted many years, and has become a rather

close friendship. I have even accompanied Hewitt on some of his

expeditions, and, in a humble way, helped him. Such of the cases, however,

as I personally saw nothing of I have put into narrative form from the

particulars given me.



"I consider you, Brett," he said, addressing me, "the most remarkable

journalist alive. Not because you're particularly clever, you know,

because, between ourselves, I hope you'll admit you're not; but because

you have known something of me and my doings for some years, and have

never yet been guilty of giving away any of my little business secrets you

may have become acquainted with. I'm afraid you're not so enterprising a

journalist as some, Brett. But now, since you ask, you shall write

something--if you think it worth while."



This he said, as he said most things, with a cheery, chaffing good-nature

that would have been, perhaps, surprising to a stranger who thought of him

only as a grim and mysterious discoverer of secrets and crimes. Indeed,

the man had always as little of the aspect of the conventional detective

as may be imagined. Nobody could appear more cordial or less observant in

manner, although there was to be seen a certain sharpness of the

eye--which might, after all, only be the twinkle of good humor.



I did think it worth while to write something of Martin Hewitt's

investigations, and a description of one of his adventures follows.



* * * * *



At the head of the first flight of a dingy staircase leading up from an

ever-open portal in a street by the Strand stood a door, the dusty

ground-glass upper panel of which carried in its center the single word

"Hewitt," while at its right-hand lower corner, in smaller letters,

"Clerk's Office" appeared. On a morning when the clerks in the

ground-floor offices had barely hung up their hats, a short, well-dressed

young man, wearing spectacles, hastening to open the dusty door, ran into

the arms of another man who suddenly issued from it.



"I beg pardon," the first said. "Is this Hewitt's Detective Agency

Office?"



"Yes, I believe you will find it so," the other replied. He was a

stoutish, clean-shaven man, of middle height, and of a cheerful, round

countenance. "You'd better speak to the clerk."



In the little outer office the visitor was met by a sharp lad with inky

fingers, who presented him with a pen and a printed slip. The printed slip

having been filled with the visitor's name and present business, and

conveyed through an inner door, the lad reappeared with an invitation to

the private office. There, behind a writing-table, sat the stoutish man

himself, who had only just advised an appeal to the clerk.



"Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd--Mr. Vernon Lloyd," he said, affably, looking

again at the slip. "You'll excuse my care to start even with my

visitors--I must, you know. You come from Sir James Norris, I see."



"Yes; I am his secretary. I have only to ask you to go straight to Lenton

Croft at once, if you can, on very important business. Sir James would

have wired, but had not your precise address. Can you go by the next

train? Eleven-thirty is the first available from Paddington."



"Quite possibly. Do you know any thing of the business?"



"It is a case of a robbery in the house, or, rather, I fancy, of several

robberies. Jewelry has been stolen from rooms occupied by visitors to the

Croft. The first case occurred some months ago--nearly a year ago, in

fact. Last night there was another. But I think you had better get the

details on the spot. Sir James has told me to telegraph if you are coming,

so that he may meet you himself at the station; and I must hurry, as his

drive to the station will be rather a long one. Then I take it you will

go, Mr. Hewitt? Twyford is the station."



"Yes, I shall come, and by the 11.30. Are you going by that train

yourself?"



"No, I have several things to attend to now I am in town. Good-morning; I

shall wire at once."



Mr. Martin Hewitt locked the drawer of his table and sent his clerk for a

cab.



At Twyford Station Sir James Norris was waiting with a dog-cart. Sir James

was a tall, florid man of fifty or thereabout, known away from home as

something of a county historian, and nearer his own parts as a great

supporter of the hunt, and a gentleman much troubled with poachers. As

soon as he and Hewitt had found one another the baronet hurried the

detective into his dog-cart. "We've something over seven miles to drive,"

he said, "and I can tell you all about this wretched business as we go.

That is why I came for you myself, and alone."



Hewitt nodded.



"I have sent for you, as Lloyd probably told you, because of a robbery at

my place last evening. It appears, as far as I can guess, to be one of

three by the same hand, or by the same gang. Late yesterday afternoon----"



"Pardon me, Sir James," Hewitt interrupted, "but I think I must ask you to

begin at the first robbery and tell me the whole tale in proper order. It

makes things clearer, and sets them in their proper shape."



"Very well! Eleven months ago, or thereabout, I had rather a large party

of visitors, and among them Colonel Heath and Mrs. Heath--the lady being a

relative of my own late wife. Colonel Heath has not been long retired, you

know--used to be political resident in an Indian native state. Mrs. Heath

had rather a good stock of jewelry of one sort and another, about the most

valuable piece being a bracelet set with a particularly fine pearl--quite

an exceptional pearl, in fact--that had been one of a heap of presents

from the maharajah of his state when Heath left India.



"It was a very noticeable bracelet, the gold setting being a mere

feather-weight piece of native filigree work--almost too fragile to trust

on the wrist--and the pearl being, as I have said, of a size and quality

not often seen. Well, Heath and his wife arrived late one evening, and

after lunch the following day, most of the men being off by

themselves--shooting, I think--my daughter, my sister (who is very often

down here), and Mrs. Heath took it into their heads to go

walking--fern-hunting, and so on. My sister was rather long dressing, and,

while they waited, my daughter went into Mrs. Heath's room, where Mrs.

Heath turned over all her treasures to show her, as women do, you know.

When my sister was at last ready, they came straight away, leaving the

things littering about the room rather than stay longer to pack them up.

The bracelet, with other things, was on the dressing-table then."



"One moment. As to the door?"



"They locked it. As they came away my daughter suggested turning the key,

as we had one or two new servants about."



"And the window?"



"That they left open, as I was going to tell you. Well, they went on their

walk and came back, with Lloyd (whom they had met somewhere) carrying

their ferns for them. It was dusk and almost dinner-time. Mrs. Heath went

straight to her room, and--the bracelet was gone."



"Was the room disturbed?"



"Not a bit. Everything was precisely where it had been left, except the

bracelet. The door hadn't been tampered with, but of course the window was

open, as I have told you."



"You called the police, of course?"



"Yes, and had a man from Scotland Yard down in the morning. He seemed a

pretty smart fellow, and the first thing he noticed on the dressing-table,

within an inch or two of where the bracelet had been, was a match, which

had been lit and thrown down. Now nobody about the house had had occasion

to use a match in that room that day, and, if they had, certainly wouldn't

have thrown it on the cover of the dressing-table. So that, presuming the

thief to have used that match, the robbery must have been committed when

the room was getting dark--immediately before Mrs. Heath returned, in

fact. The thief had evidently struck the match, passed it hurriedly over

the various trinkets lying about, and taken the most valuable."



"Nothing else was even moved?"



"Nothing at all. Then the thief must have escaped by the window, although

it was not quite clear how. The walking party approached the house with a

full view of the window, but saw nothing, although the robbery must have

been actually taking place a moment or two before they turned up.



"There was no water-pipe within any practicable distance of the window,

but a ladder usually kept in the stable-yard was found lying along the

edge of the lawn. The gardener explained, however, that he had put the

ladder there after using it himself early in the afternoon."



"Of course it might easily have been used again after that and put back."



"Just what the Scotland Yard man said. He was pretty sharp, too, on the

gardener, but very soon decided that he knew nothing of it. No stranger

had been seen in the neighborhood, nor had passed the lodge gates.

Besides, as the detective said, it scarcely seemed the work of a stranger.

A stranger could scarcely have known enough to go straight to the room

where a lady--only arrived the day before--had left a valuable jewel, and

away again without being seen. So all the people about the house were

suspected in turn. The servants offered, in a body, to have their boxes

searched, and this was done; everything was turned over, from the butler's

to the new kitchen-maid's. I don't know that I should have had this

carried quite so far if I had been the loser myself, but it was my guest,

and I was in such a horrible position. Well, there's little more to be

said about that, unfortunately. Nothing came of it all, and the thing's as

great a mystery now as ever. I believe the Scotland Yard man got as far as

suspecting me before he gave it up altogether, but give it up he did in

the end. I think that's all I know about the first robbery. Is it clear?"



"Oh, yes; I shall probably want to ask a few questions when I have seen

the place, but they can wait. What next?"



"Well," Sir James pursued, "the next was a very trumpery affair, that I

should have forgotten all about, probably, if it hadn't been for one

circumstance. Even now I hardly think it could have been the work of the

same hand. Four months or thereabout after Mrs. Heath's disaster--in

February of this year, in fact--Mrs. Armitage, a young widow, who had been

a school-fellow of my daughter's, stayed with us for a week or so. The

girls don't trouble about the London season, you know, and I have no town

house, so they were glad to have their old friend here for a little in the

dull time. Mrs. Armitage is a very active young lady, and was scarcely in

the house half an hour before she arranged a drive in a pony-cart with

Eva--my daughter--to look up old people in the village that she used to

know before she was married. So they set off in the afternoon, and made

such a round of it that they were late for dinner. Mrs. Armitage had a

small plain gold brooch--not at all valuable, you know; two or three

pounds, I suppose--which she used to pin up a cloak or anything of that

sort. Before she went out she stuck this in the pin-cushion on her

dressing-table, and left a ring--rather a good one, I believe--lying close

by."



"This," asked Hewitt, "was not in the room that Mrs. Heath had occupied, I

take it?"



"No; this was in another part of the building. Well, the brooch

went--taken, evidently, by some one in a deuce of a hurry, for, when Mrs.

Armitage got back to her room, there was the pin-cushion with a little

tear in it, where the brooch had been simply snatched off. But the curious

thing was that the ring--worth a dozen of the brooch--was left where it

had been put. Mrs. Armitage didn't remember whether or not she had locked

the door herself, although she found it locked when she returned; but my

niece, who was indoors all the time, went and tried it once--because she

remembered that a gas-fitter was at work on the landing near by--and found

it safely locked. The gas-fitter, whom we didn't know at the time, but who

since seems to be quite an honest fellow, was ready to swear that nobody

but my niece had been to the door while he was in sight of it--which was

almost all the time. As to the window, the sash-line had broken that very

morning, and Mrs. Armitage had propped open the bottom half about eight or

ten inches with a brush; and, when she returned, that brush, sash, and all

were exactly as she had left them. Now I scarcely need tell you what an

awkward job it must have been for anybody to get noiselessly in at that

unsupported window; and how unlikely he would have been to replace it,

with the brush, exactly as he found it."



"Just so. I suppose the brooch, was really gone? I mean, there was no

chance of Mrs. Armitage having mislaid it?"



"Oh, none at all! There was a most careful search."



"Then, as to getting in at the window, would it have been easy?"



"Well, yes," Sir James replied; "yes, perhaps it would. It was a

first-floor window, and it looks over the roof and skylight of the

billiard-room. I built the billiard-room myself--built it out from a

smoking-room just at this corner. It would be easy enough to get at the

window from the billiard-room roof. But, then," he added, "that couldn't

have been the way. Somebody or other was in the billiard-room the whole

time, and nobody could have got over the roof (which is nearly all

skylight) without being seen and heard. I was there myself for an hour or

two, taking a little practice."



"Well, was anything done?"



"Strict inquiry was made among the servants, of course, but nothing came

of it. It was such a small matter that Mrs. Armitage wouldn't hear of my

calling in the police or anything of that sort, although I felt pretty

certain that there must be a dishonest servant about somewhere. A servant

might take a plain brooch, you know, who would feel afraid of a valuable

ring, the loss of which would be made a greater matter of."



"Well, yes, perhaps so, in the case of an inexperienced thief, who also

would be likely to snatch up whatever she took in a hurry. But I'm

doubtful. What made you connect these two robberies together?"



"Nothing whatever--for some months. They seemed quite of a different sort.

But scarcely more than a month ago I met Mrs. Armitage at Brighton, and we

talked, among other things, of the previous robbery--that of Mrs. Heath's

bracelet. I described the circumstances pretty minutely, and, when I

mentioned the match found on the table, she said: 'How strange! Why, my

thief left a match on the dressing-table when he took my poor little

brooch!'"



Hewitt nodded. "Yes," he said. "A spent match, of course?"



"Yes, of course, a spent match. She noticed it lying close by the

pin-cushion, but threw it away without mentioning the circumstance. Still,

it seemed rather curious to me that a match should be lit and dropped, in

each case, on the dressing-cover an inch from where the article was taken.

I mentioned it to Lloyd when I got back, and he agreed that it seemed

significant."



"Scarcely," said Hewitt, shaking his head. "Scarcely, so far, to be called

significant, although worth following up. Everybody uses matches in the

dark, you know."



"Well, at any rate, the coincidence appealed to me so far that it struck

me it might be worth while to describe the brooch to the police in order

that they could trace it if it had been pawned. They had tried that, of

course, over the bracelet without any result, but I fancied the shot might

be worth making, and might possibly lead us on the track of the more

serious robbery."



"Quite so. It was the right thing to do. Well?"



"Well, they found it. A woman had pawned it in London--at a shop in

Chelsea. But that was some time before, and the pawnbroker had clean

forgotten all about the woman's appearance. The name and address she gave

were false. So that was the end of that business."



"Had any of the servants left you between the time the brooch was lost and

the date of the pawn ticket?"



"No."



"Were all your servants at home on the day the brooch was pawned?"



"Oh, yes! I made that inquiry myself."



"Very good! What next?"



"Yesterday--and this is what made me send for you. My late wife's sister

came here last Tuesday, and we gave her the room from which Mrs. Heath

lost her bracelet. She had with her a very old-fashioned brooch,

containing a miniature of her father, and set in front with three very

fine brilliants and a few smaller stones. Here we are, though, at the

Croft. I'll tell you the rest indoors."



Hewitt laid his hand on the baronet's arm. "Don't pull up, Sir James," he

said. "Drive a little farther. I should like to have a general idea of the

whole case before we go in."



"Very good!" Sir James Norris straightened the horse's head again and went

on. "Late yesterday afternoon, as my sister-in-law was changing her dress,

she left her room for a moment to speak to my daughter in her room, almost

adjoining. She was gone no more than three minutes, or five at most, but

on her return the brooch, which had been left on the table, had gone. Now

the window was shut fast, and had not been tampered with. Of course the

door was open, but so was my daughter's, and anybody walking near must

have been heard. But the strangest circumstance, and one that almost makes

me wonder whether I have been awake to-day or not, was that there lay a

used match on the very spot, as nearly as possible, where the brooch had

been--and it was broad daylight!"



Hewitt rubbed his nose and looked thoughtfully before him. "Um--curious,

certainly," he said, "Anything else?"



"Nothing more than you shall see for yourself. I have had the room locked

and watched till you could examine it. My sister-in-law had heard of your

name, and suggested that you should be called in; so, of course, I did

exactly as she wanted. That she should have lost that brooch, of all

things, in my house is most unfortunate; you see, there was some small

difference about the thing between my late wife and her sister when their

mother died and left it. It's almost worse than the Heaths' bracelet

business, and altogether I'm not pleased with things, I can assure you.

See what a position it is for me! Here are three ladies, in the space of

one year, robbed one after another in this mysterious fashion in my house,

and I can't find the thief! It's horrible! People will be afraid to come

near the place. And I can do nothing!"



"Ah, well, we'll see. Perhaps we had better turn back now. By-the-by, were

you thinking of having any alterations or additions made to your house?"



"No. What makes you ask?"



"I think you might at least consider the question of painting and

decorating, Sir James--or, say, putting up another coach-house, or

something. Because I should like to be (to the servants) the architect--or

the builder, if you please--come to look around. You haven't told any of

them about this business?"



"Not a word. Nobody knows but my relatives and Lloyd. I took every

precaution myself, at once. As to your little disguise, be the architect

by all means, and do as you please. If you can only find this thief and

put an end to this horrible state of affairs, you'll do me the greatest

service I've ever asked for--and as to your fee, I'll gladly make it

whatever is usual, and three hundred in addition."



Martin Hewitt bowed. "You're very generous, Sir James, and you may be sure

I'll do what I can. As a professional man, of course, a good fee always

stimulates my interest, although this case of yours certainly seems

interesting enough by itself."



"Most extraordinary! Don't you think so? Here are three persons, all

ladies, all in my house, two even in the same room, each successively

robbed of a piece of jewelry, each from a dressing-table, and a used match

left behind in every case. All in the most difficult--one would say

impossible--circumstances for a thief, and yet there is no clue!"



"Well, we won't say that just yet, Sir James; we must see. And we must

guard against any undue predisposition to consider the robberies in a

lump. Here we are at the lodge gate again. Is that your gardener--the man

who left the ladder by the lawn on the first occasion you spoke of?"



Mr. Hewitt nodded in the direction of a man who was clipping a box border.



"Yes; will you ask him anything?"



"No, no; at any rate, not now. Remember the building alterations. I think,

if there is no objection, I will look first at the room that the

lady--Mrs.----" Hewitt looked up, inquiringly.



"My sister-in-law? Mrs. Cazenove. Oh, yes! you shall come to her room at

once."



"Thank you. And I think Mrs. Cazenove had better be there."



They alighted, and a boy from the lodge led the horse and dog-cart away.



Mrs. Cazenove was a thin and faded, but quick and energetic, lady of

middle age. She bent her head very slightly on learning Martin Hewitt's

name, and said: "I must thank you, Mr. Hewitt, for your very prompt

attention. I need scarcely say that any help you can afford in tracing the

thief who has my property--whoever it may be--will make me most grateful.

My room is quite ready for you to examine."



The room was on the second floor--the top floor at that part of the

building. Some slight confusion of small articles of dress was observable

in parts of the room.



"This, I take it," inquired Hewitt, "is exactly as it was at the time the

brooch was missed?"



"Precisely," Mrs. Cazenove answered. "I have used another room, and put

myself to some other inconveniences, to avoid any disturbance."



Hewitt stood before the dressing-table. "Then this is the used match," he

observed, "exactly where it was found?"



"Yes."



"Where was the brooch?"



"I should say almost on the very same spot. Certainly no more than a very

few inches away."



Hewitt examined the match closely. "It is burned very little," he

remarked. "It would appear to have gone out at once. Could you hear it

struck?"



"I heard nothing whatever; absolutely nothing."



"If you will step into Miss Norris' room now for a moment," Hewitt

suggested, "we will try an experiment. Tell me if you hear matches struck,

and how many. Where is the match-stand?"



The match-stand proved to be empty, but matches were found in Miss Norris'

room, and the test was made. Each striking could be heard distinctly, even

with one of the doors pushed to.



"Both your own door and Miss Norris' were open, I understand; the window

shut and fastened inside as it is now, and nothing but the brooch was

disturbed?"



"Yes, that was so."



"Thank you, Mrs. Cazenove. I don't think I need trouble you any further

just at present. I think, Sir James," Hewitt added, turning to the

baronet, who was standing by the door----"I think we will see the other

room and take a walk outside the house, if you please. I suppose, by the

by, that there is no getting at the matches left behind on the first and

second occasions?"



"No," Sir James answered. "Certainly not here. The Scotland Yard man may

have kept his."



The room that Mrs. Armitage had occupied presented no peculiar feature. A

few feet below the window the roof of the billiard-room was visible,

consisting largely of skylight. Hewitt glanced casually about the walls,

ascertained that the furniture and hangings had not been materially

changed since the second robbery, and expressed his desire to see the

windows from the outside. Before leaving the room, however, he wished to

know the names of any persons who were known to have been about the house

on the occasions of all three robberies.



"Just carry your mind back, Sir James," he said. "Begin with yourself, for

instance. Where were you at these times?"



"When Mrs. Heath lost her bracelet, I was in Tagley Wood all the

afternoon. When Mrs. Armitage was robbed, I believe I was somewhere about

the place most of the time she was out. Yesterday I was down at the farm."

Sir James' face broadened. "I don't know whether you call those suspicious

movements," he added, and laughed.



"Not at all; I only asked you so that, remembering your own movements, you

might the better recall those of the rest of the household. Was anybody,

to your knowledge--anybody, mind--in the house on all three occasions?"



"Well, you know, it's quite impossible to answer for all the servants.

You'll only get that by direct questioning--I can't possibly remember

things of that sort. As to the family and visitors--why, you don't suspect

any of them, do you?"



"I don't suspect a soul, Sir James," Hewitt answered, beaming genially,

"not a soul. You see, I can't suspect people till I know something about

where they were. It's quite possible there will be independent evidence

enough as it is, but you must help me if you can. The visitors, now. Was

there any visitor here each time--or even on the first and last occasions

only?"



"No, not one. And my own sister, perhaps you will be pleased to know, was

only there at the time of the first robbery."



"Just so! And your daughter, as I have gathered, was clearly absent from

the spot each time--indeed, was in company with the party robbed. Your

niece, now?"



"Why hang it all, Mr. Hewitt, I can't talk of my niece as a suspected

criminal! The poor girl's under my protection, and I really can't

allow----"



Hewitt raised his hand, and shook his head deprecatingly.



"My dear sir, haven't I said that I don't suspect a soul? Do let me know

how the people were distributed, as nearly as possible. Let me see. It was

your, niece, I think, who found that Mrs. Armitage's door was locked--this

door, in fact--on the day she lost her brooch?"



"Yes, it was."



"Just so--at the time when Mrs. Armitage herself had forgotten whether she

locked it or not. And yesterday--was she out then?"



"No, I think not. Indeed, she goes out very little--her health is usually

bad. She was indoors, too, at the time of the Heath robbery, since you

ask. But come, now, I don't like this. It's ridiculous to suppose that

she knows anything of it."



"I don't suppose it, as I have said. I am only asking for information.

That is all your resident family, I take it, and you know nothing of

anybody else's movements--except, perhaps, Mr. Lloyd's?"



"Lloyd? Well, you know yourself that he was out with the ladies when the

first robbery took place. As to the others, I don't remember. Yesterday he

was probably in his room, writing. I think that acquits him, eh?" Sir

James looked quizzically into the broad face of the affable detective, who

smiled and replied:



"Oh, of course nobody can be in two places at once, else what would become

of the alibi as an institution? But, as I have said, I am only setting

my facts in order. Now, you see, we get down to the servants--unless some

stranger is the party wanted. Shall we go outside now?"



Lenton Croft was a large, desultory sort of house, nowhere more than three

floors high, and mostly only two. It had been added to bit by bit, till it

zigzagged about its site, as Sir James Norris expressed it, "like a game

of dominoes." Hewitt scrutinized its external features carefully as they

strolled around, and stopped some little while before the windows of the

two bed-rooms he had just seen from the inside. Presently they approached

the stables and coach-house, where a groom was washing the wheels of the

dog-cart.



"Do you mind my smoking?" Hewitt asked Sir James. "Perhaps you will take a

cigar yourself--they are not so bad, I think. I will ask your man for a

light."



Sir James felt for his own match-box, but Hewitt had gone, and was

lighting his cigar with a match from a box handed him by the groom. A

smart little terrier was trotting about by the coach-house, and Hewitt

stooped to rub its head. Then he made some observation about the dog,

which enlisted the groom's interest, and was soon absorbed in a chat with

the man. Sir James, waiting a little way off, tapped the stones rather

impatiently with his foot, and presently moved away.



For full a quarter of an hour Hewitt chatted with the groom, and, when at

last he came away and overtook Sir James, that gentleman was about

re-entering the house.



"I beg your pardon, Sir James," Hewitt said, "for leaving you in that

unceremonious fashion to talk to your groom, but a dog, Sir James--a good

dog--will draw me anywhere."



"Oh!" replied Sir James, shortly.



"There is one other thing," Hewitt went on, disregarding the other's

curtness, "that I should like to know: There are two windows directly

below that of the room occupied yesterday by Mrs. Cazenove--one on each

floor. What rooms do they light?"



"That on the ground floor is the morning-room; the other is Mr.

Lloyd's--my secretary. A sort of study or sitting-room."



"Now you will see at once, Sir James," Hewitt pursued, with an affable

determination to win the baronet back to good-humor--"you will see at once

that, if a ladder had been used in Mrs. Heath's case, anybody looking from

either of these rooms would have seen it."



"Of course! The Scotland Yard man questioned everybody as to that, but

nobody seemed to have been in either of the rooms when the thing occurred;

at any rate, nobody saw anything."



"Still, I think I should like to look out of those windows myself; it

will, at least, give me an idea of what was in view and what was not, if

anybody had been there."



Sir James Norris led the way to the morning-room. As they reached the door

a young lady, carrying a book and walking very languidly, came out. Hewitt

stepped aside to let her pass, and afterward said interrogatively: "Miss

Norris, your daughter, Sir James?"



"No, my niece. Do you want to ask her anything? Dora, my dear," Sir James

added, following her in the corridor, "this is Mr. Hewitt, who is

investigating these wretched robberies for me. I think he would like to

hear if you remember anything happening at any of the three times."



The lady bowed slightly, and said in a plaintive drawl: "I, uncle? Really,

I don't remember anything; nothing at all."



"You found Mrs. Armitage's door locked, I believe," asked Hewitt, "when

you tried it, on the afternoon when she lost her brooch?"



"Oh, yes; I believe it was locked. Yes, it was."



"Had the key been left in?"



"The key? Oh, no! I think not; no."



"Do you remember anything out of the common happening--anything whatever,

no matter how trivial--on the day Mrs. Heath lost her bracelet?"



"No, really, I don't. I can't remember at all."



"Nor yesterday?"



"No, nothing. I don't remember anything."



"Thank you," said Hewitt, hastily; "thank you. Now the morning-room, Sir

James."



In the morning-room Hewitt stayed but a few seconds, doing little more

than casually glance out of the windows. In the room above he took a

little longer time. It was a comfortable room, but with rather effeminate

indications about its contents. Little pieces of draped silk-work hung

about the furniture, and Japanese silk fans decorated the mantel-piece.

Near the window was a cage containing a gray parrot, and the writing-table

was decorated with two vases of flowers.



"Lloyd makes himself pretty comfortable, eh?" Sir James observed. "But it

isn't likely anybody would be here while he was out, at the time that

bracelet went."



"No," replied Hewitt, meditatively. "No, I suppose not."



He stared thoughtfully out of the window, and then, still deep in thought,

rattled at the wires of the cage with a quill toothpick and played a

moment with the parrot. Then, looking up at the window again, he said:

"That is Mr. Lloyd, isn't it, coming back in a fly?"



"Yes, I think so. Is there anything else you would care to see here?"



"No, thank you," Hewitt replied; "I don't think there is."



They went down to the smoking-room, and Sir James went away to speak to

his secretary. When he returned, Hewitt said quietly: "I think, Sir

James--I think that I shall be able to give you your thief presently."



"What! Have you a clue? Who do you think? I began to believe you were

hopelessly stumped."



"Well, yes. I have rather a good clue, although I can't tell you much

about it just yet. But it is so good a clue that I should like to know now

whether you are determined to prosecute when you have the criminal?"



"Why, bless me, of course," Sir James replied, with surprise. "It doesn't

rest with me, you know--the property belongs to my friends. And even if

they were disposed to let the thing slide, I shouldn't allow it--I

couldn't, after they had been robbed in my house."



"Of course, of course! Then, if I can, I should like to send a message to

Twyford by somebody perfectly trustworthy--not a servant. Could anybody

go?"



"Well, there's Lloyd, although he's only just back from his journey. But,

if it's important, he'll go."



"It is important. The fact is we must have a policeman or two here this

evening, and I'd like Mr. Lloyd to fetch them without telling anybody

else."



Sir James rang, and, in response to his message, Mr. Lloyd appeared. While

Sir James gave his secretary his instructions, Hewitt strolled to the door

of the smoking-room, and intercepted the latter as he came out.



"I'm sorry to give you this trouble, Mr. Lloyd," he said, "but I must stay

here myself for a little, and somebody who can be trusted must go. Will

you just bring back a police-constable with you? or rather two--two would

be better. That is all that is wanted. You won't let the servants know,

will you? Of course there will be a female searcher at the Twyford

police-station? Ah--of course. Well, you needn't bring her, you know. That

sort of thing is done at the station." And, chatting thus confidentially,

Martin Hewitt saw him off.



When Hewitt returned to the smoking-room, Sir James said, suddenly: "Why,

bless my soul, Mr. Hewitt, we haven't fed you! I'm awfully sorry. We came

in rather late for lunch, you know, and this business has bothered me so I

clean forgot everything else. There's no dinner till seven, so you'd

better let me give you something now. I'm really sorry. Come along."



"Thank you, Sir James," Hewitt replied; "I won't take much. A few

biscuits, perhaps, or something of that sort. And, by the by, if you don't

mind, I rather think I should like to take it alone. The fact is I want to

go over this case thoroughly by myself. Can you put me in a room?"



"Any room you like. Where will you go? The dining-room's rather large, but

there's my study, that's pretty snug, or----"



"Perhaps I can go into Mr. Lloyd's room for half an hour or so; I don't

think he'll mind, and it's pretty comfortable."



"Certainly, if you'd like. I'll tell them to send you whatever they've

got."



"Thank you very much. Perhaps they'll also send me a lump of sugar and a

walnut; it's--it's a little fad of mine."



"A--what? A lump of sugar and a walnut?" Sir James stopped for a moment,

with his hand on the bell-rope. "Oh, certainly, if you'd like it;

certainly," he added, and stared after this detective with curious tastes

as he left the room.



When the vehicle, bringing back the secretary and the policeman, drew up

on the drive, Martin Hewitt left the room on the first floor and proceeded

down-stairs. On the landing he met Sir James Norris and Mrs. Cazenove, who

stared with astonishment on perceiving that the detective carried in his

hand the parrot-cage.



"I think our business is about brought to a head now," Hewitt remarked, on

the stairs. "Here are the police officers from Twyford." The men were

standing in the hall with Mr. Lloyd, who, on catching sight of the cage in

Hewitt's hand, paled suddenly.



"This is the person who will be charged, I think," Hewitt pursued,

addressing the officers, and indicating Lloyd with his finger.



"What, Lloyd?" gasped Sir James, aghast. "No--not Lloyd--nonsense!"



"He doesn't seem to think it nonsense himself, does he?" Hewitt placidly

observed. Lloyd had sank on a chair, and, gray of face, was staring

blindly at the man he had run against at the office door that morning. His

lips moved in spasms, but there was no sound. The wilted flower fell from

his button-hole to the floor, but he did not move.



"This is his accomplice," Hewitt went on, placing the parrot and cage on

the hall table, "though I doubt whether there will be any use in charging

him. Eh, Polly?"



The parrot put his head aside and chuckled. "Hullo, Polly!" it quietly

gurgled. "Come along!"



Sir James Norris was hopelessly bewildered. "Lloyd--Lloyd," he said, under

his breath. "Lloyd--and that!"



"This was his little messenger, his useful Mercury," Hewitt explained,

tapping the cage complacently; "in fact, the actual lifter. Hold him up!"



The last remark referred to the wretched Lloyd, who had fallen forward

with something between a sob and a loud sigh. The policemen took him by

the arms and propped him in his chair.



* * * * *



"System?" said Hewitt, with a shrug of the shoulders, an hour or two after

in Sir James' study. "I can't say I have a system. I call it nothing but

common-sense and a sharp pair of eyes. Nobody using these could help

taking the right road in this case. I began at the match, just as the

Scotland Yard man did, but I had the advantage of taking a line through

three cases. To begin with, it was plain that that match, being left there

in daylight, in Mrs. Cazenove's room, could not have been used to light

the table-top, in the full glare of the window; therefore it had been used

for some other purpose--what purpose I could not, at the moment, guess.

Habitual thieves, you know, often have curious superstitions, and some

will never take anything without leaving something behind--a pebble or a

piece of coal, or something like that--in the premises they have been

robbing. It seemed at first extremely likely that this was a case of that

kind. The match had clearly been brought in--because, when I asked for

matches, there were none in the stand, not even an empty box, and the room

had not been disturbed. Also the match probably had not been struck there,

nothing having been heard, although, of course, a mistake in this matter

was just possible. This match, then, it was fair to assume, had been lit

somewhere else and blown out immediately--I remarked at the time that it

was very little burned. Plainly it could not have been treated thus for

nothing, and the only possible object would have been to prevent it

igniting accidentally. Following on this, it became obvious that the match

was used, for whatever purpose, not as a match, but merely as a

convenient splinter of wood.



"So far so good. But on examining the match very closely I observed, as

you can see for yourself, certain rather sharp indentations in the wood.

They are very small, you see, and scarcely visible, except upon narrow

inspection; but there they are, and their positions are regular. See,

there are two on each side, each opposite the corresponding mark of the

other pair. The match, in fact, would seem to have been gripped in some

fairly sharp instrument, holding it at two points above and two below--an

instrument, as it may at once strike you, not unlike the beak of a bird.



"Now here was an idea. What living creature but a bird could possibly have

entered Mrs. Heath's window without a ladder--supposing no ladder to have

been used--or could have got into Mrs. Armitage's window without lifting

the sash higher than the eight or ten inches it was already open? Plainly,

nothing. Further, it is significant that only one article was stolen at

a time, although others were about. A human being could have carried any

reasonable number, but a bird could only take one at a time. But why

should a bird carry a match in its beak? Certainly it must have been

trained to do that for a purpose, and a little consideration made that

purpose pretty clear. A noisy, chattering bird would probably betray

itself at once. Therefore it must be trained to keep quiet both while

going for and coming away with its plunder. What readier or more probably

effectual way than, while teaching it to carry without dropping, to teach

it also to keep quiet while carrying? The one thing would practically

cover the other.



"I thought at once, of course, of a jackdaw or a magpie--these birds'

thievish reputations made the guess natural. But the marks on the match

were much too wide apart to have been made by the beak of either. I

conjectured, therefore, that it must be a raven. So that, when we arrived

near the coach-house, I seized the opportunity of a little chat with your

groom on the subject of dogs and pets in general, and ascertained that

there was no tame raven in the place. I also, incidentally, by getting a

light from the coach-house box of matches, ascertained that the match

found was of the sort generally used about the establishment--the large,

thick, red-topped English match. But I further found that Mr. Lloyd had a

parrot which was a most intelligent pet, and had been trained into

comparative quietness--for a parrot. Also, I learned that more than once

the groom had met Mr. Lloyd carrying his parrot under his coat, it having,

as its owner explained, learned the trick of opening its cage-door and

escaping.



"I said nothing, of course, to you of all this, because I had as yet

nothing but a train of argument and no results. I got to Lloyd's room as

soon as possible. My chief object in going there was achieved when I

played with the parrot, and induced it to bite a quill toothpick.



"When you left me in the smoking-room, I compared the quill and the match

very carefully, and found that the marks corresponded exactly. After this

I felt very little doubt indeed. The fact of Lloyd having met the ladies

walking before dark on the day of the first robbery proved nothing,

because, since it was clear that the match had not been used to procure

a light, the robbery might as easily have taken place in daylight as

not--must have so taken place, in fact, if my conjectures were right. That

they were right I felt no doubt. There could be no other explanation.



"When Mrs. Heath left her window open and her door shut, anybody climbing

upon the open sash of Lloyd's high window could have put the bird upon the

sill above. The match placed in the bird's beak for the purpose I have

indicated, and struck first, in case by accident it should ignite by

rubbing against something and startle the bird--this match would, of

course, be dropped just where the object to be removed was taken up; as

you know, in every case the match was found almost upon the spot where the

missing article had been left--scarcely a likely triple coincidence had

the match been used by a human thief. This would have been done as soon

after the ladies had left as possible, and there would then have been

plenty of time for Lloyd to hurry out and meet them before

dark--especially plenty of time to meet them coming back, as they must

have been, since they were carrying their ferns. The match was an article

well chosen for its purpose, as being a not altogether unlikely thing to

find on a dressing-table, and, if noticed, likely to lead to the wrong

conclusions adopted by the official detective.



"In Mrs. Armitage's case the taking of an inferior brooch and the leaving

of a more valuable ring pointed clearly either to the operator being a

fool or unable to distinguish values, and certainly, from other

indications, the thief seemed no fool. The door was locked, and the

gas-fitter, so to speak, on guard, and the window was only eight or ten

inches open and propped with a brush. A human thief entering the window

would have disturbed this arrangement, and would scarcely risk discovery

by attempting to replace it, especially a thief in so great a hurry as to

snatch the brooch up without unfastening the pin. The bird could pass

through the opening as it was, and would have to tear the pin-cushion to

pull the brooch off, probably holding the cushion down with its claw the

while.



"Now in yesterday's case we had an alteration of conditions. The window

was shut and fastened, but the door was open--but only left for a few

minutes, during which time no sound was heard either of coming or going.

Was it not possible, then, that the thief was already in the room, in

hiding, while Mrs. Cazenove was there, and seized its first opportunity on

her temporary absence? The room is full of draperies, hangings, and what

not, allowing of plenty of concealment for a bird, and a bird could leave

the place noiselessly and quickly. That the whole scheme was strange

mattered not at all. Robberies presenting such unaccountable features must

have been effected by strange means of one sort or another. There was no

improbability. Consider how many hundreds of examples of infinitely higher

degrees of bird-training are exhibited in the London streets every week

for coppers.



"So that, on the whole, I felt pretty sure of my ground. But before taking

any definite steps I resolved to see if Polly could not be persuaded to

exhibit his accomplishments to an indulgent stranger. For that purpose I

contrived to send Lloyd away again and have a quiet hour alone with his

bird. A piece of sugar, as everybody knows, is a good parrot bribe; but a

walnut, split in half, is a better--especially if the bird be used to it;

so I got you to furnish me with both. Polly was shy at first, but I

generally get along very well with pets, and a little perseverance soon

led to a complete private performance for my benefit. Polly would take the

match, mute as wax, jump on the table, pick up the brightest thing he

could see, in a great hurry, leave the match behind, and scuttle away

round the room; but at first wouldn't give up the plunder to me. It was

enough. I also took the liberty, as you know, of a general look round, and

discovered that little collection of Brummagem rings and trinkets that you

have just seen--used in Polly's education, no doubt. When we sent Lloyd

away, it struck me that he might as well be usefully employed as not, so I

got him to fetch the police, deluding him a little, I fear, by talking

about the servants and a female searcher. There will be no trouble about

evidence; he'll confess. Of that I'm sure. I know the sort of man. But I

doubt if you'll get Mrs. Cazenove's brooch back. You see, he has been to

London to-day, and by this time the swag is probably broken up."



Sir James listened to Hewitt's explanation with many expressions of assent

and some of surprise. When it was over, he smoked a few whiffs and then

said: "But Mrs. Armitage's brooch was pawned, and by a woman."



"Exactly. I expect our friend Lloyd was rather disgusted at his small

luck--probably gave the brooch to some female connection in London, and

she realized on it. Such persons don't always trouble to give a correct

address."



The two smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then Hewitt continued: "I

don't expect our friend has had an easy job altogether with that bird. His

successes at most have only been three, and I suspect he had many failures

and not a few anxious moments that we know nothing of. I should judge as

much merely from what the groom told me of frequently meeting Lloyd with

his parrot. But the plan was not a bad one--not at all. Even if the bird

had been caught in the act, it would only have been 'That mischievous

parrot!' you see. And his master would only have been looking for him."





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