The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack. R. Austin Freeman
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and conduct to which his experience furnished no parallel. A vast amount of nonsense has been talked and believed on the subject of physiognomy; but within this body of error there lies a soul of truth. ‘Character reading’ in the Lavater manner is largely pure quackery; but there is a certain general congruity between a man’s essential character and his bodily ‘make-up,’ including his facial type. Here, however, was a profound incongruity. Thorndyke found it difficult to identify the sly, cowardly knave whom he was seeking with the actual man who appeared to be coming into view.
But his doubts did not affect his actions. He had come here to collect evidence; and that purpose he proceeded to execute with a perfectly open mind. He pointed out to Polton the most likely spots to work for characteristic dust; he examined minutely every piece of furniture and woodwork in both the rooms; he made careful notes of every fact observed by himself or communicated by Wampole that could throw any light on the habits or occupations of the absent man. Even the secretly-amused onlooker was impressed by the thoroughness of the investigation, for, as Polton finally packed his apparatus, he remarked: “Well, sir, I have told you what I think—that you are following a will-o’-the-wisp. But if you fail to run him to earth, it certainly won’t be for lack of painstaking effort. You deserve to succeed.”
Thorndyke thanked him for the compliment and retired slowly down the stairs while the rooms were being locked up. They called in at the office to collect Thorndyke’s green canvas-covered case and then made their adieux.
“I must thank you most warmly, Mr. Wampole,” said Thorndyke, “for the kind interest that you have taken in our investigations. You have given us every possible help.”
Mr. Wampole bowed. “It is very good of you to say so. But it has really been a great pleasure and a most novel and interesting experience.” He held the door open for them to pass out, and as they were crossing the threshold he added: “You won’t forget about that button-wallet, sir, if the opportunity should arrive.”
“I certainly will not,” was the reply. “I will secure an option—or better still, the wallet itself and send it to you. By the way, should it be sent here or to your private address?”
Mr. Wampole reflected for a few moments. Then he drew from his pocket a much-worn letter-case from which he extracted a printed visiting-card.
“I think, sir, it would be best to send it to my private address. One doesn’t want it opened by the wrong hands. This is my address; and let me thank you in advance, even if only for the kind intention. Good evening, sir. Good evening, Mr. Polton. I trust that your little dusty souvenirs will prove highly illuminating.”
He stood on the threshold and gravely watched his two visitors as they retired down the street. At length, when they turned a corner, he re-entered, shutting and locking the outer door. Then in an instant his gravity relaxed, and flinging himself into a chair, he roused the echoes with peal after peal of joyous laughter.
CHAPTER XVI
WHICH TREATS OF LAW AND BUTTONS
“This seems highly irregular,” said Mr. Penfield, settling himself comfortably in the easy-chair and smilingly regarding a small table on which were a decanter and glasses. “I don’t treat my professional visitors in this hospitable fashion. And you don’t even ask what has brought me here.”
“No,” replied Thorndyke, as he filled a couple of glasses; “I accept the gifts of Fortune and ask no questions.”
Mr. Penfield bowed. “You were good enough to say that I might call out of business hours, which is a great convenience, so here I am, with a twofold purpose; first, to seek information from you; and second to give you certain news of my own. Perhaps I may take them in that order and begin by asking one or two questions?”
“Do so, by all means,” replied Thorndyke.
“I have heard,” pursued Mr. Penfield, “from our friends Hollis and Woodstock, and perhaps you will not be surprised to learn that you have made yourself somewhat unpopular with them. They have even applied disrespectful epithets to you.”
“Such as mountebank, impostor, quack, and so forth,” suggested Thorndyke.
Mr. Penfield chuckled as he sipped his wine. “Your insight is remarkable,” said he. “You have quoted the very words. They complain that, after making a serious appointment with them and occupying their time, you merely asked a number of foolish and irrelevant questions, and then proceeded to sweep the floor. Is that an exaggeration, or did you really sweep the floor?”
“I collected a few samples of dust from the floor and elsewhere.”
Mr. Penfield consumed a luxurious pinch of snuff and regarded Thorndyke with delighted amusement.
“Did you indeed? Well, I am not surprised at their attitude. But a year or so ago it would have been my own. It must have looked like sheer wizardry. But tell me, have your investigations and floor-sweepings yielded any tangible facts?
“Yes,” replied Thorndyke, “they have; and those facts I will lay before you on the strict understanding that you communicate them to nobody. As to certain further inferences of a more speculative character, I should prefer to make no statement at present. They may be entirely erroneous.”
“Exactly, exactly. Let us keep scrupulously to definite facts which are susceptible of proof. Now, what have you discovered?”
“My positive results amount to this: in the first place I have ascertained beyond the possibility of any reasonable doubt that those boxes had been opened by some person other than Mr. Hollis. In the second place it is virtually certain that the person who opened them was in some way connected with Mr. Woodstock’s office.”
“Do you say that the boxes were actually opened in his office?
“No. The evidence goes to prove that they were taken from the office and opened elsewhere.”
“But surely they would have been missed from the strong-room?”
“That, I think was provided for. I infer that only one box was taken at a time and that its place was filled by a dummy.”
“Astonishing!” exclaimed Mr. Penfield. “It seems incredible that you should have been able to discover this—or, indeed, that it should be true. The seals seem to me to offer an insuperable difficulty.”
“On the contrary,” replied Thorndyke, “it was the seals that furnished the evidence. They were manifest forgeries.”
“Were they really! The robber had actually had a counterfeit seal engraved?”
“No. The false seal was not engraved. It was an electrotype made from one of the wax impressions; a much simpler and easier proceeding, and one that the robber could carry out himself and so avoid the danger of employing a seal engraver.”
“No doubt it would be the safer plan, and probably you are right in assuming that he adopted it; but—”
“I am not assuming,” said Thorndyke. “There is direct evidence that the seal used to make the false impressions was an electrotype.”
“Now, what would be the nature of that evidence—or is it, perhaps, too technical for an ignorant person like me to follow?”
“There is nothing very technical about it,” replied Thorndyke. “You know how an electrotype is made? Well, to put it briefly, the process would be this: one of the wax impressions from a box would be carefully coated with black lead or some other conducting material and attached to one of the terminals of an electric battery; and to the other terminal a piece of copper would be attached. The black-leaded wax impression and the piece of copper would be suspended from the wires of the battery, close together but not touching, in a solution of sulphate of copper. Then, as the electric current passed, the copper would dissolve in the solution and a film of metallic copper would become deposited on the black-leaded wax and would gradually thicken until it became a solid shell of copper. When this shell was picked off the wax it would be, in effect, a copper seal which would give impressions on wax just like