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BROTHER GRIFFITH'S STORY
of
THE BITER BIT.
Extracted from the Correspondence of the London Police.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE, OF THE DETECTIVE POLICE, TO
SERGEANT BULMER, OF THE SAME FORCE.
London, 4th July, 18--.
SERGEANT BULMER--This is to inform you that you are wanted to
assist in looking up a case of importance, which will require all
the attention of an experienced member of the force. The matter
of the robbery on which you are now engaged you will please to
shift over to the young man who brings you this letter. You will
tell him all the circumstances of the case, just as they stand;
you will put him up to the progress you have made (if any) toward
detecting the person or persons by whom the money has been
stolen; and you will leave him to make the best he can of the
matter now in your hands. He is to have the whole responsibility
of the case, and the whole credit of his success if he brings it
to a proper issue.
So much for the orders that I am desired to communicate to you.
A word in your ear, next, about this new man who is to take your
place. His name is Matthew Sharpin, and he is to have the chance
given him of dashing into our office at one jump--supposing he
turns out strong enough to take it. You will naturally ask me how
he comes by this privilege. I can only tell you that he has some
uncommonly strong interest to back him in certain high quarters,
which you and I had better not mention except under our breaths.
He has been a lawyer's clerk, and he is wonderfully conceited in
his opinion of himself, as well as mean and underhand, to look
at. According to his own account, he leaves his old trade and
joins ours of his own free will and preference. You will no more
believe that than I do. My notion is, that he has managed to
ferret out some private information in connection with the
affairs of one of his master's clients, which makes him rather an
awkward customer to keep in the office for the future, and which,
at the same time, gives him hold enough over his employer to make
it dangerous to drive him into a corner by turning him away. I
think the giving him this unheard-of chance among us is, in plain
words, pretty much like giving him hush money to keep him quiet.
However that may be, Mr. Matthew Sharpin is to have the case now
in your hands, and if he succeeds with it he pokes his ugly nose
into our office as sure as fate. I put you up to this, sergeant,
so that you may not stand in your own light by giving the new man
any cause to complain of you at headquarters, and remain yours,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, 5th July, 18--.
DEAR SIR--Having now been favored with the necessary instructions
from Sergeant Bulmer, I beg to remind you of certain directions
which I have received relating to the report of my future
proceedings which I am to prepare for examination at
headquarters.
The object of my writing, and of your examining what I have
written before you send it to the higher authorities, is, I am
informed, to give me, as an untried hand, the benefit of your
advice in case I want it (which I venture to think I shall not)
at any stage of my proceedings. As the extraordinary
circumstances of the case on which I am now engaged make it
impossible for me to absent myself from the place where the
robbery was committed until I have made some progress toward
discovering the thief, I am necessarily precluded from consulting
you personally. Hence the necessity of my writing down the
various details, which might perhaps be better communicated by
word of mouth. This, if I am not mistaken, is the position in
which we are now placed. I state my own impressions on the
subject in writing, in order that we may clearly understand each
other at the outset; and have the honor to remain your obedient
servant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN.
London, 5th July, 18--.
SIR--You have begun by wasting time, ink, and paper. We both of
us perfectly well knew the position we stood in toward each other
when I sent you with my letter to Sergeant Bulmer. There was not
the least need to repeat it in writing. Be so good as to employ
your pen in future on the business actually in hand.
You have now three separate matters on which to write me. First,
you have to draw up a statement of your instructions received
from Sergeant Bulmer, in order to show us that nothing has
escaped your memory, and that you are thoroughly acquainted with
all the circumstances of the case which has been intrusted to
you. Secondly, you are to inform me what it is you propose to do.
Thirdly, you are to report every inch of your progress (if you
make any) from day to day, and, if need be, from hour to hour as
well. This is your duty. As to what my duty may be, when I
want you to remind me of it, I will write and tell you so. In the
meantime, I remain yours,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, 6th July, 18--.
SIR--You are rather an elderly person, and as such, naturally
inclined to be a little jealous of men like me, who are in the
prime of their lives and their faculties. Under these
circumstances, it is my duty to be considerate toward you, and not to bear too hardly on your small failings. I
decline, therefore, altogether to take offense at the tone of
your letter; I give you the full benefit of the natural
generosity of my nature; I sponge the very existence of your
surly communication out of my memory--in short, Chief Inspector
Theakstone, I forgive you, and proceed to business.
My first duty is to draw up a full statement of the instructions
I have received from Sergeant Bulmer. Here they are at your
service, according to my version of them.
At Number Thirteen Rutherford Street, Soho, there is a
stationer's shop. It is kept by one Mr. Yatman. He is a married
man, but has no family. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, the other
inmates in the house are a lodger, a young single man named Jay,
who occupies the front room on the second floor--a shopman, who
sleeps in one of the attics, and a servant-of-all-work, whose bed
is in the back kitchen. Once a week a charwoman comes to help
this servant. These are all the persons who, on ordinary
occasions, have means of access to the interior of the house,
placed, as a matter of course, at their disposal. Mr. Yatman has
been in business for many years, carrying on his affairs
prosperously enough to realize a handsome independence for a
person in his position. Unfortunately for himself, he endeavored
to increase the amount of his property by speculating. He
ventured boldly in his investments; luck went against him; and
rather less than two years ago he found himself a poor man again.
All that was saved out of the wreck of his property was the sum
of two hundred pounds.
Although Mr. Yatman did his best to meet his altered
circumstances, by giving up many of the luxuries and comforts to
which he and his wife had been accustomed, he found it impossible
to retrench so far as to allow of putting by any money from the
income produced by his shop. The business has been declining of
late years, the cheap advertising stationers having done it
injury with the public. Consequently, up to the last week, the
only surplus property possessed by Mr. Yatman consisted of the
two hundred pounds which had been recovered from the wreck of his
fortune. This sum was placed as a deposit in a joint-stock bank
of the highest possible character.
Eight days ago Mr. Yatman and his lodger, Mr. Jay, held a
conversation on the subject of the commercial difficulties which
are hampering trade in all directions at the present time. Mr.
Jay (who lives by supplying the newspapers with short paragraphs
relating to accidents, offenses, and brief records of remarkable
occurrences in general--who is, in short, what they call a
penny-a-liner) told his landlord that he had been in the city
that day and heard unfavorable rumors on the subject of the
joint-stock banks. The rumors to which he alluded had already
reached the ears of Mr. Yatman from other quarters, and the
confirmation of them by his lodger had such an effect on his
mind--predisposed as it was to alarm by the experience of his
former losses--that he resolved to go at once to the bank and
withdraw his deposit. It was then getting on toward the end of
the afternoon, and he arrived just in time to receive his money
before the bank closed.
He received the deposit in bank-notes of the following amounts:
one fifty-pound note, three twenty-pound notes, six ten-pound
notes, and six five-pound notes. His object in drawing the money
in this form was to have it ready to lay out immediately in
trifling loans, on good security, among the small tradespeople of
his district, some of whom are sorely pressed for the very means
of existence at the present time. Investments of this kind seemed
to Mr. Yatman to be the most safe and the most profitable on
which he could now venture.
He brought the money back in an envelope placed in his breast
pocket, and asked his shopman, on getting home, to look for a
small, flat, tin cash-box, which had not been used for years, and
which, as Mr. Yatman remembered it, was exactly of the right size
to hold the bank-notes. For some time the cash-box was searched
for in vain. Mr. Yatman called to his wife to know if she had any
idea where it was. The question was overheard by the
servant-of-all-work, who was taking up the tea-tray at the time,
and by Mr. Jay, who was coming downstairs on his way out to the
theater. Ultimately the cash-box was found by the shopman. Mr.
Yatman placed the bank-notes in it, secured them by a padlock,
and put the box in his coat pocket. It stuck out of the coat
pocket a very little, but enough to be seen. Mr. Yatman remained
at home, upstairs, all that evening. No visitors called. At
eleven o'clock he went to bed, and put the cash-box under his
pillow.
When he and his wife woke the next morning the box was gone.
Payment of the notes was immediately stopped at the Bank of
England, but no news of the money has been heard of since that
time.
So far the circumstances of the case are perfectly clear. They
point unmistakably to the conclusion that the robbery must have
been committed by some person living in the house. Suspicion
falls, therefore, upon the servant-of-all-work, upon the shopman,
and upon Mr. Jay. The two first knew that the cash-box was being
inquired for by their master, but did not know what it was he
wanted to put into it. They would assume, of course, that it was
money. They both had opportunities (the servant when she took
away the tea, and the shopman when he came, after shutting up, to
give the keys of the till to his master) of seeing the cash-box
in Mr. Yatman's pocket, and of inferring naturally, from its
position there, that he intended to take it into his bedroom with
him at night.
Mr. Jay, on the other hand, had been told, during the afternoon's
conversation on the subject of joint-stock banks, that his
landlord had a deposit of two hundred pounds in one of them. He
also knew that Mr. Yatman left him with the intention of drawing
that money out; and he heard the inquiry for the cash-box
afterward, when he was coming downstairs. He must, therefore,
have inferred that the money was in the house, and that the
cash-box was the receptacle intended to contain it. That he could
have had any idea, however, of the place in which Mr. Yatman
intended to keep it for the night is impossible, seeing that he
went out before the box was found, and did not return till his
landlord was in bed. Consequently, if he committed the robbery,
he must have gone into the bedroom purely on speculation.
Speaking of the bedroom reminds me of the necessity of noticing
the situation of it in the house, and the means that exist of
gaining easy access to it at any hour of the night.
The room in question is the back room on the first floor. In
consequence of Mrs. Yatman's constitutional nervousness on the
subject of fire, which makes her apprehend being burned alive in
her room, in case of accident, by the hampering of the lock if
the key is turned in it, her husband has never been accustomed to
lock the bedroom door. Both he and his wife are, by their own
admission, heavy sleepers; consequently, the risk to be run by
any evil-disposed persons wishing to plunder the bedroom was of
the most trifling kind. They could enter the room by merely
turning the handle of the door; and, if they moved with ordinary
caution, there was no fear of their waking the sleepers inside.
This fact is of importance. It strengthens our conviction that
the money must have been taken by one of the inmates of the
house, because it tends to show that the robbery, in this case,
might have been committed by persons not possessed of the
superior vigilance and cunning of the experienced thief.
Such are the circumstances, as they were related to Sergeant
Bulmer, when he was first called in to discover the guilty
parties, and, if possible, to recover the lost bank-notes. The
strictest inquiry which he could institute failed of producing
the smallest fragment of evidence against any of the persons on
whom suspicion naturally fell. Their language and behavior on
being informed of the robbery was perfectly consistent with the
language and behavior of innocent people. Sergeant Bulmer felt
from the firs t that this was a case for private inquiry and
secret observation. He began by recommending Mr. and Mrs. Yatman
to affect a feeling of perfect confidence in the innocence of the
persons living under their roof, and he then opened the campaign
by employing himself in following the goings and comings, and in
discovering the friends, the habits, and the secrets of the
maid-of-all-work.
Three days and nights of exertion on his own part, and on that of
others who were competent to assist his investigations, were
enough to satisfy him that there was no sound cause for suspicion
against the girl.
He next practiced the same precaution in relation to the shopman.
There was more difficulty and uncertainty in privately clearing
up this person's character without his knowledge, but the
obstacles were at last smoothed away with tolerable success; and,
though there is not the same amount of certainty in this case
which there was in the case of the girl, there is still fair
reason for supposing that the shopman has had nothing to do with
the robbery of the cash-box.
As a necessary consequence of these proceedings, the range of
suspicion now becomes limited to the lodger, Mr. Jay.
When I presented your letter of introduction to Sergeant Bulmer,
he had already made some inquiries on the subject of this young
man. The result, so far, has not been at all favorable. Mr. Jay's
habits are irregular; he frequents public houses, and seems to be
familiarly acquainted with a great many dissolute characters; he
is in debt to most of the tradespeople whom he employs; he has
not paid his rent to Mr. Yatman for the last month; yesterday
evening he came home excited by liquor, and last week he was seen
talking to a prize-fighter; in short, though Mr. Jay does call
himself a journalist, in virtue of his penny-a-line contributions
to the newspapers, he is a young man of low tastes, vulgar
manners, and bad habits. Nothing has yet been discovered in
relation to him which redounds to his credit in the smallest
degree.
I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the
particulars communicated to me by Sergeant Bulmer. I believe you
will not find an omission anywhere; and I think you will admit,
though you are prejudiced against me, that a clearer statement of
facts was never laid before you than the statement I have now
made. My next duty is to tell you what I propose to do now that
the case is confided to my hands.
In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case
at the point where Sergeant Bulmer has left it. On his authority,
I am justified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself
about the maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are
now to be considered as cleared up. What remains to be privately
investigated is the question of the guilt or innocence of Mr.
Jay. Before we give up the notes for lost, we must make sure, if
we can, that he knows nothing about them.
This is the plan that I have adopted, with the full approval of
Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, for discovering whether Mr. Jay is or is not
the person who has stolen the cash-box:
I propose to-day to present myself at the house in the character
of a young man who is looking for lodgings. The back room on the
second floor will be shown to me as the room to let, and I shall
establish myself there to-night as a person from the country who
has come to London to look for a situation in a respectable shop
or office.
By this means I shall be living next to the room occupied by Mr.
Jay. The partition between us is mere lath and plaster. I shall
make a small hole in it, near the cornice, through which I can
see what Mr. Jay does in his room, and hear every word that is
said when any friend happens to call on him. Whenever he is at
home, I shall be at my post of observation; whenever he goes out,
I shall be after him. By employing these means of watching him, I
believe I may look forward to the discovery of his secret--if he
knows anything about the lost bank-notes--as to a dead certainty.
What you may think of my plan of observation I cannot undertake
to say. It appears to me to unite the invaluable merits of
boldness and simplicity. Fortified by this conviction, I close
the present communication with feelings of the most sanguine
description in regard to the future, and remain your obedient
servant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
7th July.
SIR--As you have not honored me with any answer to my last
communication, I assume that, in spite of your prejudices against
me, it has produced the favorable impression on your mind which I
ventured to anticipate. Gratified and encouraged beyond measure
by the token of approval which your eloquent silence conveys to
me, I proceed to report the progress that has been made in the
course of the last twenty-four hours.
I am now comfortably established next door to Mr. Jay, and I am
delighted to say that I have two holes in the partition instead
of one. My natural sense of humor has led me into the pardonable
extravagance of giving them both appropriate names. One I call my
peep-hole, and the other my pipe-hole. The name of the first
explains itself; the name of the second refers to a small tin
pipe or tube inserted in the hole, and twisted so that the mouth
of it comes close to my ear while I am standing at my post of
observation. Thus, while I am looking at Mr. Jay through my
peep-hole, I can hear every word that may be spoken in his room
through my pipe-hole.
Perfect candor--a virtue which I have possessed from my
childhood--compels me to acknowledge, before I go any further,
that the ingenious notion of adding a pipe-hole to my proposed
peep-hole originated with Mrs. Yatman. This lady--a most
intelligent and accomplished person, simple, and yet
distinguished in her manners, has entered into all my little
plans with an enthusiasm and intelligence which I cannot too
highly praise. Mr. Yatman is so cast down by his loss that he is
quite incapable of affording me any assistance. Mrs. Yatman, who
is evidently most tenderly attached to him, feels her husband's
sad condition of mind even more acutely than she feels the loss
of the money, and is mainly stimulated to exertion by her desire
to assist in raising him from the miserable state of prostration
into which he has now fallen.
"The money, Mr. Sharpin," she said to me yesterday evening, with
tears in her eyes, "the money may be regained by rigid economy
and strict attention to business. It is my husband's wretched
state of mind that makes me so anxious for the discovery of the
thief. I may be wrong, but I felt hopeful of success as soon as
you entered the house; and I believe that, if the wretch who
robbed us is to be found, you are the man to discover him." I
accepted this gratifying compliment in the spirit in which it was
offered, firmly believing that I shall be found, sooner or later,
to have thoroughly deserved it.
Let me now return to business--that is to say, to my peep-hole
and my pipe-hole.
I have enjoyed some hours of calm observation of Mr. Jay. Though
rarely at home, as I understand from Mrs. Yatman, on ordinary
occasions, he has been indoors the whole of this day. That is
suspicious, to begin with. I have to report, further, that he
rose at a late hour this morning (always a bad sign in a young
man), and that he lost a great deal of time, after he was up, in
yawning and complaining to himself of headache. Like other
debauched characters, he ate little or nothing for breakfast. His
next proceeding was to smoke a pipe--a dirty clay pipe, which a
gentleman would have been ashamed to put between his lips. When
he had done smoking he took out pen, ink and paper, and sat down
to write with a groan--whether of remorse for having taken the
bank-notes, or of disgust at the task before him, I am unable to
say. After writing a few lines (too far away from my peep-hole to
give me a chance of reading over his shoulder), he leaned back in
his chair, and amused himself by humming the tunes of popular
songs. I recognized "My Mary Anne," "Bobbin' Around," and "Old
Dog Tray," among other melodies. Whether these do or do not
represent secret signals by which he communicates
with his accomplices remains to be seen. After he had amused
himself for some time by humming, he got up and began to walk
about the room, occasionally stopping to add a sentence to the
paper on his desk. Before long he went to a locked cupboard and
opened it. I strained my eyes eagerly, in expectation of making a
discovery. I saw him take something carefully out of the
cupboard--he turned round--and it was only a pint bottle of
brandy! Having drunk some of the liquor, this extremely indolent
reprobate lay down on his bed again, and in five minutes was fast
asleep.
After hearing him snoring for at least two hours, I was recalled
to my peep-hole by a knock at his door. He jumped up and opened
it with suspicious activity.
A very small boy, with a very dirty face, walked in, said:
"Please, sir, they're waiting for you," sat down on a chair with
his legs a long way from the ground, and instantly fell asleep!
Mr. Jay swore an oath, tied a wet towel round his head, and,
going back to his paper, began to cover it with writing as fast
as his fingers could move the pen. Occasionally getting up to dip
the towel in water and tie it on again, he continued at this
employment for nearly three hours; then folded up the leaves of
writing, woke the boy, and gave them to him, with this remarkable
expression: "Now, then, young sleepy-head, quick march! If you
see the governor, tell him to have the money ready for me when I
call for it." The boy grinned and disappeared. I was sorely
tempted to follow "sleepy-head," but, on reflection, considered
it safest still to keep my eye on the proceedings of Mr. Jay.
In half an hour's time he put on his hat and walked out. Of
course I put on my hat and walked out also. As I went downstairs
I passed Mrs. Yatman going up. The lady has been kind enough to
undertake, by previous arrangement between us, to search Mr.
Jay's room while he is out of the way, and while I am necessarily
engaged in the pleasing duty of following him wherever he goes.
On the occasion to which I now refer, he walked straight to the
nearest tavern and ordered a couple of mutton-chops for his
dinner. I placed myself in the next box to him, and ordered a
couple of mutton-chops for my dinner. Before I had been in the
room a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and
appearance, sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter
in his hand and joined Mr. Jay. I pretended to be reading the
newspaper, and listened, as in duty bound, with all my might.
"Jack has been here inquiring after you," says the young man.
"Did he leave any message?" asks Mr. Jay.
"Yes," says the other. "He told me, if I met with you, to say
that he wished very particularly to see you to-night, and that he
would give you a look in at Rutherford Street at seven o'clock."
"All right," says Mr. Jay. "I'll get back in time to see him."
Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter,
and saying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his
friend (perhaps I should not be wrong if I said his accomplice?),
and left the room.
At twenty-five minutes and a half past six--in these serious
cases it is important to be particular about time--Mr. Jay
finished his chops and paid his bill. At twenty-six minutes and
three-quarters I finished my chops and paid mine. In ten minutes
more I was inside the house in Rutherford Street, and was
received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage. That charming woman's
face exhibited an expression of melancholy and disappointment
which it quite grieved me to see.
"I am afraid, ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any
little criminating discovery in the lodger's room?"
She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, fluttering
sigh--and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment I
forgot business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman.
"Don't despair, ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness
which seemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious
conversation--I know of a guilty appointment--and I expect great
things from my peep-hole and my pipe-hole to-night. Pray don't be
alarmed, but I think we are on the brink of a discovery."
Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better part of
my tender feelings. I looked--winked--nodded--left her.
When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his
mutton-chops in an armchair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his
table were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint bottle of
brandy. It was then close upon seven o'clock. As the hour struck
the person described as "Jack" walked in.
He looked agitated--I am happy to say he looked violently
agitated. The cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused
itself (to use a strong expression) all over me, from head to
foot. With breathless interest I looked through my peep-hole, and
saw the visitor--the "Jack" of this delightful case--sit down,
facing me, at the opposite side of the table to Mr. Jay. Making
allowance for the difference in expression which their
countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandoned
villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once
to the conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner
man and the better dressed of the two. I admit that, at the
outset. It is, perhaps, one of my failings to push justice and
impartiality to their utmost limits. I am no Pharisee; and where
Vice has its redeeming point, I say, let Vice have its due--yes,
yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have its due.
"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay.
"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays
are dangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the
day after to-morrow."
"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished.
"Well, I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is somebody else
ready, too? Are you quite sure of that?"
He smiled as he spoke--a frightful smile--and laid a very strong
emphasis on those two words, "Somebody else." There is evidently
a third ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business.
"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in
the Regent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us
at the turning that leads to the Avenue Road."
"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy-and-water?
What are you getting up for? You're not going already?"
"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated
that I can't sit still anywhere for five minutes together.
Ridiculous as it may appear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of
nervous flutter. I can't, for the life of me, help fearing that
we shall be found out. I fancy that every man who looks twice at
me in the street is a spy--"
At these words I thought my legs would have given way under me.
Nothing but strength of mind kept me at my peep-hole--nothing
else, I give you my word of honor.
"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of a
veteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and
we will manage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of
brandy-and-water, and you will feel as certain about it as I do."
Jack steadily refused the brandy-and-water, and steadily
persisted in taking his leave.
"I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. "Remember to-morrow
morning--eleven o'clock, Avenue Road, side of the Regent's Park."
With those words he went out. His hardened relative laughed
desperately and resumed the dirty clay pipe.
I sat down on the side of my bed, actually quivering with
excitement.
It is clear to me that no attempt has yet been made to change the
stolen bank-notes, and I may add that Sergeant Bulmer was of that
opinion also when he left the case in my hands. What is the
natural conclusion to draw from the conversation which I have
just set down? Evidently that the confederates meet to-morrow to
take their respective shares in the stolen money, and to decide
on the safest means of getting the notes changed the day after.
Mr. Jay is, beyond a doubt, the leading criminal in this
business, and he will probably run the chief risk--that of
changing the fifty-pound note. I shall, therefore, still make it
my business to follow him--attending at the Regent's Par k
to-morrow, and doing my best to hear what is said there. If
another appointment is made for the day after, I shall, of
course, go to it. In the meantime, I shall want the immediate
assistance of two competent persons (supposing the rascals
separate after their meeting) to follow the two minor criminals.
It is only fair to add that, if the rogues all retire together, I
shall probably keep my subordinates in reserve. Being naturally
ambitious, I desire, if possible, to have the whole credit of
discovering this robbery to myself.
8th July.
I have to acknowledge, with thanks, the speedy arrival of my two
subordinates--men of very average abilities, I am afraid; but,
fortunately, I shall always be on the spot to direct them.
My first business this morning was necessarily to prevent
possible mistakes by accounting to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman for the
presence of two strangers on the scene. Mr. Yatman (between
ourselves, a poor, feeble man) only shook his head and groaned.
Mrs. Yatman (that superior woman) favored me with a charming look
of intelligence.
"Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" she said, "I am so sorry to see those two men!
Your sending for their assistance looks as if you were beginning
to be doubtful of success."
I privately winked at her (she is very good in allowing me to do
so without taking offense), and told her, in my facetious way,
that she labored under a slight mistake.
"It is because I am sure of success, ma'am, that I send for them.
I am determined to recover the money, not for my own sake only,
but for Mr. Yatman's sake--and for yours."
I laid a considerable amount of stress on those last three words.
She said: "Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" again, and blushed of a heavenly
red, and looked down at her work. I could go to the world's end
with that woman if Mr. Yatman would only die.
I sent off the two subordinates to wait until I wanted them at
the Avenue Road gate of the Regent's Park. Half-an-hour afterward
I was following the same direction myself at the heels of Mr.
Jay.
The two confederates were punctual to the appointed time. I blush
to record it, but it is nevertheless necessary to state that the
third rogue--the nameless desperado of my report, or, if you
prefer it, the mysterious "somebody else" of the conversation
between the two brothers--is--a woman! and, what is worse, a
young woman! and, what is more lamentable still, a nice-looking
woman! I have long resisted a growing conviction that, wherever
there is mischief in this world, an individual of the fair sex is
inevitably certain to be mixed up in it. After the experience of
this morning, I can struggle against that sad conclusion no
longer. I give up the sex--excepting Mrs. Yatman, I give up the
sex.
The man named "Jack" offered the woman his arm. Mr. Jay placed
himself on the other side of her. The three then walked away
slowly among the trees. I followed them at a respectful distance.
My two subordinates, at a respectful distance, also, followed me.
It was, I deeply regret to say, impossible to get near enough to
them to overhear their conversation without running too great a
risk of being discovered. I could only infer from their gestures
and actions that they were all three talking with extraordinary
earnestness on some subject which deeply interested them. After
having been engaged in this way a full quarter of an hour, they
suddenly turned round to retrace their steps. My presence of mind
did not forsake me in this emergency. I signed to the two
subordinates to walk on carelessly and pass them, while I myself
slipped dexterously behind a tree. As they came by me, I heard
"Jack" address these words to Mr. Jay:
"Let us say half-past ten to-morrow morning. And mind you come in
a cab. We had better not risk taking one in this neighborhood."
Mr. Jay made some brief reply which I could not overhear. They
walked back to the place at which they had met, shaking hands
there with an audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to
see. They then separated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates
paid the same delicate attention to the other two.
Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me to
the Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house,
which, according to the inscription over the door, was a
newspaper office, but which, in my judgment, had all the external
appearance of a place devoted to the reception of stolen goods.
After remaining inside for a few minutes, he came out whistling,
with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. Some men would
now have arrested him on the spot. I remembered the necessity of
catching the two confederates, and the importance of not
interfering with the appointment that had been made for the next
morning. Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, is
rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose
reputation as a detective policeman is still to make.
From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to
a cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. From the
divan he strolled to the tavern and had his chops. I strolled to
the tavern and had my chops. When he had done he went back to his
lodging. When I had done I went back to mine. He was overcome
with drowsiness early in the evening, and went to bed. As soon as
I heard him snoring, I was overcome with drowsiness and went to
bed also.
Early in the morning my two subordinates came to make their
report.
They had seen the man named "Jack" leave the woman at the gate of
an apparently respectable villa residence not far from the
Regent's Park. Left to himself, he took a turning to the right,
which led to a sort of suburban street, principally inhabited by
shopkeepers. He stopped at the private door of one of the houses,
and let himself in with his own key--looking about him as he
opened the door, and staring suspiciously at my men as they
lounged along on the opposite side of the way. These were all the
particulars which the subordinates had to communicate. I kept
them in my room to attend on me, if needful, and mounted to my
peep-hole to have a look at Mr. Jay.
He was occupied in dressing himself, and was taking extraordinary
pains to destroy all traces of the natural slovenliness of his
appearance. This was precisely what I expected. A vagabond like
Mr. Jay knows the importance of giving himself a respectable look
when he is going to run the risk of changing a stolen bank-note.
At five minutes past ten o'clock he had given the last brush to
his shabby hat and the last scouring with bread-crumb to his
dirty gloves. At ten minutes past ten he was in the street, on
his way to the nearest cab-stand, and I and my subordinates were
close on his heels.
He took a cab and we took a cab. I had not overheard them appoint
a place of meeting when following them in the Park on the
previous day, but I soon found that we were proceeding in the old
direction of the Avenue Road gate. The cab in which Mr. Jay was
riding turned into the Park slowly. We stopped outside, to avoid
exciting suspicion. I got out to follow the cab on foot. Just as
I did so, I saw it stop, and detected the two confederates
approaching it from among the trees. They got in, and the cab was
turned about directly. I ran back to my own cab and told the
driver to let them pass him, and then to follow as before.
The man obeyed my directions, but so clumsily as to excite their
suspicions. We had been driving after them about three minutes
(returning along the road by which we had advanced) when I looked
out of the window to see how far they might be ahead of us. As I
did this, I saw two hats popped out of the windows of their cab,
and two faces looking back at me. I sank into my place in a cold
sweat; the expression is coarse, but no other form of words can
describe my condition at that trying moment.
"We are found out!" I said, faintly, to my two subordinates. They
stared at me in astonishment. My feelings changed instantly from
the depth of despair to the height of indignation.
"It is the cabman's fault. Get out, one of you," I said, with
dignity--"get out, and punch his head."
Instead of following my directions (I should wish this act of
disobedience to be reported at headquarters) they both looked out
of the window. Before I could pull them back they both sat down
again. Before I could express my just indignation, they both
grinned, and said to me: "Please to look out, sir!"
I did look out. Their cab had stopped.
Where?
At a church door!
What effect this discovery might have had upon the ordinary run
of men I don't know. Being of a strong religious turn myself, it
filled me with horror. I have often read of the unprincipled
cunning of criminal persons, but I never before heard of three
thieves attempting to double on their pursuers by entering a
church! The sacrilegious audacity of that proceeding is, I should
think, unparalleled in the annals of crime.
I checked my grinning subordinates by a frown. It was easy to see
what was passing in their superficial minds. If I had not been
able to look below the surface, I might, on observing two nicely
dressed men and one nicely dressed woman enter a church before
eleven in the morning on a week day, have come to the same hasty
conclusion at which my inferiors had evidently arrived. As it
was, appearances had no power to impose on me. I got out, and,
followed by one of my men, entered the church. The other man I
sent round to watch the vestry door. You may catch a weasel
asleep, but not your humble servant, Matthew Sharpin!
We stole up the gallery stairs, diverged to the organ-loft, and
peered through the curtains in front. There they were, all three,
sitting in a pew below--yes, incredible as it may appear, sitting
in a pew below!
Before I could determine what to do, a clergyman made his
appearance in full canonicals from the vestry door, followed by a
clerk. My brain whirled and my eyesight grew dim. Dark
remembrances of robberies committed in vestries floated through
my mind. I trembled for the excellent man in full canonicals--I
even trembled for the clerk.
The clergyman placed himself inside the altar rails. The three
desperadoes approached him. He opened his book and began to read.
What? you will ask.
I answer, without the slightest hesitation, the first lines of
the Marriage Service.
My subordinate had the audacity to look at me, and then to stuff
his pocket-handkerchief into his mouth. I scorned to pay any
attention to him. After I had discovered that the man "Jack" was
the bridegroom, and that the man Jay acted the part of father,
and gave away the bride, I left the church, followed by my men,
and joined the other subordinate outside the vestry door. Some
people in my position would now have felt rather crestfallen, and
would have begun to think that they had made a very foolish
mistake. Not the faintest misgiving of any kind troubled me. I
did not feel in the slightest degree depreciated in my own
estimation. And even now, after a lapse of three hours, my mind
remains, I am happy to say, in the same calm and hopeful
condition.
As soon as I and my subordinates were assembled together outside
the church, I intimated my intention of still following the other
cab in spite of what had occurred. My reason for deciding on this
course will appear presently. The two subordinates appeared to be
astonished at my resolution. One of them had the impertinence to
say to me:
"If you please, sir, who is it that we are after? A man who has
stolen money, or a man who has stolen a wife?"
The other low person encouraged him by laughing. Both have
deserved an official reprimand, and both, I sincerely trust, will
be sure to get it.
When the marriage ceremony was over, the three got into their cab
and once more our vehicle (neatly hidden round the corner of the
church, so that they could not suspect it to be near them)
started to follow theirs.
We traced them to the terminus of the Southwestern Railway. The
newly-married couple took tickets for Richmond, paying their fare
with a half sovereign, and so depriving me of the pleasure of
arresting them, which I should certainly have done if they had
offered a bank-note. They parted from Mr. Jay, saying: "Remember
the address--14 Babylon Terrace. You dine with us to-morrow
week." Mr. Jay accepted the invitation, and added, jocosely, that
he was going home at once to get off his clean clothes, and to be
comfortable and dirty again for the rest of the day. I have to
report that I saw him home safely, and that he is comfortable and
dirty again (to use his own disgraceful language) at the present
moment.
Here the affair rests, having by this time reached what I may
call its first stage.
I know very well what persons of hasty judgment will be inclined
to say of my proceedings thus far. They will assert that I have
been deceiving myself all through in the most absurd way; they
will declare that the suspicious conversations which I have
reported referred solely to the difficulties and dangers of
successfully carrying out a runaway match; and they will appeal
to the scene in the church as offering undeniable proof of the
correctness of their assertions. So let it be. I dispute nothing
up to this point. But I ask a question, out of the depths of my
own sagacity as a man of the world, which the bitterest of my
enemies will not, I think, find it particularly easy to answer.
Granted the fact of the marriage, what proof does it afford me of
the innocence of the three persons concerned in that clandestine
transaction? It gives me none. On the contrary, it strengthens my
suspicions against Mr. Jay and his confederates, because it
suggests a distinct motive for their stealing the money. A
gentleman who is going to spend his honeymoon at Richmond wants
money; and a gentleman who is in debt to all his tradespeople
wants money. Is this an unjustifiable imputation of bad motives?
In the name of outraged Morality, I deny it. These men have
combined together, and have stolen a woman. Why should they not
combine together and steal a cash-box? I take my stand on the
logic of rigid Virtue, and I defy all the sophistry of Vice to
move me an inch out of my position.
Speaking of virtue, I may add that I have put this view of the
case to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman. That accomplished and charming woman
found it difficult at first to follow the close chain of my
reasoning. I am free to confess that she shook her head, and shed
tears, and joined her husband in premature lamentation over the
loss of the two hundred pounds. But a little careful explanation
on my part, and a little attentive listening on hers, ultimately
changed her opinion. She now agrees with me that there is nothing
in this unexpected circumstance of the clandestine marriage which
absolutely tends to divert suspicion from Mr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack,"
or the runaway lady. "Audacious hussy" was the term my fair
friend used in speaking of her; but let that pass. It is more to
the purpose to record that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidence in
me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example, and do
his best to look hopefully for future results.
I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to
await advice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all
the composure of a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I
traced the three confederates from the church door to the railway
terminus, I had two motives for doing so. First, I followed them
as a matter of official business, believing them still to have
been guilty of the robbery. Secondly, I followed them as a matter
of private speculation, with a view of discovering the place of
refuge to which the runaway couple intended to retreat, and of
making my information a marketable commodity to offer to the
young lady's family and friends. Thus, whatever happens, I may
congratulate myself beforehand on not having wasted my time. If
the office approves of my conduct, I have my plan ready for
further proceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take myself
off, with my marketable information, to the genteel villa
residence in the neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Anyway, the
affair puts money into my pocket, and does credit to my
penetration as an uncommonly sharp man.
I have only one word more to add, and it is this: If any
individual ventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates
are innocent o f all share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in
return, defy that individual--though he may even be Chief
Inspector Theakstone himself--to tell me who has committed the
robbery at Rutherford Street, Soho.
Strong in that conviction, I have the honor to be your very
obedient servant,
MATTHEW SHARPIN.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER.
Birmingham, July 9th.
SERGEANT BULMER--That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin,
has made a mess of the case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I
expected he would. Business keeps me in this town, so I write to
you to set the matter straight. I inclose with this the pages of
feeble scribble-scrabble which the creature Sharpin calls a
report. Look them over; and when you have made your way through
all the gabble, I think you will agree with me that the conceited
booby has looked for the thief in every direction but the right
one. You can lay your hand on the guilty person in five minutes,
now. Settle the case at once; forward your report to me at this
place, and tell Mr. Sharpin that he is suspended till further
notice.
Yours, FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
FROM SERGEANT BULMER TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE.
London, July 10th.
INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE--Your letter and inclosure came safe to
hand. Wise men, they say, may always learn something even from a
fool. By the time I had got through Sharpin's maundering report
of his own folly, I saw my way clear enough to the end of the
Rutherford Street case, just as you thought I should. In half an
hour's time I was at the house. The first person I saw there was
Mr. Sharpin himself.
"Have you come to help me?" says he.
"Not exactly," says I. "I've come to tell you that you are
suspended till further notice."
"Very good," says he, not taken down by so much as a single peg
in his own estimation. "I thought you would be jealous of me.
It's very natural and I don't blame you. Walk in, pray, and make
yourself at home. I'm off to do a little detective business on my
own account, in the neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Ta--ta,
sergeant, ta--ta!"
With those words he took himself out of the way, which was
exactly what I wanted him to do.
As soon as the maid-servant had shut the door, I told her to
inform her master that I wanted to say a word to him in private.
She showed me into the parlor behind the shop, and there was Mr.
Yatman all alone, reading the newspaper.
"About this matter of the robbery, sir," says I.
He cut me short, peevishly enough, being naturally a poor, weak,
womanish sort of man.
"Yes, yes, I know," says he. "You have come to tell me that your
wonderfully clever man, who has bored holes in my second floor
partition, has made a mistake, and is off the scent of the
scoundrel who has stolen my money."
"Yes, sir," says I. "That is one of the things I came to tell
you. But I have got something else to say besides that."
"Can you tell me who the thief is?" says he, more pettish than
ever.
"Yes, sir," says I, "I think I can."
He put down the newspaper, and began to look rather anxious and
frightened.
"Not my shopman?" says he. "I hope, for the man's own sake, it's
not my shopman."
"Guess again, sir," says I.
"That idle slut, the maid?" says he.
"She is idle, sir," says I, "and she is also a slut; my first
inquiries about her proved as much as that. But she's not the
thief."
"Then, in the name of Heaven, who is?" says he.
"Will you please to prepare yourself for a very disagreeable
surprise, sir?" says I. "And, in case you lose your temper, will
you excuse my remarking that I am the stronger man of the two,
and that if you allow yourself to lay hands on me, I may
unintentionally hurt you, in pure self-defense."
He turned as pale as ashes, and pushed his chair two or three
feet away from me.
"You have asked me to tell you, sir, who has taken your money," I
went on. "If you insist on my giving you an answer--"
"I do insist," he said, faintly. "Who has taken it?"
"Your wife has taken it," I said, very quietly, and very
positively at the same time.
He jumped out of the chair as if I had put a knife into him, and
struck his fist on the table so heavily that the wood cracked
again.
"Steady, sir," says I. "Flying into a passion won't help you to
the truth."
"It's a lie!" says he, with another smack of his fist on the
table--"a base, vile, infamous lie! How dare you--"
He stopped, and fell back into the chair again, looked about him
in a bewildered way, and ended by bursting out crying.
"When your better sense comes back to you, sir," says I, "I am
sure you will be gentleman enough to make an apology for the
language you have just used. In the meantime, please to listen,
if you can, to a word of explanation. Mr. Sharpin has sent in a
report to our inspector of the most irregular and ridiculous
kind, setting down not only all his own foolish doings and
sayings, but the doings and sayings of Mrs. Yatman as well. In
most cases, such a document would have been fit only for the
waste paper basket; but in this particular case it so happens
that Mr. Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain
conclusion, which the simpleton of a writer has been quite
innocent of suspecting from the beginning to the end. Of that
conclusion I am so sure that I will forfeit my place if it does
not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has been practicing upon the folly
and conceit of this young man, and that she has tried to shield
herself from discovery by purposely encouraging him to suspect
the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; and I will even
go further. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to why
Mrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or
with a part of it. Nobody can look at that lady, sir, without
being struck by the great taste and beauty of her dress--"
As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his
powers of speech again. He cut me short directly as haughtily as
if he had been a duke instead of a stationer.
"Try some other means of justifying your vile calumny against my
wife," says he. "Her milliner's bill for the past year is on my
file of receipted accounts at this moment."
"Excuse me, sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I
must tell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within
the daily experience of our office. A married lady who wishes it
can keep two accounts at her dressmaker's; one is the account
which her husband sees and pays; the other is the private
account, which contains all the extravagant items, and which the
wife pays secretly, by installments, whenever she can. According
to our usual experience, these installments are mostly squeezed
out of the housekeeping money. In your case, I suspect, no
installments have been paid; proceedings have been threatened;
Mrs. Yatman, knowing your altered circumstances, has felt herself
driven into a corner, and she has paid her private account out of
your cash-box."
"I won't believe it," says he. "Every word you speak is an
abominable insult to me and to my wife."
"Are you man enough, sir," says I, taking him up short, in order
to save time and words, "to get that receipted bill you spoke of
just now off the file, and come with me at once to the milliner's
shop where Mrs. Yatman deals?"
He turned red in the face at that, got the bill directly, and put
on his hat. I took out of my pocket-book the list containing the
numbers of the lost notes, and we left the house together
immediately.
Arrived at the milliner's (one of the expensive West-End houses,
as I expected), I asked for a private interview, on important
business, with the mistress of the concern. It was not the first
time that she and I had met over the same delicate investigation.
The moment she set eyes on me she sent for her husband. I
mentioned who Mr. Yatman was, and what we wanted.
"This is strictly private?" inquires the husband. I nodded my
head.
"And confidential?" says the wife. I nodded again.
"Do you see any objection, dear, to obliging the sergeant with a
sight of the books?" says the husband.
"None in the world, love, if you approve of it," says the wife.
All this while poor Mr. Yatman sat looking the picture of
astonishment and distress, q uite out of place at our polite
conference. The books were brought, and one minute's look at the
pages in which Mrs. Yatman's name figured was enough, and more
than enough, to prove the truth of every word that I had spoken.
There, in one book, was the husband's account which Mr. Yatman
had settled; and there, in the other, was the private account,
crossed off also, the date of settlement being the very day after
the loss of the cash-box. This said private account amounted to
the sum of a hundred and seventy-five pounds, odd shillings, and
it extended over a period of three years. Not a single
installment had been paid on it. Under the last line was an entry
to this effect: "Written to for the third time, June 23d." I
pointed to it, and asked the milliner if that meant "last June."
Yes, it did mean last June; and she now deeply regretted to say
that it had been accompanied by a threat of legal proceedings.
"I thought you gave good customers more than three years'
credit?" says I.
The milliner looks at Mr. Yatman, and whispers to me, "Not when a
lady's husband gets into difficulties."
She pointed to the account as she spoke. The entries after the
time when Mr. Yatman's circumstances became involved were just as
extravagant, for a person in his wife's situation, as the entries
for the year before that period. If the lady had economized in
other things, she had certainly not economized in the matter of
dress.
There was nothing left now but to examine the cash-book, for
form's sake. The money had been paid in notes, the amounts and
numbers of which exactly tallied with the figures set down in my
list.
After that, I thought it best to get Mr. Yatman out of the house
immediately. He was in such a pitiable condition that I called a
cab and accompanied him home in it. At first he cried and raved
like a child; but I soon quieted him; and I must add, to his
credit, that he made me a most handsome apology for his language
as the cab drew up at his house door. In return, I tried to give
him some advice about how to set matters right for the future
with his wife. He paid very little attention to me, and went
upstairs muttering to himself about a separation. Whether Mrs.
Yatman will come cleverly out of the scrape or not seems
doubtful. I should say myself that she would go into screeching
hysterics, and so frighten the poor man into forgiving her. But
this is no business of ours. So far as we are concerned, the case
is now at an end, and the present report may come to a conclusion
along with it.
I remain, accordingly, yours to command,
THOMAS BULMER.
P.S.--I have to add that, on leaving Rutherford Street, I met
Mr. Matthew Sharpin coming to pack up his things.
"Only think!" says he, rubbing his hands in great spirits, "I've
been to the genteel villa residence, and the moment I mentioned
my business they kicked me out directly. There were two witnesses
of the assault, and it's worth a hundred pounds to me if it's
worth a farthing."
"I wish you joy of your luck," says I.
"Thank you," says he. "When may I pay you the same compliment on
finding the thief?"
"Whenever you like," says I, "for the thief is found."
"Just what I expected," says he. "I've done all the work, and now
you cut in and claim all the credit--Mr. Jay, of course."
"No," says I.
"Who is it then?" says he.
"Ask Mrs. Yatman," says I. "She's waiting to tell you."
"All right! I'd much rather hear it from that charming woman than
from you," says he, and goes into the house in a mighty hurry.
What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone? Would you like
to stand in Mr. Sharpin's shoes? I shouldn't, I can promise you.
FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN.
July 12th.
SIR--Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself
suspended until further notice. I have now authority to add that
your services as a member of the Detective police are positively
declined. You will please to take this letter as notifying
officially your dismissal from the force.
I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended
to cast any reflections on your character. It merely implies that
you are not quite sharp enough for our purposes. If we are to
have a new recruit among us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs.
Yatman.
Your obedient servant,
FRANCIS THEAKSTONE.
NOTE ON THE PRECEDING CORRESPONDENCE, ADDED BY MR. THEAKSTONE.
The inspector is not in a position to append any explanations of
importance to the last of the letters. It has been discovered
that Mr. Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street five
minutes after his interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer,
his manner expressing the liveliest emotions of terror and
astonishment, and his left cheek displaying a bright patch of
red, which looked as if it might have been the result of what is
popularly termed a smart box on the ear. He was also heard by the
shopman at Rutherford Street to use a very shocking expression in
reference to Mrs. Yatman, and was seen to clinch his fist
vindictively as he ran round the corner of the street. Nothing
more has been heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has
left London with the intention of offering his valuable services
to the provincial police.
On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still
less is known. It has, however, been positively ascertained that
the medical attendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry
on the day when Mr. Yatman returned from the milliner's shop. The
neighboring chemist received, soon afterward, a prescription of a
soothing nature to make up for Mrs. Yatman. The day after, Mr.
Yatman purchased some smelling-salts at the shop, and afterward
appeared at the circulating library to ask for a novel
descriptive of high life that would amuse an invalid lady. It has
been inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought it
desirable to carry out his threat of separating from his wife, at
least in the present (presumed) condition of that lady's
sensitive nervous system.
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