The Strand Magazine, Volume 7
"The Lenton Croft Robberies" by Arthur Morrison
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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 jewellery 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 featherweight 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..."
"...and what was not, if anybody had been
there.”
Sir James Norris led the way to the morningroom. 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 afterwards said, interrogatively: “Miss Norris—your daughter, Sir John?”
"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 anything 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 mantelpiece. Near the window was a cage containing a grey 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 hey 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.