The Pothunters Read online

  [10]

  MR THOMPSON INVESTIGATES

  The Pavilion burglary was discussed in other places besides Charteris'study. In the Masters' Common Room the matter came in for its fullshare of comment. The masters were, as at most schools, divided intothe athletic and non-athletic, and it was for the former class that thematter possessed most interest. If it had been that apple of theCollege Library's eye, the original MS. of St Austin's private diary,or even that lesser treasure, the black-letter Eucalyptides, that haddisappeared, the elder portion of the staff would have had a great dealto say upon the subject. But, apart from the excitement caused by thestrangeness of such an occurrence, the theft of a couple of Sportsprizes had little interest for them.

  On the border-line between these two castes came Mr Thompson, theMaster of the Sixth Form, spelt with a _p_ and no relation to thegenial James or the amiable Allen, with the former of whom, indeed, hewas on very indifferent terms of friendship. Mr Thompson, though anexcellent classic, had no knowledge of the inwardness of the Human Boy.He expected every member of his form not only to be earnest--which veryfew members of a Sixth Form are--but also to communicate his innermostthoughts to him. His aim was to be their confidant, the wise friend towhom they were to bring their troubles and come for advice. He was, infact, poor man, the good young master. Now, it is generally the case atschool that troubles are things to be worried through alone, and anyattempt at interference is usually resented. Mr Thompson had asked Jimto tea, and, while in the very act of passing him the muffins, hadembarked on a sort of unofficial sermon, winding up by invitingconfidences. Jim had naturally been first flippant, and then rude, andrelations had been strained ever since.

  'It must have been a professional,' alleged Perkins, the master of theUpper Fourth. 'If it hadn't been for the fact of the money having beenstolen as well as the cups, I should have put it down to one of ourfellows.'

  'My dear Perkins,' expostulated Merevale.

  'My dear Merevale, my entire form is capable of any crime except thetheft of money. A boy might have taken the cups for a joke, or just forthe excitement of the thing, meaning to return them in time for theSports. But the two pounds knocks that on the head. It must have been aprofessional.'

  'I always said that the Pavilion was a very unsafe place in which tokeep anything of value,' said Mr Thompson.

  'You were profoundly right, Thompson,' replied Perkins. 'You deserve adiploma.'

  'This business is rather in your line, Thompson,' said Merevale. 'Youmust bring your powers to bear on the subject, and scent out thecriminal.'

  Mr Thompson took a keen pride in his powers of observation. He wouldfrequently observe, like the lamented Sherlock Holmes, the vitalnecessity of taking notice of trifles. The daily life of a Sixth Formmaster at a big public school does not afford much scope for thepractice of the detective art, but Mr Thompson had once detected apiece of cribbing, when correcting some Latin proses for the master ofthe Lower Third, solely by the exercise of his powers of observation,and he had never forgotten it. He burned to add another scalp to hiscollection, and this Pavilion burglary seemed peculiarly suited to histalents. He had given the matter his attention, and, as far as he couldsee, everything pointed to the fact that skilled hands had been atwork.

  From eleven until half-past twelve that day, the Sixth were doing anunseen examination under the eye of the Headmaster, and Mr Thompson wasconsequently off duty. He took advantage of this to stroll down to thePavilion and make a personal inspection of the first room, from whichwhat were left of the prizes had long been removed to a place ofsafety.

  He was making his way to the place where the ground-man was usually tobe found, with a view to obtaining the keys, when he noticed that thedoor was already open, and on going thither he came upon Biffen, theground-man, in earnest conversation with a stranger.

  'Morning, sir,' said the ground-man. He was on speaking terms with mostof the masters and all the boys. Then, to his companion, 'This is MrThompson, one of our masters.'

  'Morning, sir,' said the latter. 'Weather keeps up. I am InspectorRoberts, Scotland Yard. But I think we're in for rain soon. Yes. 'Fraidso. Been asked to look into this business, Mr Thompson. Queerbusiness.'

  'Very. Might I ask--I am very interested in this kind of thing--whetheryou have arrived at any conclusions yet?'

  The detective eyed him thoughtfully, as if he were hunting for theanswer to a riddle.

  'No. Not yet. Nothing definite.'

  'I presume you take it for granted it was the work of a professionalburglar.'

  'No. No. Take nothing for granted. Great mistake. Prejudices one way orother great mistake. But, I think, yes, I think it was probably--almostcertainly--_not_ done by a professional.'

  Mr Thompson looked rather blank at this. It shook his confidence in hispowers of deduction.

  'But,' he expostulated. 'Surely no one but a practised burglar wouldhave taken a pane of glass out so--ah--neatly?'

  Inspector Roberts rubbed a finger thoughtfully round the place wherethe glass had been. Then he withdrew it, and showed a small cut fromwhich the blood was beginning to drip.

  'Do you notice anything peculiar about that cut?' he enquired.

  Mr Thompson did not. Nor did the ground-man.

  'Look carefully. Now do you see? No? Well, it's not a clean cut.Ragged. Very ragged. Now if a professional had cut that pane out hewouldn't have left it jagged like that. No. He would have used adiamond. Done the job neatly.'

  This destroyed another of Mr Thompson's premises. He had taken it forgranted that a diamond had been used.

  'Oh!' he said, 'was that pane not cut by a diamond; what did theburglar use, then?'

  'No. No diamond. Diamond would have left smooth surface. Smooth as arazor edge. This is like a saw. Amateurish work. Can't say for certain,but probably done with a chisel.'

  'With a chisel? Surely not.'

  'Yes. Probably with a chisel. Probably the man knocked the pane outwith one blow, then removed all the glass so as to make it look likethe work of an old hand. Very good idea, but amateurish. I am told thatthree cups have been taken. Could you tell me how long they had been inthe Pavilion?'

  Mr Thompson considered.

  'Well,' he said. 'Of course it's difficult to remember exactly, but Ithink they were placed there soon after one o'clock the day beforeyesterday.'

  'Ah! And the robbery took place yesterday in the early morning, or thenight before?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is the Pavilion the usual place to keep the prizes for the Sports?'

  'No, it is not. They were only put there temporarily. The Board Room,where they are usually kept, and which is in the main buildings of theSchool, happened to be needed until the next day. Most of us were verymuch against leaving them in the Pavilion, but it was thought that noharm could come to them if they were removed next day.'

  'But they were removed that night, which made a great difference,' saidMr Roberts, chuckling at his mild joke. 'I see. Then I suppose noneoutside the School knew that they were not in their proper place?'

  'I imagine not.'

  'Just so. Knocks the idea of professional work on the head. None of theregular trade can have known this room held so much silver for onenight. No regular would look twice at a cricket pavilion under ordinarycircumstances. Therefore, it must have been somebody who had somethingto do with the School. One of the boys, perhaps.'

  'Really, I do not think that probable.'

  'You can't tell. Never does to form hasty conclusions. Boy might havedone it for many reasons. Some boys would have done it for the sake ofthe excitement. That, perhaps, is the least possible explanation. Butyou get boy kleptomaniacs just as much in proportion as grown-upkleptomaniacs. I knew a man. Had a son. Couldn't keep him away fromanything valuable. Had to take him away in a hurry from three schools,good schools, too.'

  'Really? What became of him? He did not come to us, I suppose?'

  'No. Somebody advised the father to send him to one of thoseNorth-Country s
chools where they flog. Great success. Stole some money.Got flogged, instead of expelled. Did it again with same result.Gradually got tired of it. Reformed character now.... I don't say it isa boy, mind you. Most probably not. Only say it may be.'

  All the while he was talking, his eyes were moving restlessly round theroom. He came to the window through which Jim had effected hisentrance, and paused before the broken pane.

  'I suppose he tried that window first, before going round to theother?' hazarded Mr Thompson.

  'Yes. Most probably. Broke it, and then remembered that anyone at thewindows of the boarding Houses might see him, so left his job halfdone, and shifted his point of action. I think so. Yes.'

  He moved on again till he came to the other window. Then he gave ventto an excited exclamation, and picked up a piece of caked mud from thesill as carefully as if it were some fragile treasure.

  'Now, see this,' he said. 'This was wet when the robbery was done. Theman brought it in with him. On his boot. Left it on the sill as heclimbed in. Got out in a hurry, startled by something--you can see hewas startled and left in a hurry from the different values of the cupshe took--and as he was going, put his hand on this. Left a clearimpression. Good as plaster of Paris very nearly.'

  Mr Thompson looked at the piece of mud, and there, sure enough, was thedistinct imprint of the palm of a hand. He could see the larger of thelines quite clearly, and under a magnifying-glass there was no doubtthat more could be revealed.

  He drew in a long breath of satisfaction and excitement.

  'Yes,' said the detective. 'That piece of mud couldn't prove anythingby itself, but bring it up at the end of a long string of evidence, andif it fits your man, it convicts him as much as a snap-shot photographwould. Morning, sir. I must be going.' And he retired, carrying thepiece of mud in his hand, leaving Mr Thompson in the full grip of thedetective-fever, hunting with might and main for more clues.

  After some time, however, he was reluctantly compelled to give up thesearch, for the bell rang for dinner, and he always lunched, as didmany of the masters, in the Great Hall. During the course of the mealhe exercised his brains without pause in the effort to discover afitting suspect. Did he know of any victim of kleptomania in theSchool? No, he was sorry to say he did not. Was anybody in urgent needof money? He could not say. Very probably yes, but he had no means ofknowing.

  After lunch he went back to the Common Room. There was a letter lyingon the table. He picked it up. It was addressed to 'J. Thomson, StAustin's.' Now Mr Thompson's Christian name was John. He did not noticethe omission of the _p_ until he had opened the envelope andcaught a glimpse of the contents. The letter was so short that only aglimpse was needed, and it was not till he had read the whole that herealized that it was somebody else's letter that he had opened.

  This was the letter:

  'Dear Jim--Frantic haste. Can you let me have that two pounds directlyyou come back? Beg, borrow, or steal it. I simply must have it.--Yoursever,

  Allen.'