Almack, the Detective

Preface

. In producing this short story in the form of a book the author has no other induce ment than the hope of being able to release himself from the pursuit of a dis agreeable line of study which has occupied his attention for the past year or two, and to take up an occupation which, if re quiring more of what is called talent, as opposed to sheer plodding and pounding on through unending and wearying detail, is at least more genial to his tastes and tempera ment. Nor does he for a moment under-est imate the work required to produce a read able book, and one entertaining as well as instructive. As regards the hope that the story may be instructive, the author may say that that idea has been entirely sub ordinate, his primary object having been to make the story readable. Whether he has succeeded or not he cannot at present B

PREFACE.

. 2 say, as he is now upon his trial, and his past experience as a writer, except among a few friends, has been nil. As regards the information to be gained from the work, it may, possibly, not be insignificant. Many of the characters are drawn from life, and many of the scenes described are not entirely due to the author's imagination. There are many little Sallies in existence, and one or two have been per sonally known to the writer of this book. As regards Sal herself, the reader has only to go down High Street, Borough, between twelve and one o'clock at night, to see a dozen or two of such women as she, sitting on the doorsteps there. Piggot is more a creature of the author's imagination ; yet he has, in his short life, come across several who would require small temptation to become guilty of crimes similar to his — nay, often has he seen little reason why they might not be even suspected to be actually guilty of such crimes. We know little indeed of the fearful amount of crime which is per-

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. 3 petrated every day and night, with impunity, in the poorer and more squalid regions of London, districts into the worst parts of which even the police cannot venture with safety. Kent Street, which exists under another name now, is not, though bad enough, quite such a terrible place as here it is made; but the author preferred choosing, for the purposes of his story, a street with which he was acquainted, rather than an imaginary one which neither he nor any one else had ever seen. With these remarks the preface must be concluded, the author only hoping that the mistakes in the story, which he ac knowledges are many, may be out-weighed by its good points, and as we all learn by experience, so will he in his time learn much ; only trusting that such experience may not all be unpleasant. Ealing, March 18th, 1886.

Prologue

. We commence with a prologue in which it is shown how " future events cast their shadows before," and which is an example of prologues in general— being complete in itself, and yet leading up to a more complicated story which we shall call "On the Scent." " Leah ! Are you going out with those things ? " said Mrs. Rawdon, calling from the bottom of the stairs to her daughter. Mrs. Rawdon lived in a large old fashioned farmhouse. The hall was narrow, and the steep staircase led directly up from it to a landing, from which two passages went right and left with doors opening into them on either side. The day was wintry, and snow lay thickly on the ground. Leah was going to see some poor people about a mile away in the straggling village in which

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. 5 she, her widowed mother, and her brother, Tom Rawdon, lived. Leah was in her rcom talking to Tom. " I wish you would give up this expedi tion to-day, Leah," he was saying. ' ' Do you indeed ! And how would you like to go without your dinner, sir ? As you would have to if you were in old Ann's shoes, and I never went to see you," she said. " But, Leah ! she can wait for [once.'' Then he added, seeing she was resolute, " One of the servants can go. You know I must be out to dinner to-night or I would go. You trudge off by yourself — heavily laden — the snow is deep and you will tire yourself out and be taken ill. Then you may be robbed. You will not be the first person who has been robbed about here lately. Leah! do not go." But Leah was inflexible, and running down stairs she kissed her mother, and started by herself on her journey.

Tom saw her off, and turned back to the door in a very uneasy state of mind. Tom Rawdon had been intended for the medical profession, but his father dying

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. unexpectedly, he had abandoned the pro ject ; and returning home had given him self up to the management of the estate, of which his father's death had left him master. He still, however, kept his old love of science, and had fixed up a physiological and chemical laboratory at his own home. To return to Leah. She was late in start ing, and it began to grow dusk before she was half-way to her destination. But she trudged along thinking of old Ann, who was waiting for her supper — indeed for her dinner, for she had had nothing to eat since breakfast. It was a calm and quiet evening. Heavy clouds hung in the sky, and already the snow had begun to fall. The snow was deep, but she kept to the middle of the road, where a beaten track was left by the hoofs of the horses that had passed during the day.

She walked briskly on. After some time she observed a ragged man following her — but she was well known in that part of the country and so took no notice of him, but hastened on. Present ly she heard a footstep close behind, and

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. turned round and stopped, chilled with fear as she saw the thin, ugly, savage face of the tramp who was so close to her. "Ho! I've got yer my pretty," he said, seizing hold of her wrist. " Now then, fork out — money first. D'ye 'ear ?" he said, as she hesitated. He was indeed a fearful creature. Rag ged, tall, broad shouldered, with matted hair, and red bleared eyes ; his face was blue with cold, and had a desperate savage expression which boded evil for anyone who ventured to oppose him. " Oh ! please let me go ! Take my purse but leave the basket to me," she pleaded. " Blow'd if I do ! Fork out !" he shouted and attempted to wrench her basket from her. But she was strong, and had not learnt boxing and fencing from her brother for nothing. She struggled free, and dealt the man a blow straight in the face which caused him to stagger back, and then turned and ran.

But he was soon after her and caught her up, and, taking a life-preserver from his pocket, dealt her a blow on the top of her head with all his might. " There, d n

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. you!" he cried. The weapon crashed through her skull, and sank with a dull thud into her brain. She turned half round, and, without a cry or groan, sank at his feet upon the snow face downwards. A stream of blood trickled slowly down through her hair, and dyed the snow be neath a dull red. The man seized her basket, sought for and found her purse and watch, and made off. " Well mother," said Tom, entering his mother's room early the same night, " Where's Leah ? " "Not come home yet. But how early you are." "Yes. I was uneasy somehow about Leah, (I don't know why), and so made an excuse and came away." " I dare say she has stayed to have a talk with old Ann," said his mother. "Well mother, I am very uneasy." Then after a few moments of restlessness. " I shall go and meet her." " Very well ! If you like. But I am certain she is all right. Had I thought

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. there was any danger I should not have let her go. I dare say she will be tired when she comes back, so I will have some thing ready for her." Tom started. There was only one way she could have gone, that by the high road, so he was sure he should not miss her. It was bitterly cold. The snow fell fast, but Tom strode on and soon reached old Ann's cottage. Old Ann Genders was a tall, thin woman of about fifty-five years of age. Her father had been an old servant and tenant of Mr. Rawdon, and when he died, Mr. Rawdon gave Ann a small cottage to live in, and, with his help she managed to keep the wolf from the door. Her cottage was small, low and of only one story. There was a little garden at the back, but the chief entrance opened directly upon the side of the road. It was a lonely place and not fit for Ann to live alone in.

But she said her father and mother had lived there, and she was born there, and she would live there still. So they let her have her way. Tom knocked and entered.

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. " Well Ann," he said looking round, "has Miss Leah left?" " Lawks, no Sir ! She's never been here and I had to go without my tea— begging your pardon Sir ! It's not as I wants to grumble. How's your dear mother, Sir? " But Tom was occupied in gazing at a man who had just entered. He carried a basket on his arm — Leah's basket. "Where did you get that?" he demanded angrily, seizing him by the coat collar. " Lawks, and if it isn't the dear lady's own basket," cried Ann lifting both her hands. " What's that to you, old woman ? " said the tramp. "I've a right to wot I finds. Findin'skeepin's." And he shook himself free from Tom, and threw himself on a chair by the fire. " Who is this man? " asked Tom angrily, his face flushed with anger, and his heart beating rapidly with fear for his sister's safety. "Lawks ! That's just what I'm a wonder ing," said Ann, pale in her turn, and sidling up to Tom, and getting behind him.

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. " I'm nowt to you, old woman. I've come here for a night's lodging, and a night's lodging I mean to have. So good hevenin to yer," he said, nodding to Tom, " and the sooner yer clear out the better. I'm not in much of a humour, and I'm jolly unpleasant when I'm riled." Tom was not to be daunted, but he felt he was not a match for this ruffian. He was tall and well made, indeed he and the tramp were nearly of the same height, and though he was sure of holding his own in a fair, stand-up fight, with plenty of room, he by no means relished a struggle in this little cottage, hampered by the chairs and table, and with this broad-shouldered, desperate ruffian, who looked as if he would think little of cutting his adver sary's throat, so, assuming a conciliatory tone, he said : "Your affairs are nothing to me, but will you sell me that basket, and tell me where you got it ?

I will promise to say no more of it, if you tell the truth." " Jus' so — no doubt," he returned, pausing between each exclamation, and nodding at each word. He added, after a

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. moment, during which he eyed Tom from top to toe, " wot's yer hosier ? " " Five shillings," promptly said Tom. " H'm ! Don't yer wish yer may get it ?' ' he answered. "Well, say ten — twenty," he added, seeing no change in the man's expression. ' ' 'Ave yer got twenty about yer ? " asked the tramp. In answer Tom thrust his hand into his pocket, then, recollecting himself, he drew it out with only one sovereign in it. He said nothing. " H'm ! " said the tranip, approaching and taking up the money, and ringing it on the table. Suddenly he stepped forward, seized Tom by the arms, and pinned them to his side. Tom was completely taken by surprise, but he was strong and agile. He struggled, and sprang about so quickly, that, in a few moments, the tramp had loosened his hold, and Tom let out with his left hand such a crashing blow that the man fell bleeding to the floor. He was in for it, now. He must have the basket at all hazards. There could be no paying for it, as he plainly saw that the man was

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. determined to rob him. He, however, had the advantage. He threw off his coat, hurriedly thrust the table on one side, and taking the speechless, frightened and bewildered Ann by the shoulders, pushed her through the door, crying, " Run for help ! Run ! Run ! " The tramp quickly got up, and now the fight began in earnest. Tom faced his antagonist, and stood in the position assumed by prize fighters in their en counters. " Now," said he, " it's no use fighting. Give me the basket, show me where you found it, and in return I will let you go unharmed, and will pay you well." " Blow'd if I do," said the tramp with an oath, taking out a life preserver, and rushing at his young opponent. Two quick blows launched out straight from the shoulder sent the man reeling backwards, and his weapon struck only the air, but with such force was the blow given that it would have done for his adversary had it hit him. Tom followed up his success, and rushed at the tramp, but here he made a mistake ; he approached

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. too closely. They grappled, and his opponent's superior weight showed to advantage. In vain Tom twisted and turned. He felt himself nearly powerless. He struggled hard to release himself from his adversary's grasp, but he only fell under him exhausted and overpowed. " Ha ! " said the man between his teeth, " You're a game 'un, you are, but yer dont get over Bill Piggot so easy," and he delivered a blowwith all hismight on Tom's body. It disabled him — he gasped for breath — felt his senses reel — and he fainted. Steadily the snow fell outside. Snow covered thickly the trees, hedges, fields, and roads. Silently it fell — still as death. Not a breeze, not a whisper, but a silent, ghostly gloom — a silence that one seemed to hear, so still was it. As you walked along, peering through the gloom, a white winged creature seemed to float towards you quickly.

It appeared larger as it approached, still, slow and quiet, as if afraid of breaking the almost oppressive silence ; it passed you, and sank noiselessly to the ground a snowflake. Others came,

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. passed, and fell on the ground near. Crowds of them. They covered your coat, your hat, or your umbrella. They fell in your face, got in your eyes, and made you glad to escape their soft, silent attack by bending foward, and hiding your chin in your coat-collar, and your eyes under the brim of your hat. All footsteps were hushed as they pressed the silent snow, and to make a sound seemed sacrilege. It was in such weather that Ann fled on, breathless, frightened, trembling. Fearful for her young master, fearful for Mrs. Rawdon, fearful for herself — fancying she was being pursued by robbers — hearing imaginary cries for help. On through the deep snow, without bonnet or shawl — on, panting and struggling. She came to a heap of snow by the side of the road. She caught her foot against something soft, and fell.

Up again quickly, more fright ened, more breathless, on ! on ! walking and running, struggling to go faster, fatigued and dazed, but still on to her destination, panting, breathless, aching, tired, sad, tearful and frightened. * * * * *

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. " Lawks, mum ! Oh, good lawk ! He'll be murdered dead ! " cried Ann, literally falling through the doorway into Mrs. Raw don's kitchen, and sinking full length upon the floor. Mrs. Rawdon heard the noise, and ran in. "Ann, what's the matter?" she demanded, pale and fearful for her daughter. " Oh, mum ! Mr. Tom ! He'll be murdered dead ! Oh, mum, do save 'im ! 'e's got 'im at my 'ouse ! Oh, lawk-a-daisy me ! " Ann told her tale. All the house was in an uproar. Servants were called up, and armed with sticks, and any suitable weapon they could lay hold of. The carriage was brought out, the horses put to it, and Mrs. Rawdon, with the old coachman, and two grooms, set off to rescue her son, and find her daughter. They passed on down the road. The snow was deep, and progress slow. The horses could not be got to go faster than a jog-trot.

Noiselessly went the horses and carriage, and noisily shouted the grooms and coachman as they urged the straining horses on. Sometimes they were forced

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. to walk when the snow lay across the road deeper than elsewhere. But always Mrs. Rawdon urged them on. Presently the carriage stopped. The horses, tired with straining, stood still, and could not be urged forward. The men alighted to push the carriage and lead the horses on. " What's the matter, coachman ? " called Mrs. Rawdon from the window. " We're fast up agen a drift, ma'm," he answered. " Then set to and clear it away," she cried. " Only push on," she added in a voice of entreaty. " Hullo! What's this? Why, if it aint a body ! " said one of the grooms who was pushing aside the snow from the wheel. " Show us a light, Jim," he said to his companion, who carried a lantern. " For heaven's sake, what's the matter now ? " cried Mrs. Rawdon. " It's a body, mum, sure as eggs is eggs, and a woman's too," called out one of the grooms. "A body? then lift her in here, and drive on as quickly as possible." The body was lying on its face. They c

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. turned it over, preparatory to lifting it. The coachman raised it, looked at the face by the light of the lantern — stopped — turned as white as a ghost — and sat plump down in the snow. "What's the matter with the man?" cried Mrs. Rawdon. " Lift her up." " Whe-e-u," whistled the groom. Mrs. Rawdon sprang out of the carriage, stepped resolutely to where they were supporting the body, and looked into its face. It was her own daughter — frozen dead ! A stream of blood clotted and hard, clinging to her cheek, her eyes set — wide open — frozen stiff. Snow clinging to her garments and hair, and a hole as large as a hen's egg in her head. For a moment her mother stood over her, the colour fled from her face, then a piercing shriek burst from her, and she seized the body, and tried to lift it " Leah !

Leah ! " she cried. " Oh, speak to me ! Say you are not dead. You shall not die. I, your mother, have come for you. Come ! Wake up ! Leah, speak to me ! Tell me you live. Oh, my child ! My child ! For heaven's sake, someone

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. help ! Where is Tom ? Go and fetch him." She stood there trying to lift her child. Her attendants were awed, and struck with grief. They lifted the body up, and placed it in the carriage. The mother followed, and they drove on. * # * * * Tom was found bound to the table with torn sheets from Ann's bed in the next room, but alive, and little worse for his treatment. Only bruised and cold. He had been robbed of everything, and as if in derision, the basket was tied over his face. Ann's house had been ransacked. Bill Piggot was gone. Leah was dead, and Mrs. Rawdon received such a shock that she was nearly bereft of her reason. Tom rapidly recov ered, and next day set himself to the task of discovering the murderer. And now we will commence our tale, and follow Tom On the Scent.

Chapter I. Introduces The Reader To

A CELEBRATED DETECTIVE AND COMMUNICATES THE CON TENTS OP SOME IMPORTANT SCIENTIFIC EPISTLES. No doubt, reader, you know something of London. If so you may have been in the Borough, over London Bridge. Let us take a walk together there. We are in High Street, that is, St. Thomas's Street, in which is the entrance to Guy's Hospi tal, and I have no doubt, we shall see one or two medical students about. Yes; there is one hurrying with his book to lecture. Do you see that house in the corner, by the London and County Bank, on the other side of the road ? That is where Wainwright lived and murdered his victim. We will go on to the Old Kent Road, close by St. George's Church. Now turn up this street to the left, and mind your pockets, for there are many people here of an inquisitive turn of mind.

Now to the left again, and up this court, and we see, on a brass plate, on a door — Almack, Solicitor. We will take the liberty of entering, and go up these narrow steps and turn to the right and enter through the first door we see. We are in Mr. Almack's office. I will now leave you to examine it, while I, knowing the place well, will describe it to those who, unlike you and I, have never been there. It was not a bit like a lawyer's office, though it spoke of law from the ceiling to the floor. It was small and very tidy. Not a speck of dust on the book-shelves or on the writing-table. There is a skull over the door by which we entered, nailed up there. No one ever saw a skull which looked more pregnant with legal knowledge. There is a coffin on that book-shelf— the shelf has been altered to fit it.

Did you ever see a coffin that look learned ? This one does. It is fat, bulky, comfortably stout. It looks portentous. The Lord Chancellor himself does not look more learned. The books, keys, bundles of clothes, and masks, and hair on the other shelves have a look as if wrapped up in law. This chair, though without half the back, looks made for a judge ; it is round, comfortable, fat ; it looks learned, even grave. Who was Mr. Almack ? Well, in short, he was the head of a private enquiry office, and a solicitor, ostensibly — though it is said he was once famed in a rather doubt ful line of business more enterprising than honest. Why was his office furnished like a museum instead of like a lawyer's room t Because it was a museum. A museum of relics and trophies. The skull over the door had a nail in it, not the one it was nailed up by — no — this one had remained there ever since its owner was murdered, and is as precious in Mr. Almack's sight as any gem in the queen's crown.

The coffin once concealed a celebrated criminal, as its hollow interior showed it was quite capable of doing. The clothes, &c, were disguises worn by thieves or detectives with whom Mr. Almack had had business of some kind or other. The different bundles were all labelled, and, some other time we will call, and Mr. Almack shall give us a history of the different objects there. At present we must see what Mr. Almack has to do with our story. I may say at once that Mr. Almack was engaged in a search for a murderer — " One Bill Piggot— 5 ft. 10 in. in height — dark scrubby beard, no moustache — dark hair — red face, slightly contorted on the right side, so that this corner of the mouth is drawn downwards — dress not known — possessed ten or twelve pounds in gold, and a five pound Bank of England note — number of the note 62,493 — note changed by Matthew Thomas, at Wilkin's bank — Thomas received it from a customer, in the evening, at his public-house.

No re collection of customer, but is sure he looked respectable — barmaid remembers a red faced man, with ugly mouth, who wore an olive-brown jacket, like a keeper's, which seemed new— it was not he who changed the note." Such were some of the notes, which Mr. Almack had made on the case. He was looking over some papers in his office. We will give them verbatim. They were letters from Tom Rawdon, Esq., of the Grange, Sutton. They were as follows : — " Sir, — I (have already given you a full account of my sister's murder and my own robbery, as far as I know the facts. I pointed out that I was sure my assailant and her murderer were one and the same — and I told you how he was possessed of her basket. I have, during the last week, been making a most minute examination of every article and circumstance con nected with the case.

I first insisted on keeping my sister's body frozen hard — my object being to examine it myself scientifically. It may be known to you that intense cold prevents all chemical and physiological change. So that by maintaining the frozen state of the body (a matter easy in this weather) I could examine the blood, and brain, and other parts unchanged, in fact, as nearly as possible in the state in which they were at the time of the murder. I may preface my remarks by saying that I have studied medicine for some years, being, in fact, an M.B. of London University, and that I have for some years been engaged in my own laboratory in scientific, especially physiological research. "I first examined my sister's blood both microscopically and chemically. I found the conditions quite normal. I examined the brain and skull, where the blow had been struck, under the microscope.

Be sides the usual appearance, I noticed a number of bright particles. These tested chemically, though with infinite labour, under the microscope showed them to be iron, probably steel. This I take to be remarkable. The instrument that struck the blow must have been of steel. I noticed the blood upon my sister's hand. This I examined and found this astonish ing fact. The blood corpuscles presented a most abnormal appearance, the centre of each toas raised, an appearance which is nnique in the human race, and never before observed. This was evidently not my sister's own blood. " If you remember, I struck my assailant a blow which drew blood. There was some of this blood on my hand. This I had already examined and preserved, and had found the same remarkable phenom enon. So marked and unusual is this circumstance, that lam certain, that, could I obtain a single drop of her murderer's blood, I could unhesitatingly prove him guilty of the crime.

"I have one more fact — a most important one. I extracted both the eyes from the body, and after preparation, in a frozen state, of the retina, I took a micros copical photograph of each in turn. " One photograph, or, as I may term it, optograph, showed only an indistinct, blurred figure, of which little could be made The other gave a fairly distinct image of a man's head and shoulders. I enclose an enlarged reproduction of the picture. You will be able to make out indications of a short beard ; the eyes are very distinct, and the only other feature distinguishable is a blurred image, of a mouth, drawn down on the right side. These features, I need not say, tally with those of my assailant. " Yours truly, " T. Rawdon. "Mr. Almack, " Borough The second letter was as follows. It was dated the day after the above : "Dear Sir, " I write to apprise you of the following facts, some most startling, as you will perceive when you peruse this letter.

" I may first observe, that from the nature of the wound in my sister's head, I am convinced that it must have been made by some blunt instrument, such as a life preserver. Bill Piggot was armed with one of these weapons. " Stuck to a small piece of broken skull was a piece of woven silk, such as is used as a cover for many ordinary life pre servers. This piece of silk was seen to have been woven in a most curious manner, when examined under the microscope. Each thread was of a different colour, and bent back upon itself at inter vals of a few centimetres, each loop thus formed being interwoven with another loop find another thread. From this I hope to from the maker of the weapon, and, through him, to whom it was ultimately sold. " I have no more to add, except that I am determined to devote all my energies to the discovery of the cowardly mur derer. ' ' Yours truly, "T. Rawdon.