'Here's something, at all events,' I said; 'something about my grandmother's nail-eating lover. Listen, Jessie.'
'I don't want to hear anything about him,' replied Jessie, in a pet, leaving the room.
So I read this 'Remarkable Discovery' quietly by myself. It ran as follows:
[CHAPTER XVII.]
THE TRUE STORY OF ANTHONY BULLPIT.
Among the cases tried at the late assizes was one not only of local interest, but exceedingly remarkable, because of the extraordinary circumstances attendant upon the arrest of the prisoner, who, after the commission of his crime, had absconded. We throw the particulars of this case into the form of a narrative, as being likely to prove more interesting to our readers. The three principal characters in the story are Mr. James Pardon, a Solicitor; Mr. Anthony Bullpit, his confidential clerk; and Mr. Vinnicombe, a detective. These terse definitions would be sufficient for dramatic purposes, but a more comprehensive description is necessary here for the purposes of our story. Mr. James Pardon is the head of the well-known and highly-respected firm of solicitors in High-street, and to his care is intrusted a vast amount of important business. Not only as a solicitor, but as a man and a churchwarden his name commands universal respect. He employs a large staff of clerks, conspicuous among whom was Anthony Bullpit, who had been in his service from boyhood, and whose face is familiar to most of our townsmen. Mr. Vinnicombe, we need scarcely say, is the name of the celebrated detective whose unerring instinct, in conjunction with a powerful and keen intellect, has been the means of bringing many a criminal to justice. In his profession, Mr. Vinnicombe is facile princeps. There is a fourth character, who plays a minor but important part, and whom it will be sufficiently explicit to describe as Mr. Vinnicombe's friend. Now for the story.
To all outward appearance trustworthy and attentive to his duties, Anthony Bullpit rose step by step in the office of Mr. James Pardon until he had arrived at the position of head clerk; his manners were civil and plausible, and not the slightest suspicion was entertained of his honesty. He had access to the safe and cheque-book of the firm, and was intrusted with much confidential business. On the twenty-first of last month Mr. James Pardon had occasion to go to London on a matter of great importance; he expected to be absent for at least three weeks, and Anthony Bullpit was left to superintend the affairs of the firm. It fortunately happened that Mr. Pardon's business in London was transacted more rapidly than he had anticipated, and he returned to Hertford, without warning, after an absence of fourteen days only. His confidential clerk was absent; and to his astonishment he was informed that, three days before his return, Anthony Bullpit had stated in the office that he had received a letter from Mr. Pardon, desiring his immediate attendance in London, to render assistance in the matter on which Mr. Pardon was engaged. As Mr. Pardon had sent no such letter to Anthony Bullpit, his suspicions that all was not as it should be were naturally aroused, and he at once made an examination of the affairs of the business. A very slight inquiry was sufficient to justify his suspicions: not only had all the money which had been received during his absence been abstracted, but a cheque for seven hundred pounds, taken from his cheque-book, and purporting to be signed by James Pardon, had been presented to the bank, and cashed without hesitation. The signature was a most skilful imitation, and Mr. Pardon acknowledges that any person might have been deceived by it. Thus far the story is, unhappily, but an ordinary one in the history of crime; but now come the extraordinary incidents which elevate it almost into the sphere of romance. Mr. Pardon's indignation was extreme, and being determined to bring the delinquent to justice, he went at once to the police-court, and laid his charge. While it was being taken down a person, who did not appear to be particularly interested in the narration, was sitting by the fire, apparently deeply engaged in a newspaper which he held in his hand. When Mr. Pardon had finished, he gave expression to his indignation, and to his determination to inflict upon the forger the utmost punishment of the law. The person who was reading by the fire said aloud, 'First catch your hare, then cook it.' Mr. Pardon, not being aware whether the stranger was quoting from the paper he was reading or was making an independent observation, asked, in his quick manner, whether the words were addressed to him. 'To any one,' answered the stranger. 'And you said----' prompted Mr. Pardon. 'I said,' repeated the stranger, 'first catch your hare, then cook it. You see,' added the stranger, 'the first thing you have to do is to catch your clerk; then you can cook him--not before. Now how are you going to do it?' Mr. Pardon confessed that he did not know how it was to be done, but he supposed that the police---- The stranger interrupted him. 'This clerk, Anthony Bullpit, is more than a match for the police. You acknowledge that your name was so skilfully forged that you might have been taken in by it yourself. Now, the skill which enabled Anthony Bullpit to write your name in such a way as might deceive even you, was not acquired in an hour or a day. He has been secretly practising your signature for years, and has been secretly practising, I don't doubt, many other things you're not acquainted with, which might come useful to in one day or another. What does this imply? That Anthony Bullpit is a shallow bungling sort of criminal, or an artful, scheming, designing sort of criminal?' Mr. Pardon, himself the shrewdest of lawyers, was struck by the shrewd intelligence of the stranger, and admitted that it was clear that Anthony Bullpit was a scheming, artful, designing scoundrel. 'But he had a quiet way with him,' said Mr. Pardon, 'that any person might have been taken in by.' The stranger smiled. 'One of your sneaking kind,' he said; 'I know them. They're the most difficult to deal with, and the most difficult to catch. The chances are that Anthony Bullpit had all his plans well laid beforehand. And don't forget that he's got three days' start. Why, you don't even know what road he has taken!' Mr. Pardon acknowledged the reasonableness of these observations. 'May I ask,' he said, 'with whom I have the pleasure of conversing?' 'My name is Vinnicombe,' replied the stranger, rising. 'Mr. Vinnicombe, the famous detective!' exclaimed Mr. Pardon. 'The same,' was the answer. Mr. Pardon immediately made a proposition to Mr. Vinnicombe, and the result was that, within an hour, Mr. Vinnicombe presented himself at Mr. Pardon's office, saying that he was ready to take the case in hand at once. What follows is from the eminent detective's own lips, verbatim et literatim, taken down in our own office by the editor of this paper:[[1]]
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It is evident, from the manner in which he presented his report of the case to his readers, that 'the editor of this paper' was in advance of his times; he would have made an admirable descriptive reporter in these days. Mr. Vinnicombe also, as is apparent from the style of the narrative, was an advanced detective; but the qualities which are necessary for the making of a good detective, and the spirit which animates the class, do not differ, whatever the year.--Author.]