[62].—The Ambiguous Photograph.
A good example of the lighter kind of problem that occasionally comes before them is that which is known amongst them by the name of "The Ambiguous Photograph." Though it is perplexing to the inexperienced, it is regarded in the club as quite a trivial thing. Yet it serves to show the close observation of these sharp-witted fellows. The original photograph hangs on the club wall, and has baffled every guest who has examined it. Yet any child should be able to solve the mystery. I will give the reader an opportunity of trying his wits at it.
Some of the members were one evening seated together in their clubhouse in the Adelphi. Those present were: Henry Melville, a barrister not overburdened with briefs, who was discussing a problem with Ernest Russell, a bearded man of middle age, who held some easy post in Somerset House, and was a Senior Wrangler and one of the most subtle thinkers of the club; Fred Wilson, a journalist of very buoyant spirits, who had more real capacity than one would at first suspect; John Macdonald, a Scotsman, whose record was that he had never solved a puzzle himself since the club was formed, though frequently he had put others on the track of a deep solution; Tim Churton, a bank clerk, full of cranky, unorthodox ideas as to perpetual motion; also Harold Tomkins, a prosperous accountant, remarkably familiar with the elegant branch of mathematics—the theory of numbers.
Suddenly Herbert Baynes entered the room, and everybody saw at once from his face that he had something interesting to communicate. Baynes was a man of private means, with no occupation.
"Here's a quaint little poser for you all," said Baynes. "I have received it to-day from Dovey."
Dovey was proprietor of one of the many private detective agencies that found it to their advantage to keep in touch with the club.
"Is it another of those easy cryptograms?" asked Wilson. "If so, I would suggest sending it upstairs to the billiard-marker."
"Don't be sarcastic, Wilson," said Melville. "Remember, we are indebted to Dovey for the great Railway Signal Problem that gave us all a week's amusement in the solving."
"If you fellows want to hear," resumed Baynes, "just try to keep quiet while I relate the amusing affair to you. You all know of the jealous little Yankee who married Lord Marksford two years ago? Lady Marksford and her husband have been in Paris for two or three months. Well, the poor creature soon got under the influence of the green-eyed monster, and formed the opinion that Lord Marksford was flirting with other ladies of his acquaintance.
"Now, she has actually put one of Dovey's spies on to that excellent husband of hers; and the myrmidon has been shadowing him about for a fortnight with a pocket camera. A few days ago he came to Lady Marksford in great glee. He had snapshotted his lordship while actually walking in the public streets with a lady who was not his wife."