“That’s only some bank notes—some money of mine.”
Very impolitely, as it may seem, I retained the envelope, turned out the contents, and found, on counting the notes, that they amounted to £200 exactly. I then handed them to the owner without a comment, and searched no more. With a shrewd suspicion of what I might expect, I went to the Professor whom Mr Stafford had named as his persecutor, and from him learned Mr Stafford had, on a former occasion, been unfortunate enough to injure his brain by over-study, and was by the Professor’s advice removed to an asylum for the insane. That gentleman, who evinced the liveliest friendship for Mr Stafford, agreed to see his friend at once, and report on his mental condition. The result was, that Mr Stafford was proved to be not exactly insane, but in a condition of mental derangement which threatened to become more pronounced, and it was decided that he had better have an experienced attendant from one of the asylums. This was arranged quietly, and with very little demur on the part of the patient, but his condition became more grave, and eventually he had to be removed to an asylum, in which, with one brief interval, he has remained ever since. His mind, however, has taken firm hold of the story of the magic jewels, and the development which that incident has now assumed is that I, the writer of these sketches, was the robber of the jewels, and that, in fear of detection, I smuggled the money I had received for them into his drawer. He also asserts that I declared him insane only to protect myself from the consequences of the crime, and that if I could be removed from power his liberation would at once follow. Poor, suffering humanity! who shall minister to a mind diseased?
BENJIE BLUNT’S CLEVER ALIBI.
How Benjie Blunt came to get his name I never could discover—possibly it was prompted by the law of contrariety, because Benjie was so sharp. His real name had not the remotest resemblance to this, but as he refused to answer to that, he was always put down in the prison books as Benjamin Blunt.
Benjie’s vanity was much greater than his acquisitiveness. He liked to boast of the feats he had done, hence the cases in which he was mixed up generally showed a superlative degree of ingenuity and cunning, however small the stake. I do not find, however, that Benjie’s cleverness produced any marked diminution in the number of his convictions—indeed, it was the grave length of that list which prompted him to make such elaborate preparations in the following case.
Close to the Meadows, and before that quarter was so much built upon, there was a cottage occupied by an old army surgeon, whom I may name Dr Temple, and his servant, Peggy Reid. This gentleman was a bachelor, and somewhat eccentric, and, as he had spent the most of his life in India, he was supposed to be very rich. Dr Temple was as exact and punctual in his habits and engagements as if he had been still in the army. Everything went on like clock-work in his snug little home, and if a servant did not please him in that respect, he discharged her on the spot. One of his habits was to spend every Thursday evening at a friend’s house, leaving his own house at seven o’clock, and returning at half-past ten. His house was full of Indian curiosities and nicknacks, but most of them were of a kind which could not have been readily turned into money. The cottage had a little garden in front, railed in, and had also a space at one end, in which stood a coal cellar, a wash-house, and an empty dog kennel.
A working joiner happened to be passing this cottage about nine o’clock on a Thursday night, and, glancing up towards the front door, was surprised not so much at seeing it standing half-open as at noticing something like a human foot and the skirt of a dress lying motionless on the lobby floor. There was a light in the lobby, and the inner glass door was also ajar. The man stopped and stared, wondering whether it was not some servant busy scrubbing the floor, and lying on her side to reach some corner scarcely accessible. But the foot did not move, and as the place was lonely and dark, the man suspected something was wrong, looked round for a policeman in vain, and then pushed open the gate and advanced towards the strange object. He found Dr Temple’s servant, Peggy Reid, lying on the lobby floor behind the outer door quite insensible. At first the man thought she had been knocked down, and so stunned, but seeing no traces of a blow, and finding that she breathed calmly and regularly, he came to the conclusion that she was drunk, and vainly tried to arouse her by shaking her and propping her up on a lobby chair. As she gave but faint signs of awaking, he then tried to call the assistance of the household by ringing the bell, and, getting no response, concluded that the house was empty, and went in search of a policeman. At the Middle Walk he was fortunate enough to catch the glare of a policeman’s lantern, and soon had the man informed of the strange discovery. They went back together to the cottage, and found the servant girl still sitting in the lobby, and looking stupid and confused.
“A man rang the bell and said the doctor sent him for his stick,” she feebly explained in reply to the policeman’s questions. “Then he shoved himself in and held something to my mouth, and everything grew dark.”
“Chloroform,” said the policeman shortly. “The house has been robbed, I’ll swear. Let’s look through it and see.”
With some assistance Peggy was able to get on her feet and lead them through the house. A great deal of damage had been done; ornaments and curiosities smashed and tossed down in sheer wantonness or anger, but not much of value taken. Some silver ornaments and jewellery, and an old-fashioned gold watch, were all that the servant could say positively were gone; but it turned out afterwards that a considerable sum of money in gold and bank notes had been taken besides these valuables. An Indian casket of carved wood, ornamented with ivory, was also missed on the day following. It was not worth sixpence to any one but the owner, and why it had been taken was a mystery to all.