The shadow of the Wolf

by R. Austin Freeman

“No. He is an artist—principally an etcher, and a very clever one too. I think he is doing quite well now, but he had a hard struggle when he first came down from Cambridge. For a couple of years he worked for an engraver, doing ordinary copperplate work for the trade, and I understand that he is remarkably skilful at engraving. But now he does nothing but etchings and mezzotints.”

“Then his activities are entirely concerned with art?”

“I believe so, now, at any rate. After he left the engraver he went to a merchant in the City as a clerk. But he was only there quite a short time, and I fancy he left on account of some sort of unpleasantness, but I know nothing about it. After that he went abroad and travelled about for a time making sketches and drawings of the towns to do his etchings from; in fact he only came back from Belgium a couple of months ago. But I am afraid I am wasting your time with a lot of irrelevant gossip.”

“It is my fault if you are,” said Thorndyke, “since I put the questions. But the fact is that nothing is irrelevant. Your husband has vanished into space in a perfectly unaccountable manner, and we have to find, if we can, something in his known circumstances which may give us a clue to the motive and the manner of his disappearance and his probable whereabouts at present. Has he any favourite haunts abroad or at home?”

“He is very partial to the Eastern counties, especially the broads and rivers of Norfolk. You remember he was on his way to Oulton Broad when he disappeared.”

“Yes; and one must admit that the waterways of Norfolk and Suffolk, with all their endless communications, would form an admirable hiding-place. In a small yacht or covered boat a man might lose himself in that network of rivers and lakes and lie hidden for months; creeping from end to end of the county without leaving a trace. We must bear that possibility in mind. By the way, have you brought me a copy of that very cautious letter of Mr. Penfield’s?”

“I have brought the letter itself,” she replied, producing it and laying it on the table.

“Thank you,” said Thorndyke. “I will make a copy of it and let you have the original back. And there is another question: has the letter which Mr. Penfield ought to have received been returned to you?”

“No,” replied Margaret.

“Ha!” said Thorndyke. “That is important because it is undoubtedly a remarkable circumstance and rather significant. A letter in the wrong envelope practically always implies another letter in another wrong envelope. Now a letter was almost certainly written to Mr. Penfield and almost certainly sent. It was presumably a business letter and of some importance. It ought certainly to have been returned to the sender, and under ordinary circumstances would have been. Why has it not been returned? The person to whom it was sent was the person to whom the mysterious communication that Mr. Penfield received was addressed. That communication, we judge from Mr. Penfield’s letter, contained some highly confidential matter. But that implies some person who was in highly confidential relations with your husband. The suggestion seems to be that your husband discovered his mistake after he had posted the letter or letters and that he went at once to this other person and informed him of what had happened.”