The shadow of the Wolf

by R. Austin Freeman

What, then, was the alternative? He reflected awhile; and presently he had an idea. How would it answer if he should not post the letter at all, but simply drop it into Penfield’s letter-box? There was something to be said for that. It would go to prove that Purcell must be lurking somewhere in London; not an unlikely thing in itself, for London is so large that it is hardly a locality at all, and it is admittedly one of the safest of hiding-places. But, for that matter, why not post the letter, say in Limehouse or Ratcliff and thus suggest a lurking-place in the squalid and nautical east? That did not seem a bad idea. But still his preference leaned towards the Eastern Counties; somewhere in the neighbourhood of Ipswich, which would give consistency to the account of the voyage from Falmouth. It was something of a dilemma and he turned over the alternative plans for some time without coming to any conclusion.

As he sat thus meditating, his eye roamed idly about the bare but homely studio; and presently it encountered an object that started a new and interesting train of thought. Pushed away in a corner was a small lithographic press, now mostly disused; for the little “auto-lithographs” that he used to produce had ceased to be profitable now that there was a fair demand for his etchings and mezzotints. But the press was in going order and he was a moderately expert lithographer; quite expert enough to produce a perfectly convincing post-mark on a forged letter, especially if that post-mark were carefully indented after printing, to disguise the process by which it had been produced.

It was a brilliant idea. In his pleased excitement he started up from his chair and began rapidly to pace up and down the studio. A most admirable plan! For it not only disposed of all the difficulties but actually turned them into advantages. He would get the letter prepared; he would keep his engagement with Maggie; then, after leaving her, he would make his way to George Yard and there drop the letter into Penfield’s letter-box. It would be found on the following morning and would appear to have been posted the previous evening and delivered by the first post. He would actually be present in Maggie’s flat at the very moment when the letter was (apparently) being posted in Suffolk. A most excellent scheme!

Chuckling with satisfaction, he set himself forthwith to carry it out. The means and appliances were in a cupboard that filled a recess; just a plain wall-cupboard, but fitted with a chub lock of the highest class. Unlocking this he cast his eye over the orderly shelves. Here, standing upright in an empty ink-bottle, was the thick-barrelled fountain pen that had once been Purcell’s. Varney took out the pen in its container and stood it on the table. Next from the back of the cupboard he reached out an expanding letter file, and, opening it, took from the compartment marked “P” a small bundle of letters docketed “Purcell” which he also laid on the table. They were all harmless, unimportant letters (saved for that very reason), and if one should have asked why Varney had kept them, the answer—applicable to most of the other contents of the file—would have been that they had been preserved in obedience to the forger’s instinct to keep a few originals in stock on the chance that they might come in handy one day.

He drew a chair up to the table and began methodically to look through the letters, underlining with a lead pencil the words that he would probably want to copy. In the third letter that he read he had an unexpected stroke of luck, for it contained a reference to Mr. Penfield, to whom some enclosed document was to be sent, and it actually gave his full name and address. This was a windfall indeed! As he encircled the address with a pencil mark, Varney smiled complacently and felt that Fortune was backing him up handsomely.

Having secured the “copy” for the handwriting, the next thing was to get the post-mark drawn and printed. The letters in the file had no envelopes, but he had in his pocket a letter that he had received that morning from an inn-keeper at Tenterden, to whom he had written for particulars as to accommodation. It was probably a typical country letter and its post-mark would serve as well as any other. He took it from his pocket and laying it on a small drawing-board, pinned a piece of tracing-paper over it and made a very careful tracing of the postmark. Then he drew away the letter and slipped in its place a small piece of lithographic transfer paper with a piece of black lead transfer paper over it and went over the tracing carefully with a hard pencil. He now had a complete tracing of the post-mark on the lithographic paper including the name “Tenterden” and the date and time, which he had included to give the dimensions and style of the lettering. But he now patiently erased them, excepting the year date, and replaced them, in the same style and size, with the inscription, “Woodbridge, Oct. 28, 4:30 P.M.,” drawn firmly with a rather soft pencil.

He now fetched his lithographic ink and pens from the cupboard, and, with the original before him, inked in the tracing, being careful to imitate all the accidental characters of the actual post-mark such as the unequal thickness of the lines due to the uneven pressure of the marking-stamp. When he had finished, he turned the envelope over and repeated the procedure with the London post-mark; only here he made an exact facsimile excepting as to the date and time, which he altered to Oct. 29, 11:20 P.M.

The next proceeding was to transfer the inked tracings to a lithographic stone. He used a smallish stone, placing the two post-marks a convenient distance apart, so that they could be printed separately. When the transfer and the subsequent “etching” processes were completed and the stone was ready for printing, he inked up and took a trial proof of the two post-marks on a sheet of paper. The result was perfectly convincing. Ridiculously so. As he held the paper in his hand and looked at those absurd post-marks, he chuckled aloud. With a little ingenuity, how easy it was to sprinkle salt on the forensic tail of the inscrutable Penfield! He was disposed to linger and picture to himself the probable proceedings of that astute gentleman when he received the letter. But there was a good deal to do yet and he must not waste time. There was the problem of printing the Woodbridge post-mark fairly on the stamp; and then there was the addressing and writing of the letter.

The first problem he solved by tracing the outline of an envelope on the sheet that he had printed, with the post-mark in the correct place for the stamp; cutting this piece out and using it to make register marks on the stone. Then he affixed a stamp exactly to the correct spot on the envelope, inked up the stone, laid the envelope against the register marks and passed the stone under the roller. When he picked up the envelope, the stamp bore the Woodbridge post-mark with just that slight inaccuracy of imposition that made it perfectly convincing. The London post-mark presented no difficulty as it did not matter to half an inch where it was placed. Another inking-up and another turn of the crank-handle and the envelope was ready for the penmanship.

Although Varney was so expert a copyist he decided to take no unnecessary risks. Accordingly he made a careful tracing of Penfield’s name and address from the original letter and transferred this in black lead to the envelope. Then, with Purcell’s pen, charged with its special black ink, and with the original before him, he inked in the tracing with a free and steady hand and quickly enough to avoid any tell-tale wavering or tremor of the line. It was certainly a masterly performance, and when it was done, it would have puzzled a much greater expert than Penfield to distinguish between the copy and the original.