The shadow of the Wolf

by R. Austin Freeman

“It has somewhat the appearance that you suggest,” he said at length; “but I have not your expert eye and therefore not your confidence. I should suppose it to be impossible to say with certainty whether one written mark was on top of or underneath another.”

“Very well,” said Thorndyke; “then we will proceed to the next point. You will notice that both of the post-marks are deeply indented; unusually so. As a matter of fact, post-marks are usually not visibly indented at all; and it is a noticeable coincidence that this envelope should bear two different post-marks, each unusually indented.”

“Still,” said Penfield, “that might easily have happened. The laws of chance are not applicable to individual cases.”

“Quite so,” Thorndyke agreed. “But now observe another point. These post-marks are so deeply indented that, in both cases, the impression is clearly visible on the opposite side of the envelope, especially inside. That is rather remarkable, seeing that, if the letter was inside, the impression must have penetrated four thicknesses of paper.”

“Still,” said Penfield, “it is not impossible.”

“Perhaps not,” Thorndyke admitted. “But what does seem impossible is that it should have done so without leaving any trace on the letter itself. But that is what has happened. If you will examine the letter you will see that there is not a vestige of an indentation on any part of it. From which, you must agree with me that the only reasonable inference is that when the indentations were made, the letter was not in the envelope.”

Mr. Penfield took the letter and the envelope and compared them carefully. There was no denying the obvious facts. There was the envelope with the deeply indented post-marks showing plainly on the reverse sides, and there was the letter with never a sign of any mark at all. It was certainly very odd. Mr. Penfield was a good deal puzzled and slightly annoyed. To his orthodox legal mind this prying into concrete facts and physical properties was rather distasteful. He was accustomed to sworn testimony, which might be true or might be untrue (but that was the witnesses’ lookout) but which could be accepted as admitted evidence. He could not deny that the facts were apparently as Thorndyke had stated. But that unwilling admission produced no conviction. He was a lawyer, not a scientific observer.

“Yes,” he agreed, reluctantly, “the appearances are as you say. But they must be in some way illusory. Perhaps some difference in the properties of the paper may be the explanation. At any rate, I cannot accept your inference, for the simple reason that it predicates an impossibility. It assumes that this man, or some other, posted a blank, empty envelope, got it back, put a letter in it, addressed it, and then delivered it by hand, having travelled up from Woodbridge to do so. That would be an impossibility, unless the person were a post-office official; and then, what on earth could be the object of such an insane proceeding? Have you asked yourself that question?”

As a matter of fact, Thorndyke had; and he had deduced a completely sufficient answer. But he did not feel called upon to explain this. It was not his concern to convince Mr. Penfield. That gentleman’s beliefs were a matter of perfect indifference to him. He had considered it fair to draw Mr. Penfield’s attention to the observed facts and even to point out the inferences that they suggested. But if Mr. Penfield chose to shut his eyes to the facts, or to reject the obvious inferences, that was his affair.

“At the moment,” he replied, “I am concerned with the appearances and the immediate inferences from them. When I am sure of my facts I shall go on to consider their bearing; those questions of motive, for instance, to which you have referred. That would be premature until I have verified the facts by a more searching examination. Would it be convenient for you to leave this letter with me for a few hours, that I might examine it more completely?”