Part 8 (2/2)
”How easily and naturally you come at these things,” exclaims Constance, in admiration. ”It is a, b, c, to you, but it's awful Greek to the rest of us. I begin to think detectives are born, not made.”
”You think right, Miss Wardour,” replies Bathurst. ”It is the made detectives who spoil and disgrace our profession.”
”But,” says Constance, with a look of anxiety upon her face; ”I am sorry to have it proved that this thing was done by some of our people. I am reluctant to inst.i.tute a search that may implicate some poor man whose wife and children may live in our very town.”
The detective laughs softly.
”There it is,” he exclaims. ”An amateur must always judge by what appears uppermost. We detectives, as a rule, always distrust the most plausible theory. Now look, a skilled burglar is a man of many resources; a burglar studies his business as I study mine. You have no idea how much misapplied talent goes roaming about of nights with a jimmy and a dark lantern. Now let us suppose this case. A professional burglar in the course of his wanderings, hears, as would be quite natural, of the immense value of the Wardour diamonds, and he desires to possess them. Now it's a great prize, and he goes to work with his utmost care. He has confederates; they come, one or all, and manage to gain the necessary information; they may come as tramps, pedlars, what not; a talkative servant, a gossiping neighbor, like Mrs. Malloy, or fragments of information picked up here and there may help them to get the 'lay of the land;' they may even have entered the house, probably have, and it may have been last month, or last year; our burglar nourishes his job and studies it carefully. Finally he is ready; he strikes; he succeeds. I do not say this is the case, understand; I simply put it as a thing possible; and quite as probable as that the thieves are here in W----.”
Constance muses; she is thinking of various other depredations committed in and about W----; and, as once before she recounted them to Doctor Heath, she enumerates them now, and closes by saying:
”Your burglars keep a sharp eye on us, at all events, Mr. Bathurst.”
”Naturally,” a.s.sents the detective; ”W---- is a capital field for that sort of chap. It's a little mine of itself, and will always receive due attention from the law breakers. By the by, Miss Wardour, these facts you mention are worth noting; after considering, I think I will remain in W---- during to-morrow. I want to explore about the river, and about this place, a little more. If I may see you to-morrow I would like your version of these other older robberies. I keep a record of every crime reported, and, no doubt, have each of these upon my register, but not as I would receive them from you. I do not wish to be seen or known, as acting in this matter; your friend will be here to-morrow, or Monday, and the officer he has chosen should be on the ground before to-morrow morning. No doubt he will be all that you wish for, and my duties will call me elsewhere very soon.”
Then they all rise, and standing in a group begin talking. They so much regret that they can not retain his services, and they are very grateful to him for so much light as he has thrown upon the subject of the robbery.
”But wait,” he says, ”you are to bear in mind that you _have_ no light; you are in total darkness and ignorance; to-morrow you will have a new officer, he may evolve a totally different theory. Then discard mine, or not, as you think fit; in any case, let it be kept exclusively to your three selves, for I am very likely to make a second appearance here. I think that these burglars of yours are the chaps I am wanting. And, Miss Wardour, this reminds me,” drawing from his pocket the chloroform vial wrapped in its accompanying linen bit, ”may I keep this until morning? I will return it to you by Doctor Heath, and, if your officer is not too much in the way, will try and see you in person, if you will kindly give me what facts you can recall concerning those robberies.”
Constance expresses a hope that the officer will not be in the way, and after they have talked a little more, the detective repeating his cautions, Constance repeating her regret that he is not to take the case, as _her_ case; and Mrs. Aliston repeating everything that comes into her head, they separate, and the two men, looking so oddly unlike, go out into the night.
Mrs. Aliston is ready to talk, but Constance is in no mood to listen.
She cuts short her aunt's elocution, and goes with listless weariness to her own apartments.
Since the appearance of the detective, a shade of perplexity rested on her face, and over and again her thoughts have repeated the question which now falls from her lips.
”What does it mean? I am not mistaken; he said, 'here, I am Doctor Heath from nowhere.' I begin to think that life is a mystery.”
For Miss Wardour, hesitating a moment as she pa.s.sed in from the balcony, had caught the words uttered for the ears of the detective only.
CHAPTER VI.
DOCTOR HEATH AT HOME.
Doctor Heath and the detective went in silence down the wide shrub-bordered walk, to the spot where the doctor's horse awaited him.
Here the detective paused suddenly and listened a moment.
”We should not be seen together,” he said in a low tone. ”Do you mount your horse and ride on slowly, I will follow.”
”But----”
”No buts; I can follow you, never fear; that's my business; do you go straight home and prepare to admit me on the quiet. Stay--have you any gelatine?”
”No.”
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