LITMIR.BIZ

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opposite the lost property office, where it is sure to be seen, and so completes his false trail.’

      ‘Then who are the people at 197, Hackworth Road?’

      ‘The capitalist lives there — the financier, and probably the directing spirit of the whole thing. Merston’s the name he goes by there, and I’ve no doubt he cuts a very imposing figure in chapel every Sunday. He’ll be worth picking up — this isn’t the first thing he’s been in, I’ll warrant.’

      ‘But — but what about Laker’s mother and Miss Shaw?’

      ‘Well, what? The poor women are nearly out of their minds with terror and shame, that’s all, but though they may think Laker a criminal, they’ll never desert him. They’ve been following us about with a feeble, vague sort of hope of being able to baffle us in some way or help him if we caught him, or something, poor things. Did you ever hear of a real woman who’d desert a son or a lover merely because he was a criminal? But here’s the doctor. When he’s attended to him will you let your men take Laker home? I must hurry and report to the Guarantee Society, I think.’

      ‘But,’ said the perplexed Plummer, ‘where did you get your clue? You must have had a tip from some one, you know — you can’t have done it by clairvoyance. What gave you the tip?’

      ‘The Daily Chronicle.’

      ‘The what?’

      ‘The Daily Chronicle. Just take a look at the “agony column” in yesterday morning’s issue, and read the message to “Yob”— to Gunter, in fact. That’s all.’

      By this time a cab was waiting in Lombard Street, and two of Plummer’s men, under the doctor’s directions, carried Laker to it. No sooner, however, were they in the court than the two watching women threw themselves hysterically upon Laker, and it was long before they could be persuaded that he was not being taken to gaol. The mother shrieked aloud, ‘My boy — my boy! Don’t take him! Oh, don’t take him! They’ve killed my boy! Look at his head — oh, his head!’ and wrestled desperately with the men, while Hewitt attempted to soothe her, and promised to allow her to go in the cab with her son if she would only be quiet. The younger woman made no noise, but she held one of Laker’s limp hands in both hers.

      Hewitt and I dined together that evening, and he gave me a full account of the occurrences which I have here set down. Still, when he was finished I was not able to see clearly by what process of reasoning he had arrived at the conclusions that gave him the key to the mystery, nor did I understand the ‘agony column’ message, and I said so.

      ‘In the beginning,’ Hewitt explained, ‘the thing that struck me as curious was the fact that Laker was said to have given his own name at Palmer’s in buying his ticket. Now, the first thing the greenest and newest criminal thinks of is changing his name, so that the giving of his own name seemed unlikely to begin with. Still, he might have made such a mistake, as Plummer suggested when he said that criminals usually make a mistake somewhere — as they do, in fact. Still, it was the least likely mistake I could think of — especially as he actually didn’t wait to be asked for his name, but blurted it out when it wasn’t really wanted. And it was conjoined with another rather curious mistake, or what would have been a mistake, if the thief were Laker. Why should he conspicuously display his wallet — such a distinctive article — for the clerk to see and note? Why rather had he not got rid of it before showing himself? Suppose it should be somebody personating Laker? In any case I determined not to be prejudiced by what I had heard of Laker’s betting. A man may bet without being a thief.

      ‘But, again, supposing it were Laker? Might he not have given his name, and displayed his wallet, and so on, while buying a ticket for France, in order to draw pursuit after himself in that direction while he made off in another, in another name, and disguised? Each supposition was plausible. And, in either case, it might happen that whoever was laying this trail would probably lay it a little farther. Charing Cross was the next point, and there I went. I already had it from Plummer that Laker had not been recognized there. Perhaps the trail had been laid in some other manner. Something left behind with Laker’s name on it, perhaps? I at once thought of the umbrella with his monogram, and, making a long shot, asked for it at the lost property office, as you know. The guess was lucky: In the umbrella, as you know, I found the scrap of paper. That, I judged, had fallen in from the hand of the man carrying the umbrella. He had torn the paper in half in order to fling it away, and one piece had fallen into the loosely flapping umbrella. It is a thing that will often happen with an omnibus ticket, as you may have noticed. Also, it was proved that the umbrella was unrolled when found, and rolled immediately after. So here was a piece of paper dropped by the person who had brought the umbrella to Charing Cross and left it. I got the whole advertisement, as you remember, and I studied it. “Yob” is back-slang for “boy”, and is often used in nicknames to denote a young smooth-faced thief. Gunter, the man I suspect, as a matter of fact, is known as the “Hoxton Yob”. The message, then, was addressed to some one known by such a nickname. Next, “H.R. shop roast”. Now, in thieves’ slang, to “roast” a thing or a person is to watch it or him. They call any place a shop — notably, a thieves’ den. So that this meant that some resort — perhaps the “Hoxton Row shop”— was watched. “You 1st then to-night” would be clearer, perhaps, when the rest was understood. I thought a little over the rest, and it struck me that it must be a direction to some other house, since one was warned of as being watched. Besides, there was the number, 197, and “red bl.”, which would be extremely likely to mean “red blinds “, by way of clearly distinguishing the house. And then the plan of the thing was plain. You have noticed, probably, that the map of London which accompanies the Post Office Directory is divided, for convenience of reference, into numbered squares?’

      ‘Yes. The squares are denoted by letters along the top margin and figures down the side. So that if you consult the directory, and find a place marked as being in D 5, for instance, you find vertical divisions D, and run your finger down it till it intersects horizontal division 5, and there you are.’

      ‘Precisely. I got my Post Office Directory, and looked for “O 2”. It was in North London, and took in parts of Abney Park Cemetery and Clissold Park; “2nd top” was the next sign. Very well, I counted the second street intersecting the top of the square — counting, in the usual way, from the left. That was Lordship Road. Then “3rd L”. From the point where Lordship Road crossed the top of the square, I ran my finger down the road till it came to “3rd L”, or, in other words, the third turning on the left — Hackworth Road. So there we were, unless my guesses were altogether wrong. “Straight mon” probably meant “straight moniker”— that is to say, the proper name, a thief’s real name, in contradistinction to that he may assume. I turned over the directory till I found Hackworth Road, and found that No. 197 was inhabited by a Mr Merston. From the whole thing I judged this. There was to have been a meeting at the “H.R. shop”, but that was found, at the last moment, to be watched by the police for some purpose, so that another appointment was made for this house in the suburbs. “You 1st. Then to-night”— the person addressed was to come first, and the others in the evening. They were to ask for the householder’s “straight moniker”— Mr Merston. And they were to come one at a time.

      ‘Now, then, what was this? What theory would fit it? Suppose this were a robbery, directed from afar by the advertiser. Suppose, on the day before the robbery, it was found that the place fixed for division of spoils were watched. Suppose that the principal thereupon advertised (as had already been agreed in case of emergency) in these terms. The principal in the actual robbery — the “Yob” addressed — was to go first with the booty. The others were to come after, one at a time. Anyway, the thing was good enough to follow a little further, and I determined to try No. 197 Hackworth Road. I have told you what I found there, and how it opened my eyes. I went, of course, merely on chance, to see what I might chance to see. But luck favoured, and I happened on that coat — brought back rolled up, on the evening after the robbery, doubtless by the thief who had used it, and flung carelessly into the handiest cupboard. That was this gang’s mistake.’

      ‘Well, I congratulate you,’ I said. ‘I hope they’ll catch

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