Short Stories

Otago Witness, Issue 4033, 30 June 1931, Page 73

Short Stories

THE RESULT OF OBSER= VATION.

By

W. G. Bond.

( Copybight.—Fob the Otago Witness. ) As soon as Mr Speak resumed his seat fn the first class compartment of the Liverpool to London express he was seized with a sense of fear. He had, ' accompanied ,by Bowers, arrived at the station in good time, reserved his place in the train —corridor eorner, back to engine—by the simple expedient of placing his overcoat and newspaper upon it, then rejoined his junior ®n the platform to while away the minutes of waiting in desultory conversation. Suddenly doors began to bang, porters to shout, and with a simple “ Good morning, Bowers,” he had returned to his compartment. In the doorway he paused in mild surprise, for four other men had taken seats there during his absence. Strange, that he had not noticed them board the train? Of course, he thought, as his impersonal glance fell on the three facing him, “There’s nothing remarkable in me not seeing them,” then as he turned from placing his coat on the rack he recognised j.he fourth man. In the thirty-five years of his existence, Mr Bpeak had experienced most of the emotions to which humanity is subject, but ■ever before had he been affected as he was in that moment. He had a sensation of helpless impotence; like a trapped animal struggling against a power which it does not understand. Very deliberately he sat down, and, selecting a newspaper, opened it. Thick, black headlines declared another attempted Atlantic flight, but they were a blur to him. Behind the shelter of the outspread sheets he was endeavouring to collate his thoughts; to get his mind Tunning in its usual easy groove, but the face of the man opposite rose to exclude all else. With a half-stifled sigh of impatience he lowered his paper, and, lighting a cigarette, stared through the window. Then his mind steadied somewhat. Of course, he argued within himself, it was natural that he .should be excited and suspicious oh this particular day, for during the whole of his twenty years’ service with Trugood and Mansell he had never before been called upon to undertake a mission like the one he was on now.

Messrs Trugood and Mansell were jewellers of repute, and Mr Speak was their senior assistant. Boy and man he had served the firm until now he had their entire confidence. This was illustrated by Mr Trugood’s action in sending him to London. With a little thrill of comforting pride he recalled the conversation he had had with the senior partner the previous evening. As was his custom, he had gone into the private office to report after the closing of the shop; his juniors deylaying their departure until his reappearance. He found Mr Trugood alone, for Mr Mansell was away, ill.

“ Ah, Mr Speak, a chair,” his employer had invited courteously, and, even as he had sat down, he had known that something unusual was about to happen. Mr Trugood explained without preamble: “ I have received a letter from Van Ess, of London, this afternoon, in which he asks that the' Hajnmerstein diamonds be delivered for his inspection cssto-morrow. As Mr Mansell’s illness rather ties me up here, I have decided, Speak, that you shall take the parcel down. The procedure will be quite simple —you will merely hand over the stones and obtain the usual receipt. I suggest you travel by the nine forty-five in the morning. That will give you ample time to telephone me in the afternoon and return by the evening train. You had better, by the way, arrange with Bowers to accompany you as <far as the station.” As Mr Speak listened to these instructions, and to the further conversation of his employer, he was stirred by a mild excitement. Mr Trugood attached great importance to this transaction. The diamonds referred to, although few in number, represented a cash value of nearly ten thousand pounds. A successful deal meant a big commission for the firm, and the assistant felt pardoned in assuming a certain amount of credit to himself. It might even mean an increase in salary. Elsie, his fiancee, would be pleased. H he got a rise 'they would be able to get married right away, for, poor girl, she had waited for him long enough. His brain was unusually active when, later, having given Bowers his instructions for the morning, he locked up the premises and made his way to his tram atop; en route for home. It was while waiting there that the incident happened which was now giving him cause for so much uneasiness. The tram was an unusually long time in coming, but Mr Speak was not impatient, While he waited he followed a practice which had grown on him with

the years, and of which he was never tired.

He studied the passers-by. With regards to his fellow-humans he had a curious mind. Nothing pleased him more than to sit in some crowded place and just watch people. Their expressions, gestures, actions in general, all provided him with food for cogitation and surmise. Studying, he classified them; constructed their lives and diagnosed their habits. Impressions once cast were stored away in some secret niche of his brain, perhaps never to be recalled, but he found his hobby useful. He was a most successful salesman.

As he stood there on the edge of the pavement, a rather neat little man in bis black business suit, none of the passersby would have suspected that his gentle brown eyes were taking in every item of their personal appearance. His attention just now was attracted by the figure of a tall, w’ell-built man who was crossing the road. There was something vaguely familiar about him, and Mr Speak hoped that he would turn so that he could see his face. Then suddenly his own slight frame stiffened to attention, for the object of his thoughts had paused alongside a man on the opposite kerb—alongside Mr Bowers. The two stood in conversation for a moment,' then the stranger hailed a taxi and, both entering it; they drove away.

Watching the back of the departing motor car, Mr Speak puckered his brows thoughtfully. His tramcar came and he boarded it, frowning, for he had “ placed ” the companion of his assistant. He recalled that, on several occasions of late, he had seen man standing outside the windows of Messrs Trugood and Mansell,’ apparently contemplating the stock, though he had never been inside to make a purchase. Mr Speak had “ studied ” the man, as he “ studied ” all and sundry, and he had not been favourably impressed. On the contrary, he was decidedly suspicious. He now began to wonder what possible association Bowers could have with such a person, alid the incident so impressed itself upon his mind that, when he met M : 's Elsie Macrae that evening, he told j her all about it. That lady, having been in the city a number of years herself, was an intensely practical person, and not given to flights of fancy. She agreed that a young man of Mr Bowers’s standing could hardly afford to travel about in taxi cabs, but she did not see why her John should worry about it. “ Dear man,” she protested, “ your imagination will be the death of you yet. Really, you should have been a detective. After all, what Bowers does is his own affair. What about this business of yours to-morrow? That’s worth thinking of, if you like. It’s worth celebrating, too. So let’s be reckless and go to the pictures! ” There was something about Elsie that always soothed John, and during their excursion to the kinema, and afterwards over supper, he was quite cheerful. But later, back at his lodgings, he fell again 'to wondering about his assistant, and he was still wondering as he stood talking with that young man at the railway station. Then he returned to his seat, and his cogitations ceased, for the man sitting opposite him was the friend of Mr Bowers. Despite his imaginative nature, Mr Speak was no believer in mere coincidence. There was, he immediately felt, something deeper in this series of incidents than was outwardly apparent, and he was sorely puzzled. In the inside pocket of his jacket be carried a wallet, the contents of which were valued at nearly ten thousand pounds. Assuming that the individual opposite had that wallet as his objective—and despite himself Mr. Speak felt that such was the case—how, on earth did he hope to gain possession of it? They were in a corridor train, with people passing to and fro continuously Also, there were three other men in the compartment. Once in London he would simply step into a taxi and, within a quarter of an hour, the iewels would be safe in other hands. The three othemen? Were they confederates? Slowly extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray at his elbow, Mr Speak again lifted his paper, and, as he did so, his eyes moved round the compartment. The men were already in conversation; th< sort of' small talk which takes place amongst railway travellers who are strangers to each other. The two on his side were of the “city” type, and looked Ifttrmless enough; the other, the heavily built man with a trim moustache, occupied the far corner seat, and Mr Speak decided that he was a seafarer, probably a shipmaster.

Surely he had nothing to fear from them? Again he lowered his paper, lit another cigarette, gazed out through the windows at the smiling, sun-dappled greenery of the countryside as it rolled by in never-ending panorama. It was a comforting view. This was England, safe and solid; significant of law and order, not some foreign place—America, for instance—where, so he had heard,

crimes of violence were common. No, he had nothing to fear. “ I say, Joe ” Mr Speak’s fingers twitched convulsively, and the cigarette between them bent lopsidedly. Those few words, spoken by the.man beside him to someone across the compartment, had set his heart beating like a trip-hammqr, and brought back his fears with a bound.

“ I say, Joe,” the man had begun, and then stopped suddenly, and the othei droning voices had stopped, too, and there was a silence, tense, expectant. Mr Speak sat perfectly still, looking through the window. He did not have to look round. The heavy silence told him as clearly as though he could see that four pairs of eyes were fixed upon him; that four bodies were tensed as was his own; that these four men were not strangers to each other; that these four men were after him! He thought of that wallet in his pocket, and his hand was moist against his cheek. The heavilybuilt man in the corner coughed. “ Yes, sir,” he boomed, believe me, this.naval disarmament business is going to make a difference.”

The silence was broken; the voices droned again. Cautiously Mr .Speak exhaled his bated breath, crushed the burnt-out cigarette in the ash-tray beside him, and groped for his case that he might smoke again. Now his brain was very clear; he was thinking quickly. Forewarned was fore- I armed—but was he? He knew not what to expect, but how ? —when ?—where. He was on his guard, but could he meet the emergency when it arose? Would it be on the train? Would it be as he got out of the train ? Would it be in the taxi ? All seemed ridiculous; all presented terrifying possibilities. He felt suddenly bewildered. Of course, he could change his compartment, and even go into the guard’s van for the remainder of the journey, but instinctively he shrank from the idea. He would look ridiculous, and they would be warned and arrange their plans accordingly. A feeling of panic gripped him. Against these four men he felt as helpless as a babe. They could easily kill him. Certainly they would steal the jewels. The little man’s heart contracted at the thought. What would Mr Trugood think of him? And Elsie? It would break her heart, because if he lost the jewels lie would loose his job, and they would never! be able to get married then. In that minute Mr Speak almost wished that he was dead, and free from the worry of it all. . With startling suddenness the train plunged into a tunnel, and the compartment was enveloped in a roaring, inky blackness. Mr Speak gasped. There was something wrong with the electric light; he couldn’t see, he They were in the blessed daylight again, and a uniformed attendant was standing in the doorway. “Anyone for the first lunch, please?” he inquired. The little man blinked. He wanted to say: “There’s something wrong with the light—it’s not working,” but instead he mumbled, “ First lunch,” and took a ticket. Two of the four also took tickets, but the others declared their intention of waiting for the second sitting. “ Not taking any chances,” though t Mr Speak, grimly. Lunch time came, and he ate abstractly. The two men had chosen a table behind his, so that he could not see them, hut he guessed that they were watching, probably discussing him. He remained in the dining car as long as he could, then moved into corridor and stood where the doors adjoined. He rather dreaded returning to his compartment—dreaded another tunnel with its thunderous darkness. And there was a I long tunnel to be met not very far away now, he knew. Then he thought: “ Well, if I can’t see, neither can they,” and he wag comforted a little. Again the faces of Mr Trugood and Elsie rose before him, and suddenly he felt ashamed. Was he going to give in to wild suspicions, to panic at mere thoughts and accept defeat without the vestige of a struggle? To his mind came a vision of the picture Elsie and he had seen only the previous night. Why, in that a chap no bigger than himself had successfully defended a gir.l against six ruffians. He remembered the transitory thrill that scene had given him. How, just then, he had almost wished that such an incident could happen to Elsie and himself, so that he could show her how brave he really was. Well, this was his chance, if it was ever coming to him! And did this not mean as much to Elsie as to himself? Mr Speak drew a deep breath. " Slowly the anxious look faded from his face, to give place to one of grim determination. Straightening up, he glanced quickly about him and stepped back into the bend of the corridor. When he re-ap-peared there was the suggestion of a smile upon his lips, and his step.was

almost jaunty as he returned to his seat and resumed his reading and smoking. Presently the two men from the dining car walked in, and the friend of Mr Bowers and the heavily-built man prepared to go for lunch. They stood in the corridor chatting, and moved off as the train entered the tunnel which Mr Speak had thought about and dreaded.

Again • came the roaring, rumbling darkness, only longer this time, and when the tunnel was passed Mr Speak sat with his arm on the window ledge and blinked into the sunlight. Presently he resumed his reading. The train swept on, the rhythmic tattoo of its wheels seeming to quicken, as though they were making a final effort before reaching the metropolis. The second lunch was over, and the two other occupants of the compartment returned. The heavily-built man remained in the corridor, and, glancing up at him, the jeweller began to wonder if, after all, he had been justified in his suspicions. They were rapidly approaching London. Within 20 minutes he would be able to jumjT into a taxi and escape—unless, of course, they had some other plan, but how could they? Just then the big man, who had been glancing up and down the corridor, turned, and, looking past Mr Speak, nodded. The watcher saw the nod, and vaguely wondered. Then the world seemed to crash about him. He returned to consciousness with a most violent headache. There was a blackness before his eyes, and a rumbling in his ears. A noise like the roar of a train in a tunnel. Train? Tunnel? He made an effort to rise, and fell back with a groan. Slowly he opened his eyes. Bending over him' was a stout gentleman whose face held a sympathetic look. In close attendance were two railway officials, and behind, a quietlooking individual who was slowly turning a leather wallet inside out. This man now approached, and sat down beside the unfortunate Mr Speak. “Felling better, sir?” he asked. The little man nodded, his hands over his eyes.

“ They seem to have cleaned you out, sir,” the man continued. “ This wallet —I presume it’s yours—just found it on the floor, empty. You were tucked under the seat.”

Lowering his hands, Mr Speak-half sat up and contemplated the wallet. It was his all right; it was the one in which had reposed the parcel of diamonds consigned to Van Ess. “ Yes,” he murmured. “ Yes.” Then, “ Excuse me,” and painfully brought his feet to the floor. Staggering a little, he crossed the compartment and slumped into' the seat he had occupied when he had been attacked. Curiously the others watched him as, with a slow, deliberate movement, he tipped the contents of the ashtray into his outstretched palm. Amidst the cloud of dust and cigarette ends there appeared a trickle of light, and one of the watchers gasped, for out of the rubbish the dapper little man was producing diamonds! Silently they watched him,. and presently he looked up and essayed a painful smile. “ No, gentlemen,” he said, “ they didn’t rob me. You see,” he explained, “ I was suspicious. I—l observed • them, so I transferred these,” indicating the diamonds, “to my pocket, and whilst we ran through a tunnel I slipped them into the tray, here, and tapped my cigarette ash over them.” Mr Speak paused; the listeners gaped. “ It was the only thing I could think of,” he concluded, half apologetically. For a moment there was a pregnant silence, then the quiet man—who, it appeared, was a detective —rose to his feet.

“ Sir,” he said deferentially, if you only observed those men as successfully as you deceived them, they’re as good as caught.” —"

They were arrested a week later. It was Mr Speak who persuaded Bowers to confess his complicity in the affair, and the rest was e'asy. The police had been wanting the gang for some time.