The magic casketFreeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin)
General
The magic casket
Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin)
Detective and mystery stories, English; Short stories, English; Thorndyke, Doctor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Have you had any strangers staying with you in the interval between
Chapman’s going away and the discovery of the remains?”
“Yes. There was a Mr. Doler; he had two cabin trunks and a uniform
case which went to the luggage-room. And then there was a lady, Mrs.
Murchison. She had a lot of stuff in there: a small, flat trunk, a
hat-box, and a big dress-basket--one of these great basket
pantechnicons that ladies take about with them. And there was another
gentleman--I forget his name, but you will see it in the visitors’
book--he had a couple of largish portmanteaux in there. Perhaps you
would like to see the book?”
“I should,” said Thorndyke; and when the book was produced and the
names of the guests pointed out, he copied the entries into his
note-book, adding the particulars of their luggage.
“And now, sir,” said Miller, “I suppose you won’t be happy until
you’ve seen the room itself?”
“Your insight is really remarkable, superintendent,” my colleague
replied. “Yes, I should like to see the room.”
There was little enough to see, however, when we arrived there. The
key was in the door, and the latter was not only unlocked but stood
ajar; and when we pushed it open and entered we saw a small room,
empty save for a collection of portmanteaux, trunks, and Gladstone
bags. The only noteworthy fact was that it was at the end of a
corridor, covered with linoleum, so that anyone inside would have a
few seconds’ notice of another person’s approach. But evidently that
would have been of little use in the alleged circumstances. For the
hypothetical criminal must have emptied Chapman’s box of the jewellery
before he could put the incriminating objects into it; so that, apart
from the latter, the arrival of an inopportune visitor would have
found him apparently in the act of committing a robbery. The
suggestion was obviously absurd.
“By the way,” said Thorndyke, as we descended the stairs, “where is
the central character of this drama--Chapman? He is not here, I
suppose?”
“Yes, he is,” replied Miller. “He is committed for trial, but we are
keeping him here until we know where the inquest is to be held. You
would probably like to have a few words with him? Well, I’ll take you
along to the police station and tell them who you are, and then
perhaps you would like to come back here and have some lunch or dinner
before you return to town.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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