With the departure of the conductor and the doctor, the group around
lower ten broke up, to re-form in smaller knots through the car. The
porter remained on guard. With something of relief I sank into a seat.
I wanted to think, to try to remember the details of the previous
night. But my inquisitive acquaintance had other intentions. He came up
and sat down beside me. Like the conductor, he had taken notes of the
dead man’s belongings, his name, address, clothing and the general
circumstances of the crime. Now with his little note-book open before
him, he prepared to enjoy the minor sensation of the robbery.
“And now for the second victim,” he began cheerfully. “What is your
name and address, please?” I eyed him with suspicion.
“I have lost everything but my name and address,” I parried. “What do
you want them for? Publication?”
“Oh, no; dear, no!” he said, shocked at my misapprehension. “Merely for
my own enlightenment. I like to gather data of this kind and draw my
own conclusions. Most interesting and engrossing. Once or twice I have
forestalled the results of police investigation—but entirely for my own
amusement.”
I nodded tolerantly. Most of us have hobbies; I knew a man once who
carried his handkerchief up his sleeve and had a mania for old colored
prints cut out of Godey’s _Lady’s Book_.
“I use that inductive method originated by Poe and followed since with
such success by Conan Doyle. Have you ever read _Gaboriau?_ Ah, you
have missed a treat, indeed. And now, to get down to business, what is
the name of our escaped thief and probable murderer?”
“How on earth do I know?” I demanded impatiently. “He didn’t write it
in blood anywhere, did he?”
The little man looked hurt and disappointed.
“Do you mean to say,” he asked, “that the pockets of those clothes are
entirely empty?” The pockets! In the excitement I had forgotten
entirely the sealskin grip which the porter now sat at my feet, and I
had not investigated the pockets at all. With the inquisitive man’s
pencil taking note of everything that I found, I emptied them on the
opposite seat.
Upper left-hand waist-coat, two lead pencils and a fountain pen; lower
right waist-coat, match-box and a small stamp book; right-hand pocket
coat, pair of gray suede gloves, new, size seven and a half; left-hand
pocket, gun-metal cigarette case studded with pearls, half-full of
Egyptian cigarettes. The trousers pockets contained a gold penknife, a
small amount of money in bills and change, and a handkerchief with the
initial “S” on it.
Further search through the coat discovered a card-case with cards
bearing the name Henry Pinckney Sullivan, and a leather flask with gold
mountings, filled with what seemed to be very fair whisky, and
monogrammed H. P. S.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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