The First R. Austin Freeman MEGAPACK ®. R. Austin Freeman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in one place the ‘overlap,’ which is so characteristic of the cut made with scissors, can be seen quite plainly.”

      He handed the packet to me with a reading-lens, through which I could distinctly make out the points he had mentioned.

      “Now I need not point out to you,” he continued, “that these slips would, ordinarily, have been trimmed by the printer to the correct size in his machine, which would leave an absolutely true edge; nor need I say that no sane business man would adopt such a device as this. The slip of paper has been cut with scissors to fit the label, and it has then been pasted on to the surface that it has been made to fit, when all this waste of time and trouble—which, in practice, means money—could have been saved by printing the name on the label itself.”

      “Yes, that is so; but I still do not see why the fellow should not have thrown away this label and typed another.”

      “Look at the slip again,” said Thorndyke. “It is faintly but evenly discoloured and, to me, has the appearance of having been soaked in water. Let us, for the moment, assume that it has been. That would look as if it had been removed from some other package, which again would suggest that the person using it had only the one slip, which he had soaked off the original package, dried, cut down and pasted on the present label. If he pasted it on before typing the address—which he would most probably have done—he might well be unwilling to risk destroying it by soaking it a second time.”

      “You think, then, there is a suspicion that the package may have been tampered with?”

      “There is no need to jump to conclusions,” replied Thorn­dyke. “I merely gave this case as an instance showing that careful examination of the outside of a package or letter may lead us to bestow a little extra attention on the contents. Now let us open it and see what those contents are.”

      With a sharp knife he divided the outside cover, revealing a stout cardboard box wrapped in a number of advertisement sheets. The box, when the lid was raised, was seen to contain a single cigar—a large cheroot—packed in cotton wool.

      “A ‘Trichy,’ by Jove!” I exclaimed. “Your own special fancy, Thorndyke.”

      “Yes; and another anomaly, at once, you see, which might have escaped our notice if we had not been on the qui vive.”

      “As a matter of fact, I don’t see,” said I. “You will think me an awful blockhead, but I don’t perceive anything singular in a cigar manufacturer sending a sample cigar.”

      “You read the label, I think?” replied Thorndyke. “However, let us look at one of these leaflets and see what they say. Ah! Here we are: ‘Messrs. Bartlett and Sons, who own extensive plantations on the island of Cuba, manufacture their cigars exclusively from selected leaves grown by themselves.’ They would hardly make a Trichinopoly cheroot from leaf grown in the West Indies, so we have here a striking anomaly of an East Indian cigar sent to us by a West Indian grower.”

      “And what do you infer from that?”

      “Principally that this cigar—which, by the way, is an uncommonly fine specimen and which I would not smoke for ten thousand pounds—is deserving of very attentive examination.” He produced from his pocket a powerful doublet lens, with the aid of which he examined every part of the surface of the cigar, and finally, both ends.

      “Look at the small end,” he said, handing me the cigar and the lens, “and tell me if you notice anything.”

      I focussed the lens on the flush-cut surface of closely-rolled leaf, and explored every part of it minutely.

      “It seems to me,” I said, “that the leaf is opened slightly in the centre, as if a fine wire had been passed up it.”

      “So it appeared to me,” replied Thorndyke; “and, as we are in agreement so far, we will carry our investigations a step further.”

      He laid the cigar down on the table, and, with the keen, thin-bladed penknife, neatly divided it lengthwise into two halves.

      “Ecce signum!” exclaimed Thorndyke, as the two parts fell asunder; and for a few moments we stood silently regarding the dismembered cheroot. For, about half an inch from the small end, there appeared a little circular patch of white, chalky material which, by the even manner in which it was diffused among the leaf, had evidently been deposited from a solution.

      “Our ingenious friend again, I surmise,” said Thorndyke at length, taking up one of the halves and examining the white patch through his lens. “A thoughtful soul, Jervis, and original too. I wish his talents could be applied in some other direction. I shall have to remonstrate with him if he becomes troublesome.”

      “It is your duty to society, Thorndyke,” I exclaimed passionately, “to have this infernal, cold-blooded scoundrel arrested in­stantly. Such a man is a standing menace to the community. Do you really know who sent this thing?”

      “I can form a pretty shrewd guess, which, however, is not quite the same thing. But, you see, he has not been quite so clever this time, for he has left one or two traces by which his identity might be ascertained.”

      “Indeed! What traces has he left?”

      “Ah! Now there is a nice little problem for us to consider.” He settled himself in his easy chair and proceeded to fill his pipe with the air of a man who is about to discuss a matter of merely general interest.

      “Let us consider what information this ingenious person has given us about himself. In the first place, he evidently has a strong interest in my immediate decease. Now, why should he feel so urgent a desire for my death? Can it be a question of property? Hardly; for I am far from a rich man, and the provisions of my will are known to me alone. Can it then be a question of private enmity or revenge? I think not. To the best of my belief I have no private enemies whatever. There remains only my vocation as an investigator in the fields of legal and criminal research. His interest in my death must, therefore, be connected with my professional activities. Now, I am at present conducting an exhumation which may lead to a charge of murder; but if I were to die tonight the inquiry would be carried out with equal efficiency by Professor Spicer or some other toxicologist. My death would not affect the prospects of the accused. And so in one or two other cases that I have in hand; they could be equally well conducted by someone else. The inference is that our friend is not connected with any of these cases, but that he believes me to possess some exclusive information concerning him—believes me to be the one person in the world who suspects and can convict him. Let us assume the ­existence of such a person—a person of whose guilt I alone have evidence. Now this person, being unaware that I have com­municated my knowledge to a third party, would reasonably suppose that by making away with me he had put himself in a position of security.

      “Here, then, is our first point. The sender of this offering is probably a person concerning whom I hold certain exclusive information.

      “But see, now, the interesting corollary that follows from this. I, alone, suspect this person; therefore I have not published my suspicions, or others would suspect him too. Why, then, does he suspect me of suspecting him, since I have not spoken? Evidently, he too must be in possession of exclusive information. In other words, my suspicions are correct; for if they were not, he could not be aware of their existence.

      “The next point is the selection of this rather unusual type of cigar. Why should he have sent a Trichinopoly instead of an ordinary Havana such as Bartletts actually manufacture? It looks as if he were aware of my peculiar predilection, and, by thus consulting my personal tastes, had guarded against СКАЧАТЬ