“ ‘You’re only wasting your time, sir, and every minute now is ofimportance,’ cried the commissionnaire; ‘take my word for it thatmy old woman has nothing to do with it, and come down to theother end of the street. Well, if you won’t, I will.’ And with that herushed off in the other direction.
“But I was after him in an instant and caught him by the sleeve.
“ ‘Where do you live?’ said I.
“ ‘16 Ivy Lane, Brixton,’ he answered. ‘But don’t let yourself bedrawn away upon a false scent, Mr. Phelps. Come to the other endof the street and let us see if we can hear of anything.’
“Nothing was to be lost by following his advice. With thepoliceman we both hurried down, but only to find the street fullof traffic, many people coming and going, but all only too eager toget to a place of safety upon so wet a night. There was no loungerwho could tell us who had passed.
“Then we returned to the office, and searched the stairs andthe passage without result. The corridor which led to the roomwas laid down with a kind of creamy linoleum which shows animpression very easily. We examined it very carefully, but found nooutline of any footmark.”
“Had it been raining all evening?”
“Since about seven.”
“How is it, then, that the woman who came into the room aboutnine left no traces with her muddy boots?”
“I am glad you raised the point. It occurred to me at the time.
The charwomen are in the habit of taking off their boots at thecommissionnaire’s office, and putting on list slippers.”
“That is very clear. There were no marks, then, though the nightwas a wet one? The chain of events is certainly one of extraordinaryinterest. What did you do next?
“We examined the room also. There is no possibility of a secretdoor, and the windows are quite thirty feet from the ground.
Both of them were fastened on the inside. The carpet preventsany possibility of a trapdoor, and the ceiling is of the ordinarywhitewashed kind. I will pledge my life that whoever stole mypapers could only have come through the door.”
“How about the fireplace?”
“They use none. There is a stove. The bell-rope hangs from thewire just to the right of my desk. Whoever rang it must have comeright up to the desk to do it. But why should any criminal wish toring the bell? It is a most insoluble mystery.”
“Certainly the incident was unusual. What were your next steps?
You examined the room, I presume, to see if the intruder had leftany traces—any cigar-end or dropped glove or hairpin or othertrifle?”
“There was nothing of the sort.”
“No smell?”
“Well, we never thought of that.”
“Ah, a scent of tobacco would have been worth a great deal to usin such an investigation.”
“I never smoke myself, so I think I should have observed it ifthere had been any smell of tobacco. There was absolutely no clueof any kind. The only tangible fact was that the commissionnaire’swife—Mrs. Tangey was the name—had hurried out of the place.
He could give no explanation save that it was about the time whenthe woman always went home. The policeman and I agreed thatour best plan would be to seize the woman before she could getrid of the papers, presuming that she had them.
“The alarm had reached Scotland Yard by this time, and Mr.
Forbes, the detective, came round at once and took up the casewith a great deal of energy. We hired a hansom, and in half anhour we were at the address which had been given to us. A youngwoman opened the door, who proved to be Mrs. Tangey’s eldestdaughter. Her mother had not come back yet, and we were showninto the front room to wait.
“About ten minutes later a knock came at the door, and here wemade the one serious mistake for which I blame myself. Instead ofopening the door ourselves, we allowed the girl to do so. We heardher say, ‘Mother, there are two men in the house waiting to seeyou,’ and an instant afterwards we heard the patter of feet rushingdown the passage. Forbes flung open the door, and we both raninto the back room or kitchen, but the woman had got therebefore us. She stared at us with defiant eyes, and then, suddenlyrecognizing me, an expression of absolute astonishment came overher face.
“ ‘Why, if it isn’t Mr. Phelps, of the office!’ she cried.
“ ‘Come, come, who did you think we were when you ran awayfrom us?’ asked my companion.
“ ‘I thought you were the brokers,’ said she, ‘we have had sometrouble with a tradesman.’
“ ‘That’s not quite good enough,’ answered Forbes. ‘We havereason to believe that you have taken a paper of importance fromthe Foreign Office, and that you ran in here to dispose of it. Youmust come back with us to Scotland Yard to be searched.’
“It was in vain that she protested and resisted. A four-wheelerwas brought, and we all three drove back in it. We had first madean examination of the kitchen, and especially of the kitchen fire,to see whether she might have made away with the papers duringthe instant that she was alone. There were no signs, however,of any ashes or scraps. When we reached Scotland Yard she washanded over at once to the female searcher. I waited in an agonyof suspense until she came back with her report. There were nosigns of the papers.
“Then for the first time the horror of my situation came in itsfull force. Hitherto I had been acting, and action had numbedthought. I had been so confident of regaining the treaty at oncethat I had not dared to think of what would be the consequenceif I failed to do so. But now there was nothing more to be done,and I had leisure to realize my position. It was horrible. Watsonthere would tell you that I was a nervous, sensitive boy at school.
