For the next few days, Thorndyke was very much occupied with one or two civil cases, which kept him in court during the whole of the sitting; and when he came home, he seemed indisposed to talk on professional topics. Meanwhile, Polton worked steadily8 at the photographs of the signatures, and, with a view to gaining experience, I assisted him and watched his methods.
In the present case, the signatures were enlarged from their original dimensions—rather less than an inch and a half in length—to a length of four and a half inches; which rendered all the little peculiarities9 of the handwriting surprisingly distinct and conspicuous10. Each signature was eventually mounted on a slip of card bearing a number and the date of the cheque from which it was taken, so that it was possible to place any two signatures together for comparison. I looked over the whole series and very carefully compared those which showed any differences, but without discovering anything more than might have been expected in view of Mr. Britton's statement. There were some trifling11 variations, but they were all very much alike, and no one could doubt, on looking at them, that they were all written by the same hand.
As this, however, was apparently12 not in dispute, it furnished no new information. Thorndyke's object—for I felt certain that he had something definite in his mind—must be to test something apart from the genuineness of the signatures. But what could that something be? I dared not ask him, for questions of that kind were anathema13, so there was nothing for it but to lie low and see what he would do with the photographs.
The whole series was finished on the fourth morning after my adventure at Sloane Square, and the pack of cards was duly delivered by Polton when he brought in the breakfast tray. Thorndyke took up the pack somewhat with the air of a whist player, and, as he ran through them, I noticed that the number had increased from twenty-three to twenty-four.
"The additional one," Thorndyke explained, "is the signature to the first will, which was in Marchmont's possession. I have added it to the collection as it carries us back to an earlier date. The signature of the second will presumably resembles those of the cheques drawn14 about the same date. But that is not material, or, if it should become so, we could claim to examine the second will."
He laid the cards out on the table in the order of their dates and slowly ran his eye down the series. I watched him closely and ventured presently to ask:
"Do you agree with Mr. Britton as to the general identity of character in the whole set of signatures?"
"Yes," he replied. "I should certainly have put them down as being all the signatures of one person. The variations are very slight. The later signatures are a little stiffer, a little more shaky and indistinct, and the B's and k's are both appreciably16 different from those in the earlier ones. But there is another fact which emerges when the whole series is seen together, and it is so striking and significant a fact, that I am astonished at its not having been remarked on by Mr. Britton."
"Indeed!" said I, stooping to examine the photographs with fresh interest; "what is that?"
"It is a very simple fact and very obvious, but yet, as I have said, very significant. Look carefully at number one, which is the signature of the first will, dated three years ago, and compare it with number three, dated the eighteenth of September last year."
"They look to me identical," said I, after a careful comparison.
"So they do to me," said Thorndyke. "Neither of them shows the change that occurred later. But if you look at number two, dated the sixteenth of September, you will see that it is in the later style. So is number four, dated the twenty-third of September; but numbers five and six, both at the beginning of October, are in the earlier style, like the signature of the will. Thereafter all the signatures are in the new style; but, if you compare number two, dated the sixteenth of September with number twenty-four, dated the fourteenth of March of this year—the day of Jeffrey's death—you see that they exhibit no difference. Both are in the 'later style,' but the last shows no greater change than the first. Don't you consider these facts very striking and significant?"
I reflected a few moments, trying to make out the deep significance to which Thorndyke was directing my attention—and not succeeding very triumphantly18.
"You mean," I said, "that the occasional reversions to the earlier form convey some material suggestion?"
"Yes; but more than that. What we learn from an inspection19 of this series is this: that there was a change in the character of the signature; a very slight change, but quite recognizable. Now that change was not gradual or insidious20 nor was it progressive. It occurred at a certain definite time. At first there were one or two reversions to the earlier form, but after number six the new style continued to the end; and you notice that it continued without any increase in the change and without any variation. There are no intermediate forms. Some of the signatures are in the 'old style' and some in the 'new,' but there are none that are half and half. So that, to repeat: We have here two types of signature, very much alike, but distinguishable. They alternate, but do not merge17 into one another to produce intermediate forms. The change occurs abruptly22, but shows no tendency to increase as time goes on; it is not a progressive change. What do you make of that, Jervis?"
"It is very remarkable," I said, poring over the cards to verify Thorndyke's statements. "I don't quite know what to make of it. If the circumstances admitted of the idea of forgery23, one would suspect the genuineness of some of the signatures. But they don't—at any rate, in the case of the later will, to say nothing of Mr. Britton's opinion on the signatures."
"Still," said Thorndyke, "there must be some explanation of the change in the character of the signatures, and that explanation cannot be the failing eyesight of the writer; for that is a gradually progressive and continuous condition, whereas the change in the writing is abrupt21 and intermittent24."
I considered Thorndyke's remark for a few moments; and then a light—though not a very brilliant one—seemed to break on me.
"I think I see what you are driving at," said I. "You mean that the change in the writing must be associated with some new condition affecting the writer, and that that condition existed intermittently25?"
Thorndyke nodded approvingly, and I continued:
"The only intermittent condition that we know of is the effect of opium26. So that we might consider the clearer signatures to have been made when Jeffrey was in his normal state, and the less distinct ones after a bout15 of opium-smoking."
"It suggests that the opium habit had been only recently acquired, since the change was noticed only about the time he went to live at New Inn; and, since the change in the writing is at first intermittent and then continuous, we may infer that the opium-smoking was at first occasional and later became a a confirmed habit."
"Quite a reasonable conclusion and very clearly stated," said Thorndyke. "I don't say that I entirely28 agree with you, or that you have exhausted29 the information that these signatures offer. But you have started in the right direction."
"I may be on the right road," I said gloomily; "but I am stuck fast in one place and I see no chance of getting any farther."
"But you have a quantity of data," said Thorndyke. "You have all the facts that I had to start with, from which I constructed the hypothesis that I am now busily engaged in verifying. I have a few more data now, for 'as money makes money' so knowledge begets30 knowledge, and I put my original capital out to interest. Shall we tabulate31 the facts that are in our joint32 possession and see what they suggest?"
Thorndyke produced a slip of paper from a drawer, and, uncapping his fountain-pen, proceeded to write down the leading facts, reading each aloud as soon as it was written.
"1. The second will was unnecessary since it contained no new matter, expressed no new intentions and met no new conditions, and the first will was quite clear and efficient.
"2. The evident intention of the testator was to leave the bulk of his property to Stephen Blackmore.
"3. The second will did not, under existing circumstances, give effect to this intention, whereas the first will did.
"4. The signature of the second will differs slightly from that of the first, and also from what had hitherto been the testator's ordinary signature.
"And now we come to a very curious group of dates, which I will advise you to consider with great attention.
"5. Mrs. Wilson made her will at the beginning of September last year, without acquainting Jeffrey Blackmore, who seems to have been unaware34 of the existence of this will.
"6. His own second will was dated the twelfth of November of last year.
"7. Mrs. Wilson died of cancer on the twelfth of March this present year.
"8. Jeffrey Blackmore was last seen alive on the fourteenth of March.
"9. His body was discovered on the fifteenth of March.
"10. The change in the character of his signature began about September last year and became permanent after the middle of October.
"You will find that collection of facts repay careful study, Jervis, especially when considered in relation to the further data:
"11. That we found in Blackmore's chambers35 a framed inscription36 of large size, hung upside down, together with what appeared to be the remains37 of a watch-glass and a box of stearine candles and some other objects."
He passed the paper to me and I pored over it intently, focusing my attention on the various items with all the power of my will. But, struggle as I would, no general conclusion could be made to emerge from the mass of apparently disconnected facts.
"Well?" Thorndyke said presently, after watching with grave interest my unavailing efforts; "what do you make of it?"
"Nothing!" I exclaimed desperately38, slapping the paper down on the table. "Of course, I can see that there are some queer coincidences. But how do they bear on the case? I understand that you want to upset this will; which we know to have been signed without compulsion or even suggestion in the presence of two respectable men, who have sworn to the identity of the document. That is your object, I believe?"
"Certainly it is."
"Then I am hanged if I see how you are going to do it. Not, I should say, by offering a group of vague coincidences that would muddle39 any brain but your own."
"Put that paper in your file with your other notes," he said, "and think it over at your leisure. And now I want a little help from you. Have you a good memory for faces?"
"Fairly good, I think. Why?"
"Because I have a photograph of a man whom I think you may have met. Just look at it and tell me if you remember the face."
He drew a cabinet size photograph from an envelope that had come by the morning's post and handed it to me.
"I have certainly seen this face somewhere," said I, taking the portrait over to the window to examine it more thoroughly41, "but I can't, at the moment, remember where."
"Try," said Thorndyke. "If you have seen the face before, you should be able to recall the person."
I looked intently at the photograph, and the more I looked, the more familiar did the face appear. Suddenly the identity of the man flashed into my mind and I exclaimed in astonishment42:
"It can't be that poor creature at Kennington, Mr. Graves?"
"I think it can," replied Thorndyke, "and I think it is. But could you swear to the identity in a court of law?"
"It is my firm conviction that the photograph is that of Mr. Graves. I would swear to that."
"No man ought to swear to more," said Thorndyke. "Identification is always a matter of opinion or belief. The man who will swear unconditionally43 to identity from memory only is a man whose evidence should be discredited44. I think your sworn testimony45 would be sufficient."
It is needless to say that the production of this photograph filled me with amazement46 and curiosity as to how Thorndyke had obtained it. But, as he replaced it impassively in its envelope without volunteering any explanation, I felt that I could not question him directly. Nevertheless, I ventured to approach the subject in an indirect manner.
"Did you get any information from those Darmstadt people?" I asked.
"Schnitzler? Yes. I learned, through the medium of an official acquaintance, that Dr. H. Weiss was a stranger to them; that they knew nothing about him excepting that he had ordered from them, and been supplied with, a hundred grammes of pure hydrochlorate of morphine."
"All at once?"
"No. In separate parcels of twenty-five grammes each."
"Is that all you know about Weiss?"
"It is all that I actually know; but it is not all that I suspect—on very substantial grounds. By the way, what did you think of the coachman?"
"I don't know that I thought very much about him. Why?"
"You never suspected that he and Weiss were one and the same person?"
"No. How could they be? They weren't in the least alike. And one was a Scotchman and the other a German. But perhaps you know that they were the same?"
"I only know what you have told me. But considering that you never saw them together, that the coachman was never available for messages or assistance when Weiss was with you; that Weiss always made his appearance some time after you arrived, and disappeared some time before you left; it has seemed to me that they might have been the same person."
"I should say it was impossible. They were so very different in appearance. But supposing that they were the same; would the fact be of any importance?"
"It would mean that we could save ourselves the trouble of looking for the coachman. And it would suggest some inferences, which will occur to you if you think the matter over. But being only a speculative47 opinion, at present, it would not be safe to infer very much from it."
"You have rather taken me by surprise," I remarked. "It seems that you have been working at this Kennington case, and working pretty actively48 I imagine, whereas I supposed that your entire attention was taken up by the Blackmore affair."
"It doesn't do," he replied, "to allow one's entire attention to be taken up by any one case. I have half a dozen others—minor cases, mostly—to which I am attending at this moment. Did you think I was proposing to keep you under lock and key indefinitely?"
"Well, no. But I thought the Kennington case would have to wait its turn. And I had no idea that you were in possession of enough facts to enable you to get any farther with it."
"But you knew all the very striking facts of the case, and you saw the further evidence that we extracted from the empty house."
"Do you mean those things that we picked out from the rubbish under the grate?"
"Yes. You saw those curious little pieces of reed and the pair of spectacles. They are lying in the top drawer of that cabinet at this moment, and I should recommend you to have another look at them. To me they are most instructive. The pieces of reed offered an extremely valuable suggestion, and the spectacles enabled me to test that suggestion and turn it into actual information."
"Unfortunately," said I, "the pieces of reed convey nothing to me. I don't know what they are or of what they have formed a part."
"I think," he replied, "that if you examine them with due consideration, you will find their use pretty obvious. Have a good look at them and the spectacles too. Think over all that you know of that mysterious group of people who lived in that house, and see if you cannot form some coherent theory of their actions. Think, also, if we have not some information in our possession by which we might be able to identify some of them, and infer the identity of the others. You will have a quiet day, as I shall not be home until the evening; set yourself this task. I assure you that you have the material for identifying—or rather for testing the identity of—at least one of those persons. Go over your material systematically49, and let me know in the evening what further investigations50 you would propose."
"Very well," said I. "It shall be done according to your word. I will addle51 my brain afresh with the affair of Mr. Weiss and his patient, and let the Blackmore case rip."
"There is no need to do that. You have a whole day before you. An hour's really close consideration of the Kennington case ought to show you what your next move should be, and then you could devote yourself to the consideration of Jeffrey Blackmore's will."
With this final piece of advice, Thorndyke collected the papers for his day's work, and, having deposited them in his brief bag, took his departure, leaving me to my meditations52.
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1
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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6
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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appreciably
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| adv.相当大地 | |
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merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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tabulate
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| v.列表，排成表格式 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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conned
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| adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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40
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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unconditionally
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| adv.无条件地 | |
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discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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45
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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46
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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48
actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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50
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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51
addle
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| v.使腐坏，使昏乱 | |
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52
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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