My Lady's Money Read online

  PART THE SECOND.

  THE DISCOVERY.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  ON the day after Isabel's departure, diligent Mr. Troy set forth for theHead Office in Whitehall to consult the police on the question of themissing money. He had previously sent information of the robbery tothe Bank of England, and had also advertised the loss in the dailynewspapers.

  The air was so pleasant, and the sun was so bright, that he determinedon proceeding to his destination on foot. He was hardly out of sight ofhis own offices when he was overtaken by a friend, who was alsowalking in the direction of Whitehall. This gentleman was a personof considerable worldly wisdom and experience; he had been officiallyassociated with cases of striking and notorious crime, in whichGovernment had lent its assistance to discover and punish the criminals.The opinion of a person in this position might be of the greatest valueto Mr. Troy, whose practice as a solicitor had thus far never broughthim into collision with thieves and mysteries. He accordingly decided,in Isabel's interests, on confiding to his friend the nature of hiserrand to the police. Concealing the name, but concealing nothing else,he described what had happened on the previous day at Lady Lydiard'shouse, and then put the question plainly to his companion.

  "What would you do in my place?"

  "In your place," his friend answered quietly, "I should not waste timeand money in consulting the police."

  "Not consult the police!" exclaimed Mr. Troy in amazement. "Surely, Ihave not made myself understood? I am going to the Head Office; andI have got a letter of introduction to the chief inspector in thedetective department. I am afraid I omitted to mention that?"

  "It doesn't make any difference," proceeded the other, as coolly asever. "You have asked for my advice, and I give you my advice. Tearup your letter of introduction, and don't stir a step further in thedirection of Whitehall."

  Mr. Troy began to understand. "You don't believe in the detectivepolice?" he said.

  "Who _can_ believe in them, who reads his newspaper and rememberswhat he reads?" his friend rejoined. "Fortunately for the detectivedepartment, the public in general forgets what it reads. Go to yourclub, and look at the criminal history of our own time, recorded in thenewspapers. Every crime is more or less a mystery. You will see thatthe mysteries which the police discover are, almost without exception,mysteries made penetrable by the commonest capacity, through theextraordinary stupidity exhibited in the means taken to hide thecrime. On the other hand, let the guilty man or woman be a resolute andintelligent person, capable of setting his (or her) wits fairly againstthe wits of the police--in other words, let the mystery really _be_a mystery--and cite me a case if you can (a really difficult andperplexing case) in which the criminal has not escaped. Mind! I don'tcharge the police with neglecting their work. No doubt they do theirbest, and take the greatest pains in following the routine to which theyhave been trained. It is their misfortune, not their fault, that thereis no man of superior intelligence among them--I mean no man who iscapable, in great emergencies, of placing himself above conventionalmethods, and following a new way of his own. There have been such men inthe police--men naturally endowed with that faculty of mental analysiswhich can decompose a mystery, resolve it into its component parts,and find the clue at the bottom, no matter how remote from ordinaryobservation it may be. But those men have died, or have retired. Oneof them would have been invaluable to you in the case you have justmentioned to me. As things are, unless you are wrong in believing in theyoung lady's innocence, the person who has stolen that bank-note willbe no easy person to find. In my opinion, there is only one man now inLondon who is likely to be of the slightest assistance to you--and he isnot in the police."

  "Who is he?" asked Mr. Troy.

  "An old rogue, who was once in your branch of the legal profession,"the friend answered. "You may, perhaps, remember the name: they call him'Old Sharon.'"

  "What! The scoundrel who was struck off the Roll of Attorneys, yearssince? Is he still alive?"

  "Alive and prospering. He lives in a court or lane running out of LongAcre, and he offers advice to persons interested in recovering missingobjects of any sort. Whether you have lost your wife, or lost yourcigar-case, Old Sharon is equally useful to you. He has an inbredcapacity for reading the riddle the right way in cases of mystery, greator small. In short, he possesses exactly that analytical faculty towhich I alluded just now. I have his address at my office, if you thinkit worth while to try him."

  "Who can trust such a man?" Mr. Troy objected. "He would be sure todeceive me."

  "You are entirely mistaken. Since he was struck off the Rolls Old Sharonhas discovered that the straight way is, on the whole, the best way,even in a man's own interests. His consultation fee is a guinea; and hegives a signed estimate beforehand for any supplementary expensesthat may follow. I can tell you (this is, of course, strictly betweenourselves) that the authorities at my office took his advice in aGovernment case that puzzled the police. We approached him, of course,through persons who were to be trusted to represent us, withoutbetraying the source from which their instructions were derived; and wefound the old rascal's advice well worth paying for. It is quite likelythat he may not succeed so well in your case. Try the police, by allmeans; and, if they fail, why, there is Sharon as a last resort."

  This arrangement commended itself to Mr. Troy's professional caution. Hewent on to Whitehall, and he tried the detective police.

  They at once adopted the obvious conclusion to persons of ordinarycapacity--the conclusion that Isabel was the thief.

  Acting on this conviction, the authorities sent an experienced womanfrom the office to Lady Lydiard's house, to examine the poor girl'sclothes and ornaments before they were packed up and sent after her toher aunt's. The search led to nothing. The only objects of any valuethat were discovered had been presents from Lady Lydiard. No jewelers'or milliners' bills were among the papers found in her desk. Not a signof secret extravagance in dress was to be seen anywhere. Defeated sofar, the police proposed next to have Isabel privately watched. Theremight be a prodigal lover somewhere in the background, with ruin staringhim in the face unless he could raise five hundred pounds. Lady Lydiard(who had only consented to the search under stress of persuasiveargument from Mr. Troy) resented this ingenious idea as an insult. Shedeclared that if Isabel was watched the girl should know of it instantlyfrom her own lips. The police listened with perfect resignation anddecorum, and politely shifted their ground. A certain suspicion (theyremarked) always rested in cases of this sort on the servants. Wouldher Ladyship object to private inquiries into the characters andproceedings of the servants? Her Ladyship instantly objected, in themost positive terms. Thereupon the "Inspector" asked for a minute'sprivate conversation with Mr. Troy. "The thief is certainly a memberof Lady Lydiard's household," this functionary remarked, in hispolitely-positive way. "If her Ladyship persists in refusing to let usmake the necessary inquiries, our hands are tied, and the case comesto an end through no fault of ours. If her Ladyship changes her mind,perhaps you will drop me a line, sir, to that effect. Good-morning."

  So the experiment of consulting the police came to an untimely end.The one result obtained was the expression of purblind opinion by theauthorities of the detective department which pointed to Isabel, or toone of the servants, as the undiscovered thief. Thinking the matter overin the retirement of his own office--and not forgetting his promise toIsabel to leave no means untried of establishing her innocence--Mr. Troycould see but one alternative left to him. He took up his pen, and wroteto his friend at the Government office. There was nothing for it now butto run the risk, and try Old Sharon.