DOI article:
Kerfoot, John B., The Cloak-Room Mystery
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.30587#0044
A manually made transcription or edition is also available for this page. Please change to the tab "transrciption" or "edition."
“ Mr. Creswell,” said Holford, " you carry it off excellently, but — the
jig’s up. Helmholz is somewhere about; if you’ll come with me to the
library, we'll send for him and settle this thing as quietly as possible.” Cres-
well looked at him a moment and then said, very quietly: " My dear fellow,
I give you my word I don’t know what you’re talking about; but you
seem to be in earnest. Go on, I'll follow you.”
Arrived at the little room known as the library, Holford beckoned
Bronson and Davies and, having silently pointed to Creswell’s tell-tale
fingers, asked Davies to find Helmholz and ask him to join them.
A somewhat uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Davies’ return,
accompanied by Stenson, whom he had found working at one of the lantern-
slide cameras, and by Helmholz, whom he had found in the bromide-room.
All eyes naturally turned to the president as he entered, but, having turned
to him naturally, they proceeded to stare at him quite unnaturally.
Down the left side of his very handsome and protuberant German nose
was a smudge of deep, greasy purple.
" Vell, chentlemen ? ” he said.
But there are few things in the world more disconcerting than a con-
certed stare, and this one pierced even the proof-armor of Mr. Helm-
holz's Teutonic complacency. He hesitated uneasily and raised his hand
in an involuntary gesture. His thumb and index-finger were stained with
greasy purple.
Holford recovered himself first. " Mr. Helmholz," he began, " you
are, I believe, familiar with the Cloak-room Mystery. This afternoon
Davies, Bronson, and I put some odd change in an old coat-pocket, together
with some aniline dye. Creswell, here, came in, spent nearly three minutes
in the cloak-room, and then walked back toward the workrooms with his
hand concealed in his pocket. I followed him and, finding that his thumb
and fingers were stained with the dye, insisted upon his coming here and
being confronted with you. The evidence seemed conclusive, but — but
now-” His voice trailed off into a hesitating silence and his eyes, like
those of each of the four occupants of the small room, fastened themselves
on the president’s right hand.
Mr. Helmholz, following the trail of this converging gaze, raised his
hand and looked at it, his expression slowly changing from one of offended
dignity to a blank and incredulous astonishment.
How long this tableau would have been prolonged, it is hard to say. It
was dissolved by an exclamation from Creswell. Open-mouthed and speech-
less, he was pointing, first to Stenson’s left hand, and then to Davies's right.
Just then the library door opened and the bristly head of Cross, the
chairman of the house committee, was thrust in. " I give you fellows
warning,” he said in his taciturn, growling voice, " that I'm not going to
stand for this kind of horse-play. Some smart Aleck has smeared the
thumb-screws of both lantern-slide cameras and all the electric turn-buttons
with typewriter ink. Just look at my hands! ”
******
30
jig’s up. Helmholz is somewhere about; if you’ll come with me to the
library, we'll send for him and settle this thing as quietly as possible.” Cres-
well looked at him a moment and then said, very quietly: " My dear fellow,
I give you my word I don’t know what you’re talking about; but you
seem to be in earnest. Go on, I'll follow you.”
Arrived at the little room known as the library, Holford beckoned
Bronson and Davies and, having silently pointed to Creswell’s tell-tale
fingers, asked Davies to find Helmholz and ask him to join them.
A somewhat uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Davies’ return,
accompanied by Stenson, whom he had found working at one of the lantern-
slide cameras, and by Helmholz, whom he had found in the bromide-room.
All eyes naturally turned to the president as he entered, but, having turned
to him naturally, they proceeded to stare at him quite unnaturally.
Down the left side of his very handsome and protuberant German nose
was a smudge of deep, greasy purple.
" Vell, chentlemen ? ” he said.
But there are few things in the world more disconcerting than a con-
certed stare, and this one pierced even the proof-armor of Mr. Helm-
holz's Teutonic complacency. He hesitated uneasily and raised his hand
in an involuntary gesture. His thumb and index-finger were stained with
greasy purple.
Holford recovered himself first. " Mr. Helmholz," he began, " you
are, I believe, familiar with the Cloak-room Mystery. This afternoon
Davies, Bronson, and I put some odd change in an old coat-pocket, together
with some aniline dye. Creswell, here, came in, spent nearly three minutes
in the cloak-room, and then walked back toward the workrooms with his
hand concealed in his pocket. I followed him and, finding that his thumb
and fingers were stained with the dye, insisted upon his coming here and
being confronted with you. The evidence seemed conclusive, but — but
now-” His voice trailed off into a hesitating silence and his eyes, like
those of each of the four occupants of the small room, fastened themselves
on the president’s right hand.
Mr. Helmholz, following the trail of this converging gaze, raised his
hand and looked at it, his expression slowly changing from one of offended
dignity to a blank and incredulous astonishment.
How long this tableau would have been prolonged, it is hard to say. It
was dissolved by an exclamation from Creswell. Open-mouthed and speech-
less, he was pointing, first to Stenson’s left hand, and then to Davies's right.
Just then the library door opened and the bristly head of Cross, the
chairman of the house committee, was thrust in. " I give you fellows
warning,” he said in his taciturn, growling voice, " that I'm not going to
stand for this kind of horse-play. Some smart Aleck has smeared the
thumb-screws of both lantern-slide cameras and all the electric turn-buttons
with typewriter ink. Just look at my hands! ”
******
30
