Henry Augustus Hering

THE LAST CHRONICLE.

Gilbert Brown, second Baron Lothersdale, was generally regarded as being the best business man in the country. His talent for affairs was doubtless hereditary, as his father had successfully kept a big emporium before seeking the parliamentary honours which led to higher things. His son, in his turn, entered Parliament, and quickly ran the gamut of two under-secretaryships and the Cabinet. The Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland and the Governor-Generalship of India would undoubtedly have been his, but for the impossibility of associating Brown's Bayswater Bazaar with those regal positions.

When, therefore, the last of six successive schemes for the reorganisation of the British Army had fallen to the parliamentary floor and broken in pieces, it was felt that there was only one man who could tackle the matter, and bring it to a successful issue. Lord Lothersdale's tenure of the Postmaster-Generalship was remembered with pride by a grateful nation. Under his management the reply-postcard business, which had hitherto dragged and lost money, had become a popular and remunerative department, while his penny-in-the-slot form of application for Government annuities was an innovation as brilliant in conception as it was profitable in results.

When the country learnt that to Lord Lothersdale had been entrusted the task of reforming the Army it heaved a sigh of content, for it knew that the work was now as good as done; and when the news reached the Continent the officers of the Great General Staff of the German Army were noticed to wear a sad and pensive look unusual to them.

To accomplish the work that in the past twenty years alone had cost thousands of lives and millions of money, besides incidentally destroying six first-class parliamentary reputations, Lord Lothersdale retired to Moors, his Berkshire seat, and there, in his study overlooking the deer park, he accumulated his evidence and dictated his Report.

From time to time paragraphs appeared in the papers that Lord Lothersdale was busy at his work, or that he was making progress therein, and at last word went round that he was now putting the final touches to his Report, which would be laid before the Cabinet the following week.

Then it was that his Grace of Dorchester decided that Mr. Drummond Eyre must show the same Report at the next meeting of the Burglars' Club, if he wished to continue his membership thereof.

George Drummond Eyre was a Leicestershire man, an ex-guardsman, and a shooter of big game. He received the news of his mission without comment, and proceeded to make himself acquainted with the habits of his lordship of Lothersdale. He was still pursuing these investigations when he read in the Morning Mail:—

"Lord Lothersdale is just completing his work of reorganising the British Army on paper with the thoroughness which we associate with his name. Not content with revising the duties attached to the highest offices, with altering the length of service, and the pay of officer and private, his lordship is actually winding up with suggestions for a new full-dress uniform for our soldiers. The traditional red is to be discarded, and hues more in keeping with the aesthetic taste of the age will supplant it, in the hope of attracting a superior class of men to the army. We hear that Mr. Bower, the eminent tailor, was last week at Moors, and that to-day a member of his staff will arrive there with sample uniforms for his lordship's inspection. History is in making at Moors."

"Good!" said Eyre, with obvious satisfaction, as he read this paragraph. "This fits in well. I'm in luck's way."

That was at nine o'clock in the morning. At ten o'clock he drove up to Mr. Bower's well-known establishment, and sent in a card on which was printed in unostentatious letters, "Mr. Luke Sinnott," and in the bottom corner "Criminal Investigation Dept., New Scotland Yard."

In a few minutes he was shown into Mr. Bower's private room.

Mr. Bower was a ponderous gentleman. In a higher station of life he would have been a Dean.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Sinnott?" he inquired, eyeing his visitor over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses.

"I have come on important business, sir," said the pseudo-Sinnott. He went back to the door, and closed it cautiously, then deposited his hat and gloves on the table with a precision which impressed the tailor with a sense of deep mystery.

"I think you have just been to Moors," he said, after these preliminaries.

"That is so," replied the tailor, with unnatural indifference.

"And one of your people is going there to-day with some sample uniforms?"

"I am going there to-day with a sample uniform."

"Quite so. You are aware that Lord Lothersdale is working on a very important report?"

"Of course I am."

Mr. Sinnott came a step nearer to the tailor, and dropped his voice to an impressive whisper.

"What I am going to tell you," he continued, "is in the strictest confidence. A Continental Power that shall be nameless, but whose identity you, as a man of the world, will be able to guess, is moving heaven and earth to get to know what that report contains. It is certain that whatever Lord Lothersdale suggests will be carried out by our government, and this will immediately influence the military policy of the Power in question. Moreover, there are some secret portions of this report which will never be made public. Therefore this foreign power is striving to get sight of it before it leaves Lord Lothersdale's hands.

"One spy has already been detected and warned off by our man who is established in the village, but we have just learnt that another agent has obtained admission to the house itself, by taking service as a footman. On a previous occasion we alarmed Lord Lothersdale, without any real grounds, as it eventually turned out, and we should not care to repeat the incident. It is therefore essential that I, who know this man, should have the opportunity of seeing if he really is there, without anyone—not even his lordship—knowing who I am. With your assistance this will be possible; and I have come from Scotland Yard to ask you to allow me to go with you to Moors to-day, ostensibly as connected with your firm. If you will assist us in this matter you will not find us ungrateful. Scotland Yard does not forget, and some day it may be in our power to be of use to you. In the meantime, you will have done your country a great service."

Mr. Bower was considerably impressed by this speech. He had come back from Moors full of importance. He was most certainly assisting in preserving the integrity of the empire, and it was quite in keeping with this feeling that he should take part in the international complication outlined by his visitor. He appeared to weigh the matter judicially for a few minutes. Then he said solemnly, "We will give you our co-operation in this affair, Mr. Sinnott."

"Thank you, Mr. Bower," said the "detective."

So at one o'clock that afternoon Mr. Bower, accompanied by his new assistant, took train for Moors. In another compartment travelled a sample corporal of the British Army, who was to show off the uniform which Mr. Bower had designed under Lord Lothersdale's instructions.

It was a two-hours' journey, but Mr. Sinnott found it all too short in Mr. Bower's improving society, for that gentleman expounded views on life from a new standpoint.

"No, sir," he said, "things are not what they used to be. Gentlemen—noblemen, especially, I regret to state—do not display that intelligent attention to dress which they used to, even within my own recollection Lord Lothersdale is a notable exception, but enumerate any other statesmen you like, and if left to their own unaided judgment—I say it with all due deference—they would go to pieces. I assure you, upon my honour, at the end of six months you would be liable to mistake any one of them for a foreigner. You would scarcely think it, Mr. Sinnott, but no less than five members of the present Government are too busy to give a thought to their dress at all."

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Sinnott.

"I do. 'Bower,' they say, 'keep your eye on us, and whenever you think that we are gettin' shabby make us some new clothes, and we will wear them. We leave it all to you.' It is flatterin', sir, I suppose, to have such reliance placed in your judgment, but it demonstrates the absence of—shall I term it proper self-respect?—which is deplorable, absolutely deplorable. It has made me a firm believer in the degeneration of the race.

"Of course, to keep the Cabinet well-dressed is the principal object of my existence, and I flatter myself that under my superintendence the present Cabinet will compare favourably in taste and style with any previous one. But it is anxious, even harassin' work to decide what particular cut, colour, and texture will most suitably harmonise with each individual temperament. They cannot afford the time for interviews, so I have to anticipate the movements of ministers, and go out of my way to meet them. I track them down, as it were, and make my observations in the street, as best I can. Would you believe it, Mr. Sinnott, I was one day actually arrested for suspiciously followin' the Secretary of State for India? His trousers were positively baggin' at the knees. I couldn't take my eyes off them, and one of your smart young constables took me to Bow Street. Most humiliatin', I call it; and all because of my devotion to duty and the honour of the nation."

"Shocking," said Mr. Sinnott. "I sympathise with you, Mr. Bower. I should like to know the name of that constable."

"His name was Simpson—Archibald Simpson," replied the tailor.

Mr. Sinnott made a note of the name, and Mr. Bower continued:

"But, as I previously observed, Lord Lothersdale is a horse of another colour, if I may make use of such an expression. It is an inspiration to meet him. He is the busiest gentleman in England—bar none—but he is never too busy for a try-on or for a consultation. He is gifted, sir. He has ideas that would amaze you. The single-breasted frock-coat was his creation. What do you think of that?"

"You do astonish me, Mr. Bower. I had no idea of it."

"I knew you had not—that is where the greatness of the man comes in. It is his conception, and he is fully aware that the credit of it is attributed to me—but he does not mind. There is no petty jealousy of the profession about him. Then, silk breeches for evenin' wear. That is another of his grand ideas. You must have silk breeches if you visit at Moors, or you do not receive a second invitation. He is drastic in his methods, is my lord—a regular Roman. Mark my words, Mr. Sinnott, if the fashion takes it will be owin' to the influence of Lord Lothersdale, and once get the nation into silk breeches, and you do not know to what heights it may attain. It will be the beginnin' of a new era, the like of which no man livin' has known. I only hope I shall be here to witness its dawn."

Mr. Bower's eyes glistened, and his cheeks flushed in anticipation. Even Mr. Sinnott caught a little of his enthusiasm.

It was half-past three when they reached Moors. Lord Lothersdale could not see them until after dinner. At that moment a Japanese Surgeon-General was with him, explaining how they managed their field hospitals in the Far East. He had come by special permission of the Mikado, and had to return to the seat of war by the six o'clock train.

At nine o'clock the corporal was arrayed in the proposed new uniform for the Line—a taking arrangement in heliotrope, the outcome of Lord Lothersdale's creative genius and Mr. Bower's executive ability.

At nine-thirty they were admitted into Lord Lothersdale's study. The great man was in a genial mood, the result, no doubt, of an instructive afternoon and a good dinner.

He walked round the corporal, and inspected him critically.

"By Jove! Bower," he said at last, "you've done the trick. Capital! And your idea of primrose facings was quite right, after all."

"I am glad that you approve of it, my lord," said the beaming tailor.

"I do. And the country will, too. There'll be some recruiting when this gets out." Then he knitted his brows. "I think the cuffs are a shade too deep, though. I'm sure they are. But half-an-inch—no, a quarter—will put it right."

"A quarter-of-an-inch off the cuff facin's. Make a note of that," said Mr. Bower to his assistant, who had his pocket-book ready.

"You'll have it done by breakfast time, please," said Lord Lothersdale, "so that I can see how it looks by daylight. A photographer will be here, as I want some coloured prints for the Appendix."

Then the little deputation withdrew. The whole interview had not occupied more than five minutes, and most of that time the tailor's assistant had been taking his bearings, and trying to locate the report. That was surely it—a business-like foolscap volume on the desk. The secretary was writing in it when they entered, and later on he had carefully put it in the top left-hand drawer. The assistant manoeuvred round to the desk during the interview, and after taking particulars of the alterations required, he laid down his notebook, and deliberately left it there.

At two o'clock in the morning, when the whole household was presumably fast asleep, Mr. Bower's assistant suddenly remembered that he had left his notebook downstairs, and decided to recover it at once rather than wait till morning. He therefore made his way cautiously to Lord Lothersdale's study. He accomplished the return journey without any untoward event happening; but he brought back with him, in addition to the notebook, a manuscript volume, which he deposited in his handbag.

The alterations in the cuff facings were duly made by breakfast time. At nine o'clock Lord Lothersdale approved of the result. By nine-fifteen the corporal had been photographed in several attitudes—one of which now adorns the recruiting posters—and by nine-thirty the party was driving to the railway station, incidentally meeting a troop of Hussars on the march to Moors for purposes of the Appendix.

"That is what I call business," said Mr. Bower, as they took their seats in the train at the last moment. "No time is lost in dealin' with Lord Lothersdale. I hope that you got to know all you wanted."

"All," replied Mr. Sinnott. "We have evidently been misinformed, for the man I wanted is not there. If we'd made a fuss about it to Lord Lothersdale we should have been sorry. As it is, we are very much obliged to you, Mr. Bower, and we shan't forget it."

"The next business," said the Hon. Sec. at the Burglars' Club meeting that same evening, "is the payment by Mr. Drummond Eyre of his subscription for the next two years by the production of Lord Lothersdale's Report on the Army."

"Here it is," said Eyre, producing a manuscript volume.

A subdued murmur of applause ran round.

The President took up the book and glanced at it. "This seems to be in order," he said, turning to the end. "Lothersdale signs——"

He broke off suddenly. The door had opened without any warning, and a little sharp-featured individual entered, followed by half a dozen other men.

"In the name of the King," said the first comer, "I arrest George Drummond Eyre for feloniously stealing, taking, and carrying away certain papers, namely a Report, the property of the Right Honourable Gilbert Brown, Baron Lothersdale, and I arrest all others present as accessories."

Members rose to their feet, and simultaneously made a move towards the door, with the evident intention of resisting the intrusion.

Mr. Marvell—for it was he—held up his hand warningly. "There are more men outside," he said. "Resistance is useless."

"Where's your authority for all this?" demanded the Secretary.

"Here, sir," said Marvell, pulling out a bundle of papers from a capacious pocket. "Here are the warrants. 'Mr. George Drummond Eyre,'" he called out, reading from the pile. "Here you are, sir. 'The Duke of Dorchester.' Here, your Grace. 'The Earl of Ribston.' Here, my lord. 'Mr. Hilton,' 'Major Anstruther,'" and so on through the list of members. "You will find these quite in order, I think. Now, gentlemen, if you please. I have concluded that you would prefer to ride. Thompson, fetch the hansoms round."

"Stop!" called out Ribston. "What are you going to do with us?"

"Take you to Vine Street Station."

"Nonsense. We're not criminals."

"You can argue that out with the magistrate to-morrow, my lord," said the detective. "Here are the warrants, and I'm going to execute them. If the proceedings are not in order, you can claim reparation in the usual way. Now, gentlemen, please. If you will give your word to come quietly you will save time and trouble."

"Does the Home Secretary know of this?" asked the Duke.

"We don't report police court details to the Home Secretary," said Marvell, acidly. "No, sir, he doesn't."

"Then I demand to see him before these warrants are executed," said Dorchester.

"Impossible, your Grace," said Marvell, who twice before had been defrauded of his legitimate prey. Not again was he going to run the risk of undue favour staying the hand of Justice. He had now in his possession a batch of prisoners so notable that next day his name would ring from one end of the world to the other. "Impossible," was the obvious reply.

"May I write a letter?" asked the Duke.

"No, your Grace, you may not," replied Marvell firmly. "You are now a prisoner, and you will please come with me without more delay. Now, gentlemen, will you pass your words to come quietly? You can cause trouble if you like, but we are more than equal to you in numbers, so there could only be one end to the matter."

Dorchester consulted Ribston and the Secretary. The others nodded reluctant consent. Word was given, and they passed out. The house doors were flung open, and they filed into the street, where a dozen hansoms were in line, a dozen policemen in waiting, and a small but inevitable crowd had collected.

"Ask Colonel Altamont to see the Home Secretary at once," said Dorchester to his butler, as he was helped into his coat.

The old man stood there petrified by the horror of the proceedings. He had been in the family for generations. Three Dukes of Dorchester had he known in all their glory. Kings, Queens, and Potentates had flitted in and out of the ducal mansion with his masters, and now he had lived to see the last of the line taken away like a thief, for some terrible crime. He heard the Duke's words to him, but they conveyed no impression to his brain. He did not reply. The police, the bustle in the hall, the crowd outside, the driving away of the prisoners, all was as a horrible nightmare to him.

"His Grace said you were to tell Colonel Altamont to go at once to the Home Secretary, Mr. Bolton," said the footman, who had held the Duke's coat.

"Ha!" said Bolton, waking from his stupor. He caught hold of a hat, and ran out of the house.

Altamont had not been able to be present that evening. Business of importance had detained him, and he had only just got back to his rooms when Bolton turned up. He started off at once to the Home Secretary, and after exasperating interviews with a footman, a butler, and a private secretary, was at length admitted to the presence of that high personage, who was in his dressing gown, and considerably annoyed at this interruption to his slumbers.

The Colonel explained the situation.

"Is that all?" asked the Home Secretary when he had finished.

"All, sir!" cried the indignant Colonel. "Dorchester, Ribston, Anstruther, and a dozen others, arrested by your policemen, and you ask 'Is that all?'"

"Colonel," said the Minister, emphasising his remarks with his forefinger in Old Bailey style, "Dorchester, Ribston, and the whole lot should have known better—very much better. They've had their sport, and now they've got to pay for it. I can't interfere. If the jury recommend them to mercy I'll give them the benefit of any doubt, and will save them from hanging; but that's all I can promise. Now have a whiskey and soda, and go to bed."

Altamont declined the whiskey and soda, and left the Minister indignantly. On his doorstep he was promptly arrested by Marvell, who had a couple of warrants left over after depositing his prisoners at Vine Street. The last warrant could not be served that night, as the member in question happened to be visiting a friend in Nova Zembla.

Mr. Marvell took good care that the news of the arrest of the Duke of Dorchester, the Earl of Ribston, and the other more or less distinguished members of the Burglars' Club, should be at once communicated to the Press in case some influential friend should intervene at the last moment, and once more defraud him of his due. The morning's papers were full of the news, with the result that the Marlborough Street Police Court was filled to overflowing long before the proceedings commenced. The Peerage, the Diplomatic Service, the Commons, the Army and the Navy, the Stage and Sport, were well represented. Every inch of space, including the bench itself, was filled, and fair women and brave men were turned away.

Half a dozen ordinary cases were quickly disposed of. Then the extraordinary case was called, and the spectators involuntarily rose to their feet as the Burglars filed into the dock, and took their stand two deep behind the brass rail. A murmur of sympathy went round as they stood there—some of them obviously interested in the proceedings, others apparently bored by them—all well-groomed, straight set-up men, though their evening dress looked incongruous enough in the daylight, and their crumpled shirt-fronts did not show to advantage.

One by one the prisoners' names were called. One by one the prisoners answered.

Then counsel for the Crown stood up, and having stated that the charge against the prisoners was that of stealing a Report, the property of Lord Lothersdale, he opened his case and called the first witness—Mr. Bower.

Mr. Bower entered the box, and adjusted his pince-nez with extreme nicety. Under counsel's lead he detailed how the so-called Sinnott had introduced himself.

"I had no doubt at all as to his bona fides," said the tailor, lingering lovingly over the Latin words; "but immediately afterwards I had a wire from Moors asking me to postpone my visit to his lordship. I rang up Scotland Yard to inform Mr. Sinnott of the alteration, and learnt that he was unknown there. Then I informed the authorities of the whole matter, with the result that our original intention was followed, and every facility allowed to Mr. Sinnott for carry out his plans."

"Done! By Jove!" gasped Eyre.

Lord Lothersdale's secretary then gave evidence that the Report now produced in court was the property of his lordship.

"Of course," he added smilingly, "the real Report is still at Moors. This one, though signed for the present purpose by Lord Lothersdale, has no value. It was drawn up three years ago by a former Secretary of State for War," he explained.

Then there was formal evidence of the arrest from Mr. Marvell, who was allowed to speak at length.

"For some time past, your worship," he said, "we have been aware of the existence of what is called 'The Burglars' Club,' composed of noblemen and gentlemen such as your worship sees before you. Our information was derived in the first instance from a discharged servant of one of the members. In revenge for his dismissal he told us of proceedings he had witnessed at his master's house on one occasion, when he was concealed behind a curtain in the room.

"He furnished us with a list of members, and ever since then we have had them under observation. These gentlemen amuse themselves by stealing articles of great value or of public interest. We know for a fact that at one time and another they have obtained unlawful possession of the Koh-i-noor Diamond, the Mace of the House of Commons, Lord Illingworth's Black Pearl, an ounce of Radium from Professor Blyth's laboratory, and even the Great Seal of the United Kingdom itself."

"Good old burglars!" called out an admiring listener at the back of the court.

"Silence!" shouted an indignant usher.

"We have waited, your worship, until we could interfere successfully, knowing that it was only a question of time for us to do so. I have twice been called in on the occasion of a burglary committed by a member of the club, and in each case—of course against my wishes—no charge was made. In this particular instance the member walked straight into the trap."

This closed the case for the Crown, and counsel proceeded to urge the seriousness of the offence, and the necessity for a severe sentence, not only as a just punishment, but as an example.

Counsel for the prisoners now rose. He was the famous Mr. Spiller, who had earned the well-deserved sobriquet of "The prisoner's pal."

He stood up with a twinkle in his eye, and an air of confidence that gladdened the hearts of the ladies on the bench.

"Your worship," he began, "I shall not detain the Court more than a very few minutes, for I admit all the evidence that has been tendered. The last witness gave a list of articles illegally taken by my clients. If he wishes, I will add to the list another half-dozen instances of equal importance."

"Bravo! Go it, Spiller!" called out the sympathiser at the back, whose sporting instincts were too strong for him. This time he was surrounded by ushers and ejected.

"But, sir," continued counsel, when quiet had again been restored, "I must emphasize a point which has been completely and unaccountably lost sight of by the prosecution. Not one of the articles taken by my clients has been retained by them for longer than twenty-four hours. Within that period every article has been restored to its owner. Restitution has always been made, and compensation given whenever compensation was necessary.

"We in this court have many times had occasion to admire the abilities of Mr. Marvell as a detective, but I would now suggest that he should go through a course of Stephen's 'Commentaries' in order to obtain a little knowledge of the law which he is in the constant habit of putting into force. I cannot too strongly denounce the unwarrantable action of Scotland Yard in submitting my clients to the indignity of an arrest and these proceedings upon the evidence in their possession. They must know—or their office-boy or charwoman is capable of instructing them in the fact—that by English law no person can be guilty of larceny who does not intend permanently to deprive its owner of the article of which he has gained possession. Mere conversion, though accompanied by trespass, is nothing more than a civil wrong, for which possibly my clients might be liable to a farthing damages.

"Surely," concluded Mr. Spiller, "life is dull and prosaic enough without this high-handed and unwarranted attempt of Scotland Yard to extinguish an original, if not laudable, effort on the part of my clients to add to the dexterity and the gaiety of the nation. Your worship, I submit there is no evidence against my clients, and ask for the immediate discharge of the prisoners."

As Mr. Spiller spoke, the countenance of the prosecuting counsel was observed to become exceedingly gloomy, while Mr. Marvell's complexion turned distinctly green.

Then the magistrate spoke. He began with the usual reprimand to the spectators, and the usual threat to have the place cleared if the ordinary decencies of a Court of Justice were not maintained. Then he turned to the prisoners, and said:

"I am sorry to see men of your social position in the dock before me, but you have only yourselves to thank for it. Your counsel has spoken of your laudable and original effort to add to the gaiety of the nation. People's idea of humour varies, and, personally, I see nothing very funny in what you have done. I certainly think that your efforts might have been more worthily engaged. Some of you are members of the Houses of Parliament, and I really do not know how you reconcile this club with your position as the law-makers of the land; but of course it may be that this is part of the humour to which your counsel referred. With regard to the legal aspect of the matter, it is clear that no criminal offence has been committed, though if Lord Lothersdale desires, you may have to answer elsewhere a claim for damages. You are discharged."

It was in vain that the ushers tried to stop the cheers that went up as the magistrate concluded, and as the doors of the dock opened and the prisoners came forth. But one little man crept away from the well of the court, unnoticed and unrejoicing.

Two days later a special meeting of the Club was held, at which it was proposed by Colonel Altamont and seconded by the President:—

"That, as according to the decision of the Marlborough Street Police Court magistrate, the proceedings of the Burglars' Club are neither criminal nor humorous, and its members run no danger of suffering personal inconvenience, it is hereby resolved that the Club has no connection with Sport, and therefore no reason for existence, and that it be disbanded forthwith."

A fortnight later the disbanding of the Club was celebrated by a dinner, the guest of the evening being Mr. Marvell. After dessert the detective was presented with the minute-book of the Club, which had been kept in cipher by the Hon. Sec., who alone had the key to it. The ex-President, in making the presentation, expressed the hope that Mr. Marvell would spend many happy and profitable years in endeavouring to decipher it.

Mr. Marvell, in reply, thanked the company for their kind reception of him, and for the gift, which he would treasure. He would certainly follow his Grace's suggestion and endeavour to decipher the minutes, and he still hoped that with this additional evidence and a more intimate acquaintance with the "Commentaries" of Mr. Stephen, he would before long be enabled to return their hospitality at His Majesty's expense.

Mr. Marvell's speech was received with acclamation; but his hopes have not been realised.

This is the last chronicle of the Burglars' Club.