Speaker 1: The clue of the silver spoons. When the card was
brought in to me, I looked upon it with some misgiving,
for I scented a commercial transaction. And although such cases
are lucrative enough, nevertheless, I, Eugene Valmont, formerly high in
the service of the French government, do not care to
be connected with them. They usually pertained to sordid business
affairs that present little that is of interest to a
man who in his time has dealt with subtle questions
of diplomacy upon which the welfare of nations sometimes turned.
The name of Ben and Gibbs is familiar to every
one connected, as it is with the much advertised pickles,
whose glaring announcements in crude, crimson and green strike the
eye everywhere in England and shock the artistic taste wherever
seen me. I have never take them, and shall not
so long as a French restaurant remains open in London,
and I doubt not they are asked pronounced to the palette,
as their advertisement is distressing to the eye. If then
this gross pickle manufacturer expected me to track down those
who were infringing upon the recipes for making his so
called sauces chutneys and the like, he would find himself mistaken,
for I was now in a position to pick and
choose my cases, and a case of pickles did not
allure me. Beware of imitations, said the advertisement, none genuine
without the facsimile of the signature of Bentham Gibbs. Ah Well,
not for me were either the pickles or the tracking
of imitators. A forged check, yes, if you like. But
the forged signature of mister Gibbs on a pickle bottle
was not for me. Nevertheless, I said to armand show
the gentleman in, and he did so. To my astonishment,
There entered a young man, quite correctly dressed in dark
flock coat, faultless waistcoat, and trousers that proclaimed the Bond
street tailor. When he spoke, his voice and language with
those of a gentleman, Monsieur Vlmont, he inquired, at your service,
I replied, bowing and waving my hand as armand placed
a chair for him, and withdrew I am a barrister
with the chambers in the temple, began mister Gibbs. And
for some days the matter has been troubling me, about
which I have now come to seek your advice, your
name having been suggested by a friend in whom I confided.
Am I acquainted with him? I asked, I think not,
replied mister Gibbs. He is also am barrassed then with
the chambers in the same building as my own. Lionel
Daker is his name? I never heard of him, very
likely not. Nevertheless, he recommended you as a man who
could keep his own counsel. And if you take up
this case, I desired the utmost secrecy preserved, whatever may
be the outcome. I bowed, but made no protestation. Secrecy
is a matter of course with me. The Englishman paused
for a few moments, as we expected further and assurances.
Then he went on with no trace of disappointment on
his countenance at not receiving them. On the night of
the twenty third, I gave a little dinner to six
friends of mine in my own rooms. I may say that,
so far as I'm aware, they are all gentlemen of
unimpeachable character. On the night of the dinner, I was
detained later than I expected at a reception, and in
driving to the temple, was still further delayed by a
block of traffic. In the Piccadilly, so that when I
arrived at my chambers there was barely time for me
to dress and receive my guests. Many at Johnson had
everything laid out ready for me in my dressing room,
and as I passed through it, I hurriedly flung off
the coat I was wearing and carelessly left it over
the back of a chair in the dining room, where
neither Johnson nor myself noticed it until my attention was
called to it after the dinner was over and everyone
was rather jolly with wine. This coat had an inside pocket.
Usually any frock coat I wear at an afternoon reception
has not an inside pocket, but I had been rather
on the rush all day. My father is a manufacturer
whose name may be familiar to you, and I am
on the director's board of his company. On this occasion,
I had to take a cab from the city to
the reception I spoke of, and had not time to
go and change in my rooms. Reception was somewhat bohemian affair,
extremely interesting, of course, but not too particular as to costume,
so I went as I was in. This inside pocket
rested a thin package composed of two pieces of Pasteburn,
and between them five twenty pound Bank of England notes,
folded lengthways and held in place between the pastboats by
an elastic rubber band. I had thrown the coat over
the chair in such a way that the inside pockets
was exposed, and the ends of the notes plainly recognizable.
Over the coffee and cigars. One of my guests laughingly
called my attention to what he termed my vulgar display
of wealth, and Johnson, in some confusion at having neglected
to put the coat over, now picked it up and
took it to the reception room, where the wraps of
my guests lay about promiscuously. He should, of course have
placed it in my wardrobe, but he said afterwards he
thought it belonged to the guest who had spoken. You see,
he was in my dressing room when I threw my
coat in the chair in making my way thither, and
of course he had not noticed the coat in the
hurry of arriving guests, otherwise he would have put it
where it belonged. After every body had gone, Johnson came
to me and said the coat was there, but the
package was missing, nor has any trace of it been
found since that night. The dinner was fetched in from outside.
I suppose, yes, how many waiters served it?
Speaker 2: Two there are men who have often been in my
employ on similar occasions. But apart from that, they had
left my chambers before the incident of the coat happened.
Speaker 1: Neither of them went into the reception room. I take
it now. I am certain that not even suspicion can
attach to either of the waiters. Your man Johnson has
been with me for years. He could have easily stolen
much more than a hundred pounds if he had wished
to do so. But I've never known him to take
a penny that did not belong to him. Will you
favor me with the names of your guests, mister Gibbs.
Speaker 2: Viscount Stern sat at my right hand and at my left,
Lord Templemore, Sir John Saint Clair next to him, and
Angus mc keeller next to Saint Clair. After Viscount Stern
was Lionel Dacer, and at his right Vincent Ennis.
Speaker 1: On a sheet of paper, I had written the names
of the guests and noted their places at the table.
Which guests drew your attention to the money, Lionel Dacer,
Is there a window looking out from the reception room.
Two of them were they fastened on the night of
the dinner party. I could not be sure Johnson would know.
Very likely you are hinting at the possibility of a
thief coming in through a reception room window while we
were somewhat noisy over our wine. I think such a
solution highly improbable. My rooms are on the third floor,
and a thief would scarcely venture to make an entrance
when he could not know. But there was a company
being entertained. Besides this, the court was there but an
hour or so, and it seems to me whoeverstold those
notes knew where there were That sounds reasonable. I had
to admit, have you spoken to anyone about your loss?
To no one but Dhakker, who recommended me to see you? Oh? Yes?
And to Johnson? Of course, I could not help noting
that this was the fourth or fifth time Dhaker's name
had come up during our conversation. Why to Dhaker, I asked, oh, well,
you see, he occupies the chambers in the same building
on the ground floor. He is a very good fellow
and vea by way of being firm friends. Then it
was he who had called her attention to the money,
so I thought he should know the sequel. How did
you take your news now that you call attention to
the fact, He seemed slightly troubled. I should like to say, however,
that you must not be misled by that. Lionel Dacker
could no more steal than he could lie. Did he
seem surprised when he mentioned the theft? Bentmin gave spaused
a moment before replying, knitting his brows in thought. No,
he said at last, And come to think of it,
it almost appears as if he had been expecting my announcement.
Doesn't that strike you as rather strange, mister Gibbs. Really,
my mind is in such a world. I don't know
what to think. But it's perfectly absurd to suspect Dhaker.
If he knew the man, you would understand what I mean.
He comes from an excellent family and he is Oh,
he's Lionel Daker. And when you have said that, you
have made any suspicion absurd. I suppose you had the
rooms thoroughly searched. The packet didn't drop out and remain
unnoticed in some corner. No, Johnson and myself examined every
inch of the premises. Have you the numbers of the notes? Yes,
I got them from the bank. Next morning payment was stopped,
and so far not one of the fives has been presented.
Of course, one or more may have been cashed at
some show, but none have been offered to any banks.
A twenty pound note is not accepted, thus scrutiny, So
the chances are that the thief may have some difficulty
in disposing them. As I told you, I don't mind
the loss of money at all. It's the uncertainty, the
uneasiness caused by the incident, which troubles me. You'll comprehend
this when I say that, if you are good enough
to interest yourself in this case, I shall be disappointed
if your fee does not exceed the amount I have lost.
Mister Gidgs rose as he said this, and I accompanied
him to the door, assuring him that I should do
my best to solve the mystery. Whether he's frank when
pickles or not. I realized he was a polished and
generous gentleman who estimated the services of a professional expert
like myself at their true value. I shall not get
details of my researchers during the following few days, because
the trend of them must be gone over in a
remarkable interview I had somewhat later, and there as little
use in repeating myself, suffers it to say then, that
an examination of the rooms and a close cross questioning
of Johnson satisfied me that he and the other two
waiters were innocent. I was also convinced that no thief
made a space with the window, and I came to
the conclusion that the notes was stolen by one of
the guests. Further investigation convinced me that the thief was
no other than Lionel Dacker, the only one of the
six impressing need of money at that time. I had
Dacker shadowed, and during one of his absences, made the
acquaintances of his man Hopper, a surly impolite brute who
accepted my golden sovereign quickly enough, but gave me little
in exchange for it. But while I conversed with him,
there arrived in the passage where we were talking together
a large case of champagne, bearing one of the best
known names in the trade, and branded as being of
the vintage of seventy eight. Now I know that the
product of Camelot Freres is not bought as cheaply as
British beer. And I also had learned that the two
short weeks before Lionel Dacer was at his wits end
for money, yet he was still the same briefless barrister
he had ever been. On the morning after my unsatisfactory
conversation with his man Hopper, I was astonished to receive
the following note written on a dainty correspondence card three
and four vellum buildings in a temple e c. Mister
Lionel Dacer presents his compliments to Monsieur Eugene Valmont, and
would be obliged if Monsieur Walmont could make it convenient
to call upon him in his chambers tomorrow morning at eleven.
Had the man become aware that he was being shadowed,
or did the surly servant inform him of the inquiries made?
I was soon to know. I called punctually at eleven
next morning, and was received with charming urbanity by mister
Daker himself. The taciturn harper had evidently been sent away
for the occasion. My dear Monsieur Valmont, I am delighted
to meet you, said the young man with more effusiveness
than I had ever noticed an Englishman before, although his
very next words supplied an explanation that did not occur
to me until afterwards as somewhat far fetched. I believe
we are by way of being countrymen, and therefore all
that the hour is early, I suppose you will allow
me to offer you some of that bottled sunshine of
the year seventy eight from la Belle France, to whose
prosperity and honor we shall drink together for such a
toast that any hour is propitious. And to my amazement,
he brought forth from the case I had seen arrived
two days before a bottle of that superb vintage. Now,
said I to myself, it is going to be difficult
to keep a clear head if the aroma of that
nectar rises to the brain. But tempting as is the cup,
I shall drink sparingly, and hope he may not be
so judicious sensitive. I already experienced the charm of his personality,
and will understood the friendship mister Ben and Gibbs felt
for him. But I saw the trap spread before me.
He expected, under the influence of champagne and courtesy to
extract a promise from me which I find myself unable
to give. Sir, you interest me by claiming kinship with France.
I understood that you belonged to one of the oldest
families of England. Ah, England, he cried, with an expressive
gesture of outspreading hands. Truly parision in its significance. The
trunk belongs to England, of course, But the route, Ah,
the route Monsieur Valmont penetrated the soil from which this
wine of God's has been drawn. Then filling my glass
and his own, he cried to France, which my family
left in the year ten sixty six. I could not
help laughing at his fervent ejaculation. Ten sixty six. Ah,
that's a long time, my row, mister Dhacker, in years, perhaps,
in feelings. But a day my forefathers came over to steal,
and Lord how well they accomplished it. They stole the
whole country, something like a theft, say I, under that
prince of robbers, who well named the conqueror in our
secret hearts, we all admire a great thief, And if
not a great one, then an expert one who covers
this track so perfectly that the hounds of justice are
baffled and tempting to follow them. Now even you, Monsieur Walmont,
I can see you are most generous of men, with
a lively sympathy found to perfection only in France. Even
you must suffer a pang of regret when you lay
a thief by the heels who has done his task deftly.
I fear, mister Daker, you credit me with the magnanimity
to which I dare not claim the criminal is a
danger to society. True, true, you are in the right,
Monsieur Valmont. Still admit there are cases that would touch
you tenderly. For example, a man ordinarily honest, a great deed,
a sudden opportunity, he takes that of which another has abundance,
and he nothing. What, then, Monsieur Valmont, is the man
to be sent to perdition for a momentary weakness. His
words astonished me.
Speaker 2: Was I on the words of hearing a confession? It
almost amounted to that.
Speaker 1: Already, mister Zacher, I said, I cannot enter into the
subtleties you pursue. My duty is to find the criminal.
You are in the right, Monsieur Valmont, and I am
enchanted to find so sensible a head on French shoulders.
Although you are a more recent arrival, if I may
say so, than myself, you nevertheless already give utterances to
the sense which do honor to England. It is your
duty to hunt down the criminal. Very well in that
I think I can aid you. So I've taken the
liberty of requesting your attendance here this morning. Let me
fill your glass again, mister Ormont. No more, I beg you,
mister Tacker, what do you think the receiver is as
bad as the thief. I was so taken aback at
his remark that I suppose my face showed the amazement
within me. But the young man merely laughed with the
apparent free hearted enjoyment, thought some more wine in his
own glass, and tossed it off. Not knowing what to say,
I changed the trend of conversation. Mister Gibbs said that
you have been kind enough to recommend me to his attention.
May I ask how you came to hear of me? Ah,
who not heard of the renowned Monsieur Valmont? And as
he said this for the first time, there began to
grow a suspicion in my mind that he was chaffing me,
as it is called in England, a procedure which I
cannot endure. Indeed, if this young man practiced it in
my own country, he would find himself with the duel
on his hands before he had gone far. However, the
next instant his voice resumed his original fascination, and I
listened to it as to some delicious malady. I have
only to mention my cousin, Lady Gladys Dakker, and you
will at once understand why I recommended you to my friend.
The case of Lady Gladys, you will remember, required a
delicate touch, which was not always to be had in
this land of England, except when those who possessed the
gift do us the honor to sojourn with us. I
noticed that my glass was filled again, and as I
bowed my acknowledgments to his compliment, I indulged in another
sip of the delicious wine. And then I sighed, for
I began to realize it was going to be difficult
for me, in spite of my disclaimer, to tell this
man's friend he had stolen the money. All this time
he had been sitting on the edge of the table
while I occupied a chair at its end. He sat
there in a careless fashion, swinging a foot to and fro.
Now he sprang to the floor and drew up a chair,
placing on the table a blank sheet of paper. Then
he took from the mantel chief a packet of letters,
and I was astonished to see they were held together
by two bits of cardboard and a rubber band, similar
to the combination that had held the folded bank notes.
With great nonchalance, he slipped off the upper band, through
it and the pear pieces of cardboard on the table
before me, leaving the documents loose to his hand. Now,
Monsieur Wilmot, he cried jauntily, you have been occupied for
several days on this case, the case of my dear
friend Bentham Gibbs, who is one of the best fellows
in the world. He said the same of you, mister Daker.
I am gratified to hear it. Would you mind letting
me know to what point your researchers have led you.
They have led me to a direction, rather than to
a point, ah, in the direction of a man, of course,
certainly who is he? Will you pardon me if I
decline to answer you at the present moment. That means
you are not sure. It may mean, mister Dhaker, that
I am employed by mister Gibbs and do not feel
of the liberty to disclose to another the results of
my quest without his permission. But mister Bent and Gibbs
and I are entirely at one on this matter. Perhaps
you are aware that I am the only person with
whom he has discussed the case besides yourself. That is
undoubtedly true, mister Dhaker. Still you see the difficulty of
my position. Yes I do, and so shall I press
you further? But I have also been interesting myself in
a purely amateurish way. Of course, you would perhaps have
no disint relation to learn whether my deductions agree with yours.
Not in the least, I should be very glad to
know the conclusion at which you have arrived. May I
ask if you suspect anyone in particular? Yes? I do.
Will you name him? Now? I shall copy the admirable
reticence you yourself have shown, and now let us attack
this mystery in a sane and business like manner. You
have already examined the room. Well, here is a rough
sketch of fit. There is the table in this corner,
the chair on which the coat was flung. Here sat
Gibbs at the head of the table. Those on the
left hand side had their backs to the chair. I,
being in the center of the right, saw the chair,
the coat, and the notes, and called attention to them. Now,
our first duty is to find a motive. If it
were a murder, our motive might have been hatred, revenge, robbery,
what you like. As it is simply the stealing of money,
the man must have been either a born thief, or
else some hitherto innocent person pressed a crime by great necessity.
Do you agree with me, Monsieur le Mont, perfectly?
Speaker 2: You follow exactly the line of my own reasoning very well.
It is unlikely that a bond thief was one of
mister Gibbs's guests.
Speaker 1: Therefore we are reduced to look for a man under
the spur of necessity, a man who has had no
money of his own, but must raise a certain amount,
let us say, by a certain date, if you can
find such a man in that company, do you not
agree with me that he is likely to be the thief? Yes?
I do. The little startup process of elimination. Out goes
Viscount Stern, a man with twenty thousand acres of land,
and nobody quite knows what income. I mark off the
names of Lord temple Moore, one of his Majesty's judges,
entirely above suspicion. Next Sir John Sinclair. He is also rich,
but Vincent Ennis is still richer, so the pencil obliterates
his name. Now we have Angus mckeller, an author of
some note, as you're well aware, deriving a good income
from his books and a better one from his place
a Kenny Scott, So we may rub his name off
our paper and our memory. How do my erags correspond
with yours, Monsieur Valmont, They correspond exactly, mister Daker, I'm
flattered to hear it. There remains one name untouched, mister
Lionel Dacer, the descendant. As we have said of Roberts,
I have not said so, mister Daker. Ah, My dear Walmont,
the politeness of your country asserts itself. Let us not
be deluded, but follow our inquiry wherever it leads. I
suspect Lioneldacker, what do you know of his circumstances before
the dinner of the twenty third. As I made no reply,
he looked upon me with his frank, boyish face, illumined
with a winning smile. You know nothing of his circumstances,
he asked. It grieves me to state that I do.
Mister Lionel Daker was penniless on the night of the
dinner on the twenty third. Oh, don't exaggerate, Monsieur Valmont,
cried Daker with a laugh. He had once expense two
pennies and a half penny. How should you know he
was penniless? I knew. He ordered a case of champagne
from the London representative of Camelot Ferras, and was refused
unless he paid the money down quite right. And then
when you were talking to Harper, you saw the case
of champagnare delivered. Excellent, excellent, Monsieur Lmont. But will a
man steal think you to supply himself with an even
so delicious of wine as this we have been tasting.
And by the way, forgive my neglect, allow me to
fill your glass, Monsieur Lemont, not another drop, if you
will excuse me, mister Dhaker. Ah, Yes, champagne should not
be mixed with evidence. When you have finished, perhaps what
further proof have you? I have proof that mister Daker
was threatened with bankruptcy if on the twenty fourth he
did not pay a bill of seventy eight pounds that
has long been outstanding. I have proof that this was
paid not on the twenty fourth, but on the twenty sixth.
Mister Daker had gone to the solicitor and assured him
he would have given the money on that date, from
whereupon he was given two days grace. Ah, well, he
was entitled to three. You know in law, yes, dare
Monsieur Walmont, you touch a fatal point. The threat of
bankruptcy will drive a man in Dagger's position to almost
any crime. Bankruptcy to embarrassed, spell's ruin. It means a
courier blighted. It means a life ruined with little chance
of resurrection. I see you grasp the supreme importance of
that bit of evidence. The case of Champagne is as
nothing compared with it. And this reminds me that in crisis,
I shall take another sip with your permission. Sure you
won't joy me, not at this juncture, mister Daker. I
envy your moderation. Here's the success of our search, Monsieur Walmont.
I felt sorry for the gay young fellow, and with
smiling face he drank the champagne. Now, Monsieur, he went on,
I am amazed to learn how much you have found out. Really,
I think tradespeople, solicitors and all such should keep better
guard on their tongues than they do. Nevertheless, these documents
I have at my elbow, and which I expect would
surprise you, are merely the letters and receipts. Here is
a letter from the solicitor threatening me with bankruptcy. Here
is his receipt, dated the twenty sixth. Here is the
refusal of the wine merchant, and here is his receipt
for that money. Here are the smaller builts liquidated with
my pencil. We will add them up. Seventy eight pounds
bulks lodge. We had the smaller items, and it totals
ninety three pounds, seven shillings and a fourpence. It has
now examined my purse. Here's a five pound note. There
is a minted sovereign. Here is a twelve and sixpence
in silver, two pence and coppers. Now the perse is empty.
Let us add this to the amount on paper. Do
my eyes deceive me? Or is the total exactly one
hundred pounds? There is a stolen money accounted for. Pardon me,
mister Dhaka, I said, there is still a sovereign on
the mantelpiece. Dakerd threw back his head and laughed with
a great heartiness that I had yet known him to
indulge in during our short acquaintance. By jove, he cried,
you got me there. I've forgotten completely about that pound
on the mantlepiece, which belongs to you. To me, possible
it does, and cannot interfere in the least with one
hundred pound calculation. That is a sovereign you gave to
my man Harper, who, believing me hard pressed, took it
that I might have the enjoyment of it. Harper belongs
to our family or the family belongs to him. I
am not sure which you must have missed him in
the differential bearings of a man servant in Paris. Yet
he is true gold, like the sovereign you bestowed upon him,
and he bestowed upon me. Now Here, monsieur, is the
evidence of the theft, together with the rubber band and
two pieces of cardboard. Ask my friend Gibbs to examine
them minutely. They are all at your disposition, monsieur, and
you would learn how much easier it is to deal
with the master than with the servant when you wish information.
All the gold you possess would not have wrung this
incriminating document from the old harper. I had to send
him away to day to the West End, fearing that
in his brutal British way, he might have assaulted you
if he had an inkling of your mission. Mister Daker
said I slowly, you have thoroughly convinced me. I thought
I would. He interrupted with a laugh, that you did
not take the money. Oh, this is a change of wind.
Surely many a man has been hanged through a chain
of circumstantial evidence much weaker than which I have exhibited
to you. Do you see the subtlety of my action?
Ninety nine persons in a hundred would say, no man
could be such a fool to put Valmont on his track,
and then please in Vrolmont's hand such striking evidence. But
there comes in my craftiness. Of course, the rock you
run up against will be Gift's incredulity. The first question
he will ask you may be this, why not Dhacker
come and borrow the money from me? Now there you
have a certain weakness in your chain of evidence. I
know perfectly well that Gives would lend me the money,
and he knew perfectly well that if I were pressed
to the wall, I should ask him. Mister Daker said,
I you have been playing with me. I should resent
that with most men. But whether it is your own
genial manner, or the effect of this excellent champagne, or
both together, I forgive you. But I am convinced of
another thing. You know who took the money. I don't know,
but I suspect. Will you tell me whom you suspect?
That would not be fair. But I shall now take
the liberty of filling your glass with champagne. I am
your guest, mister Daker, admirably answered Monsieur, he replied, pouring
out the wine. And now I shall give you the clue.
Find out all about the story of the silver spoons.
The story of the silver spoons? What silver spoons? Ah?
That is the point. You step out of the temple
into Fleet Street, seize by the shoulders the first man
you meet, and ask him to tell you about the
silver spoons. There are but two men and two spoons concerned.
When you learn who those two men are, you will
know that one of them did not take the money,
and I give you my assurance that the other did.
You speak in mystery, mister Daker, but certainly for I
am speaking to Monsieur Eugene Valmont, I echo your words,
Sir admirably answered. You put me on my metal, and
I flatter myself that I see your kindly drift. You
wish to solve the mystery of the stolen money. Sir,
you do me honor, and I drink to your help yours, monsieur,
said Lionel Dagger. And here is a further piece of
information which my friend Gibbs would never have given you.
When he told me the money was gone, I cried
in anguish for impending bankruptcy. I wish to goodness I
had it. Whereupon he immediately compelled me to accept his
check for a hundred pounds, of which I, as I
have shown you alas only six pounds, twelve and eightpence remains.
On leaving mister Daker, I took a hansom to a
cafe in Regent Street, which is a possible limitation of
a similar places of refreshment in Paris. There, calling for
a cup of black coffee, I sat down to think
the clue of the silver spoons. He had laughingly suggested
that I should take my shoulders the first man I
meet and ask him what the story of the silver
spoons was. This course naturally struck me as absurd. Nevertheless,
it contained a hint. I must ask somebody, they're the
right person to tell me the tale of the silver spoons.
Under the influence of the black coffee, I reasoned it
out in this way. On the night of the twenty third,
some one of the six guests there present stole her
hundred pounds. Bardaka had said that one of the actors
in the silverspoon episode was the actual thief. That person
then must have been one of mister Gibbs's guests at
the dinner of the twenty third. Probably two of the
guests were the participators in the Silverspoon comedy. But be
that as it may followed that one at least of
the men around mister Gibbs's table knew the episode of
the silverspoons. Perhaps Benam Gibbs himself was cognisant of it.
It followed, therefore, that the easiest plan was to question
each of the men who partook up that dinner.
Speaker 2: Yet, if only one knew about the spoons, that one
must also have some idea that these spoons formed the
clue which attached him to the crime of the twenty third,
in which case he was little likely to divulge what
he knew to an entire stranger.
Speaker 1: Of course, I might go to Dhaker himself and demand
the story of the silverspoons, but this would be a
confession of failure on my part, and I rather dreaded
Lionel Daker's hearty laughter when I admitted that the mystery
was too much for me. Besides this, I was very
well aware of the young man's kindly intentions towards me.
He wished me to unravel the coil myself, and so
I determined not to go to him except as a
last resource. I resolved to begin with mister Gibbs, and,
finishing my coffee, got again into a hansom and drove
back to the temple. I found mister Gibbs in his room,
and after greeting me, his first inquiry was about the case.
How are you getting on, he asked. I think I'm
getting on fairly well, I replied, and expect to finish
in a day or two, if you will kindly tell
me the story of the silver spoons. The silver spoons,
he echoed, quite evidently not understanding me. There happened an
incident in which two men were engaged, and this incident
related to a pair of silver spoons. I want to
get the particulars of that. I haven't the slightest idea
what you're talking about, replied Gibbs, thoroughly bibled it. You
will have to be more definite. I fear if you
are to get any help from me, I cannot be
more definite, because I've already told you all. I know
what bearing has all this on our case. I was
informed that if I got hold of the clued silver spoons,
I should be in a fair way of setting our case.
Who told you that, mister Lionel Dacker? Oh does Daker
refer to his own conjuring? I don't know. I'm sure
what was his conjuring? A very clever trick he did
one night at dinner here about two months ago, had
anything to do with silver spoons. Well, it was silver spoons,
or silver forks, or something of that kind. I had
entirely forgotten the incident so far as I recollect. At
the moment there was a slight of hand man of
great expert meess in one of the music halls, and
the talk turned upon him. Then Dhaka said that the
tricks he did were easy, and holding up a spoon
or a fork, I don't remember which, he asserted his
ability to make it disappear before our eyes, to be
found afterwards in the clothing of some one there present.
Several offered to make him a bet that he could
do nothing of that kind, but he said he would
bet with no one but Innes, who sat opposite him. Innes,
with some reluctance, accepted the bet, and then Dhaka, with
a great show of those usual conjurerous gesticulations, spread forth
his empty hands and said we should find the spoon
in Innoc's pocket, And there, sure enough it was. It
was a clever trick, but we were never able to
get him to repeat it. Thank you very much, mister Gibbs.
I think I see daylight now. If you do, you
are cleverer than I. By a long chalk, cried Benon Gibbs.
As I took my departure, I went directly downstairs and
knocked at mister Daker's door once more. He opened the
door himself, and his man had not yet having returned. Ah, monsieur,
he cried back, already, you don't mean to tell me
you have so soon got to the bottom of the
silver spoon entanglement. I think I have, mister Daker. You
were sitting at dinner opposite mister Vincent Innes. You saw
him conceal a silver spoon in his pocket. You probably
waited for some time to understand what he meant by this.
As he did not return the spoon to its place,
you proposed a conjuring trick, made the bet with him,
and thus the spoon was returned to the table. Excellent, excellent, monsieur.
That was very nearly what occurred, except that I acted
at once. I had had had experiences with mister Vincent
inn As before. Never did he come to these rooms
without my missing some trinket after he was gone. I'm
not a man of many possessions, while mister Innes is
a very rich person, and so if anything is taken,
I have little difficulty in coming to a knowledge of
my loss. Of course, I never mentioned these disappearances to him.
They were all trivial, as I have said, and so
far as the silver spoon was concerned, it was of
no great value either. But I thought the bet and
the recovery of the spoon would teach him a lesson.
It apparently had not done so. On the night of
the twenty third, he sat at my right hand, as
you will see by consulting a diagram of the table
and the guests. I asked him a question twice, to
which he did not reply, and looking at him, I
was toartled by the expression in his eyes. They were
fixed on a distant corner of the room, and following
his gaze, I saw that he was looking at with
such hypnotizing concentration. So absorbed was he in contemplation of
the packet there so plainly exposed, that he seemed entirely
oblivious to what was going around him. I aroused him
from his trans by jocularly calling Gibbs's attention to the
display of money. I expected, in this way to save
Innes from committing the act which he seemingly did commit. Imagine, then,
the dilemma in which I was placed when mister Gibbs
confided to me the morning after what had occurred the
night before. I was positive that Inness had taken the money,
yet I possessed no proof of it. I could not
tell Gibbs, and I dare not speak to Innes. Of course, Monsieur,
you do not need to be told that Innes is
not a thief in the ordinary sense of the word.
He has no need to steal, and yet apparently cannot
help himself doing so. I am sure that no attempt
has been made to pass those notes. They are doubtless
in his home at Kensington at this present moment. He is,
in fact a kleptomaniac or a maniac of some sort.
And now, Monsieur Vermont, was my hint regarding the silver
spoons of any value to you? Of the most infinite value,
mister Dhacker, And let me make another suggestion. I leave
it entirely to your bravery, a bravery which I confess
I do not myself possess. Will you take a hansom
drive to mister Innes's house in the Cromwell Road, confront
him quietly and ask him for the return of the packet.
I'm anxious to know what will happen if he has
it to you, as I expect he will, then you
must tell missus Gibbs the whole story. Mister Daker, your
suggestion shall be immediately acted upon, and I thank you
for your compliment to my courage. I found that mister
Innes inhabited a very grand house. After a time he
entered the study on the ground floor to which I
had been conducted. He held my card in his hand
and was looking at it with some surprise. I think
I have not the pleasure of knowing you, mister Walmont,
he said, courteously enough. No, I have called on a
matter of business. I was once investigative for the French government,
and now I am doing private detective work here in London. Ah,
and how is that supposed to interest me? I have
nothing that I wish investigated. I did not send for
you to I no, mister Innes. I merely took the
liberty of calling to ask you to let me have
the package you took out of mister Benton Gibbs's frock
coat pocket on the night of the twenty third. He
wishes it returned, does he? Yes? Mister Innnies calmly went
to a desk which he unlocked and opened, displaying a
veritable museum of trinkets of one sort and another. Pulling
out a small drawer, he took from it the packet
containing five twenty pound notes. Apparently it had never been undone.
With a smile, he handed it to me. You will
make my apologies mister Gibbs for not returning it before.
Tell him I have been unusually busy of late. I
shall not fail to do so, said I with a bow.
Thank you so much. Good morning, monsieur Aunt, good morning,
mister Innes. And so I returned the packet to mister
Bent and Gibbs, who pulled the notes from between their
pasteboard protection and begged me to accept them. The end
of The Clew of Silver Spoons by Robert Barr