Chapter III

“But then, what in the world is the explanation of it all?” I asked bewildered, as the funny creature paused in his narrative and seemed absorbed in the contemplation of a beautiful knot he had just completed in his bit of string.

“The explanation is so simple,” he replied, “for it is obvious, is it not, that only four people could possibly have committed the fraud?”

“Who are they?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, whilst his bony fingers began to fidget with that eternal piece of string, “there is, of course, old Mr. Kidd; but as the worthy jeweller has paid £10,000 to prove that he did not steal the real necklace and substitute a false one in its stead, we must assume that he was guiltless. Then, secondly, there is Mr. Howard Dennis.”

“Well, yes,” I said, “what about him?”

“There were several points in his favour,” he rejoined, marking each point with a fresh and most complicated knot; “it was not he who bought the roses, therefore it was not he who, clad in a blue domino, entered Miss Morgan’s dressing-room directly after Knight left it.

“And mark the force of this point,” he added excitedly.

“Just before the curtain rang up for the second act, Miss Morgan had been in her room, and had then undone the packet, which, in her own words, was just as she had received it from Mr. Kidd’s hands.

“After that Miss Knight remained in charge, and a mere ten seconds after she left the room she saw the blue domino carrying the roses at the door.

“The flower-girl’s story and that of George Finch have proved that the blue domino could not have been Mr. Dennis, but it was the loafer who evidently stole the false necklace.

“If you bear all this in mind you will realise that there was no time in those ten seconds for Mr. Dennis to have made the substitution _before_ the theft was committed. It stands to reason that he could not have done it afterwards.

“Then, again, many people suspected Miss Knight, the dresser, but this supposition we may easily dismiss. An uneducated, stupid girl, not three-and-twenty, could not possibly have planned so clever a substitution. An imitation necklace of that particular calibre and made to order would cost far more money than a poor theatrical dresser could ever afford; let alone the risks of ordering such an ornament to be made.

“No,” said the funny creature, with comic emphasis, “there is but one theory possible, which is my own.”

“And that is?” I asked eagerly.

“The workman, Rumford, of course,” he responded triumphantly. “Why! it jumps to the eyes, as our French friends would tell us. Who, other than he, could have the opportunity of making an exact copy of the necklace which had been entrusted to his firm?

“Being in the trade he could easily obtain the false stones without exciting any undue suspicion; being a skilled craftsman, he could easily make the clasp, and string the pearls in exact imitation of the original; he could do this secretly in his own home and without the slightest risk.

“Then the plan, though extremely simple, was very cleverly thought out. Disguised as the loafer——”

“The loafer!” I exclaimed.

“Why, yes! the loafer,” he replied quietly, “disguised as the loafer, he hung round the stage door of the Novelty after business hours, until he had collected the bits of gossip and information he wanted; thus he learnt that Mr. Howard Dennis was Miss Morgan’s accredited _fiancé_; that he, like everybody else who was available, ‘walked on’ in the second act; and that during that time the back of the stage was practically deserted.

“No doubt he knew all along that Mr. Kidd meant to take the pearls down to the theatre himself that night, and it was quite easy to ascertain that Miss Morgan—as the hapless heroine—wore no jewellery in the second act, and that Mr. Howard Dennis invariably wore a blue domino.

“Some people might incline to the belief that Miss Knight was a paid accomplice, that she left the dressing-room unprotected on purpose, and that her story of the blue domino and the roses was pre-arranged between herself and Rumford, but that is not my opinion.

“I think that the scoundrel was far too clever to need any accomplice, and too shrewd to put himself thereby at the mercy of a girl like Knight.

“Rumford, I find, is a married man: this to me explains the blue domino, which the police were never able to trace to any business place, where it might have been bought or hired. Like the necklace itself, it was ‘home-made.’

“Having got his properties and his plans ready, Rumford then set to work. You must remember that a stage door-keeper is never above accepting a glass of beer from a friendly acquaintance; and, no doubt, if George Finch had not asked the loafer to bring him a glass, the latter would have offered him one. To drug the beer was simple enough; then Rumford went to buy the roses, and, I should say, met his wife somewhere round the corner, who handed him the blue domino and the mask; all this was done in order to completely puzzle the police subsequently, and also in order to throw suspicion, if possible, upon young Dennis.

“As soon as the drug took effect upon George Finch, Rumford slipped into the theatre. To slip a mask and domino on and off is, as you know, a matter of a few seconds. Probably his intention had been—if he found Knight in the room—to knock her down if she attempted to raise an alarm; but here fortune favoured him. Knight saw him from a distance, and mistook him easily for Mr. Dennis.

“After the theft of the real necklace, Rumford sneaked out of the theatre. And here you see how clever was the scoundrel’s plan: if he had merely substituted one necklace for another there would have been no doubt whatever that the loafer—whoever he was—was the culprit—the drugged beer would have been quite sufficient proof for that. The hue and cry would have been after the loafer, and, who knows? there might have been some one or something which might have identified that loafer with himself.

“He must have bought the shabby clothes somewhere, he certainly bought the roses from a flower-girl; anyhow, there were a hundred and one little risks and contingencies which might have brought the theft home to him.

“But mark what happens: he steals the real necklace, and keeps the false one in his hand, intending to drop it sooner or later, and thus sent the police entirely on the wrong scent. As the loafer, he was supposed to have stolen the false necklace, then dropped it whilst struggling with George Finch. The result is that no one has troubled about the loafer; no one thought that he had anything to do with the substitution, which was the main point at issue, and no very great effort has ever been made to find that mysterious loafer.

“It never occurred to any one that the fraud and the theft were committed by one and the same person, and that that person could be none other than James Rumford.”

XII. The Tragedy of Barnsdale Manor