by Lewis Hockley [Percy Longhurst].
Originally published in The Magnet Library (The Amalgamated Press, Ltd.) vol.1 #23 (18 Jul 1908).
The Result of the Detective's First Case.
The precious pair were soon safe in custody, and another policeman accompanying them, Lomax and Dennis made tracks for Ringwood's Court.
And here they found Mrs. Brewer in a house occupied by a married sister of McDonald, who believed the good woman to be a lunatic awaiting admission into a madhouse, and was not sorry to be relieved of her custody. Mrs. Brewer's wonder when the detectives entered her room knew no bounds.
Her lodger, so she explained, had accosted her at the end of the street in which she lived, and with some specious tale had induced her to enter a cab. She had been driven to the house in the New Cut, taken within, and there locked in her room. Realising that she was a prisoner, and fearing herself about to suffer the terrible punishment which the writer of the postcards had promised, she had given herself up to despair. Every moment, so she vehemently asserted, when she had somewhat recovered from the shock of her deliverance, she had expected would be her last. But the fears of the drunken boxer that she had had nothing to eat or drink had been groundless. His sister, though frightened of her charge, had not believed lunatics required to be starved, and had not starved this one.
A cab was procured, and Mrs. Brewer conveyed to her own dwelling. On the way thither, Dennis and Lomax attempted to convey to her the real meaning of the mystery which she had entrusted them to solve. And apparently she recognised its gravity, for she insisted upon them receiving, then and there, the remainder of their fee. Nor would she be satisfied until they had each accepted a five-pound note each over and above.
"It's worth it, young men!" she declared. "The weight you've took off my mind you'll never know. I feel like a reprieved murderer. And now, if you don't mind, I'll just pop in and see if Mrs. Biddlecombe is up."
Lomax and Dennis made no hurry in their return journey to their office lodgings. They had a deal to say, and they said it. From congratulations they passed easily to argument.
"It's just as I told you before," remarked Dennis seriously. "In this detective work one requires imagination.
"Fudge!" was the retort. "It's sheer hard work and common-sense reasoning. We'd never have done this, our first job, without it."
"Hallo, your trumpeter dead! Self praise, etc."
"Not a bit! It's because you put your story-book nonsensical ideas of 'tecs out of your mind that we've done what we have."
"Pull up, old man!" Dennis rejoined. "What you mean is that it's because you've adopted some of 'em."
"Not I!" was the indignant answer. "I wouldn't--"
"Perhaps not, but you did!" put in Dennis. "What about disguises, Grip getting the postcard--"
"That's luck."
"And luck's just another word for seizing opportunities."
Well, whatever it was, it's earned us ten sovereigns apiece, and won us our first case, so we won't quarrel about it."
The End.