Waylaid by Wireless/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II
THE CIRCUIT OF CRIME
"Continuation of Crimes against our Visitors!" the heading announced. And under it the lines ran:
"The shocking series of crimes against Americans which have disgraced England this summer were continued—we dare not say culminated—last evening by the surprisingly simple and successful robbery of two American visitors stopping at the Royal Arms here in our own town of Ely.
"The extraordinarily evil fate which has pursued our cousins from across the water during the past few weeks, marked for victims in this instance Mrs. W. H. Hastings and her daughter, Miss Hastings, of Wilmington, Delaware, who only yesterday afternoon arrived at the Royal Arms. This morning, according to the report made to the police, the considerable sum of money which they—very carelessly and incautiously, it must be confessed—carried with them chiefly in bank notes, was taken from their sleeping room in a manner which . . .
"Without useless speculation upon the exact manner in which this particular haul was made," the column ran rapidly on, "or without hazarding a guess of the criminal in this single instance, the Morning News desires to remind our county authorities again that it is high time for them to take more competent measures than have yet been taken to secure the safety of visitors in our English hotels and inns.
"Within the past three weeks—the beginning of which period marked the first arrival of our American summer visitors—the News has had occasion to chronicle in these columns no less than eleven similar outrages against Americans stopping in our inns which have had to be brought to the notice of our authorities.
"Beginning with the robbery of two wellknown and wealthy Americans at Winchester just twenty days ago, the list rapidly swells with the repeated outrages perpetrated upon our visitors at Chichester, Canterbury, Rochester, St. Albans, Oxford, and a half-dozen other towns popular with Americans, including Norwich, in our neighboring county of Norfolk, from which we received word of the last robbery only two days since.
"The recapitulation of this list startles us, not only by showing the astonishing succession of the crimes, but by pointing out a most alarming condition. For from the first crime committed at Winchester twenty days ago to the scandal of the Royal Arms here at Ely last night, the cathedral towns of England—and the cathedral towns alone—have been the places of these repeated outrages practised upon our American cousins.
"However, the explanation may not be far to seek. As all Englishmen must know, the tour of these cathedral towns has been for many years far the most fashionable and popular route for American women of means and refinement. From every ship landing at Southampton, scores of such travelling Americans make at once for the nearest cathedral town, Winchester, but a few miles north. Then, by way of Chichester, they travel on to world-famous old Canterbury in Kent. From there, by way of Rochester, further north in the same county, they usually continue on to St. Albans, and then to Oxford, usually stopping at Cambridge, too—though there is no cathedral there—before going to the east coast again for Norwich cathedral. From there, as we well know, they come here to view our magnificent ecclesiastical structure and stop a day or more before continuing on to Lincoln and York. At Durham, then, they turn south and, visiting Chester, Wells, and their other favorites in our west counties, they take a final view of Exeter's fine transeptal towers and board ship again at Portsmouth or Plymouth, content and satisfied with having 'done' in England only our cathedrals and their cities.
"Landing at Liverpool, the succession of the churches is merely changed by beginning at Chester and ending with Durham.
"For American women of the best class to travel over this route alone or with their daughters has become recognized in America as so customary and proper—if not positively necessary—that we have heard that Americans speak of this preference of their ladies as the 'cathedral habit'; and we have often clipped from American newspapers irreverent allusions to the travellers on our 'cathedral circuit.'
"That they should travel thus unattended is an undoubted compliment from our fair visitors, still we cannot view with entire complacency the carelessness and recklessness in money matters which has, not unnaturally, accompanied the increasing sense of security in our cathedral towns.
"For here at Ely, as at many other of our famous old towns, it has become a matter of comment among banking agents that, while there has been a satisfactory and pleasing growth in travellers' drafts and credits, a remarkably large proportion of present transactions with Americans is mere exchange of large American notes for our currency.
"Obviously, in the care-free American manner, large and growing numbers of our visitors who once so universally carried credits which they cashed only as necessity arose, have now taken to the reckless habit of carrying their funds in currency—and funds sufficient, too, for the expenses of an entire summer's travel. This is the circumstance for which we must hold the Americans themselves to blame, in part at least, for the series of scandals which have been visited upon them this summer. For this circumstance, as it has become notorious, could not but have encouraged—almost invited—the shocking series of crimes which we have had to chronicle.
"And indeed, in every instance of the dozen reported, including the robbery here at Ely last night, American currency in notes of large figure has been the chief or only thing procured by the robbers. And while it has been most fortunate that, in every case so far reported, the victims have been persons whose circumstances have made their losses inconvenient only temporarily, yet without some cooperation upon the part of the Americans, they cannot reasonably expect to continue unmolested—even in our cathedral towns."
"And this," young Preston cried appreciatively as he finished and folded the column over to tear off the strip, "is not only from mother's secure and innocuous old England! It is from her dear cathedral towns! Oh, I must send this to mother and sister, Mr. Dunneston!" he cried to his companion, apparently all forgetful of the warning the moment before. "To think that their dear old church cities would turn upon them this way!"
"What?" the Englishman looked up suddenly. He had not forgotten. "I say, but don't you think this might make even one's mother or sisters a—a bit apprehensive, you know?"
"A bit apprehensive, Mr. Dunneston?" the American laughed. "I hope it will, if it will enable me to get them to England sometime to see something outside of a cathedral town! That's why I want to send it. You can't appreciate it, of course, sir. Your family connection with the 'circuit' is too remote."
"But I didn't mean that, you know," the Englishman corrected. "I didn't mean make them apprehensive about the towns. The towns should soon be safe enough again. I meant, rather, might you not make even—even one's mother and sisters just a bit apprehensive, you know? Or—oh, I see," the Briton comprehended, as he saw what part of the paper Preston had been reading. "You weren't reading the editorial."
"The editorial," the American answered. "What is it?"
He answered himself as he turned to it hurriedly and read it, under his companion's watchful scrutiny.
"An American!" the heading stated confidently. And:—
"Elsewhere in these columns," the editorial read, "is the account of the cool robbery of two American women stopping at the Royal Arms—a robbery which is only the most recent of a dozen which, as already commented, have consecutively scandalized our cathedral cities this summer.
"We have already directed attention to the manner in which the Americans themselves have practically invited these thefts. But till to-day we confess that we had missed the most obvious meaning of the facts as we have given them but which, at last, a friendly correspondent has pointed out.
"Under the theory just communicated to us and which the separate police investigation of every crime serves only to confirm, there is now no possible reason for doubting that which many of us must have long suspected; viz., that this series of scandals which has been visited upon our sober cathedral cities is in no way native to them. These robberies cannot now, as was first feared, be attributed to a sudden and general outbreak of theft in our church cities. They have shown themselves too clearly, in their similarity and slow progression, as the work of one man—and that man not even an Englishman.
"The thief, who is moving about the circle of our cathedral cities with our American visitors, shows too intimate knowledge of the ways and manners of his victims in general, and makes too precise selections of those from whom he may make his invariably easy and profitable hauls, to be other than an American himself, born, bred, and travelled as such.
"As he clearly must mingle freely with his victims at their favorite stopping places and must, indeed, often be registered at the same hotels with them, it should be no great feat for our police to take him almost at once— as there are few American men upon the cathedral tours.
"In this scandal, which was rapidly becoming almost international in its character, we are glad to assure our readers that the disgrace can now, upon the obvious evidences of the robberies themselves, safely be lifted from England and the English. So clear is the course which this remarkable American has left, that by tracing it back we can almost determine the vessel which brought him to our shores to commence, twenty days ago, his extraordinary visits upon his countrywomen travelling here. But while the name of the vessel, perhaps, may be a little too uncertain to place in print, yet it seems sure that the man must have landed at Southampton within the last three weeks, commencing at Winchester, a day or so later, the remarkable series of thefts which he has successfully continued till to-day.
"Whatever the extraordinary character and purpose of the sort of man he must be—for he must, almost conclusively, appear a gentleman—we congratulate him upon the preference which has prompted him, so far, to operate against only those who are well able to sustain those losses which become his gains. But at the same time we wish to warn him that, whoever he is, and for whatever purpose he has committed this series of crimes, he can not expect from English courts any possible palliation of his just punishment under the plea of a perverted prank."
"I see now, Mr. Dunneston. Thank you!" The American nodded gratefully across to his observing companion. "I landed, as you know, sir, from the Britannia at Southampton just three weeks ago; and, after casting about a day or so, dropped in on Winchester, as you accurately remember. And they think that this has been done—or rather, is being done—by some young American with the appearance of a gentleman and with a perverted sense of humor."
Preston laughed quietly to himself a moment.
"I don't believe I had better send mother this!" he decided aloud. "As she would certainly claim for me at least a proper appearance, and has always had serious fears for my ideas of humor, this might well make even mother a bit—apprehensive, Mr. Dunneston. But you, sir! If you had read this before coming to talk it over with me, and had the—coincidences in mind, too, I certainly was not appreciative enough of your confidence in me. Why, Mr. Dunneston, knowing what you know, do you not feel that you are near to condoning a felony in keeping with me without informing the police? If you told them what you know, I certainly would not care to trust myself to the mercies of the police," he put aside his paper, "or to this editor, or to his clever correspondent. But—"
His face brightened irrepressibly and he caught himself staring incredulously through the wide doors of the breakfast-room into the morning lounge just beyond. He jumped up suddenly, and the Englishman arose and stood beside him in the doorway of the lounge.
"Miss Varris!" the young American exclaimed, with badly concealed joy.
"Mr. Preston!" a girl's clear voice returned gladly, as the trim, slender figure before them turned about. She was neither tall nor short, and she was neither athletic looking nor "soft." And she was neither beautiful nor handsome, but just at the point halfway between which a girl of twenty-three reaches who inherits good features and healthful figure, and who has learned to dance well, ride well, study enough, golf enough, and has attained the thousand other "well and enoughs" which include talking well and listening enough, and allow a woman to be liked and loved with so little consciousness that she never suspects she is particularly liked at all.
"She is the kind of girl," one of the men upon the boat had commented admiringly to Preston, "of whom the other women who do it themselves can't say that she pads, or powders, or wears other people's hair—though it is a wonder that she can have enough of her own to wear it in the prevailing fashion."
"She is the kind of girl," Preston rejoined, "of whom other women wouldn't want to say that, if they could."
But young Preston, though fully conscious of the goodness of her appearance, was not most concerned with that just then. Though her first welcoming word was surely meant for only an acceptable greeting, he had imagined it held just a touch of the feminine relief in it which women travelling alone should properly feel upon finding a friend again; and he thrilled hotly with it.
The girl herself seemed to feel that she had betrayed something; for, as she released her hand, she laughed at him teasingly.
"But what, Mr. Preston," she demanded, "in the wide world can you be doing here in Ely, a cathedral town? What has brought you to this?"
"I can't tell you!" young Preston laughed joyfully, as the full realization of her presence came to him. "But I tell you that ever since I let that train with you puff away from me at Southampton, I haven't scrupled at searching even the cathedral towns to have a chance to find you again. Really, I've searched the registers of every hotel, inn, and pension where there was any possibility of finding you. And then, just as I had almost decided that you weren't on land, but were an incredible sort of mermaid person whom one finds only at sea, I find you—"
"I find you," the girl laughed gayly, cutting him off. "After staying at the same inn with us for fourteen hours, you let me find you!"
"At the same inn, Miss Varris?"
"Yes; mother and I came last evening. But we had written for our rooms in advance and, as mother was tired, went to them at once without registering. And we went out to the police station early this morning before you came down; so there's nothing for you to explain away."
"Then I wasn't quite so—lacking, was I? But to the police station, Miss Varris?" he asked quickly. "You went there? Why? You weren't robbed? The paper didn't make a mistake in the names?"
"Oh, no!" the girl laughed. "But we had been travelling for a few days with Mrs. Hastings who was robbed, so mother and I went with her to the magistrate this morning to place the formal complaint. I have just come back here ahead of them. I forgot something. No; to tell the truth, Mr. Preston," she said, looking at him frankly, "we had seen that you were here—and I did forget something, but I really made it an excuse to come back here and see you before you could see mother."
"You mean about the robbery?" Preston comprehended.
"Yes. She has been very much upset by what the police have just told her this morning—much more than she was before."
"Much more than before, Miss Varris?" Preston inquired.
"Yes; it's queer, isn't it? You see, we had heard about the robberies in the hotels before, of course. We heard about them every few days from some town or another; but as long as we thought that servants in the different places were doing it, mother did not worry much about it. But now the police have told her that it is some definite and dangerous person going about and doing it all, and that he is probably here still. And she had become almost sick over it."
"But why she especially, Miss Varris? Do you mean that you—"
"Yes," the girl assented. "This year, for the first time, we took practically everything in notes rather than in credit, just as all the people who have been robbed have done."
"But surely you can change it here."
"No. That is one of the things we went out this morning to do. There is a bank holiday to-day for some reason or other, and we can't change our funds into anything—even English notes."
"Oh; I see now," Preston smiled. "So you want me, Miss Varris, when I see your mother, to try to counteract the effect of the police theory and convince her, at least till to-morrow, that there is no definite, dangerous man here at Ely."
"Exactly, Mr. Preston," the girl approved. "Will you?"
"Well, Miss Varris," Preston turned about smiling. The Englishman, who had been standing in the window a little behind, had moved away.
"Oh, Mr. Dunneston!" the American recalled him hastily. "Oh, Mr. Dunneston. I beg your pardon! Won't you wait a moment?"
"Miss Varris," he faced the girl as the Englishman returned courteously, "won't you let me present to you Mr. Dunneston, with whom I have been travelling in the cathedral towns for the past week? Mr. Dunneston, Miss Varris. Mrs. Varris, Miss Varris, and I crossed together upon the Britannia.
"I am sure," he continued, as the girl bowed cordially to the Englishman, "that you will agree, in a moment, that I am brave in presenting Mr. Dunneston; and you, Mr. Dunneston, must admit that I am recklessly regardless of a most promising haul."
"Brave?" the girl asked, puzzled, turning uncertainly from her countryman to the Briton. "And recklessly regardless? What do you mean?"
"I mean," the American replied, "that you have just come to me and told me that your mother is in the most susceptible position for an easy and profitable robbery."
"Yes?"
"And you have asked me to convince her that the definite, dangerous person, who operates against such susceptible Americans, does not exist; whereas—"
"Yes; whereas—?" the girl led on encouragingly.
"Just before you came, Mr. Dunneston was presenting me with a most formidable array of facts to convince me—at least he was suggesting to me," Preston substituted, "that I am the man!"