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The Adventures of Tyler Tatlock, Private Detective - ebook
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The Adventures of Tyler Tatlock, Private Detective - ebook
Dick Donovan’s detective was considered a great ‘rival’ to Holmes. For a time his detective stories were as popular as those of Arthur Conan Doyle. „The Adventures of Tyler Tatlock, Private Detective” is a thrilling collection of mystery and adventure tales (21 in all) including „The Queensferry Mystery” in which a series of remarkable house burglaries take place during the winter months in Edinburgh. This series also includes Sherlockian titles such as „The Sign of the Yellow Star”, „The Band of Three” and „The Clue of the Silver Jug.”
| Kategoria: | Kryminał |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8292-467-1 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 2,7 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Contents
THE QUEENSFERRY MYSTERY
THE CLUE OF THE SILVER JUG
TRACING A TRAITOR
THE BIG LOAN FRAUD
THE MISSING BRIDE
LOVED AND LOST
THE FORGED CHEQUE
THE GOLD-SEEKER'S STRANGE FATE AN ASTOUNDING ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE
WITH A PASSING GLORY
THE MYSTERY OF THE GRAVEL PITS FARM
THE SIGN OF THE YELLOW STAR
TRACKED BY TEETH
THE BAND OF THREE
AN UNSOLVED PROBLEM
THE NEW TENANT
THE YANKEE TOURIST
CLINTON & HILLS' DEED-BOX
THE MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER
THE STOLEN PICTURE
THE PRIVATE SECRETARY
A MEMORABLE CHRISTMASTHE QUEENSFERRY MYSTERY
SOME years ago a series of remarkable house burglaries took place during the winter months in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh’s most beautiful suburb, Queensferry. Several of the large houses there had been entered in a mysterious manner, and a great amount of valuable property, consisting principally of plate and jewellery, was carried off. As may be supposed, something like consternation spread through the district, and very strong complaints were made to the police, without producing material results, however. Of course, steps were at once taken to try and spot the gang, for it was believed to be a gang, who were working their ‘trade’ so successfully; but no arrest was made, and no explanations of the robberies were forthcoming. And more than that, notwithstanding these inquiries, watchings, and waitings, they did not even put a stop to the depredations. A Mr. M’Gowan, the occupant of ‘The Rowans,’ complained that his house had been entered and nearly a hundred pounds’ worth of miscellaneous jewellery carried off; Mrs. Gorst, a widow lady, living at Islandview Lodge,’ reported the loss of some very valuable old silver which had been in her family for generations; Mrs. Wilfred Read, of ‘The Retreat,’ was the poorer by a diamond necklet valued at a hundred and fifty pounds; while Mr. John Nairn, of ‘The Rookery,’ missed a presentation gold chronometer watch and a pearl and diamond scarfpin.
These are mere samples of the numerous reports that reached the police, and they serve to show how very serious the matter was. In some cases windows or doors were forced, but this was rather the exception than the rule, for things disappeared as if by magic, and there was often no trace of any forcible entry into the premises from whence the property had been taken.
Having regard to all the circumstances, it was perhaps in accordance with a natural police law that the culprits, it was expected, would be found among the ranks of the domestics in the various houses; but though the usual methods adopted by the police when servants are suspected were put into force, they failed to obtain even the shadow of a clue.
At last a crisis was reached when a Mrs. Bertha Wylie made a great outcry about the loss of a very valuable gold bracelet set with diamonds and rubies–present from her father on the morning of her marriage. It appeared that Mrs. Wylie had been attending an ‘At Home’ at the house of a neighbour, where her bracelet was the admiration of all. When she left she drove in a cab to her own residence, and immediately went upstairs to her bedroom, where she took off her bracelet and laid it on the dressing-table while she washed her hands preparatory to joining her husband at dinner. She was rather late, and he being a-hungered was not in the best of tempers at having to wait, particularly as he had brought a friend home to dine with him, so having hastily arranged her hair and performed other little toilet details dear to the heart of every woman she rushed downstairs to the dining-room, forgetting all about the bracelet. Nor did she remember it until the following morning when she rose. But a search on the toilet table, on the floor, in her jewel case, and in possible and impossible places did not bring the missing trinket to light. It had gone, disappeared, vanished completely. Full of a great grief, and with heavy heart, the lady made known her loss, and in discussing the matter with a friend she said–
‘You know, dear, valuable as the bracelet is, it is not so much the mere value that affects me as the fact that dear papa gave it to me the morning I married Tom.’
Mrs. Wylie was loud in her lamentations, and through the medium of the newspapers, as well as by handbills exhibited in the shop windows, she offered a reward of twenty pounds for the recovery of the missing article.
This last robbery, so mysterious and audacious, aroused the whole community, and the male representatives met together in the house of a Mr. Scott, an Edinburgh lawyer, to discuss the situation and see if something couldn’t be done to bring the guilt home to someone. The police had been baffled entirely, and the law-abiding subjects felt that the time had come when they should take the matter into their own hands. But notwithstanding that a good many of Mr. Scott’s cigars were smoked and a fair quantity of his excellent whisky drunk, nothing practically was arrived at until the host himself, who had remained unusually silent during the discussion, on the principle, probably, that ‘he who speaks last speaks well,’ put a suggestion before the meeting.
‘Some time ago,’ he said, ‘I had to do with a very peculiar will case, in which I was associated with the well-known London legal firm of Fleming, Steel, & Griffin, of Chancery Lane, and it became necessary for us to engage the services of Tyler Tatlock.’
‘Who is Tyler Tatlock?’ asked somebody.
‘Well, he is a very remarkable man who carries on a private detective agency in London, and I was informed that he was considered to be without a rival.’
‘Never heard of him,’ remarked two or three persons together.
‘Possibly not, but he has earned a reputation. At any rate, in the will case I instance he rendered invaluable service, and he made a very deep impression upon me.
‘What sort of a man is he?’ asked some one.
‘Do you mean mentally, physically, or what?’
‘Generally.’
‘Well, physically he is below medium height, but lithe as a snake and tough as nails. He doesn’t impress you at first sight. He has a clean-shaven face. His features are rather small, and his eyes are so small and deep-set that sometimes when he frowns you would think he had no eyes at all. But I have never met a man yet who saw so much with his eyes as Tatlock. He would discern a microbe on the end of your nose.’
‘I suppose what you are driving at, Scott,’ said one of his guests, ‘is that we should get this marvel down here?’
‘Precisely.’
‘At whose cost?’
‘Our own. I propose that we should make a whip round for his fee, whatever it is. Those who have lost things will surely not begrudge to give it. There is a chance of their property being restored to them.’
‘Well, I shall be willing to do my bit,’ said one gentleman.
‘And so will I.’
‘And I.’
So the proposal was agreed to, it being understood that the matter should be kept secret.
About a week later there entered Mr. Scott’s office in Edinburgh a little, somewhat sallow-faced man, with small black beady eyes, somewhat scant black hair, a clean-shaven face that seemed to wear an habitual expression of good humour, and a smooth, dulcet voice that might have been taken for a woman’s. He was neatly, but not ostentatiously, dressed. This person was Tyler Tatlock, who would have passed unnoticed in a crowd by the casual observer. But no man who had the power to penetrate a little beneath the surface of the human mask could have been in Tatlock’s presence very long before discovering that he was dealing with no ordinary person. The mobility of the face, to begin with, was simply marvellous; and then there was a strange, absolutely inexplicable magnetic influence about him that, in spite of yourself, made you feel you could at once take the little man into your confidence and tell him the innermost secrets of your heart. He was so quiet, his voice was so soft and insinuating, his manner so pleasant that he drew you out against your will.
Tatlock had originally intended to become an analytical chemist, and spent many years studying the science, when suddenly the true bent of his mind was developed by some analytical work he was doing in connection with a case of murder by poison. He thereupon abandoned chemistry as a profession and became a detective, but not without much study and preparation. He visited every capital in Europe, made himself thoroughly conversant with the various police systems; travelled extensively through India, China, Japan, and other countries, including Brazil. During his wanderings he acquired a wonderful knowledge of poisons, and at last returned home fully equipped for the walk in life he elected to follow.
Mr. Scott, with lawyer-like precision, gave Tatlock a full account of the Queensferry robberies. Tatlock listened attentively, his small eyes seemingly hidden by a frown, the index finger of his right hand on his temple, the elbow supported by the left hand; a favourite attitude when he was absorbed.
‘Of course,’ said Mr. Scott, when he had finished his recital, ‘no one save a few gentlemen in the Ferry knows that you are here.’
‘I am glad of that. A man has a much better chance of getting at the bottom of an apparent mystery if no one suspects that he is prowling about.’
A little later Tyler Tatlock went down to Queensferry to study the lay of the land, and spent some hours in wandering about. He strolled into a spirit merchant’s shop for a dram in the course of the afternoon, and had a chat with the man who served the drink, and incidentally touched on the burning question of the hour in that neighbourhood–the robberies.
‘I suppose you’ve heard a’ aboot the thefts,’ remarked the publican.
‘Well, I’ve heard something, but one never knows what to believe.’
‘Well, I’m of opinion that the servants in the different hooses are at the bottom of the whole business.’
‘I can’t think that.’
‘Weel noo’ tak’ the case o’ Mistress Wylie, a bonnie young woman but newly marrit. She pits her bracelet on her dressing-table after making a call on some friends. She forgets a’ aboot it when she gangs tae her dinner, and the next day there’s nae signs o’ it.’
‘But was the house not broken into?’
‘Na, na.’
‘Well, on the face of it it does look as though the servants had had something to do with that robbery. How many does she keep?’
‘Twa, I think.’
‘Has she lived here long?’
‘Na, aboot sax months.’
‘Where does she come from?’
I’ve heard say she was born here in the Ferry, but went south with her parents when she was a wee lassie. Her husband’s an Edinburgh man, but I understand he has been living in France or somewhere on the Continent.’
‘What does he do?’
‘I’m no sure that lie has any trade. Any way I’ve not heard that he does anything. I’m perfectly sure he doesna gang to Edinburgh every day like most of the folk hereabouts.’
At this point the loquacious publican was called off to serve and pass the time of day with some other customer. So Tatlock finished his liquor and went out, and returned to Edinburgh.
Two or three days later a curious-looking little old country woman called at Mrs. Wylie’s house at Queensferry, and asked to see Mrs. Wylie herself. She was requested to state her business, but declined, simply saying she wished to see the mistress on a very important matter. Presently she was invited to enter the breakfast-room, and having been kept waiting nearly half-an-hour Mrs. Wylie put in an appearance.
A very pretty little blonde woman with golden hair, blue eyes, and a sweet, baby face, but somewhat fussy manner.
‘What do you want with me, my good woman?’
I’ve heard tell that you’re offering a reward of twenty pounds for the recovery of a bracelet that was stolen from you.
‘Yes, that is right.’
‘I suppose there is no fear but the money would be paid if you got information?’
‘Why, of course it would be paid.’
‘Is the master in?’
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
THE QUEENSFERRY MYSTERY
THE CLUE OF THE SILVER JUG
TRACING A TRAITOR
THE BIG LOAN FRAUD
THE MISSING BRIDE
LOVED AND LOST
THE FORGED CHEQUE
THE GOLD-SEEKER'S STRANGE FATE AN ASTOUNDING ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE
WITH A PASSING GLORY
THE MYSTERY OF THE GRAVEL PITS FARM
THE SIGN OF THE YELLOW STAR
TRACKED BY TEETH
THE BAND OF THREE
AN UNSOLVED PROBLEM
THE NEW TENANT
THE YANKEE TOURIST
CLINTON & HILLS' DEED-BOX
THE MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER
THE STOLEN PICTURE
THE PRIVATE SECRETARY
A MEMORABLE CHRISTMASTHE QUEENSFERRY MYSTERY
SOME years ago a series of remarkable house burglaries took place during the winter months in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh’s most beautiful suburb, Queensferry. Several of the large houses there had been entered in a mysterious manner, and a great amount of valuable property, consisting principally of plate and jewellery, was carried off. As may be supposed, something like consternation spread through the district, and very strong complaints were made to the police, without producing material results, however. Of course, steps were at once taken to try and spot the gang, for it was believed to be a gang, who were working their ‘trade’ so successfully; but no arrest was made, and no explanations of the robberies were forthcoming. And more than that, notwithstanding these inquiries, watchings, and waitings, they did not even put a stop to the depredations. A Mr. M’Gowan, the occupant of ‘The Rowans,’ complained that his house had been entered and nearly a hundred pounds’ worth of miscellaneous jewellery carried off; Mrs. Gorst, a widow lady, living at Islandview Lodge,’ reported the loss of some very valuable old silver which had been in her family for generations; Mrs. Wilfred Read, of ‘The Retreat,’ was the poorer by a diamond necklet valued at a hundred and fifty pounds; while Mr. John Nairn, of ‘The Rookery,’ missed a presentation gold chronometer watch and a pearl and diamond scarfpin.
These are mere samples of the numerous reports that reached the police, and they serve to show how very serious the matter was. In some cases windows or doors were forced, but this was rather the exception than the rule, for things disappeared as if by magic, and there was often no trace of any forcible entry into the premises from whence the property had been taken.
Having regard to all the circumstances, it was perhaps in accordance with a natural police law that the culprits, it was expected, would be found among the ranks of the domestics in the various houses; but though the usual methods adopted by the police when servants are suspected were put into force, they failed to obtain even the shadow of a clue.
At last a crisis was reached when a Mrs. Bertha Wylie made a great outcry about the loss of a very valuable gold bracelet set with diamonds and rubies–present from her father on the morning of her marriage. It appeared that Mrs. Wylie had been attending an ‘At Home’ at the house of a neighbour, where her bracelet was the admiration of all. When she left she drove in a cab to her own residence, and immediately went upstairs to her bedroom, where she took off her bracelet and laid it on the dressing-table while she washed her hands preparatory to joining her husband at dinner. She was rather late, and he being a-hungered was not in the best of tempers at having to wait, particularly as he had brought a friend home to dine with him, so having hastily arranged her hair and performed other little toilet details dear to the heart of every woman she rushed downstairs to the dining-room, forgetting all about the bracelet. Nor did she remember it until the following morning when she rose. But a search on the toilet table, on the floor, in her jewel case, and in possible and impossible places did not bring the missing trinket to light. It had gone, disappeared, vanished completely. Full of a great grief, and with heavy heart, the lady made known her loss, and in discussing the matter with a friend she said–
‘You know, dear, valuable as the bracelet is, it is not so much the mere value that affects me as the fact that dear papa gave it to me the morning I married Tom.’
Mrs. Wylie was loud in her lamentations, and through the medium of the newspapers, as well as by handbills exhibited in the shop windows, she offered a reward of twenty pounds for the recovery of the missing article.
This last robbery, so mysterious and audacious, aroused the whole community, and the male representatives met together in the house of a Mr. Scott, an Edinburgh lawyer, to discuss the situation and see if something couldn’t be done to bring the guilt home to someone. The police had been baffled entirely, and the law-abiding subjects felt that the time had come when they should take the matter into their own hands. But notwithstanding that a good many of Mr. Scott’s cigars were smoked and a fair quantity of his excellent whisky drunk, nothing practically was arrived at until the host himself, who had remained unusually silent during the discussion, on the principle, probably, that ‘he who speaks last speaks well,’ put a suggestion before the meeting.
‘Some time ago,’ he said, ‘I had to do with a very peculiar will case, in which I was associated with the well-known London legal firm of Fleming, Steel, & Griffin, of Chancery Lane, and it became necessary for us to engage the services of Tyler Tatlock.’
‘Who is Tyler Tatlock?’ asked somebody.
‘Well, he is a very remarkable man who carries on a private detective agency in London, and I was informed that he was considered to be without a rival.’
‘Never heard of him,’ remarked two or three persons together.
‘Possibly not, but he has earned a reputation. At any rate, in the will case I instance he rendered invaluable service, and he made a very deep impression upon me.
‘What sort of a man is he?’ asked some one.
‘Do you mean mentally, physically, or what?’
‘Generally.’
‘Well, physically he is below medium height, but lithe as a snake and tough as nails. He doesn’t impress you at first sight. He has a clean-shaven face. His features are rather small, and his eyes are so small and deep-set that sometimes when he frowns you would think he had no eyes at all. But I have never met a man yet who saw so much with his eyes as Tatlock. He would discern a microbe on the end of your nose.’
‘I suppose what you are driving at, Scott,’ said one of his guests, ‘is that we should get this marvel down here?’
‘Precisely.’
‘At whose cost?’
‘Our own. I propose that we should make a whip round for his fee, whatever it is. Those who have lost things will surely not begrudge to give it. There is a chance of their property being restored to them.’
‘Well, I shall be willing to do my bit,’ said one gentleman.
‘And so will I.’
‘And I.’
So the proposal was agreed to, it being understood that the matter should be kept secret.
About a week later there entered Mr. Scott’s office in Edinburgh a little, somewhat sallow-faced man, with small black beady eyes, somewhat scant black hair, a clean-shaven face that seemed to wear an habitual expression of good humour, and a smooth, dulcet voice that might have been taken for a woman’s. He was neatly, but not ostentatiously, dressed. This person was Tyler Tatlock, who would have passed unnoticed in a crowd by the casual observer. But no man who had the power to penetrate a little beneath the surface of the human mask could have been in Tatlock’s presence very long before discovering that he was dealing with no ordinary person. The mobility of the face, to begin with, was simply marvellous; and then there was a strange, absolutely inexplicable magnetic influence about him that, in spite of yourself, made you feel you could at once take the little man into your confidence and tell him the innermost secrets of your heart. He was so quiet, his voice was so soft and insinuating, his manner so pleasant that he drew you out against your will.
Tatlock had originally intended to become an analytical chemist, and spent many years studying the science, when suddenly the true bent of his mind was developed by some analytical work he was doing in connection with a case of murder by poison. He thereupon abandoned chemistry as a profession and became a detective, but not without much study and preparation. He visited every capital in Europe, made himself thoroughly conversant with the various police systems; travelled extensively through India, China, Japan, and other countries, including Brazil. During his wanderings he acquired a wonderful knowledge of poisons, and at last returned home fully equipped for the walk in life he elected to follow.
Mr. Scott, with lawyer-like precision, gave Tatlock a full account of the Queensferry robberies. Tatlock listened attentively, his small eyes seemingly hidden by a frown, the index finger of his right hand on his temple, the elbow supported by the left hand; a favourite attitude when he was absorbed.
‘Of course,’ said Mr. Scott, when he had finished his recital, ‘no one save a few gentlemen in the Ferry knows that you are here.’
‘I am glad of that. A man has a much better chance of getting at the bottom of an apparent mystery if no one suspects that he is prowling about.’
A little later Tyler Tatlock went down to Queensferry to study the lay of the land, and spent some hours in wandering about. He strolled into a spirit merchant’s shop for a dram in the course of the afternoon, and had a chat with the man who served the drink, and incidentally touched on the burning question of the hour in that neighbourhood–the robberies.
‘I suppose you’ve heard a’ aboot the thefts,’ remarked the publican.
‘Well, I’ve heard something, but one never knows what to believe.’
‘Well, I’m of opinion that the servants in the different hooses are at the bottom of the whole business.’
‘I can’t think that.’
‘Weel noo’ tak’ the case o’ Mistress Wylie, a bonnie young woman but newly marrit. She pits her bracelet on her dressing-table after making a call on some friends. She forgets a’ aboot it when she gangs tae her dinner, and the next day there’s nae signs o’ it.’
‘But was the house not broken into?’
‘Na, na.’
‘Well, on the face of it it does look as though the servants had had something to do with that robbery. How many does she keep?’
‘Twa, I think.’
‘Has she lived here long?’
‘Na, aboot sax months.’
‘Where does she come from?’
I’ve heard say she was born here in the Ferry, but went south with her parents when she was a wee lassie. Her husband’s an Edinburgh man, but I understand he has been living in France or somewhere on the Continent.’
‘What does he do?’
‘I’m no sure that lie has any trade. Any way I’ve not heard that he does anything. I’m perfectly sure he doesna gang to Edinburgh every day like most of the folk hereabouts.’
At this point the loquacious publican was called off to serve and pass the time of day with some other customer. So Tatlock finished his liquor and went out, and returned to Edinburgh.
Two or three days later a curious-looking little old country woman called at Mrs. Wylie’s house at Queensferry, and asked to see Mrs. Wylie herself. She was requested to state her business, but declined, simply saying she wished to see the mistress on a very important matter. Presently she was invited to enter the breakfast-room, and having been kept waiting nearly half-an-hour Mrs. Wylie put in an appearance.
A very pretty little blonde woman with golden hair, blue eyes, and a sweet, baby face, but somewhat fussy manner.
‘What do you want with me, my good woman?’
I’ve heard tell that you’re offering a reward of twenty pounds for the recovery of a bracelet that was stolen from you.
‘Yes, that is right.’
‘I suppose there is no fear but the money would be paid if you got information?’
‘Why, of course it would be paid.’
‘Is the master in?’
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
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