The Barker's Dozen - Reminiscences of an Early Police Dog (3 page)

An extract from the journal of Miss Isobel Fraser, written for her sister, Lucy, in Boston.

LUCY, I thought that I would take this opportunity to explain my side in the recent family difficulties. I was truly sorry that you were away at school when the trouble broke as I could have done with your loving support.

I knew that our parents would be upset when they discovered my romance with John Hutchings as I realised that they would see only his poor background and not his many personal virtues. I never expected them to forbid my seeing him ever again. I tried to describe his virtues only to have Pa say that John was a worthless adventurer who cared only for my inheritance.

I told them that they had misjudged a noble man and that we cared not a
whit about money and, should they try to stop me seeing him, we would elope and head West. Well, Pa took exception at that and told me that I would do no such thing under pain of instant disinheritance.

Well I told them that they could not stop us if we decided to elope and if Pa cut me off a better man than him would provide for me. For a second I thought Pa was going to strike me but then he turned and walked from the room. Ma looked at me and told me to go to my room as she was too ashamed of me to bear to look on my ungrateful carcase. I went because I was rather ashamed by my outburst.

The next day my relationship with the parents was even icier and I kept out of their way. I took the opportunity to write to John and was gratified when he sent a reply by return. His letter confirmed everything I had said about his noble character. He told me that although he would elope with me tomorrow, if that were my wish, he knew that such a break with my parents would be a life long regret. Surely, it was better, he argued, for us to try to win my parents round and obtain their blessing on our union.

I tried to apologise to Pa that night but he turned from me stony
-faced and I realised that it would be some time before he forgave my outburst. Ma took pity on me and said that she had arranged for me to stay with a friend of hers for a few weeks while Pa recovered his equanimity. I thanked her and was gratified when she told me that she would handle my packing for me.

The following afternoon our parents drove me to the docks and before I knew it I was on a ship bound for
Liverpool with Ma’s friends, the Abrams, as my enthusiastic jailers. They did not let me out of their sight until America had disappeared over the horizon and I was irrevocably on the way to my exile with Aunt Emily and Uncle Graham in England.

I suppose unsophisticated people would describe our relatives in the Old Country as aristocratic, but this is only a polite way of saying boring, dismal and quite frankly
, tatty. The rundown barn that they call a house, Heron Court, no less, is apparently over three hundred years old and consists of endless cold corridors lined with rooms in a state of genteel decay. Our relatives are like their house, terribly old-fashioned and very unfashionable.

Truly, our parents have wrought a nasty revenge on me for my innocent romance.

Lucy, please send a note to John and tell him how I miss him.

I was sitting in my uncle’s study, while waiting for him to come back from the Yard, contemplating several financial matters that had come to a head. Mainly I was worrying about my uncle’s reaction to what was undoubtedly ‘a rare piece of foolishness’. I had made the common mistake of guaranteeing a loan for a friend. Unfortunately, bad luck at cards had made it impossible for him to repay his creditor so I was, therefore, responsible for repaying his debt. It was only a modest amount but more than my salary could happily cover.

I had taken a notebook out of my pocket and was once more running through the figures, hoping to find some redeeming feature. I was so deeply engrossed in this forlorn search that I did not see Snuffles enter the study and I was startled when he suddenly barked behind me. I leapt to my feet
, sending the notebook flying.

‘Good afternoon
. I note that you are somewhat preoccupied today. It therefore does not take a Sherlock Holmes to deduce that you have financial problems.’ Snuffles paused for a second before adding the single telling word ‘again.’

While I mumbled a protest, Snuffles retrieved my notebook and placed it in my hand. Sitting down facing me, he cocked his head slightly to one side and raised his ears in a questioning manner.

‘Do you want to rehearse your pitiful tale with me before you have to tell your uncle?’ he asked, ‘or would you prefer to discuss something else?’

It was quite obvious to me that my uncle would cover my problem in exhaustive detail before agreeing to help me. I decided therefore that I would prefer to take my mind off my troubles.

‘Can you tell me about one of my uncle’s cases?’ I asked the dog.

‘Certainly,’ replied Snuffles. ‘I will tell you about a series of robberies that occurred several years ago. It was a strange case and without a sudden inspiration I doubt whether your uncle would have solved it.’

Snuffles settled himself comfortably with his head on his paws and began.

-----

The November of that year was an awful month. Days went by without any break in the fog and as a result, the morale of the police force dropped. Thick fog favours the villain. Not only can the miscreant quickly throw off pursuit, but also the fog tends to play tricks with your ears making it hard to determine the origin of a sound. For a dog, it is even worse because the fog traps some smells and washes away other scents.

Petty crimes had increased and the number of arrests had fallen. All we could do was ensure that we kept a tangible presence on the streets to reassure people. Although it was over a year since the last Whitechapel murder, it was very easy to imagine on those foggy nights that Jack the Ripper was waiting in every alley.

One morning we reached the Yard to find a message instructing us to go to the home of Lord Harridge. Apparently, the noble Lord had suffered from an audacious burglary during the night. So we took a cab and soon found ourselves pulling up outside his Lordship’s town house.

Your uncle spent some minutes walking up and down examining the road, the pavement and the front of the house before climbing the steps and ringing the bell. A very proper butler opened the door and in a disapproving manner let us into the house. As we entered the hall we were met by Sergeant Allen.

‘Good morning, Inspector,’’ Sergeant Allen greeted my master while pulling one of my ears. ‘This is quite a straightforward robbery in some ways. The burglar entered the house by means of a first floor window, which is conveniently situated over a back porch. He then made his way to Lady Harridge’s dressing room and stole most of her jewellery. It was a slick and professional crime.’

‘Did the criminal take anything else?’
my master asked.

‘As far as we can tell, Sir, the thief took only the jewellery.’ The sergeant paused then continued
,  ‘in my opinion he knew exactly what he wanted and where to find it.’

‘Does Lord Harridge suspect any of the servants?’
my master asked: because Sergeant Allen’s comment raised the possibility that a member of the household had been either deliberately or accidentally indiscreet. This was quite a common problem in the larger houses because, unfortunately, servants do tend to gossip. My master has had cases where quite innocently a servant has boasted of their employer’s wealth to their own and their master’s grief. It was also true that many servants were paid an absolute pittance and a pressing financial problem could drive them to crime.

‘Lord Harridge became quite annoyed when I asked him that question,’ Sergeant Allen replied. ‘The servants have worked for him for years. In point of fact, all his male servants are men from his old regiment. The servants all refer to Lord Harridge as the Colonel and there seems to be a genuine regard for the old gentleman.’

‘Inspector Thompson?’ the butler asked while approaching your uncle. ‘Lord Harridge wonders whether you could spare him a few minutes.’

My master agreed to see his Lordship at once
, since it is these small politenesses that make a witness co-operative rather than hostile. We followed the butler along the hall and to a plain door, which he opened.

‘Inspector Thompson, Colonel,’ the butler announced while ushering us into Lord Harridge’s study. His Lordship turned out to be an elderly gentleman with a decidedly military bearing. As we entered the room, he rose from an armchair and greeted your uncle with a firm handshake. The room was extremely comfortable in a very masculine way. A pair of battered leather wing chairs stood on either side of an Adam fireplace in which burnt a welcome fire. Lying on the mat in front of the hearth was an elderly Red Setter.

‘I once served with your father, young man,’ Lord Harridge began.

Knowing that this human equivalent of sniffing another dog usually takes a few minutes to determine the participants’ precise rank within the pack, I walked over and introduced myself to the Setter.

Although I spoke quite quietly, the old dog visibly winced. It was obvious that he was not feeling very well so I lowered my voice and asked him what was wrong.

‘It’s this robbery, youngster,’ he replied. ‘Fine guard dog I turn out to be. Thirteen years of food and devotion from my master and the one time he needs me, I spend the night fast asleep.’

I naturally tried to tell him that he could not blame himself, but he shrugged off my reassurances.

‘It’s my fault,’ he continued. ‘I allowed myself to sleep through the robbery. I didn’t hear a thing. My master would have had to step over me to get out into the hallway.  A disgrace, that’s what I am and no mistake. I deserve to be turned out, I do indeed.’

Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were extremely red. I sniffed carefully and detected a faint odour that I always associate with very sick humans.

‘Did you eat anything unusual last night?’ I asked.

‘Now you come to mention it,’ he replied, ‘I did chase an alley cat off a piece of steak that it was dragging through my garden. The meat tasted a bit funny but I showed the cat who was boss. Strangely enough, the chase seemed to exhaust me. I barely had enough energy to make it to my master’s room before I fell asleep.’

It was obvious to me that the Setter had been carefully drugged to ensure that he couldn’t detect the burglar. I was about to tell him this when I heard my master suggest th
at Lord Harridge tell his account of the previous night so I turned my attention back to the men.

‘Everything was normal when we went to bed,’ Lord Harridge began. ‘My butler, Symes, reported to me that all the doors and windows were secure before he retired for the night. I sat up for a while and read before I went to bed myself.  I would say that by
one o’clock the house was quiet.

‘I woke up at about three fifteen. I was sure that I had heard something out of the ordinary, possibly a faint click. I have always been a very light sleeper, a trait strengthened by my service on the frontier. As I lay in my bed listening I clearly heard the sound of movement on the landing. The noise was very faint but quite unmistakable, or so I thought. I eased myself out of bed and took hold of an Indian club that I keep handy for just such occasions.

‘I crept to the door and listened. I could definitely hear movement. I took two quick breaths and pulled the door open. I could see the hallway bathed in faint moonlight but there was no one in sight. As I stood there, I heard a soft hissing followed instantly by a small scurrying sound. Suddenly my wife’s cat came charging out of her dressing room and began chasing an imaginary mouse up and down the landing. Laughing at the silly animal’s antics, I went back to bed.

‘It was only this morning when we discovered the robbery that I remembered Symes telling me that my wife’s cat wouldn’t come in when called. It seems obvious to me that the cat re-entered the house through the window that the burglar opened.’

My master asked to see the window that had been used by the burglar. I was quite surprised when Lord Harridge took us himself rather than delegating the task to one of his staff.  We were shown to the first floor landing and taken through a green baize door into one of the servants’ passages. At one end of this corridor, a small window was standing open. I placed my front paws on the windowsill and looked out. Immediately below the window, there was the sloping roof of a porch. I had a quick sniff and determined that a man and a pair of cats had recently entered through the window.

Your uncle bent to examine the window. One of the leaded panes had been totally removed. Sergeant Allen and my master agreed that it had the look of a professional thief.

Your uncle thanked Lord Harridge and asked if he could interview the rest of the household. His Lordship agreed but insisted that he was present during the interviews.

We interviewed the staff one at a time in Lord Harridge’s study and did not learn anything new about the burglary. It was obvious that Lord Harridge’s servants were devoted to him and most of them thought they had ‘let him down’ by not preventing the burglary in some unstated way. It made a pleasant change to find a totally contented household and I believe it was a testament to the enlightened way that his Lordship treated his staff.

The only interesting part of these interviews came when my master was talking to the cook. Apparently, small amounts of food had been vanishing over the past few weeks. The items were quite small and light. The list included some smoked salmon, several sausages, a quail and a small block of cheese. The cook was certain that none of the staff had taken them. She was, she admitted, suspicious of the grocer’s boy because he had stolen a mince pie two Christmases before.  Your uncle accepted that the theft of the food was an interesting problem but he could not see any link with the previous night’s theft of Her Ladyship’s jewellery.

Once the last of the interviews had been concluded Lord Harridge turned to your uncle. ‘Well
, Inspector, what do you think?’ he asked.

‘It was a very professional job.’ My master replied. ‘We need to compile a list of your wife’s jewellery so that we can circulate it to all the
London jewellers and pawnbrokers.’

‘Can you catch him?’ Lord Harridge insisted.

‘At the moment we have no evidence. Until we establish the facts we will not be able to arrest anyone.’ My master shrugged and continued, ‘a professional criminal is normally only caught after several crimes. Once we have established our villain’s habits we can identify him and arrest him.’

‘Much as I thought,’ Lord Harridge said ruefully. ‘A friend of mine, Sir James Trimperton, suffered from a similar robbery three weeks ago. He lives down near
Brighton. It might help if you contacted the officer who dealt with that robbery.’

My master thanked Lord Harridge and promised to inform him of any developments. Leaving Sergeant Allen to produce a list of the stolen items, we made our way to your uncle’s office at the Yard where he arranged for a telegram to be sent to
Brighton asking for a brief summary of Sir James’ robbery. It was, as he said, a long shot but we had nothing else to work with.

Sergeant Allen returned about two hours later, having made arrangements for a list of the stolen jewellery to be circulated to all the capital’s pawnshops. We did not really expect any results from this since it is normally only petty or impulse criminals who attempt to pawn their stolen goods. The rest of that day was spent dealing with other important matters, such as lunch.

The following morning we arrived at the Yard to find that a package had been delivered from Brighton. Your uncle opened it and quickly read though the contents before calling Sergeant Allen into his office.

‘This is from Inspector Clarke at
Brighton,’ my master began. ‘He has sent us a copy of his report on the robbery at Sir James’ house. The robbery had occurred sometime in the early hours of the last Friday of October. The burglar had entered the house by removing a pane of glass in the servants’ hall. The intruder then seemed to have gone directly to Lady Trimperton’s dressing room where her jewel case had been stolen.

‘Inspector Clarke then writes that they initially had a suspect. One of the maids had been sacked without a reference earlier that week for stealing small amounts of food. She had sworn that she was innocent and that Sir
James was wronging her. The local police traced her to her home village and arrested her. It was soon established, however, that she had been working until well after midnight in the village inn.