The look-out man
-Nicolas Bentley.
My name is William Morris (no relation to the famous one; my folks came from Salford). I shall be fifty-three this year, married, with one daughter (also married), and I live at Woldingham in Surrey. I am what you call one of the quiet sort, I suppose. My life may not seem very exciting to some people, but that is the way I like to lead it.
I am fond of reading (there is enough excitement for me in books) and I like painting (only water colors as yet) and doing odds and ends about the house. So perhaps there is a bit of the other Morris in me after all; he was fond of doing odd jobs, too.
Although I am such a great reader, I had never thought of writing anything until this great event in my life happened and I felt I had to record it. So I must ask you to grin and bear it if my shortcomings as an author appear too obvious.
For more than thirty years I have made a study of detective fiction. But I do not read trash, and Heaven knows, there is enough of that about. Poe and Collins and Gaboriau, and of course, Holmes, and later on Trent and Dr Thorndyke were what shaped my taste for detective stories. And what I call detective stories are ones that deal with real detection, where the detective is not just a kind of superman but an ordinary one who has nothing but sharp eyes and common sense to rely on.
Consequently I think I have learned to look more closely at my fellow men than most people usually do. But it is not out of curiosity; it is for what it can teach you about human nature in general.
After all, it is the same method as bird watchers use, and it seems to me you can tell as much about a publican as a pelican if you look at him long enough(Not that I am a frequenter of pubs, because my wife is a total abstainer.)
I seldom go in a bus or train or anywhere without learning something about the people around me that you might easily miss at first glance. I like to study (quite unobtrusively, of course) the details and the state of their clothing, their hands and teeth and hair, and their jewellery (if any), and spectacles and fountain pens and so on, and what they are reading or carrying, and the way they talk and walk.
You cannot make much out of a single fact, of course, but put two facts together and you may have enough to hang a man on.
I expect my deductions are quite often wrong. I seldom have any means of proving them. But at any rate they keep my imagination more lively than doing crosswords, and for the interest I get they are a lot more profitable to me than doing the pools, of that I am sure.
Every day as I come up in the train-I work at Regnier's, the antique jewellers in Knightsbridge-I sit and look. But I have never had to put my powers of observation to the test, except when we had this trouble in the shop.
Eve
We have a very fine stock of old jewellery, but naturally we do not display much of this, except in the window which is well protected. We carry also a big range of objects d'art, Faberge and cloisonné articles, small carvings, crystal, jade and so on, and these are what we have on show.
The only assistants are Miss Susskind and I. (The repairs man works off the premises.) Mr. Regnier only attends special customers and big buyers.
The first thing that I do in the morning is to re-dress the window (we always clear it at night), and on this particular morning I happened to notice a girl looking in the window of the undertaker's opposite; though beyond a couple of urns and a photo of a hearse there cannot have been much to interest a girl, and I remember wondering about this at the time.
The reason I noticed her (I do not usually noticed girls; they are all one to me now a days, except as subjects of disinterested speculation) was because of her overcoat. It was a long yellow coat with big brown checks. And she had long yellow hair as well.
She was what you would call distinctly an 'arty' type-no hat and low heels, and I should imagine principles that were not much higher, from the general look of her.
I watched her for a little while, then I was interrupted by a customer. He was one of those gum-chewing Americans, but quite quiet in his looks, except for the pattern on his tie, which looked more like an accident than a design. I should have said he was between thirty-five and forty. He had a very smooth-looking pink face and was rather a big man.
He came straight in and asked to see some rings. I brought out a couple of trays, just to get some idea of the sort of thing he was after. But I could soon see he knew nothing about antique jewellery; nor anything else antique, I imagined, unless it came out of a bottle.
He asked the price of several rings and picked up two or three-it was then I noticed he was completely left-handed-and looked at them. But you could tell he knew nothing whatever about stones or settings. The only thing he seemed to judge them by was the price.
There was one ring, early seventeenth century, diamonds and rubies in a floral motif, and my word, it was a beauty! Mr. Regnier was so fond of it he did not really want to part with it, so had put a fancy price on it. It was too fancy for this American, anyway. Not that he could tell the finer rings from those not absolutely of the first water.
Finally there were three trays on the counter in front of him, and he still could not make up his mind. Then he spotted a fourth tray in the safe, which was open just behind me, and asked if he could see that, too. So I got it out for him. But even before I had laid it on the counter I spotted that the diamond and ruby floral pattern had walked.
I felt quite stunned-and embarrassed. It had never, never happened to me before, not in all my seventeen years, that anything in my charge at the shop had vanished.
I put down the tray and I made a signal to Miss Susskind with my eyebrows. She came over and when she was close enough to bear witness I said to the customer-and I had a hard job to keep my voice steady:
"You have decided on the floral ring, have you, sir? If you will just let me have it, I will find a box for it ..."
I held out my hand. The American said (I remember exactly his words):
'I haven't decided anything. Why, I just want to pick a couple or so for my wife to choose from. Then I'll have her come in later on."
What I said exactly I do not now recall, except that it was something to gain time so I could collect myself. I am seldom at my best taken unawares.
Miss Susskind (she is no fool) slipped off at once to fetch Mr. Regnier. I came round from behind the counter and began looking everywhere, so did the customer, and Miss Susskind and Mr. Regnier, too, when they came in.
Of course, Mr. Regnier was in a state. He is rather an excitable man, but overcomes it as a rule because he places high premium on his dignity. The American did not like it when Mr. Regnier began to warm up (no accusations, of course; that would never do) and for one minute I thought that things looked like getting rather ugly.
Then Miss Susskind (why she of all people should think of it I do not know) suggested that he should look in his turn-ups. Instead, he looked at her, very hard. His face had gone quite red, so it seemed to me, he had left off chewing and his jaw was set like a trap. From his expression he would like to have caught Miss Susskind's leg in it.
But he bent down and felt all round his turn-ups all the same without any result. Then he burst out laughing.
Sense of humour is not my strong point, I realise that, but even I could see that at this moment Miss Susskind on all-fours was legitimate food for a smile.
Then the American said: "Why, darn't it, I guess you think I've purloined it or something!"
Of course, faced with such a statement Mr. Regnier had to demur. He got up off the carpet and asked the customer very politely, to step into the office.
There (he told me afterwards) he put it quite straight to him, while he did not for one moment suspect him of theft, he must, for insurance purposes, satisfy himself that the ring had not accidentally got into any crease or cranny of his clothing.
It appears that the customer was quite good-natured and understanding about it, or seemed to be, and stripped right down for Mr. Regnier, even to his socks and shoes. But there was not a trace of the ring anywhere.
Miss Susskind and I went on looking for it meanwhile, not that I was in very high hopes. It had gone so swiftly and suddenly I could not help but feel suspicious.
While we were still looking another customer came in. And who she be but the girl I had seen not ten minutes since, looking into the undertaker's window. There was no reason really why I should have felt surprise, but I did feel it was a coincidence.
Close-to there were several little tell-tale things, her hair and her gloves and bag. which all looked just a little bit on the shabby side, nothing noticeable really. She was quite a lady. It is very seldom we get in anybody who looks even at all worn at the edges, if you follow; and ten to one, if they do, they want to sell, not to buy.
The girl pulled off her glove and took out a little tissue paper packet from her bag and laid it on the counter. (I at once noticed her fingers; unusually short for a woman; no wedding ring; nails carelessly varnished; and a split seam in the forefinger of the right glove.)
I undid the packet, and in it there was a cheap paste bracelet.
She said to me: 'Could you mend this for me? The clasp seems to have broken." I said: 'I am sorry, madam, we do not do repairs. (And nor do we, not that sort of junk.)
She hesitated, as though not sure what to do next. Then she just shrugged and said. 'Thank you.' And then-it was very clever the way she did it-her bag just sort of accidentally touched the tissue paper, and it slipped off my side of the counter.
As I stooped down to pick it up, I had what I can only regard as a revelation. Everything seemed suddenly clear to me, as though the various bits of a wire puzzle had suddenly slipped into their right places and solved the puzzle for me.
I say everything was clear, but was it? I was certainly not very clear about how to act. At all costs I knew Mr. Regnier would want no scene in the shop.
My heart really was in my mouth as I rose up slowly from behind that counter, and no doubt I looked it. I wrapped the bracelet up in the tissue-paper and handed it back. The girl put it in her bag, and as she turned to go I said to her:
'One moment, please.' But she acted as if she had not heard. So I said quickly, but, of course, quite politely: 'Excuse me, madam, if you do not stop, I shall be compelled to press the alarm and that door in front of you will be locked automatically.' Half-way through I had to swallow. I was so very strung up. behind the other
She did stop then, but she did not turn round. Miss Susskind, counter, stood there like Lot's wife with glasses on.
I came round to the girl and I said: 'We do not want any unpleasantness, madam, either of us. So if you will just hand over the ring in your left hand overcoat pocket the matter will be settled so far as we are concerned. If not, Miss Susskind will press the alarm.'
Miss Susskind nodded when I said this. I could see she was keen to press it anyway.
The girl had gone very pale. I really felt almost sorry for her for the moment, but I knew I had to be firm. She looked at me very frightened, then she handed over the ring and ran straight out of the shop.
And at that very minute Mr. Regnier came back out of the office with the American customer fully dressed.
The customer was looking all smiles, as though the whole episode was more or less a joke to him. But it was by no means a joke to Mr. Regnier. He was all apologies, not smiles.
Then I opened my hand and showed them the ring, and you should have seen Mr. Regnier's face, what with seeing his precious ring once more and then seeing the American go flying out of the shop as though a stone from a catapult.
Well, of course, Mr. Regnier wondered how on earth I had done it, so I explained.
First of all, we very seldom get any customers like this type of American. Something flashy and more modernistic than our style of jewellery would have been more in his line. He had no taste and what often goes with it-no idea what he really wanted.
Most people who come to us come because they know that at Regnier's you can get the sort of things you cannot just pick up anywhere. So query No. one in my mind (not that I had actually got any suspicions up to that moment) was why on earth should they have come to us?
Second point: this was about the girl. Why should anyone hang about in front of an undertaker's? (Of course, at this stage I did not relate the girl with the American customer at all.)
Either one is in need of an undertaker or one is not. It is not a matter that leaves room for doubt in the mind of the ordinary citizen.
So what was this girl doing hanging about in front of the undertaker's? The answer was clear to me; she was killing time. But what for? If her intention was to come to us, why dally in front of an undertaker's?
And then the cheap-looking thing she had brought in for repair. She looked as if she knew what was what, and she was a lady all right. She must have known very well we are not the kind of business that does cheap repairs. All this passed through my mind as I looked at her bracelet.
Point three was this: there was nothing left-handed about her, I had noticed that. Yet it was the left-hand glove she had pulled off when she came in, though she had undone the tissue-paper packet with her right. It was at the small counter, and really this counter is only wide enough for one person to stand at conveniently.
The last thing I remembered, as I bent down to pick up the tissue paper, was seeing this girl's left hand at just about the spot where the American had placed his-of course, he was truly left-handed-after I had taken the tray of rings from the safe.
And finally, there was one thing more that had stuck in my mind; it stuck rather far back till the critical moment came.
When we had all been crawling about on the carpet, and the American customer looked so cross at Miss Susskind, I remembered noticing he had stopped chewing his gum. Well, you do not just spit gum out on the carpet, even if you are the type of person he was.
And he had not moved a foot either way from where he was standing, so ipso facto he must have disposed of the gum somewhere within reach, because there was no wastepaper basket, nothing, nowhere, he could have got rid of it without one of us would have noticed-except right underneath the ledge of the counter. And that is where I looked for the gum, and where I found it just as the girl was about to go out of the shop. And there was the mark on it as clean as a die where the ring had been pressed into it.
It is funny thing the way different people get differently affected by the same things. Mr. Regnier was in such a state, angry, yet most grateful to me,-I really felt quite touched-that he could hardly speak when I told him how the whole thing had happened.
Miss Susskind does not speak much anyway, except to say 'tck, tck,' which she says a hundred times a day if she says it once. And that is exactly what she said.
I suppose I ought to be ashamed to admit it, a man of my age, but when I had finished explaining to Mr. Regnier, not only were my hands wringing wet, but I could not stop myself quivering all over for quite a while afterwards. Why?
