McSWEENY AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.The things were missed from one of the rooms in a house in George Square not many hours after the sweeps had been there, and of course suspicion at once fell upon these men. Who ever trusted a chimney-sweep the length of his own nose? The blackness of their faces is supposed to be nothing to that of their souls, and what was the old and popular portrait of the devil but a chimney-sweep with a tail tacked on? There were three articles taken—a gold bracelet, a very valuable necklet and pendant, and one gold ear-ring.The leaving behind of one of the ear-rings gave the robbery an odd look, for the whole of the things had been taken from the drawer or a dressing-table, and the ear-ring left was the first article which caught the eye of the owner when she opened the drawer.Either the thief had wanted only one ear-ring, or had been scared in grasping at the plunder, and so left the odd trinket. The drawer had been locked, but the key had been left in the lock, and must have been made use of by the thief both to open and refasten that receptacle. Mrs Nolten, the lady of the house, was the first to make the discovery, and, not knowing that the sweeps had been in the house, fancied that one of the servants might have taken the use of the jewels.A furious ring at the bell brought the two girls up in great consternation, and then the truth was known. Neither of them had been near the drawer of the dressing-table, and one of them, while admitting that the sweeps had been there, declared that she had “kept her eye on them” all the time, and so could scarcely conceive it possible for them to be the thieves.Mrs Nolten paid no heed to the remark, but wisely sent word to us in all haste. When the report arrived it was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, and I was on the point of starting off to look after a much more important case. However, as I had to go southwards, I decided to take George Square on the way, and then let McSweeny do the rest. We soon got to the house, and were shown into the dressing-room from which the articles had vanished.The two servants were brought up, and from one of them I learned that the sweeps had been simply a man and a boy. They had both been in the room for a little, and after the man had helped to lift out the grate and fasten up a blanket in the fire-place, he had gone up on the roof to complete the work, leaving the boy in the room alone. They believed that the boy was the sweep’s own son. I examined the carpet in front of the dressing-table. It showed no marks of sooty feet. I then looked at the drawer in which the articles had been secured, and finally took the key from the lock and smelt it. There was a distinct smell of soot about it, but then the whole room had a flavour of the kind just then, and the smell on the key might mean nothing. After taking down a minute description of the articles missing, and getting the sweep’s address, we left the house, and I directed McSweeny to go to the chimney-sweep and see what he could make of the case. We then parted, with the understanding that I also was to call at the sweep’s on my return. The man’s name was Sandy Brimely, and his place only a couple of streets from the spot.It was a dark dingy hole below the level of the street, and consisted of three rooms or cellars, lighted through gratings on the pavement. One place was used as a kitchen and sleeping-place, another smaller place was also used as a bedroom, and the third hole was used as a store-room for soot. This third place was in reality part of the first, but had been divided off by the wooden partition which kept the soot from sliding all over their living room.Sandy was standing at the head of the stair leading down to this sooty abode when McSweeny arrived. His work was generally over by that time, except when a godsend came in shape of a chimney afire, and Sandy leant against the wall enjoying his pipe as peacefully as if there had been no such beings as detectives in the world. He was a sly, oily tongued fellow, but so far as I know had never been convicted of any worse crime than beating his wife, or occasionally taking more whisky than he could carry unassisted.After a little preliminary blarney on both sides, during which it appeared that Sandy knew both McSweeny’s face and his profession, my chum considerably startled him by sayingabruptly—“You were at Mrs Nolten’s, in George Square, this morning?”The sweep took the pipe from his mouth, with his pleased look effectually banished. If he had not been so sooty he might have been said to turn pale, so constrained and almost scared did he become.“Let me see. Yes—yes, I was there,” he awkwardly answered. “I was there doing two vents.”“Did you take anything away wid ye?” said McSweeny, pointedly.He expected the man, if guilty, to show signs of concern or confusion; but, if anything, the sweep looked brighter after the question.“Away with me?” he echoed, to gain time for the answer. “Of course I did. I took the soot.”“Nothing else?” suspiciously pursued McSweeny.“Nothing else, sir, as I’m a living man,” energetically returned Sandy. “I hope you don’t think I would touch an article belonging to any one else?”The question was a delicate one, and McSweeny did not attempt an answer, further than to state that some things had been missed, and that he was there in his official capacity to investigate the case, and try to find the articles missing.Sandy allowed him to talk on, drinking it all in and becoming brighter and more beaming at every word.“I hope you’ll search every hole and corner in my place, sir,” he fervently exclaimed, when McSweeny had done. “I want my character cleared, and my honesty established. What,” he added grandly, “what is dearer to a poor man than his good name? and what would become of my business if folks took me for a thief? I insist on you searching my place—never mind about a warrant, or anything else—my honour is at stake, and I must have it done at once.”He led the way downstairs to his abode, in which McSweeny found quite a crowd of small sooty children scrambling about the earthen floor in noisy glee. These were all sent outside, and then Sandy explained to his wife with much warmth the absurd suspicion which had been raised against his character.“I see it all now! I see it all now!” he suddenly exclaimed, smiting his sooty brow with tragic force. “Could anybody believe they would be so cunning?”McSweeny hinted that an explanation would be acceptable.“Why, don’t you see, sir—the servants—the servants; they’re at the bottom of this. They’ve taken the chance while we were there to steal the things, knowing the blame would fall on me. You’ve no idea,” he continued, waxing pathetic, “what sweeps have to put up with. There’s scarcely a house we go into that we’re not watched like glaziers on tramp. You can see it in their eyes. It’s hard to be looked at like a thief when you’re doing your best to earn an honest living.”“Are you quite sure now that the boy you had with you mightn’t help himself if he got a dacent chance?” suggested McSweeny, by way of appearing to sympathise with the sweep.“Him? Why, he’s my own son!” exclaimed the sweep, as if that quite settled the matter. “But he’s just out in the square there playing at the bools. I’ll send for him, and you can question him yourself.”This was done, and the sooty apprentice appeared, and denied all knowledge of the missing articles.McSweeny, on the invitation of the father, somewhat gingerly searched the sooty clothes of the boy, but found nothing. He then performed the same office upon the father, with a like result. The wife also turned out her pockets for inspection, and then McSweeny settled himself to the not very agreeable task of searching the house. The furniture was poor and scanty, and the floor an earthen one, so there was no great difficulty in the task. But there was soot everywhere. It was on the floor, on the shelves, in the very beds, and so pervaded the whole atmosphere of the house that McSweeny had soon drawn such a quantity into his nostrils that he would willingly have paid half-a-crown down for the pleasure of sneezing his own head off. He went gaping, and blinking, and sputtering over the place till he had searched every part but the soot cellar. Before that he paused ruefully. I firmly believe he would have shirked searching that altogether, and that the resolve was showing itself in his face, when the cunning sweep affected to make a suspicious movement or two with his hands near the partition, as if in the act of dropping something into the soot.“What’s that you’re after now?” cried McSweeny, starting round sharply and dragging forth the sweep’s hand.“Nothing—oh, nothing, sir,” was the glib reply; “I was only feeling how high the soot is.”McSweeny suspiciously lifted a candle, held it over the partition and peered down into the soot-bin at the spot, but could see nothing to indicate that any article had been dropped. This partition was about two feet and a half high and immediately behind it the soot was fully a foot deep, sloping up thence to the back wall to a height of about three feet. Against that wall several sacks of soot were piled, and resting on one of these sacks was the end of a spar of wood which reached across the soot to the wooden partition, upon which the other end rested. This plank was evidently used as a standing-place from which they could conveniently empty their soot-bag after a morning’s work. McSweeny thought it possible that there might be a hide of some kind behind these soot bags, and, candle in hand, clambered up on the partition and thence on to the spar bridging the soot. As he stepped across the frail bridge he had to turn his back for a moment to the innocent-looking sweep, and knew no more until he had dived down nose foremost into the sea of soot.He always declared that the sweep had shoved the end of the plank from the partition; but when he scrambled to his feet among the soot, sputtering, gasping, and sneezing enough to rend himself, there was Sandy standing gravely by him with a look of earnest and sorrowing condolence on his grimy face. The wife went into fits of laughter over McSweeny’s appearance as he stood in the soot, with his face and beard thickly coated with the soft black, and only his well-rubbed eyelids beginning to show white through the sable covering, but she was solemnly rebuked and sworn at by her demure-faced husband.“Eh, sir, to think that the plank should have slippit just when it wasna wanted to slip,” cried Sandy, handing McSweeny a sooty rag with which to clean his face and clothes; “but it’ll dae ye nae herm, sir, nae herm. Soot’s a healthy thing, sir—healthier than clean water.”“You—you—ah—ah——choof!—you did that!” cried McSweeny, as soon as he could speak, ferociously fixing Sandy with his eye. “You’ll suffer for—ah—ah——choo—oof! Begorra, I’ve a good moind to stick your head in it, and make you swallow a bag of it before I let you out.”“Me, sir!” cried Sandy, in pious horror. “May I never soop another lum if I ever thought o’ sic a thing. See, I’ll gie ye a brush doon, sir. It’s a kind o’ a pity ye had thae licht-coloured troosers on, but they’ll clean at the dyer’s, and never look a whit the waur.”“Don’t thrubble yourself to brush me, for I’m not done wid the hole yet,” savagely responded McSweeny; “but for this I’d have let you off aisy, but now, sweet bad luck to you! I’m as black as I can be, and I’ll see to the bottom of this before I stir.”McSweeny at the same moment seized a big shovel which he found in one corner of the soot-bin, and deliberately began to spade out the soot into the middle of the kitchen floor, carefully examining every shovelful before he pitched it over the partition. While he was thus engaged bending over a spadeful of the soot, Sandy managed to make a sign to his wife, who stooped to the floor, picked something up, and threw it over into the heap of soot rising in the middle of her kitchen.McSweeny was just conscious of some swift movement having taken place, but saw neither the movement nor the direction of the pitch.“What divil’s game are you two up to now?” he suspiciously growled, looking from one to the other. “I’ll have to take yez both. You throw’d something just now—what was it?”The sweep and his wife raised their hands as if horrified at the accusation, and solemnly declared that McSweeny’s imagination had deceived him; that they had nothing to throw, and they would as soon attempt to fly in the air as to try to deceive such a world-renowned and keen-sighted detective as he. McSweeny, still suspicious, came out of the soot-bin and searched about for a little, but found nothing; and then, after a deal of snorting and swearing, went back to his work, and soon had all the loose soot out in the kitchen. There remained then only the sacks at the back to be removed, and McSweeny was diligently setting his brawny arms and shoulders to them when I descended the stair and stood before them. I stood transfixed with astonishment at the strange scene, till a familiar grin from the demon of darkness at work in the soot-bin made me look at him more closely, and then I faintly recognised my chum.“Good heavens! what does all this mean?” I exclaimed, after a hearty laugh at McSweeny’s solemn face and the eloquent burst of abuse which he heaped upon the sweep and his wife.“It means,” he responded, making a virtue of a necessity, “that I’m not afraid to do my duty properly, even though I do get a little black by it, and spoil a good suit of clothes into the bargain. Jamie, avick, I’ve found nothing, but we may take them both on suspicion, for a pair of bigger blackguards never walked the streets unhung.”It seemed to me that had the sweep been an innocent and honest man, he would have resented this language hotly. He did not. He was all smoothness and politeness still, and officiously offered to help me in any way. What I liked worse was to observe that he was also all cheerfulness. There was even a twinkle of gloating and delight in the corners of his demurely drawn eyes over McSweeny’s grinning and discomfiture, or possibly over the consciousness that he was perfectly safe. Now, I had never believed that we should find the missing articles in that sooty den, and had hinted as much to McSweeny. Supposing the sweep to have nerve and effrontery enough to commit such a robbery, he would have been an arrant fool to have kept the stolen trinkets about his house. After a look round the place myself, and a short conversation in an undertone with McSweeny, I decided that we might go, and trust to tracing the missing articles elsewhere. But there was the sweep’s kitchen in a dreadful state of confusion, with a great pile of soot filling the centre of the floor; it would never do to leave the poor man’s house in that state, and I promptly said so.“Oh, that’s naething, sir—I’ll put back the soot mysel’,” smoothly and graciously answered the sweep. “Dinna disturb yoursel’, sir; I’ll see ye up that stair, for it’s very dark and narrow. This way, sir; this way.”He quickly made for the stair, but I paused before following, and exchanged a look of inquiry with McSweeny. The wife, squatted by the fire with a pipe in her mouth, watched us furtively out of the corner of her eye. That sly, cautious glance decided me. The sweep had shown a trifle too much alacrity in wishing to bid us good-bye and see us out. I stood still and conversed in a low tone with McSweeny. The sweep looked back from the doorway somewhat anxiously.“We’re not quite ready yet,” I quietly said; “we must put things as we got them.” Then I added with apparent coolness to McSweeny, “Shovel it backcarefully.”The face of the sweep, sooty though it was, showed a visible and concerned change as I spoke, and I felt that I had scored a point.“I’ll help you, sir; I’ve another shovel here,” he cried with alacrity after the first stagger, pouncing on a shovel and approaching the soot heap.“Thank you—no,” I coldly and sternly returned, pointing to a seat by the fire; “sit there till I tell you to rise.”He sat down, or rather flopped down, with an attempt at a gracious grin, and, taking the pipe from his wife, began puffing fiercely, watching us anxiously all the while. McSweeny slowly and deliberately shovelled up the soot in small quantities, according to my directions, narrowly inspecting it as it was returned to the bin, and before the half of the soot had been so lifted he paused to inspect a soot-covered object which had got into one of these small shovelfuls. I was at his side in a moment; and as the glitter of metal caught my eye I glanced towards the sweep and saw that he was painfully anxious to look indifferent. The object, when cleared of soot, proved to be a small handle of gilt brass, fastened to a flat piece of ivory, on which was some neat carving. The four eyes at the fireside were goggling, like distended telescopes, at us as we stood clearing the strange object of soot.“What’s this?” I sharply demanded of the sweep.“That, sir?” and he took a stride or two forward to look at the fragment. “I’m sure I dinna ken; it’s a thing ane o’ the bairns found oot on the street and brought in to play wi’.”Sandy’s face said “lie” all over in spite of the soot as he made the hurried answer, and I said nothing. Every thief has “found” these things, or had them given him, or innocently brought into his house by some third person not conveniently at hand. After a close inspection of the fragment I was inclined to think that it had formed part of the lid of an ivory box or casket. No such article was in our list so far as I could remember; but the expression of the sweep’s face and his general manner induced me to say that I would take the fragment with me.“Certainly, sir, certainly; it’s of nae value to me,” cried Sandy with forced alacrity. “Will I wrap it in a bit paper for ye?”I declined the officious offer, put the fragment in my pocket, and shortly after took leave with McSweeny, who made a dive at once for the baths in Nicolson Square. A wash in water and a brush at the fragment seemed to confirm my suspicion. The ivory appeared to be fine, and was prettily carved, and it seemed to have been rudely smashed. I took the piece to a dealer in such articles, and he not only confirmed me in my suspicion, but showed me a complete casket of the same style of workmanship. It was a small thing, about six inches long by four broad, and might be used, the dealer said, for holding either jewels or money. They were very expensive, and but few were sold. This last bit of information I found to be correct, for after going over all the dealers in such articles in Edinburgh I could not find one who had sold a casket answering the description of the fragment I had found. I wished to find the owner for a particular reason. In examining the ivory one day it struck me that it had a smoked appearance—a kind of dingy hue which could never have been imparted by simply lying among soot. How could it have got that tinge? Not by being thrown into the fire, for there was not a burn on the whole fragment. Could Sandy have hung it up his own chimney like a red herring or a ham to give it that colour, or had it been so tinged when it came into his possession? The chimney in Sandy’s house had been the place which we searched most rigorously, so I was tolerably certain that he had no other interesting herrings there in pickle. I thought the owner of the bit of ivory and brass might help me to an answer, and at length decided to advertise for him. “An Ivory Casket, Carved,” was notified in the newspapers as having been found, and the owner was requested to call without delay upon me. The day that this advertisement appeared, Sandy called at Mrs Nolten’s house in George Square, and asked permission to go up on the roof to get a rope which he believed he had left there on his last visit. The request was put before the lady of the house, and promptly refused. Sandy then went to the next house and made the same request, and received as prompt a refusal. After the second appearance of the advertisement, a gentleman named Dundas called, and requested to see the “Ivory Casket.” There was a strange reserve about him, which I only understood when in confidence he imparted to me the suspicion that his own son had been the robber, at the same time emphatically stating that he was firmly resolved not to give in any charge against the runaway. On being shown the fragment, he identified it as part of the lid of an ivory casket stolen from his house, and containing at that time nearly £10 in gold and silver. The casket had not been missed till after the flight of his son, who had left a good situation and gone to London with the craze strong upon him to be an actor. I found, however, that Mr Dundas had a distinct recollection of employing Sandy to sweep his chimneys about that time, and as six months had since elapsed, Sandy had been there on the same errand but a month or two ago. On calling the gentleman’s attention to the smoky appearance of the ivory, he declared that it had not been so tinged when in his possession, and spontaneouslyremarked—“It must have been hanging in some chimney.”In a chimney certainly, but what chimney? whose chimney? I revolved the matter in my mind, and at length concluded that Sandy would never have been foolhardy enough to conceal anything in his own chimney. And yet there was pretty palpable evidence that the stolen article had been inachimney.After half a day’s cogitation, an idea struck me which gave such a feasible explanation of the thing that my only wonder is that it did not occur to me earlier. Sandy, if he wanted a chimney as a hide, was not limited in his choice to one or twenty. He visited some at regular intervals, and was in these cases the only man employed. What was to hinder him from using them boldly as establishments of his own? depots for goods which he could not conveniently store at home? I began to wonder how I could get hold of a list of these houses that I might inspect the chimneys. In sweeping a chimney it was often necessary for Sandy to lift out the grate, when it was what is known as a “Register,” and it seemed to me that in doing so he could easily make use of the space behind as a hide when the grate was put back; but in making this guess it will be found that I gave Sandy credit for less ingenuity than he possessed. While Mr Dundas was diligently hunting for the address of his runaway son, that he might fairly ask him if he had been the thief of the casket and its contents, I was ferreting out the most prominent of Sandy’s customers. In making the round of these it is singular, but true, that I never thought of calling at Mrs Nolten’s, and when I did find myself there, it was more by accident than from choice. Being on the spot one day, I thought I would go in and have the register grate lifted out; but when this had been done in presence of the lady and myself, and nothing found, Mrs Nolten recalled the recent visit of Sandy, and detailed to me the circumstances. I immediately conceived a strong desire to go up on the roof and have a look for that “rope which he thought he had left.” I did not look about the slates or rhone pipes, but went straight to the chimneys, though I confess I was at a loss to understand how anything could be safely concealed in them. After going over all the chimney-cans, I came to one inside which, just at the bottom where the can was embedded in mortar to secure it to the stones, I saw sticking a common three-inch nail.It was all but hidden with soot, but enough was left bare to show that it had attached to it a bit of twine, which hung down inside the chimney proper. I grasped at the nail, easily pulled it out, and drew up with it the bit of twine. Something dangled at the end of the twine, which proved to be a paper parcel not very neatly tied up. I felt the contents of the parcel through the paper, and smiled out broadly.“What a dunce I was not to think of this sooner!” was my comment upon myself.I distinctly felt the shape of a bracelet through the paper, and did not trouble to open the parcel till I should get down into the house. I went down, and Mrs Nolten, seeing me smile and the parcel in my hand attached to the sooty string, instantly grasped at the truth.“You’ve found them in my own chimney?”A woman’s instincts seldom mislead her. The lady was right. I opened the paper parcel, and there, snugly reposing within, and not a whit the worse of the smoking, were the bracelet, the necklet, and the odd gold ear-ring. I left the house at once, taking the interesting parcel with me, and in a minute or two stood before Sandy in his own home.“It’s a fine day, sir,” he graciously began.“It is—a very fine day,” I returned, with emphasis. “Do you remember that bit of ivory, Sandy, with the brass handle attached, which we found here?”Sandy found his memory conveniently defective.“I had quite forgot aboot it, sir,” he said awkwardly, when I had refreshed his powers a little.“Well, I’ve discovered the gentleman who owns it, and strangely enough he declares thatyouwere in his house sweeping some chimneys the day before it went amissing.”Sandy’s sooty face was a curious study, but he wisely made no audible reply.“Don’t say anything unless you like, but did you ever see this parcel before?” I gently pursued, as I brought out the parcel and showed him its contents. “Nothing to say?—very good. Just put on your coat and cap and we’ll go, then. I’m only sorry,” I added, as I put a handcuff on his wrist, and retained the other end in my hand, “that I haven’t a pair of these with a longer chain between the bracelets, for I never come close to you, Sandy, without sneezing for half a day after.”Sandy grinned a feeble and ghastly assent, and then went with me without a word. We could easily have proved both robberies against him, but he decided to make the best of his position by pleading guilty, and so got off with three months imprisonment.
The things were missed from one of the rooms in a house in George Square not many hours after the sweeps had been there, and of course suspicion at once fell upon these men. Who ever trusted a chimney-sweep the length of his own nose? The blackness of their faces is supposed to be nothing to that of their souls, and what was the old and popular portrait of the devil but a chimney-sweep with a tail tacked on? There were three articles taken—a gold bracelet, a very valuable necklet and pendant, and one gold ear-ring.
The leaving behind of one of the ear-rings gave the robbery an odd look, for the whole of the things had been taken from the drawer or a dressing-table, and the ear-ring left was the first article which caught the eye of the owner when she opened the drawer.
Either the thief had wanted only one ear-ring, or had been scared in grasping at the plunder, and so left the odd trinket. The drawer had been locked, but the key had been left in the lock, and must have been made use of by the thief both to open and refasten that receptacle. Mrs Nolten, the lady of the house, was the first to make the discovery, and, not knowing that the sweeps had been in the house, fancied that one of the servants might have taken the use of the jewels.
A furious ring at the bell brought the two girls up in great consternation, and then the truth was known. Neither of them had been near the drawer of the dressing-table, and one of them, while admitting that the sweeps had been there, declared that she had “kept her eye on them” all the time, and so could scarcely conceive it possible for them to be the thieves.
Mrs Nolten paid no heed to the remark, but wisely sent word to us in all haste. When the report arrived it was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, and I was on the point of starting off to look after a much more important case. However, as I had to go southwards, I decided to take George Square on the way, and then let McSweeny do the rest. We soon got to the house, and were shown into the dressing-room from which the articles had vanished.
The two servants were brought up, and from one of them I learned that the sweeps had been simply a man and a boy. They had both been in the room for a little, and after the man had helped to lift out the grate and fasten up a blanket in the fire-place, he had gone up on the roof to complete the work, leaving the boy in the room alone. They believed that the boy was the sweep’s own son. I examined the carpet in front of the dressing-table. It showed no marks of sooty feet. I then looked at the drawer in which the articles had been secured, and finally took the key from the lock and smelt it. There was a distinct smell of soot about it, but then the whole room had a flavour of the kind just then, and the smell on the key might mean nothing. After taking down a minute description of the articles missing, and getting the sweep’s address, we left the house, and I directed McSweeny to go to the chimney-sweep and see what he could make of the case. We then parted, with the understanding that I also was to call at the sweep’s on my return. The man’s name was Sandy Brimely, and his place only a couple of streets from the spot.
It was a dark dingy hole below the level of the street, and consisted of three rooms or cellars, lighted through gratings on the pavement. One place was used as a kitchen and sleeping-place, another smaller place was also used as a bedroom, and the third hole was used as a store-room for soot. This third place was in reality part of the first, but had been divided off by the wooden partition which kept the soot from sliding all over their living room.
Sandy was standing at the head of the stair leading down to this sooty abode when McSweeny arrived. His work was generally over by that time, except when a godsend came in shape of a chimney afire, and Sandy leant against the wall enjoying his pipe as peacefully as if there had been no such beings as detectives in the world. He was a sly, oily tongued fellow, but so far as I know had never been convicted of any worse crime than beating his wife, or occasionally taking more whisky than he could carry unassisted.
After a little preliminary blarney on both sides, during which it appeared that Sandy knew both McSweeny’s face and his profession, my chum considerably startled him by sayingabruptly—
“You were at Mrs Nolten’s, in George Square, this morning?”
The sweep took the pipe from his mouth, with his pleased look effectually banished. If he had not been so sooty he might have been said to turn pale, so constrained and almost scared did he become.
“Let me see. Yes—yes, I was there,” he awkwardly answered. “I was there doing two vents.”
“Did you take anything away wid ye?” said McSweeny, pointedly.
He expected the man, if guilty, to show signs of concern or confusion; but, if anything, the sweep looked brighter after the question.
“Away with me?” he echoed, to gain time for the answer. “Of course I did. I took the soot.”
“Nothing else?” suspiciously pursued McSweeny.
“Nothing else, sir, as I’m a living man,” energetically returned Sandy. “I hope you don’t think I would touch an article belonging to any one else?”
The question was a delicate one, and McSweeny did not attempt an answer, further than to state that some things had been missed, and that he was there in his official capacity to investigate the case, and try to find the articles missing.
Sandy allowed him to talk on, drinking it all in and becoming brighter and more beaming at every word.
“I hope you’ll search every hole and corner in my place, sir,” he fervently exclaimed, when McSweeny had done. “I want my character cleared, and my honesty established. What,” he added grandly, “what is dearer to a poor man than his good name? and what would become of my business if folks took me for a thief? I insist on you searching my place—never mind about a warrant, or anything else—my honour is at stake, and I must have it done at once.”
He led the way downstairs to his abode, in which McSweeny found quite a crowd of small sooty children scrambling about the earthen floor in noisy glee. These were all sent outside, and then Sandy explained to his wife with much warmth the absurd suspicion which had been raised against his character.
“I see it all now! I see it all now!” he suddenly exclaimed, smiting his sooty brow with tragic force. “Could anybody believe they would be so cunning?”
McSweeny hinted that an explanation would be acceptable.
“Why, don’t you see, sir—the servants—the servants; they’re at the bottom of this. They’ve taken the chance while we were there to steal the things, knowing the blame would fall on me. You’ve no idea,” he continued, waxing pathetic, “what sweeps have to put up with. There’s scarcely a house we go into that we’re not watched like glaziers on tramp. You can see it in their eyes. It’s hard to be looked at like a thief when you’re doing your best to earn an honest living.”
“Are you quite sure now that the boy you had with you mightn’t help himself if he got a dacent chance?” suggested McSweeny, by way of appearing to sympathise with the sweep.
“Him? Why, he’s my own son!” exclaimed the sweep, as if that quite settled the matter. “But he’s just out in the square there playing at the bools. I’ll send for him, and you can question him yourself.”
This was done, and the sooty apprentice appeared, and denied all knowledge of the missing articles.
McSweeny, on the invitation of the father, somewhat gingerly searched the sooty clothes of the boy, but found nothing. He then performed the same office upon the father, with a like result. The wife also turned out her pockets for inspection, and then McSweeny settled himself to the not very agreeable task of searching the house. The furniture was poor and scanty, and the floor an earthen one, so there was no great difficulty in the task. But there was soot everywhere. It was on the floor, on the shelves, in the very beds, and so pervaded the whole atmosphere of the house that McSweeny had soon drawn such a quantity into his nostrils that he would willingly have paid half-a-crown down for the pleasure of sneezing his own head off. He went gaping, and blinking, and sputtering over the place till he had searched every part but the soot cellar. Before that he paused ruefully. I firmly believe he would have shirked searching that altogether, and that the resolve was showing itself in his face, when the cunning sweep affected to make a suspicious movement or two with his hands near the partition, as if in the act of dropping something into the soot.
“What’s that you’re after now?” cried McSweeny, starting round sharply and dragging forth the sweep’s hand.
“Nothing—oh, nothing, sir,” was the glib reply; “I was only feeling how high the soot is.”
McSweeny suspiciously lifted a candle, held it over the partition and peered down into the soot-bin at the spot, but could see nothing to indicate that any article had been dropped. This partition was about two feet and a half high and immediately behind it the soot was fully a foot deep, sloping up thence to the back wall to a height of about three feet. Against that wall several sacks of soot were piled, and resting on one of these sacks was the end of a spar of wood which reached across the soot to the wooden partition, upon which the other end rested. This plank was evidently used as a standing-place from which they could conveniently empty their soot-bag after a morning’s work. McSweeny thought it possible that there might be a hide of some kind behind these soot bags, and, candle in hand, clambered up on the partition and thence on to the spar bridging the soot. As he stepped across the frail bridge he had to turn his back for a moment to the innocent-looking sweep, and knew no more until he had dived down nose foremost into the sea of soot.
He always declared that the sweep had shoved the end of the plank from the partition; but when he scrambled to his feet among the soot, sputtering, gasping, and sneezing enough to rend himself, there was Sandy standing gravely by him with a look of earnest and sorrowing condolence on his grimy face. The wife went into fits of laughter over McSweeny’s appearance as he stood in the soot, with his face and beard thickly coated with the soft black, and only his well-rubbed eyelids beginning to show white through the sable covering, but she was solemnly rebuked and sworn at by her demure-faced husband.
“Eh, sir, to think that the plank should have slippit just when it wasna wanted to slip,” cried Sandy, handing McSweeny a sooty rag with which to clean his face and clothes; “but it’ll dae ye nae herm, sir, nae herm. Soot’s a healthy thing, sir—healthier than clean water.”
“You—you—ah—ah——choof!—you did that!” cried McSweeny, as soon as he could speak, ferociously fixing Sandy with his eye. “You’ll suffer for—ah—ah——choo—oof! Begorra, I’ve a good moind to stick your head in it, and make you swallow a bag of it before I let you out.”
“Me, sir!” cried Sandy, in pious horror. “May I never soop another lum if I ever thought o’ sic a thing. See, I’ll gie ye a brush doon, sir. It’s a kind o’ a pity ye had thae licht-coloured troosers on, but they’ll clean at the dyer’s, and never look a whit the waur.”
“Don’t thrubble yourself to brush me, for I’m not done wid the hole yet,” savagely responded McSweeny; “but for this I’d have let you off aisy, but now, sweet bad luck to you! I’m as black as I can be, and I’ll see to the bottom of this before I stir.”
McSweeny at the same moment seized a big shovel which he found in one corner of the soot-bin, and deliberately began to spade out the soot into the middle of the kitchen floor, carefully examining every shovelful before he pitched it over the partition. While he was thus engaged bending over a spadeful of the soot, Sandy managed to make a sign to his wife, who stooped to the floor, picked something up, and threw it over into the heap of soot rising in the middle of her kitchen.
McSweeny was just conscious of some swift movement having taken place, but saw neither the movement nor the direction of the pitch.
“What divil’s game are you two up to now?” he suspiciously growled, looking from one to the other. “I’ll have to take yez both. You throw’d something just now—what was it?”
The sweep and his wife raised their hands as if horrified at the accusation, and solemnly declared that McSweeny’s imagination had deceived him; that they had nothing to throw, and they would as soon attempt to fly in the air as to try to deceive such a world-renowned and keen-sighted detective as he. McSweeny, still suspicious, came out of the soot-bin and searched about for a little, but found nothing; and then, after a deal of snorting and swearing, went back to his work, and soon had all the loose soot out in the kitchen. There remained then only the sacks at the back to be removed, and McSweeny was diligently setting his brawny arms and shoulders to them when I descended the stair and stood before them. I stood transfixed with astonishment at the strange scene, till a familiar grin from the demon of darkness at work in the soot-bin made me look at him more closely, and then I faintly recognised my chum.
“Good heavens! what does all this mean?” I exclaimed, after a hearty laugh at McSweeny’s solemn face and the eloquent burst of abuse which he heaped upon the sweep and his wife.
“It means,” he responded, making a virtue of a necessity, “that I’m not afraid to do my duty properly, even though I do get a little black by it, and spoil a good suit of clothes into the bargain. Jamie, avick, I’ve found nothing, but we may take them both on suspicion, for a pair of bigger blackguards never walked the streets unhung.”
It seemed to me that had the sweep been an innocent and honest man, he would have resented this language hotly. He did not. He was all smoothness and politeness still, and officiously offered to help me in any way. What I liked worse was to observe that he was also all cheerfulness. There was even a twinkle of gloating and delight in the corners of his demurely drawn eyes over McSweeny’s grinning and discomfiture, or possibly over the consciousness that he was perfectly safe. Now, I had never believed that we should find the missing articles in that sooty den, and had hinted as much to McSweeny. Supposing the sweep to have nerve and effrontery enough to commit such a robbery, he would have been an arrant fool to have kept the stolen trinkets about his house. After a look round the place myself, and a short conversation in an undertone with McSweeny, I decided that we might go, and trust to tracing the missing articles elsewhere. But there was the sweep’s kitchen in a dreadful state of confusion, with a great pile of soot filling the centre of the floor; it would never do to leave the poor man’s house in that state, and I promptly said so.
“Oh, that’s naething, sir—I’ll put back the soot mysel’,” smoothly and graciously answered the sweep. “Dinna disturb yoursel’, sir; I’ll see ye up that stair, for it’s very dark and narrow. This way, sir; this way.”
He quickly made for the stair, but I paused before following, and exchanged a look of inquiry with McSweeny. The wife, squatted by the fire with a pipe in her mouth, watched us furtively out of the corner of her eye. That sly, cautious glance decided me. The sweep had shown a trifle too much alacrity in wishing to bid us good-bye and see us out. I stood still and conversed in a low tone with McSweeny. The sweep looked back from the doorway somewhat anxiously.
“We’re not quite ready yet,” I quietly said; “we must put things as we got them.” Then I added with apparent coolness to McSweeny, “Shovel it backcarefully.”
The face of the sweep, sooty though it was, showed a visible and concerned change as I spoke, and I felt that I had scored a point.
“I’ll help you, sir; I’ve another shovel here,” he cried with alacrity after the first stagger, pouncing on a shovel and approaching the soot heap.
“Thank you—no,” I coldly and sternly returned, pointing to a seat by the fire; “sit there till I tell you to rise.”
He sat down, or rather flopped down, with an attempt at a gracious grin, and, taking the pipe from his wife, began puffing fiercely, watching us anxiously all the while. McSweeny slowly and deliberately shovelled up the soot in small quantities, according to my directions, narrowly inspecting it as it was returned to the bin, and before the half of the soot had been so lifted he paused to inspect a soot-covered object which had got into one of these small shovelfuls. I was at his side in a moment; and as the glitter of metal caught my eye I glanced towards the sweep and saw that he was painfully anxious to look indifferent. The object, when cleared of soot, proved to be a small handle of gilt brass, fastened to a flat piece of ivory, on which was some neat carving. The four eyes at the fireside were goggling, like distended telescopes, at us as we stood clearing the strange object of soot.
“What’s this?” I sharply demanded of the sweep.
“That, sir?” and he took a stride or two forward to look at the fragment. “I’m sure I dinna ken; it’s a thing ane o’ the bairns found oot on the street and brought in to play wi’.”
Sandy’s face said “lie” all over in spite of the soot as he made the hurried answer, and I said nothing. Every thief has “found” these things, or had them given him, or innocently brought into his house by some third person not conveniently at hand. After a close inspection of the fragment I was inclined to think that it had formed part of the lid of an ivory box or casket. No such article was in our list so far as I could remember; but the expression of the sweep’s face and his general manner induced me to say that I would take the fragment with me.
“Certainly, sir, certainly; it’s of nae value to me,” cried Sandy with forced alacrity. “Will I wrap it in a bit paper for ye?”
I declined the officious offer, put the fragment in my pocket, and shortly after took leave with McSweeny, who made a dive at once for the baths in Nicolson Square. A wash in water and a brush at the fragment seemed to confirm my suspicion. The ivory appeared to be fine, and was prettily carved, and it seemed to have been rudely smashed. I took the piece to a dealer in such articles, and he not only confirmed me in my suspicion, but showed me a complete casket of the same style of workmanship. It was a small thing, about six inches long by four broad, and might be used, the dealer said, for holding either jewels or money. They were very expensive, and but few were sold. This last bit of information I found to be correct, for after going over all the dealers in such articles in Edinburgh I could not find one who had sold a casket answering the description of the fragment I had found. I wished to find the owner for a particular reason. In examining the ivory one day it struck me that it had a smoked appearance—a kind of dingy hue which could never have been imparted by simply lying among soot. How could it have got that tinge? Not by being thrown into the fire, for there was not a burn on the whole fragment. Could Sandy have hung it up his own chimney like a red herring or a ham to give it that colour, or had it been so tinged when it came into his possession? The chimney in Sandy’s house had been the place which we searched most rigorously, so I was tolerably certain that he had no other interesting herrings there in pickle. I thought the owner of the bit of ivory and brass might help me to an answer, and at length decided to advertise for him. “An Ivory Casket, Carved,” was notified in the newspapers as having been found, and the owner was requested to call without delay upon me. The day that this advertisement appeared, Sandy called at Mrs Nolten’s house in George Square, and asked permission to go up on the roof to get a rope which he believed he had left there on his last visit. The request was put before the lady of the house, and promptly refused. Sandy then went to the next house and made the same request, and received as prompt a refusal. After the second appearance of the advertisement, a gentleman named Dundas called, and requested to see the “Ivory Casket.” There was a strange reserve about him, which I only understood when in confidence he imparted to me the suspicion that his own son had been the robber, at the same time emphatically stating that he was firmly resolved not to give in any charge against the runaway. On being shown the fragment, he identified it as part of the lid of an ivory casket stolen from his house, and containing at that time nearly £10 in gold and silver. The casket had not been missed till after the flight of his son, who had left a good situation and gone to London with the craze strong upon him to be an actor. I found, however, that Mr Dundas had a distinct recollection of employing Sandy to sweep his chimneys about that time, and as six months had since elapsed, Sandy had been there on the same errand but a month or two ago. On calling the gentleman’s attention to the smoky appearance of the ivory, he declared that it had not been so tinged when in his possession, and spontaneouslyremarked—
“It must have been hanging in some chimney.”
In a chimney certainly, but what chimney? whose chimney? I revolved the matter in my mind, and at length concluded that Sandy would never have been foolhardy enough to conceal anything in his own chimney. And yet there was pretty palpable evidence that the stolen article had been inachimney.
After half a day’s cogitation, an idea struck me which gave such a feasible explanation of the thing that my only wonder is that it did not occur to me earlier. Sandy, if he wanted a chimney as a hide, was not limited in his choice to one or twenty. He visited some at regular intervals, and was in these cases the only man employed. What was to hinder him from using them boldly as establishments of his own? depots for goods which he could not conveniently store at home? I began to wonder how I could get hold of a list of these houses that I might inspect the chimneys. In sweeping a chimney it was often necessary for Sandy to lift out the grate, when it was what is known as a “Register,” and it seemed to me that in doing so he could easily make use of the space behind as a hide when the grate was put back; but in making this guess it will be found that I gave Sandy credit for less ingenuity than he possessed. While Mr Dundas was diligently hunting for the address of his runaway son, that he might fairly ask him if he had been the thief of the casket and its contents, I was ferreting out the most prominent of Sandy’s customers. In making the round of these it is singular, but true, that I never thought of calling at Mrs Nolten’s, and when I did find myself there, it was more by accident than from choice. Being on the spot one day, I thought I would go in and have the register grate lifted out; but when this had been done in presence of the lady and myself, and nothing found, Mrs Nolten recalled the recent visit of Sandy, and detailed to me the circumstances. I immediately conceived a strong desire to go up on the roof and have a look for that “rope which he thought he had left.” I did not look about the slates or rhone pipes, but went straight to the chimneys, though I confess I was at a loss to understand how anything could be safely concealed in them. After going over all the chimney-cans, I came to one inside which, just at the bottom where the can was embedded in mortar to secure it to the stones, I saw sticking a common three-inch nail.
It was all but hidden with soot, but enough was left bare to show that it had attached to it a bit of twine, which hung down inside the chimney proper. I grasped at the nail, easily pulled it out, and drew up with it the bit of twine. Something dangled at the end of the twine, which proved to be a paper parcel not very neatly tied up. I felt the contents of the parcel through the paper, and smiled out broadly.
“What a dunce I was not to think of this sooner!” was my comment upon myself.
I distinctly felt the shape of a bracelet through the paper, and did not trouble to open the parcel till I should get down into the house. I went down, and Mrs Nolten, seeing me smile and the parcel in my hand attached to the sooty string, instantly grasped at the truth.
“You’ve found them in my own chimney?”
A woman’s instincts seldom mislead her. The lady was right. I opened the paper parcel, and there, snugly reposing within, and not a whit the worse of the smoking, were the bracelet, the necklet, and the odd gold ear-ring. I left the house at once, taking the interesting parcel with me, and in a minute or two stood before Sandy in his own home.
“It’s a fine day, sir,” he graciously began.
“It is—a very fine day,” I returned, with emphasis. “Do you remember that bit of ivory, Sandy, with the brass handle attached, which we found here?”
Sandy found his memory conveniently defective.
“I had quite forgot aboot it, sir,” he said awkwardly, when I had refreshed his powers a little.
“Well, I’ve discovered the gentleman who owns it, and strangely enough he declares thatyouwere in his house sweeping some chimneys the day before it went amissing.”
Sandy’s sooty face was a curious study, but he wisely made no audible reply.
“Don’t say anything unless you like, but did you ever see this parcel before?” I gently pursued, as I brought out the parcel and showed him its contents. “Nothing to say?—very good. Just put on your coat and cap and we’ll go, then. I’m only sorry,” I added, as I put a handcuff on his wrist, and retained the other end in my hand, “that I haven’t a pair of these with a longer chain between the bracelets, for I never come close to you, Sandy, without sneezing for half a day after.”
Sandy grinned a feeble and ghastly assent, and then went with me without a word. We could easily have proved both robberies against him, but he decided to make the best of his position by pleading guilty, and so got off with three months imprisonment.