The First R. Austin Freeman MEGAPACK ®. R. Austin Freeman

at his premises in St. Mary Axe. I went to the premises and arrived there at 10.31 a.m. There I saw the prosecutor, Mr. John Hornby, who told me that a parcel of diamonds had been stolen from the safe. At his request I examined the safe. There were no signs of its having been forced open; the locks seemed to be quite uninjured and in good order. Inside the safe, on the bottom, I found two good-sized drops of blood, and a slip of paper with pencil-writing on it. The paper bore two blood-smears and a print of a human thumb in blood.”

      “Is this the paper?” asked the counsel, passing a small slip across to the witness.

      “Yes,” replied the inspector, after a brief glance at the document.

      “What did you do next?”

      “I sent a message to Scotland Yard acquainting the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department with the facts, and then went back to the station. I had no further connection with the case.”

      Sir Hector sat down, and the judge glanced at Anstey.

      “You tell us,” said the latter, rising, “that you observed two good-sized drops of blood on the bottom of the safe. Did you notice the condition of the blood, whether moist or dry?”

      “The blood looked moist, but I did not touch it. I left it undisturbed for the detective officers to examine.”

      The next witness called was Sergeant Bates, of the Criminal Investigation Department. He stepped into the box with the same ready, businesslike air as the other officer, and, having been sworn, proceeded to give his evidence with a fluency that suggested careful preparation, holding an open notebook in his hand but making no references to it.

      “On the tenth of March, at 12.8 p.m., I received instructions to proceed to St. Mary Axe to inquire into a robbery that had taken place there. Inspector Sanderson’s report was handed to me, and I read it in the cab on my way to the premises. On arriving at the premises at 12.30 p.m., I examined the safe carefully. It was quite uninjured, and there were no marks of any kind upon it. I tested the locks and found them perfect; there were no marks or indications of any picklock having been used. On the bottom of the inside I observed two rather large drops of a dark fluid. I took up some of the fluid on a piece of paper and found it to be blood. I also found, in the bottom of the safe, the burnt head of a wax match, and, on searching the floor of the office, I found, close by the safe, a used wax match from which the head had fallen. I also found a slip of paper which appeared to have been torn from a perforated block. On it was written in pencil, ‘Handed in by Reuben at 7.3 p.m. 9.3.01. J.H.’ There were two smears of blood on the paper and the impression of a human thumb in blood. I took possession of the paper in order that it might be examined by the experts. I inspected the office doors and the outer door of the premises, but found no signs of forcible entrance on any of them. I questioned the housekeeper, but obtained no information from him. I then returned to headquarters, made my report and handed the paper with the marks on it to the Superintendent.”

      “Is this the paper that you found in the safe?” asked the counsel, once more handing the leaflet across.

      “Yes; this is the paper.”

      “What happened next?”

      “The following afternoon I was sent for by Mr. Singleton, of the Finger-print Department. He informed me that he had gone through the files and had not been able to find any thumb-print resembling the one on the paper, and recommended me to en­deavour to obtain prints of the thumbs of any persons who might have been concerned in the robbery. He also gave me an enlarged photograph of the thumb-print for reference if necessary. I ac­cordingly went to St. Mary Axe and had an interview with Mr. Hornby, when I requested him to allow me to take prints of the thumbs of all the persons employed on the premises, including his two nephews. This he refused, saying that he distrusted fingerprints and that there was no suspicion of anyone on the premises. I asked if he would allow his nephews to furnish their thumb-prints privately, to which he replied, ‘Certainly not.’”

      “Had you then any suspicion of either of the nephews?”

      “I thought they were both open to some suspicion. The safe had certainly been opened with false keys, and as they had both had the real keys in their possession it was possible that one of them might have taken impressions in wax and made counterfeit keys.”

      “Yes.”

      “I called on Mr. Hornby several times and urged him, for the sake of his nephews’ reputations, to sanction the taking of the thumb-prints; but he refused very positively and forbade them to submit, although I understood that they were both willing. It then occurred to me to try if I could get any help from Mrs. Hornby, and on the fifteenth of March I called at Mr. Hornby’s private house and saw her. I explained to her what was wanted to clear her nephews from the suspicion that rested on them, and she then said that she could dispose of those suspicions at once, for she could show me the thumb-prints of the whole family: she had them all in a ‘Thumbograph.’”

      “A ‘Thumbograph’?” repeated the judge. “What is a ‘Thumb­o­graph’?”

      Anstey rose with the little red-covered volume in his hand.

      “A ‘Thumbograph,’ my lord,” said he, “is a book, like this, in which foolish people collect the thumb-prints of their more fool­ish acquaintances.”

      He passed the volume up to the judge, who turned over the leaves curiously and then nodded to the witness.

      “Yes. She said she had them all in a ‘Thumbograph.’”

      “Then she fetched from a drawer a small red-covered book which she showed to me. It contained the thumb-prints of all the family and some of her friends.”

      “Is this the book?” asked the judge, passing the volume down to the witness.

      The sergeant turned over the leaves until he came to one which he apparently recognised, and said—

      “Yes, m’lord; this is the book. Mrs. Hornby showed me the thumb-prints of various members of the family, and then found those of the two nephews. I compared them with the photograph that I had with me and discovered that the print of the left thumb of Reuben Hornby was in every respect identical with the thumb-print shown in the photograph.”

      “What did you do then?”

      “I asked Mrs. Hornby to lend me the ‘Thumbograph’ so that I might show it to the Chief of the Finger-print Department, to which she consented. I had not intended to tell her of my discovery, but, as I was leaving, Mr. Hornby arrived home, and when he heard of what had taken place, he asked me why I wanted the book, and then I told him. He was greatly astonished and horrified, and wished me to return the book at once. He proposed to let the whole matter drop and take the loss of the diamonds on himself; but I pointed out that this was impossible as it would practically amount to compounding a felony. Seeing that Mrs. Hornby was so distressed at the idea of her book being used in evidence against her nephew, I promised her that I would return it to her if I could obtain a thumb-print in any other way.

      “I then took the ‘Thumbograph’ to Scotland Yard and showed it to Mr. Singleton, who agreed that the print of the left thumb of Reuben Hornby was in every respect identical with the thumb-print on the paper found in the safe. On this I applied for a warrant for the arrest of Reuben Hornby, which I executed on the following morning. I told the prisoner what I had promised Mrs. Hornby, and he then offered to allow me to take a print of his left thumb so that his aunt’s book should not have to be used in evidence.”

      “How is it, then,” asked the judge, “that it has been put in evidence?”

      “It has been put in by the defence, my lord,” said Sir Hector Trumpler.

      “I see,” said the judge. “‘A hair of the dog that bit him.’ The ‘Thumbograph’ is to be applied as a remedy on the principle that similia similibus curantur. Well?”

      “When I arrested him, I administered the usual caution, and the prisoner then said, ‘I am innocent. I know nothing about the robbery.’”

      The