STOLEN GOODS
Monday 31st January 1898
“Ah, there you are Mr. Hannan,” Detective Inspector Dancer called as he strode across the display floor of my business premises. His unexpected arrival interrupted a conversation I was engaged in with my art appraiser, Mr. Dominic Fairweather, about a large Italian oil on canvas for which we were trying to ascertain the provenance. I turned to face the detective. He was holding a box wrapped with brown paper and twine.
“I was passing by and thought it was about time I call in and update you on the case,” he offered, sounding a great deal friendlier than he had done during our initial meeting while inspecting my crime scene. He did not have an appointment and it was the height of arrogance to assume I would be agreeable to immediately drop everything and give him my time. It had been over two weeks since the crime had taken place, and not once had a bobby stopped by to offer information about the status of the investigation. The press furore had died down within a few days, and, as is their nature, the guttersnipes moved on to the next scandal.
“I would appreciate it if we could speak…privately, Mr. Hannan,” Dancer said. I turned to Fairweather,
“We shall pick this matter up after luncheon. Return at half-past midday.” I gestured for Dancer to accompany me to my office. We strode across the exhibition floor where Italian sculptures, tapestries and oil paintings were on display for my next themed sale. I had not seen Sebastian for two weeks, and as the tip-tap of our leather brogues echoed in the hallway, I said a little prayer, hoping that Sebastian’s prolonged absence was not of this hounds doing!
The jarring clacking sound of Annie’s mechanical typewriter rang out then stopped when she reached the end of a line and the bell chimed. I stepped into the office and paused by her desk. Annie looked up from the page as I said, “Please ensure there are no interruptions.”
“Of course sir.” She stood and addressed my guest, “May I take your hat and coat?”
“No need. I won’t be stopping for long,” he said dismissively.
“Would you like tea or coffee sirs?” she asked.
I shook my head and gave Annie a coded look she recognized from when I dealt with difficult clients. She nodded in understanding.
And so swiftly, Detective Inspector Dancer and I were alone in my office with Dancer sitting rigidly on my couch, his bowler hat perched on his lap and the box by his side. I was perturbed by his unannounced arrival and so I remained standing, my hands behind my back as I paced. “Have you caught the blaggard? Was it this Dandy Rogue fellow who stole my silver?” I asked, well aware of my impertinent tone. I was a busy man and did not approve of unannounced distractions, especially from the Police.
I desperately wanted a brandy to calm the anxiety making my heart stutter and my fingers tremble, but it was just eleven o’clock and regretfully, I knew I should not imbibe before luncheon, as I needed to keep my wits about me!
“On that score, I do have information I’m able to share with you. Please Mr. Hannan, take a seat.” Dancer gestured to my armchair. Reluctantly I did as requested, easing back into my comfortable chair, my arms folded across my chest to prevent fidgeting fingers.
“I’m sure this news will be of some comfort but I can now assure you that the so called Gentleman Thief is not the villain who broke into your home. ”
“How do you know for sure? Did you arrest him?” Oh God please no, please let Sebastian be safe.
“No, the particular villain in this case isn’t under arrest. Ascertaining the identity of your burglar was a matter of deduction, sir,” Dancer tapped his nose and winked conspiratorially. “I have developed a keen eye in my decade with the Police Force. I have also studied every single one of the crime scenes attributed to the Gentleman Thief’s and there were several things about your robbery that did not sit right with me.” Dancer placed his hat on to the couch, beside the box and then sat back, finally relaxing to tell his tale.
“The Gentleman Thief is a suave sneak thief, renowned for his near-effortless burglaries. He enters and exits a property as if he were a ghost. He leaves no sign. There is no careless destruction of property. The only reason we know that he’s the culprit is the seamless nature of the job, and the fact that only one particular item is taken each time, meaning, he has a target item and does not fill his pockets with whatever pretty trinkets are to hand.”
I smiled privately; proud of my Sebastian for staying true to his calling to return stolen items to their rightful owners. He did no harm, except to the self regard of the scandalous original thief.
“The violence used to open your silver cabinet does not fit with what we know of this villain,” Dancer continued. “An experienced thief with knowledge of locks would have seen the cabinet open in a flash with no damage. What we witnessed was most a clumsy execution, and that alerted me to the fact it did not marry with thefts by the man known by the name Sebastian Cavell. And so I believe whoever carried out the robbery was not a trained sneak thief, but a desperate amateur. He made mistakes that an experienced sneak thief would not make – the violence against the cabinet lock for one, and this in turn he created noise that roused your valet and led to his discovery. He entered through the front door using your pilfered key, but did not exit the same way…but instead lifted the sash window to your rear garden. Again, this was a schoolboy error and he left a footprint behind. None of these things fit with the previous flamboyant and seamless burglaries by the Gentleman Thief.”
“I see,” I said ponderously.
“Therefore, it was my conclusion some weeks ago that it was not him.”
In my heart I was relieved that another sin would not be added to Sebastian’s list. “Then who the devil was it?” I barked.
Dancer smiled then, the smile was calculating, reaching his vulpine eyes. He threaded his hand into his coat pocket and retrieved an envelope then handed it to me. I turned the envelope over and with horror, saw the stamp of Fratres Seminis . I looked up at Dancer, and then down again at the note I held in my trembling fingers. To my knowledge my first acquaintance with Detective Inspector Jack Dancer was at my home. I had a suspicion I knew his voice but could not place his face. Now I understood why. He was a member of the brotherhood. He was one of the masked acolytes at Exeter Hall for my aborted ritual. My goodness, the weight of this discovery shook me to my bones. A high-ranking Detective Inspector was part of Blake’s cabal, perfectly placed to ensure members would either be protected, or have their predilection used for profit. I did not take comfort from learning that Dancer was of the brotherhood. “Bless-ed is the seed,” he said with a contented smile.
“Bless-ed is the seed,” I said in response, knowing full well that everything he had said about so called deduction was bluff and bluster. My heart raced as tore the envelope open and removed a sheaf of ivory paper with a note that I recognized was written in the same hand that had written the Bible quote on the inner end paper of my red book.
Dear Brother Benedict.
I am pleased to reveal I have discovered the identity of your thief and it’s with my sincere best wishes and admiration , that I send you this box in the hands of my most trusted Brother.
Perplexed, I looked up at Dancer who handed the box to me. I put the unfinished letter aside on the coffee table and received it, feeling at once that the contents of the box were a good weight. I hurriedly pulled the twine and removed the brown paper, and then lifted the box lid to find nestled among tissue paper was my stolen silver collection. Speechless, I stared at Dancer once again.
“All is explained in the letter,” he said. I put the box down on the coffee table, and picked up the letter again and then read from where I’d stopped.
Several days ago I was accosted by brother Ardmillan. He was in a desperate state of mental discombobulation. He sought my forgiveness and offered a bag of silver trinkets to win his way back into the good graces of the brotherhood. It seems that he secreted himself in your house and carried out the theft while you were asleep. I am outraged that a brother we both trusted would betray us in this manner.
I’m sure, as you are reading this note you’ll understand as a man of the law, Brother Dancer cannot permit this theft to go unpunished. He sought counsel from me on how to proceed and I spoke with two other brothers with authority in this area. We fear Brother Ardmillan has strayed too far from our path and cannot be trusted to continue this journey with us. Therefore, I have ensured that he was committed to Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum where he will receive treatment for all that ails him.
I do hope you are relieved to have an end to this unsavoury matter.
Blessed is the seed
L.B
Dancer’s vulpine eyes watched for my reaction. I tried to keep my expression unreadable, but I was not happy about what they’d done.
“Please don’t concern yourself about the asylum. Due to his station Lord Ardmillan will receive more…favourable treatment than your common lunatic,” Dancer insisted.
I’d heard that mental asylums were ghastly places, but the fact of the matter was, Euan was most certainly behaving in an erratic manner. I too hoped that with medical intervention Euan would forget his obsession with the cabal and his unsatisfied appetites. Even though he had betrayed me, I was still concerned about him and I secretly I vowed to request a visitation to check on my old friend’s health.
Detective Inspector Dancer rose from the couch and reached for his bowler hat. “Destroy that letter. If anyone asks you should say that the box of silver was left at Scotland Yard by persons unknown. I trust that my secret remains as safe as your own, Brother Benedict.”
“Yes, yes, of course, of course, Brother Jack,” I said hurriedly as I placed the letter on the table with the box of silver items. I would destroy it after I’d shown it to Sebastian.
“I am glad to see this matter put to bed,” Dancer said as put his bowler on his head and strode toward the door. I rose and rushed to my office door to see Dancer out. I had been curious as to the identity of the other members of Fratres Seminis , but to discover that a police detective was among our ranks was terrifying. I reached for the shiny brass door knob and pulled my office door open. Dancer kept his vulpine amber eyes on me, his mouth hitching with amusement. The sounds of life outside of my office, the clacking of the typewriter, the footfalls of staff moving around the building all made me remember myself, pulling me from the turmoil of possible discovery. Dancer grinned, and then placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
”Calm yourself my brother. We look after our own. If you ever have any problems you can call on me at Scotland Yard,” he assured with a wink.
Oh yes, they certainly ‘looked after’ Euan by sending him to a bally lunatic asylum. I nodded numbly and then Dancer walked out of my office.
I closed the door and leaned against it, taking a heaving breath. This was not good, not good at all!
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