stopped the correspondence and sneered at the 'sensationalism' of those that could. Among the mass of fantasy there were not a few notable solutions, which failed brilliantly, like rockets posing as fixed stars. One was that in the obscurity of the fog the murderer had ascended to the window of the bedroom by means of a ladder from the pavement. He had then with a diamond cut one of the panes away, and effected an entry through the aperture. On leaving he fixed in the pane of glass again (or another which he had brought with him), and thus the room remained with its bolts and locks untouched. On its being pointed out that the panes were too small, a third correspondent showed that that didn't matter, as it was only necessary to insert the hand and undo the fastening, when the entire window could be opened, the process being reversed by the murderer on leaving. This pretty edifice of glass was smashed by a glazier, who wrote to say that a pane could hardly be fixed in from only one side of a window frame, that it would fall out when touched, and that in any case the wet putty could not have escaped detection. A door panel sliced out and replaced was also put forward, and as many trap-doors and secret passages were ascribed to No. 11 Glover Street as if it were a medieval castle. Another of these clever theories was that the murderer was in the room the whole time the police were there-hidden in the wardrobe. Or he had got behind the door when Grodman broke it open, so that he was not noticed in the excitement of the discovery, and escaped with his weapon at the moment when Grodman and Mrs. Drabdump were examining the window fastenings.
Scientific explanations also were to hand to explain how the assassin locked and bolted the door behind him. Powerful magnets outside the door had been used to turn the key and push the bolt within. Murderers armed with magnets loomed on the popular imagination like a new microbe. There was only one defect in this ingenious theory-the thing could not be done. A physiologist recalled the conjurers who swallowed swords-by an anatomical peculiarity of the throat-and said that the deceased might have swallowed the weapon after cutting his own throat. This was too much for the public to swallow. As for the idea that the suicide had been effected with a penknife or its blade, or a bit of steel, which had got buried in the wound, not even the quotation of Shelley's line:
'Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it,'
could secure it a moment's acceptance. The same reception was accorded to the idea that the cut had been made with a candlestick (or other harmless article) constructed like a sword-stick. Theories of this sort caused a humorist to explain that the deceased had hidden the razor in his hollow tooth! Some kind friend of Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook suggested that they were the only persons who could have done the deed, as no one else could get out of a locked cabinet. But perhaps the most brilliant of these flashes of false fire was the facetious, yet probably half-seriously meant, letter that appeared in the 'Pell Mell Press' under the heading of
THE BIG BOW MYSTERY SOLVED.
'Sir-You will remember that when the Whitechapel murders were
agitating the universe, I suggested that the district coroner was
the assassin. My suggestion has been disregarded. The coroner is
still at large. So is the Whitechapel murderer. Perhaps this
suggestive coincidence will incline the authorities to pay more
attention to me this time. The problem seems to be this. The
deceased could not have cut his own throat. The deceased could not
have had his throat cut for him. As one of the two must have
happened, this is obvious nonsense. As this is obvious nonsense I
am justified in disbelieving it. As this obvious nonsense was
primarily put in circulation by Mrs. Drabdump and Mr. Grodman, I am
justified in disbelieving them. In short, sir, what guarantee have
we that the whole tale is not a cock-and-bull story, invented by
the two persons who first found the body? What proof is there that
the deed was not done by these persons themselves, who then went to
work to smash the door and break the locks and the bolts, and
fasten up all the windows before they called the police in? I
enclose my card, and am, sir, yours truly, One Who Looks Through
His Own Spectacles.'
('Our correspondent's theory is not so audaciously original as he
seems to imagine. Has he not looked through the spectacles of the
people who persistently suggested that the Whitechapel murderer was
invariably the policeman who found the body? Somebody must find the
body, if it is to be found at all.-Ed. P. M. P.')
The editor had reason to be pleased that he inserted this letter, for it drew the following interesting communication from the great detective himself:
'THE BIG BOW MYSTERY SOLVED.
'Sir-I do not agree with you that your correspondent's theory
lacks originality. On the contrary, I think it is delightfully
original. In fact it has given me an idea. What that idea is I do
not yet propose to say, but if 'One Who Looks Through His Own
Spectacles' will favor me with his name and address I shall be
happy to inform him a little before the rest of the world whether
his germ has borne any fruit. I feel he is a kindred spirit, and
take this opportunity of saying publicly that I was extremely
disappointed at the unsatisfactory verdict. The thing was a
palpable assassination; an open verdict has a tendency to relax the
exertions of Scotland Yard. I hope I shall not be accused of
immodesty, or of making personal reflections, when I say that the
Department has had several notorious failures of late. It is not
what it used to be. Crime is becoming impertinent. It no longer
knows its place, so to speak. It throws down the gauntlet where
once it used to cower in its fastnesses. I repeat, I make these
remarks solely in the interest of law and order. I do not for one
moment believe that Arthur Constant killed himself, and if Scotland
Yard satisfies itself with that explanation, and turns on its other
side and goes to sleep again, then, sir, one of the foulest and
most horrible crimes of the century will forever go unpunished. My
acquaintance with the unhappy victim was but recent; still, I saw
and knew enough of the man to be certain (and I hope I have seen
and known enough of other men to judge) that he was a man
constitutionally incapable of committing an act of violence,
whether against himself or anybody else. He would not hurt a fly,
as the saying goes. And a man of that gentle stamp always lacks the
active energy to lay hands on himself. He was a man to be esteemed
in no common degree, and I feel proud to be able to say that he
considered me a friend. I am hardly at the time of life at which a
man cares to put on his harness again; but, sir, it is impossible
that I should ever know a day's rest till the perpetrator of this
foul deed is discovered. I have already put myself in communication
with the family of the victim, who, I am pleased to say, have every
confidence in me, and look to me to clear the name of their unhappy
relative from the semi-imputation of suicide. I shall be pleased if
anyone who shares my distrust of the authorities, and who has any
clue whatever to this terrible mystery, or any plausible suggestion
to offer, if, in brief, any 'One who looks through his own
spectacles' will communicate with me. If I were asked to indicate
the direction in which new clues might be most usefully sought, I
should say, in the first instance, anything is valuable that helps
