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Authors: Otto Penzler
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itinerant negro minstrel, and the second time as a workman looking in the window of the pawnshop where you pledged your booty.”
“But,” I burst out, “if you had asked the pawnbroker you would have seen how unjust—”
“Fool!” he hissed; “that was one of
your
suggestions to search the pawnshops. Do you suppose I followed any of your suggestions—the suggestions of the thief? On the contrary, they told me what to avoid.”
“And I suppose,” I said bitterly, “you have not even searched your drawer.”
“No,” he said calmly.
I was for the first time really vexed. I went to the nearest drawer and pulled it out sharply. It stuck as it had before, leaving a part of the drawer unopened. By working it, however, I discovered that it was impeded by some obstacle that had slipped to the upper part of the drawer, and held it firmly fast. Inserting my hand, I pulled out the impeding object. It was the missing cigar-case. I turned to him with a cry of joy.
But I was appalled at his expression. A look of contempt was now added to his acute, penetrating gaze. “I have been mistaken,” he said slowly. “I had not allowed for your weakness and cowardice. I thought too highly of you even in your guilt; but I see now why you tampered with that drawer the other night. By some incredible means—possibly another theft—you took the cigar-case out of pawn, and like a whipped hound restored it to me in this feeble, clumsy fashion. You thought to deceive me, Hemlock Jones: more, you thought to destroy my infallibility. Go! I give you your liberty. I shall not summon the three policemen who wait in the adjoining room—but out of my sight forever.”
As I stood once more dazed and petrified, he took me firmly by the ear and led me into the hall, closing the door behind him. This reopened presently wide enough to permit him tothrust out my hat, overcoat, umbrella and overshoes, and then closed against me forever!
I never saw him again. I am bound to say, however, that thereafter my business increased—I recovered much of my old practice—and a few of my patients recovered also. I became rich. I had a brougham and a house in the West End. But I often wondered, pondering on that wonderful man’s penetration and insight, if, in some lapse of consciousness, I had not really stolen his cigar-case!
The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted
ARTHUR WHITAKER
LITTLE APPEARS TO be known of the elusive Arthur Whitaker (1882–?) other than that he was an architect and was writing between the years 1892 and 1910, with a brief reappearance in 1949. Whitaker’s only connection to the Sherlockian world is the pastiche “The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted,” which was shrouded in mystery itself when it was first published in 1948 in
Cosmopolitan Magazine
.
In 1942, the Associated Press released the news of a previously unpublished, long-lost Sherlock Holmes story, which it believed was written in Arthur Conan Doyle’s hand. It was rumored that his son Adrian Conan Doyle had discovered the manuscript in a chest of family documents. However, it was later revealed that the manuscript was not handwritten, but typewritten, unlike any of Conan Doyle’s Sherlockian manuscripts.
For several years, Adrian refused to release the story for publication, as Conan Doyle’s daughter Jean claimed she knew it was not written by her father. The Baker Street Irregulars launched an appeal for its release, which was published in the
Saturday Review of Literature
, and in August 1948
Cosmopolitan Magazine
obtained the manuscript and published it under Arthur Conan Doyle’s name with great fanfare about the great detective’s final adventure being published now for the first time. It was also published in London’s
Sunday Dispatch
in January 1949.
Soon afterward, Conan Doyle’s biographer, Hesketh Pearson, received a letter from Whitaker, explaining that he was the true author of “The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted” and he had sent the
“But,” I burst out, “if you had asked the pawnbroker you would have seen how unjust—”
“Fool!” he hissed; “that was one of
your
suggestions to search the pawnshops. Do you suppose I followed any of your suggestions—the suggestions of the thief? On the contrary, they told me what to avoid.”
“And I suppose,” I said bitterly, “you have not even searched your drawer.”
“No,” he said calmly.
I was for the first time really vexed. I went to the nearest drawer and pulled it out sharply. It stuck as it had before, leaving a part of the drawer unopened. By working it, however, I discovered that it was impeded by some obstacle that had slipped to the upper part of the drawer, and held it firmly fast. Inserting my hand, I pulled out the impeding object. It was the missing cigar-case. I turned to him with a cry of joy.
But I was appalled at his expression. A look of contempt was now added to his acute, penetrating gaze. “I have been mistaken,” he said slowly. “I had not allowed for your weakness and cowardice. I thought too highly of you even in your guilt; but I see now why you tampered with that drawer the other night. By some incredible means—possibly another theft—you took the cigar-case out of pawn, and like a whipped hound restored it to me in this feeble, clumsy fashion. You thought to deceive me, Hemlock Jones: more, you thought to destroy my infallibility. Go! I give you your liberty. I shall not summon the three policemen who wait in the adjoining room—but out of my sight forever.”
As I stood once more dazed and petrified, he took me firmly by the ear and led me into the hall, closing the door behind him. This reopened presently wide enough to permit him tothrust out my hat, overcoat, umbrella and overshoes, and then closed against me forever!
I never saw him again. I am bound to say, however, that thereafter my business increased—I recovered much of my old practice—and a few of my patients recovered also. I became rich. I had a brougham and a house in the West End. But I often wondered, pondering on that wonderful man’s penetration and insight, if, in some lapse of consciousness, I had not really stolen his cigar-case!
The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted
ARTHUR WHITAKER
LITTLE APPEARS TO be known of the elusive Arthur Whitaker (1882–?) other than that he was an architect and was writing between the years 1892 and 1910, with a brief reappearance in 1949. Whitaker’s only connection to the Sherlockian world is the pastiche “The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted,” which was shrouded in mystery itself when it was first published in 1948 in
Cosmopolitan Magazine
.
In 1942, the Associated Press released the news of a previously unpublished, long-lost Sherlock Holmes story, which it believed was written in Arthur Conan Doyle’s hand. It was rumored that his son Adrian Conan Doyle had discovered the manuscript in a chest of family documents. However, it was later revealed that the manuscript was not handwritten, but typewritten, unlike any of Conan Doyle’s Sherlockian manuscripts.
For several years, Adrian refused to release the story for publication, as Conan Doyle’s daughter Jean claimed she knew it was not written by her father. The Baker Street Irregulars launched an appeal for its release, which was published in the
Saturday Review of Literature
, and in August 1948
Cosmopolitan Magazine
obtained the manuscript and published it under Arthur Conan Doyle’s name with great fanfare about the great detective’s final adventure being published now for the first time. It was also published in London’s
Sunday Dispatch
in January 1949.
Soon afterward, Conan Doyle’s biographer, Hesketh Pearson, received a letter from Whitaker, explaining that he was the true author of “The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted” and he had sent the
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