Chapter 31 Doctor Dolittle's Zoo by Hugh Lofting
THE DOG DETECTIVE
Then from beginning to end, leaving out nothing that I thought might be helpful, I told Kling the story of our midnight summons to the fire at Moorsden Manor and all that followed it.
Jip was right when he said that any one might at first sight think that Kling was stupid. While I talked he went on chewing his boot as though his whole attention was absorbed in that and not in what I was saying. But I soon found out that he had not only heard what I had said but that he remembered it, every word.
“Well,” he began when I was done, “in a case like this the first thing I would do is to build up a story. By that I mean you lay the mystery out—you solve it before you begin, by guess work, in other words. Then you go to work and see if you are right or not. Tell me: when you finally found Mr. Throgmorton—or rather when he found you—had he anything with him?”
“Yes,” I said, “some small leather boxes.”
“Did you by any chance find out what they contained?”
“Yes,” I said again. “Matthew opened one when Throgmorton wasn't looking. It had four large diamond studs in it.”
Kling nodded thoughtfully.
“And these two ferocious watch-dogs,” he went on presently, “weren't they usually kept inside the house? Perhaps Matthew knows.”
I questioned the Cats'-meat-Man.
“Yes,” said he. “And that's still another queer thing I hadn't thought of before. The dogs were always brought into the house after dark and left loose to roam where they would. When they killed that burglar, they caught him just as he was opening the silver drawer in the butler's pantry. I heard that from one of the gardeners. Yes, it was queer that that night Dina and Wolf were not inside the house at all. They were being kept by some one. It seemed as though they came from the stable.”
I interpreted to Kling. And he nodded again as though it all fitted in with his picture.
“Well, then,” he said after a moment's thought, “let us begin and build. Perhaps for the benefit of Matthew you had better explain to him once in a while what I am saying, so we can see whether he agrees with it or not. We will start off by supposing that since Mr. Throgmorton was so annoyed with you—you who came to put the fire out—that he lighted it himself.”
I jumped slightly. It was such a startling idea.
“Just a minute, Kling,” I said. “I'll put that to Matthew.”
The Cats'-meat-Man, when I told him, also jumped.
“Why, that's a notion!” said he. “A notion and a half, by Jiminy. And yet it fits in with some things, all right. I'd been thinking all the time that he was trying to get us off the place because he was doing something up there he hadn't oughter. I never thought of his setting fire to his own mansion—must be worth thousands and thousands of pounds, that place, with all the stuff in it. And then he kicked because we'd broken the windows. That don't sound as though he didn't care about the house.... Just the same, it's an idea worth followin' up. Tell the dog to go on.”
“You see,” Kling continued, “the fact that Sidney Throgmorton had his jewelry with him, also that this was the only night that the dogs were not kept in the house, makes it look as though he expected the fire anyway.”
“Yes,” I said, “that's so. But his loss would have been enormous just the same.”
“Wait,” said Kling. “Maybe we'll find that his loss would have been still more enormous if he didn't have the fire.... Well, to proceed: Now having supposed that Throgmorton set fire to his own house—it has been done before—I've known cases myself—the next question is: What did he want to burn it down for? He wanted to get rid of something, we'll say. What did he want to get rid of? Had he any people in it he wanted to kill?”
I questioned Matthew. The answer was: None that he knew of.
“Any brothers or sisters?” asked Kling.
“None,” said Matthew. “That I know for sure.”
“Very well,” Kling went on, “then he wanted to destroy some thing, since people are out of the question. Why didn't he find the thing and get rid of it, instead of burning down a valuable house? Because he had tried and couldn't find it? Possibly. And almost certainly, if it was——”
“A will?” I broke in.
“Exactly,” said Kling nodding. “Yet why destroy a will? Because in it he knew, or guessed, that his father had left the property, not to him, the son, but to some other parties. If there was no will he would get all the property because he was the only child. So, guessing there had been a will made; almost certain it was in that house; unable to find it himself but terrified that some one else might—don't forget that he got rid of all the old servants and bought two ferocious watch-dogs to keep people out—finally he determines to burn the whole place up and the will with it. What does that loss matter when he had a dozen other houses and estates—which he never visited, fearing to leave the Manor lest some one find the will while he is gone?”