The Burglar, by Anthony Mills (Bill Slim)
An article in the volume A Close Shave
Not all of Bill Slim’s anonymous writings published between 1931 and 1940 were on the Indian Army. Many were of course, but some weren’t. To give readers a sense of some of the general ‘whodunnit’-type articles in Volumes 2 and 3 of Slim’s recently republished works, I’ve copied below an article published in the Daily Mail on 25 July 1933 under the title ‘Do I Tell?’ It is in the volume entitled A Close Shave, published this week in e-book by Sharp Books. All three volumes will be available in hardback and paperback later in April.
I’m a coward. That's why I don't know what to do about last night. I can't help it—being a coward, I mean, I've been one for forty years. Ever since I can remember. It's as much part of me as my narrow shoulders, my short sight, my thinning hair. I'm made like it. That wouldn't matter so much if it weren't for Adela.
Adela, like so many women, admires above all things physical courage; and I, I desire above all things to display it, for Adela will never love where she does not find it. But I can't, I'm a coward.
Day dreaming, I accomplish the heroic and the light of hero worship glows in her dark eyes: awaking to reality, I meet her friendly, half-amused glance, and long hopelessly to make my dream come true. But even if I had the opportunity I know I should shrink miserably from the danger. So when I saw what I thought was a chance to play the hero without risk, I jumped at it.
I was growing desperate. I had to do something, something pretty spectacular, now that young Tamplin was home again Although I had never met him I had heard a lot about Robert Tamplin from Adela and from his aunt.
I knew the type, one of those sunburnt, hefty, reckless young men, who breeze through life, riding to hounds, flying aeroplanes, climbing mountains, roaming the wilds; being all the things I am not, and doing all the things I have never dared to do.
Two years ago Adela was almost engaged to him, and now, watching her across his aunt's polished dining table, I felt that two months hence, unless I made some supreme effort she would be engaged to him.
"I hope Bob will make this his home," old Miss Tamplin, was saying.
"He lived here as a child after his parents died. Poor boy, it will be so nice for him to settle down after wandering about South America and all those dreadful places."
"I don't suppose he found them dreadful," protested Adela. "I bet he thought the revolutions and things awful fun. It's England he'll find a dreadful place—dreadfully dull!"
"Not with you in it," smiled Miss Tamplin.
"Even England," I hastened to interpose, "isn't all that well behaved. We seem to be swarming with smash-and-grab raiders and bandits, quite up to South American standards. You've even bad burglars round here lately."
“Yes,” admitted the old lady.
"With only the maids in the house I was a shade nervous, but with Bob here we'll be safe enough."
"I'd be sorry for the burglar Bob got his hands on," laughed Adela.
Miss Tamplin shuddered.
"Oh, I hope that will never happen. There's not much here to tempt burglars."
"What about your jewellery?” exclaimed Adela. "That's valuable enough!”
"But no one knows I have any. I never wear it. I only keep it for a present to the girl Bob marries."
"Lucky girl! But mind the burglars - don't deprive her of it ! "
"I don't think they will. I keep it there "—Miss Tamplin pointed to a small safe set into the panelling—
"They wouldn't know where to look."
"It's not difficult to spot. Besides, the servants?" I suggested. "They may talk."
“Oh, no, they are quite trustworthy… What is it?"
“A telegram, Miss."
The old lady, a little agitated, took the orange envelope from the maid. Her face fell.
“Oh, dear! Bob's been delayed. He can't get here tonight!"
Adela echoed her “Oh!” of dismay.
I twisted my face to a disappointment I did not feel.
“It’s just too bad," went on Miss Tamplin, just when I've got you two down here to make up a party for him. He says he'll arrive tomorrow. You'll stay a day or two longer, Mr. Pargeter?" "That will be delightful," I murmured, looking at Adela. But she only smiled mechanically.
Over coffee in the drawing-room our hostess began to recover from her disappointment. Encouraged by Adela, she talked of Bob's boyhood in this house. I must. say he seemed to have been rather a mischievous young devil, always in trouble with the neighbours, shooting people with catapults, and tormenting the life out of his gentle old aunt.
“I used to punish him by sending him to bed, but he slipped in and out of the house at night just as he liked. He could open the dining-room windows from outside by forcing back the catches with his pocket knife. He was so naughty," she added with pride.
"I haven't much use for a boy—or a man—who hasn't a bit of devil in him," said Adela.
I lay in the lavender-scented sheets rather miserable for all their comfort. I had never climbed out of bedrooms, forced windows in the dark. There had been no devil in me as a boy, nor as a man either, and Adela knew it. At last I dozed off, to wake sometime later with a shaft of moonlight falling on my pillow. I dislike any light on me when I sleep, and I realised that if I was to rest undisturbed I must draw the curtains. Reluctantly I slipped out of bed and padded to the window.
I glanced down into the garden. It looked like a cinema screen, flat and unreal, the lawn almost silver in the moonlight, the shrubbery black shadow. Yet it was there, where the shadow was deepest, that a movement caught my eye. Something, someone was coming towards the house, silently, stealthily. As I watched the figure reached the end of the shrubbery and paused. Then a young man in a dark overcoat flitted noiselessly across the path.
My heart pounded – a burglar! Should I cry out…rouse the household? I was the only man in it. If I did I should have to deal with him. He might be armed.
In terror and indecision I craned forward to watch the intruder. He was fumbling at one of the dining-room windows. There was a slight click, the man glanced hurriedly round, pushed the window, and clambered through.
He was so assured in his movements, so certain of his way, that a light dawned on me. Of course, it wasn't a burglar at all, it was young Tamplin. He had got here after all, and was entering the house just as he used to as a boy. It was the sort of thing he would do. I had frightened myself unnecessarily. There was no danger.
No danger! What a Heaven-sent opportunity! Supposing I pretended that I took him for a real burglar and tackled him alone? I should be quite safe, but no one would realise that I had known I was. All they would learn when explanations followed was that I had been prepared single-handed to take on a desperate and probably armed criminal. Adela could not fail to look on me in a new light after that.
My slippered feet made no sound on the stairs. Although I assured myself there could be no danger, my hand on the rail shook.
The hall was in darkness, but a faint light showed where the dining-room door was ajar. Cautiously I peered through. In the moonlight that came from the open window I saw the man standing with his back towards to me at the other end of the room. I felt quietly for the light switch, pressed it down. and, as the light flashed on, I crashed open the door. Then, one hand in my dressing gown pocket, to simulate a revolver, in my fiercest tone I cried:
"Put 'em up!"
He spun round on his heel and confronted me; his arms rose slowly above his shoulders.
He was a presentable enough young man in a well cut overcoat buttoned to the throat, with a hat pulled down over his eyes.
I didn't wonder that my sudden challenge had startled him badly. There was real alarm in his
face and his jaw dropped, but he was a big athletic fellow, and had I not known who he was I should have been terrified.
He said nothing, but watched me as, still covering him, I edged along until my back was to the open window, the table between us. I expected a laughing explanation, but instead, his eyes darting about the room, he said:
"All right, it's a fair cop!"
Beneath the words I detected. I thought, an educated voice. Master Bob was entering into the spirit of the game, he was obviously going to act his part. So much the better, so would I.
“Have you anything to say before I send for the police?" I asked, my voice gaining assurance.
"I warn you I'm pretty useful with a gun, so no tricks!"
"Not the police," he pleaded. “I swear I've never done this before, and I won't again! I'm down on my luck… broke… a sudden temptation. I haven't taken anything. Give me a break. I'll go straight, I swear I will.”
He certainly was a good actor; there was real urgency in his voice.
“No good, my man," I answered, sternly. “I'm too tough for that sob stuff. Put your hands on the table, together. I'm going to tie them with the cord of my dressing gown."
He began to plead again, but I cut him short:
"Come on. No nonsense. Hands on the table.”
As he obeyed I noticed for the first time that he was wearing thin black cotton gloves. I wondered why. To lower his hands on to the table within my reach he had to lean forward, and I looked over his shoulder to the wall behind. The safe in the panelling was open. He wasn't Tamplin at all. He was a real burglar!
The sweat broke out on my forehead. With one hand I fumbled at my dressing-gown cord. Panic closed in on me, the panic of sheer, abject physical fear. The man saw it in my face, in my trembling fingers. As I bent forward to tie his wrists he aimed a vicious smash at my chin. Terror winged my backward leap. His fist flashed harmlessly past, but for one awful second I thought he would spring after me across the table. Instead he dashed for the door. Just as he reached it Adela, a shimmering dressing gown over silken pyjamas, appeared on the threshold. I tried to cry a warning, but no sound came.
For a moment the dark figure towered over her slender form. Then:
"Bob!" she cried.
"Hullo, Adela," he answered, jerkily pulling off his hat. She turned her face up to him, and I saw the look that a girl gives to one man only.
“Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've got here after all. It's lovely to see you again."
He backed slowly in front of her as she entered, until he stood in his old position covering the safe.
"I heard a door open," she went on. "That must have been Mr Pargeter letting you in."
She smiled towards me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw young Tamplin's hand go out behind his back. He no longer wore the black gloves. Gently he closed the safe door and twirled the combination knob. It was deftly done.
"Well," he said, easily, as she turned to him again." I didn't want to rouse everybody. As a matter of fact I stepped in through the window."
"You would!" she laughed deliciously.
That all happened last night.
Do I tell?
I (Robert Lyman, the editor) might well ask, would you?
Great yarn!