Dr. Poggioli: Criminologist (The Lost Classics Book 14) by Stribling T.S

Dr. Poggioli: Criminologist (The Lost Classics Book 14) by Stribling T.S

Author:Stribling, T.S. [Stribling, T.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crippen & Landru
Published: 2017-09-10T16:00:00+00:00


THE CABLEGRAM

In the course of his evasions over the telephone, Mr. Henry Poggioli, investigator in criminal psychology, said apologetically— “Mr. Slidenberry, my work here in Miami is purely theoretic, and if I devote any time to practical crimes . . .”

“But this is theoretic,” pressed the voice in the receiver earnestly. “The Stanhope is due in today and we want you to go aboard with us and—”

“If the trouble is aboard a ship it must be smuggling,” surmised the scientist. “I am really no expert as a baggage searcher.”

“Oh, it isn’t that at all. It’s an A. J. P. A. cablegram.”

“Let’s see—that’s the American Jewelers’ Protective Association?”

“Right you are, Doctor, and the trouble is we can’t quite decode it.”

There was something whimsical in the Miami customs force receiving a cablegram which they could not decode. Mr. Poggioli smiled over the telephone as he suggested—

“If you have it by you would you like to read it to me over the wire?”

“M-m—we’d a lot rather you’d come down to the docks, but if you think you can decode the thing right off . . .”

Came a pause, and after about a half minute interval the voice began again: “Here it is:

“BARBERRY. EXTREME CARE. STANHOPE. 36-B—FEATHERS—CONSULAR REPORTS 1915

PP. 1125–6. REWARD CLAIMED.

—J. DUGMORE LAMPTON, CARE AMERICAN CONSULATE, BELIZE, B. C. A.”

“What is it you don’t understand?” inquired the psychologist. “Feathers—do you know what feathers means?”

“I don’t know what any of it means.”

“The rest is simple. Barberry means a diamond smuggler. Stanhope is the name of a ship that will dock here in half an hour. The 36-B is his cabin number. The rest is just plain English. If we capture him J. Dugmore Lampton wants the reward offered by the American Jewelers’ Protective Association.”

“What about the consular reports?”

“Don’t know yet. I set a clerk to looking up the reports for 1915. We keep them in the attic of the customs house in goods boxes. This is the first time anybody ever had any reason to refer to them.”

“You don’t suppose consular reports could be another code word?”

“No; we suspected that at first. We searched through all the codes, but ‘consular reports’ seems to have no meaning beyond just—you know, the actual reports themselves.”

“That’s an extraordinary detail of your telegram,” Poggioli admitted after a pause. “It creates a kind of puzzle as to the sender of the message.”

“How’s that?”

“That he should not only quote the consular reports, but he is so familiar with them he actually refers to a particular page.”

“The man is probably in the consular service himself,” returned the customs officer. “That doesn’t alter anything. Every consul knows that the consular reports are never read, are never filed away properly and are seldom even preserved. Really, Mr. Slidenberry, your cablegram is not only puzzling, it is enigmatic.”

“Really, Doctor,” interposed the inspector, “we wish you’d come down here yourself and see—”

“I think I will; yes, I’ll come. But while I’m on the way down, please cable Belize and get a report on J. Dugmore Lampton.



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