










[Illustration: "MR. LOFTUS DEACON LAY IN A POOL OF BLOOD" (_p. 209_).]




  THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX




  THE

  DORRINGTON DEED-BOX

  BY

  ARTHUR MORRISON

  AUTHOR OF

  "A CHILD OF THE JAGO," "TALES OF MEAN STREETS,"
  "MARTIN HEWITT: INVESTIGATOR," ETC.

  _ILLUSTRATED_.

  LONDON:
  WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED,

  WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
  NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.




CONTENTS


                                                                 PAGE

  I. THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY                                  1

  II. THE CASE OF JANISSARY                                           53

  III. THE CASE OF THE "MIRROR OF PORTUGAL"                          101

  IV.  THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED"   151

  V.  THE CASE OF MR. LOFTUS DEACON                                  199

  VI. OLD CATER'S MONEY                                              255




  _THE NARRATIVE OF MR. JAMES RIGBY_




THE DORRINGTON DEED-BOX




I

The Narrative of Mr. James Rigby


I shall here set down in language as simple and straightforward as I
can command, the events which followed my recent return to England;
and I shall leave it to others to judge whether or not my conduct has
been characterised by foolish fear and ill-considered credulity. At
the same time I have my own opinion as to what would have been the
behaviour of any other man of average intelligence and courage in the
same circumstances; more especially a man of my exceptional upbringing
and retired habits.

I was born in Australia, and I have lived there all my life till quite
recently, save for a single trip to Europe as a boy, in company with
my father and mother. It was then that I lost my father. I was less
than nine years old at the time, but my memory of the events of that
European trip is singularly vivid.

My father had emigrated to Australia at the time of his marriage, and
had become a rich man by singularly fortunate speculations in land in
and about Sydney. As a family we were most uncommonly self-centred and
isolated. From my parents I never heard a word as to their relatives
in England; indeed to this day I do not as much as know what was
the Christian name of my grandfather. I have often supposed that
some serious family quarrel or great misfortune must have preceded
or accompanied my father's marriage. Be that as it may, I was never
able to learn anything of my relatives, either on my mother's or my
father's side. Both parents, however, were educated people, and indeed
I fancy that their habit of seclusion must first have arisen from
this circumstance, since the colonists about them in the early days,
excellent people as they were, were not as a class distinguished for
extreme intellectual culture. My father had his library stocked from
England, and added to by fresh arrivals from time to time; and among
his books he would pass most of his days, taking, however, now and
again an excursion with a gun in search of some new specimen to add to
his museum of natural history, which occupied three long rooms in our
house by the Lane Cove river.

I was, as I have said, eight years of age when I started with my
parents on a European tour, and it was in the year 1873. We stayed but
a short while in England at first arrival, intending to make a longer
stay on our return from the Continent. We made our tour, taking Italy
last, and it was here that my father encountered a dangerous adventure.

We were at Naples, and my father had taken an odd fancy for a
picturesque-looking ruffian who had attracted his attention by a
complexion unusually fair for an Italian, and in whom he professed to
recognise a likeness to Tasso the poet. This man became his guide in
excursions about the neighbourhood of Naples, though he was not one
of the regular corps of guides, and indeed seemed to have no regular
occupation of a definite sort. "Tasso," as my father always called him,
seemed a civil fellow enough, and was fairly intelligent; but my mother
disliked him extremely from the first, without being able to offer any
very distinct reason for her aversion. In the event her instinct was
proved true.

[Illustration: HIS ASSAILANT FELL DEAD.]

"Tasso"--his correct name, by the way, was Tommaso Marino--persuaded
my father that something interesting was to be seen at the Astroni
crater, four miles west of the city, or thereabout; persuaded him,
moreover, to make the journey on foot; and the two accordingly set
out. All went well enough till the crater was reached, and then, in
a lonely and broken part of the hill, the guide suddenly turned and
attacked my father with a knife, his intention, without a doubt, being
murder and the acquisition of the Englishman's valuables. Fortunately
my father had a hip-pocket with a revolver in it, for he had been
warned of the danger a stranger might at that time run wandering in
the country about Naples. He received a wound in the flesh of his
left arm in an attempt to ward off a stab, and fired, at wrestling
distance, with the result that his assailant fell dead on the spot. He
left the place with all speed, tying up his arm as he went, sought the
British consul at Naples, and informed him of the whole circumstances.
From the authorities there was no great difficulty. An examination or
two, a few signatures, some particular exertions on the part of
the consul, and my father was free, so far as the officers of the law
were concerned. But while these formalities were in progress no less
than three attempts were made on his life--two by the knife and one by
shooting--and in each his escape was little short of miraculous. For
the dead ruffian, Marino, had been a member of the dreaded Camorra, and
the Camorristi were eager to avenge his death. To anybody acquainted
with the internal history of Italy--more particularly the history of
the old kingdom of Naples--the name of the Camorra will be familiar
enough. It was one of the worst and most powerful of the many powerful
and evil secret societies of Italy, and had none of the excuses for
existence which have been from time to time put forward on behalf of
the others. It was a gigantic club for the commission of crime and
the extortion of money. So powerful was it that it actually imposed a
regular tax on all food material entering Naples--a tax collected and
paid with far more regularity than were any of the taxes due to the
lawful Government of the country. The carrying of smuggled goods was
a monopoly of the Camorra, a perfect organisation existing for the
purpose throughout the kingdom. The whole population was terrorised
by this detestable society, which had no less than twelve centres in
the city of Naples alone. It contracted for the commission of crime
just as systematically and calmly as a railway company contracts
for the carriage of merchandise. A murder was so much, according
to circumstances, with extras for disposing of the body; arson was
dealt in profitably