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Lecture Notes in Information Systems and Organisation 45

Evgeny Zaramenskikh
Alena Fedorova Editors

Digital
Transformation
and New
Challenges
Changes in Business and Society in
the Digital Era
Lecture Notes in Information Systems
and Organisation

Volume 45

Series Editors
Paolo Spagnoletti, Rome, Italy
Marco De Marco, Rome, Italy
Nancy Pouloudi , Athens, Greece
Dov Te’eni, Tel Aviv, Israel
Jan vom Brocke, Vaduz, Liechtenstein
Robert Winter, St. Gallen, Switzerland
Richard Baskerville, Atlanta, USA
Lecture Notes in Information Systems and Organization—LNISO—is a series of
scientific books that explore the current scenario of information systems, in
particular IS and organization. The focus on the relationship between IT, IS and
organization is the common thread of this collection, which aspires to provide
scholars across the world with a point of reference and comparison in the study and
research of information systems and organization. LNISO is the publication forum
for the community of scholars investigating behavioral and design aspects of IS and
organization. The series offers an integrated publication platform for high-quality
conferences, symposia and workshops in this field. Materials are published upon a
strictly controlled double blind peer review evaluation made by selected reviewers.
LNISO is abstracted/indexed in Scopus

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/11237

Evgeny Zaramenskikh · Alena Fedorova
Editors

Digital Transformation
and New Challenges
Changes in Business and Society
in the Digital Era
Editors
Evgeny Zaramenskikh Alena Fedorova
Higher School of Economics HR Management and Psychology
National Research University Ural Federal University
Moscow, Russia Yekaterinburg, Russia

ISSN 2195-4968 ISSN 2195-4976 (electronic)

Lecture Notes in Information Systems and Organisation
ISBN 978-3-030-71396-6 ISBN 978-3-030-71397-3 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71397-3

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse
of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar
or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Series Editor’s Foreword

The digital transformation is one of the most important developments of our times.
We see how digitalization can increase the efficiency of business processes, e.g.
through robotic process automation, and we also know how digitalization affords
new business models, e.g. through the Internet of Things, data-driven services or
distributed ledger technology. In the future, more and more data of different types
will be taken into account, further increasing the sensitivity and productivity of
systems. In the area of NeuroIS, for instance, break-through achievements have been
made during the past decade to capture and analyse body data in order to develop
emotion-sensing devices for business and our private lives as well. Given a plethora
of technological innovations today, finding the sweet spot where the right mix of
technology adds significant value for people in a specific use context is key. The
area of business process management has developed a rich set of tools, methods and
theories to both identify and realize such opportunities.
Take for instance Tesco, the UK retailer entered the South Korean market not
by opening stores but by putting up posters showing pictures of groceries together
with a QR code for people to scan on their way to work and to receive the goods
delivered to their door steps by the time they return home from work. This model
made Tesco the second biggest retailer in the country in only a few months, using
digital technology and very well fitting the use context. As research has shown, South
Korean people tend to work a lot, they do not particularly enjoy grocery shopping,
plus they commute on public transport. Also, most of the people there would be
technology-savvy and like to try out new digital services. So in this setting, Tesco
found a sweet spot where technological affordances meet peoples’ needs and both
their work and life preferences.
Digital technology, however, cannot only accelerate business; it has also started
to play a major role in helping us to address grand challenges of our society, such
as environmental and social challenges. The field of GreenIS has made important
contributions to support more sustainable practices in many application areas. Sensor
networks, for instance, allow for a better alignment of supply and demand, as, e.g.,
of energy, in smart houses. In a recent project, for instance, we have equipped public
bins with sensors and adjusted the routing to collect the bins according to the charging
level of the bins, which reduced routing by more than 75%. Also, this information
v
vi Series Editor’s Foreword

is now used to optimize bin capacities, and such processes can be applied in many
logistic scenarios. Also, information systems are widely used for social interaction,
social inclusion and participation. Take the education sphere, for instance, where
open distance education formats provide people regardless of regional and socio-
economic constraints to learn and personally develop. The EDUglopedia project, for
instance, has created a global account of Information Systems programs as well as
a rich repository of open learning and teaching materials, which greatly advances
opportunities of all regions around the world to participate in global discourse and
development (see: www.eduglopedia.org).
However, it is not only about the opportunities, but very much also important
challenges that arise when business and society increasingly digitalize. How do work
systems change and how can we assure they will change for the better? How can we
conceptualize and model work systems in the digital age? What are the implications
for the work force and what are consequences for our society? As we collect more and
more data of many origins and kinds, how can we assure privacy and ethically correct
conduct with this data. Obviously, digitalization means to move more towards man–
machine societies, but what will be the mechanisms and values in such societies be?
In our research on digital capital creation, for instance, we therefore also investigate
the role of the (state) governance in setting the right frame for digital transformation
(www.digialcapital.li).
This book covers both the opportunities and the challenges of the digital transfor-
mation. It comprises contributions from highly influential authors in the field, who
provide an impressive account of the digital transformation body of knowledge. I
applaud to the editors, who have been able to put together such a valuable source
of contributions for both research and practice. The book is testament of a highly
productive community of Information Systems researchers, who have formed as the
Russian Chapter of the Association for Information Systems (AIS). I would like to
congratulate the entire community, and Prof. Evgeny Zaramenskikh, in specific, for
creating such strong movement and making such important contributions.
I can highly recommend this selection of fine contributions to the important topic
of digital transformation and new challenges. Enjoy reading and let us all stay in
touch on the global journey of digital transformation!

Vaduz, Liechtenstein Prof. Dr. Jan vom Brocke

Contents

Enterprise and Organizational Modelling

Design Thinking in the Development of Project Management
Approaches and Modeling of Business Processes
of the Organization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
Elena Vasilieva
Visual Modelling Support for Effective Economic Cluster
Activities Engineering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Natalya Aseeva, Eduard Babkin, and Pavel Malyzhenkov
Process of Technological Innovation Management
in a Manufacturing Company: Assessment and Improvement . . . . . . . . . 31
Olga Dolganova
Analysis of the University’s Supporting Business Processes Using
Process Mining Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Mikhail Dorrer and Alexandra Dorrer
Conceptual Approach to Express Tacit Knowledge by Human–
Machine Interactions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Gennady Kanygin and Olga Kononova
Design Patterns for Cyber-Physical Systems of Buildings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Aleksey Kychkin, Aleksandr Deryabin, Olga Vikentyeva,
and Lidiia Shestakova
Value Modeling for Digital Platform . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Dinara Sadykova, Ekaterina Pylaeva, and Evgeny Zaramenskikh
Planning an Information Project Portfolio for Developing
Infrastructure of an E-Government in a Megapolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Vladimir Naumov, Liubov Sharabaeva, Dmitry Kucherenko,
and Pavel Naumov

vii
viii Contents

Design Patterns for Digital Platforms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Evgeny Zaramenskikh and Alexander Oleynik

Society, Labour and Employment Alterations Under Digital

Economy
Digital Economy: Isolation or Collaboration? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Elena Dobrolyubova, Oleg Alexandrov, Nikolai Kazantsev,
Soizhina Yangutova, and Elizaveta Kuzevanova
Concept of the Labour Digitalization Phenomena as the Social
Pollution Factor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
Alena Fedorova, Maria Menshikova, and Mauro Gatti
Socio-cultural Consequences of Population Adaptation Towards
Dynamic Development Caused by Digitalization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Inna Kulkova
Gender Digital Inequality: Conceptualization and Practices . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Galina Bannykh
The Influence of Cross-Functional Teams on the Development
of the Companies’ Absorption Ability in the Conditions of Work 4.0 . . . 183
Elena Kalabina and Olga Belyak
Adaptation or Protest: Evaluation of the Employees Sentiments
Under Labour Market Transformation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
Natalia Chevtaeva, Elena Kachanova, Natalia Makhova, and Tatiana Okuneva
The Role of Digitalization in the Solution of Problems
of Employment of Labor and Student Migration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Elena Gasparovich and Elizaveta Kotova
Russian Labour Market and Economy Digitalization:
Opportunities and Risks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
Olga Kozlova and Olga Sekitski-Pavlenko
Employee Job Satisfaction Under Digitalization: A Gender Aspect . . . . . 239
Olga Ponomareva and Denis Shkurin
Entrepreneurship Education and Digital Literacy as Element
of Innovative Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
Zuzana Dvorakova and Ilona Polents
The Digital Era of Healthcare in Russia: Case Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
Olga Kononova, Dmitry Prokudin, Angelina Timofeeva,
and Evgeniya Matrosova
Enterprise and Organizational Modelling
Design Thinking in the Development
of Project Management Approaches
and Modeling of Business Processes
of the Organization

Elena Vasilieva

Abstract The article offers the possibility to develop project management and
reengineering of business processes due to the inclusion of Design Thinking tech-
niques. The stages of process modeling invariant to the project context are high-
lighted. The comparison of traditional and proposed approaches is carried out. The
uncertainty of the modern world and constantly changing conditions require the
project team to be able to study business processes and the person in the business
process directly in context. Design Thinking will remove or at least mitigate the
uncertainty associated with the definition and understanding of the variability of the
content of the project, will reveal the bottlenecks of business processes, will reveal
the user’s pain. Using an integrated approach involves the development of templates
of a specific project artifact using Design Thinking techniques for projects of a
specific type at a specific stage of the project life cycle. Descriptions of the proposed
methods are given Guerrilla Ethnography, Video Ethnography, Customer Journey
Map and Service Blueprint, Matrix of positive and negative experience, HMW,
Current-Future-Barriers, The World Café. The design-based thinking approach is
more flexible than the traditional linear step-by-step design process, helping to more
actively identify and understand knowledge about potential and current problems,
as well as their possible solutions. In addition, Design Thinking forms the project
consciousness of the group. At the same time, the focus of creativity shifts to iden-
tifying the real needs of users and quickly launching a prototype to test the idea of
changes embodied in the reengineering project.

Keywords Project management · Reengineering · Business process · Business

process modeling · Uncertainty · Design thinking · Risk analysis artifacts ·
Human-centered approach

E. Vasilieva (B)
Financial University Under the Government of the Russian Federation, 125993 Moscow, Russia
e-mail: [email protected]

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 3

E. Zaramenskikh and A. Fedorova (eds.), Digital Transformation and New Challenges,
Lecture Notes in Information Systems and Organisation 45,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71397-3_1
4 E. Vasilieva

1 Introduction

The changes made in the latest editions of Project Management Body Of Knowl-
edge (PMBOK), Enterprise Risk Manadgement Committee of Sponsoring Organi-
zations of the Treadway Commission Exposure (COSO ERM 2017), Risk manage-
ment—Guidelines ISO 31000:2018 reflect the General trend-adaptation of project
management approaches to the rapid change of the external environment, flexible
response to new technology challenges and the need to form a knowledge accumula-
tion circuit. In the last decade there has been an adjustment of process thinking with
a change of emphasis on customer-oriented processes and adaptation to changing
business conditions. More and more attention is paid to the study of the activities
of knowledge workers (knowledge-intensive work) involved in generating value for
the consumer [1]. In this regard, of particular interest is the synergy of proven time-
tested tools and methods of approaches to continuous improvement and process
transformation, as well as the methodology of Design Thinking.
The continuous improvement approach is aimed at improving the operational
processes of the organization through the identification of problem areas, sources and
ways to reduce costs, and the search for points of growth in the effectiveness of orga-
nizational activities. Through continuous improvement, developers seek to analyze,
identify, measure, and find opportunities to improve business processes. Process
transformation (reorganization, reengineering) involves a fundamental rethinking of
processes, and first of all, it involves the transformation of end-to-end processes. It
involves bringing processes, metrics, business functions, technologies, elements of
the organizational structure in line with the strategic goals of the organization and its
tactical objectives for the organization (sometimes mention one of the definitions of
the term “cardinal reengineering of the business process” [2], a measurable increase
in the value of a product/service to the consumer. At the same time, it is assumed
that innovations, new concepts, technologies will be introduced into everyday work,
new opportunities for process improvements will be identified, etc. It is believed
that in the process of transformation, no idea will remain without consideration, no
proposal will be rejected (with the exception of incompatible with the legislation,
financial capabilities and policies of the company). Improvement in this approach is
not the goal, but the consequence of a radical rethinking of the process.
The study was carried out in the framework of the preparation of the report at
the conference “Designing Business Architectures". The purpose of the research is
to identify approaches that help business architects to find effective solutions in the
field of organizational development. In the First Chapter the scheme of inclusion of
techniques of Design Thinking in the scheme of modeling of processes is presented.
In the Second Chapter the list of artifacts of risk analysis from the point of view of
various contours of management is defined, and also the iterative procedure of their
formation for integration of process of risk management in a contour of acceptance
of strategic and operational design decisions is developed. A comparison of the tradi-
tional and proposed approach on the example of the analysis of project risks in terms
of adapting the goals and content of the project, taking into account possible negative
Design Thinking in the Development of Project Management … 5

risks. The Third Chapter outlines popular step-by-step techniques (empathy, focus,
generation and selection, prototyping, testing) that can be applied in business process
reengineering and IT projects. Advantages of popular Design Thinking techniques.

2 Design Thinking in the Development of Approach

to Modeling of Business Processes of the Organization

Business process modeling is an indispensable component of many different projects,

ranging from projects in which the business process is the target object of study, docu-
mentation/change. This group of projects includes regulation of business processes,
improvement of business processes, automation of business processes, reorgani-
zation/reengineering/transformation of business processes. Another group includes
projects in which business processes are not the target object of study, but their study,
documentation, change is necessary to achieve the ultimate goal of the project. In such
projects, business process modeling is one (or more, if as IS and TO BE modeling
is required) of the steps. An example of this group of projects is the project of
information system implementation, including ERP-system (Enterprise Resource
Planning—system).
As an example, the following set of Design Thinking tools and techniques in the
context of business process design (see Table 1). If you select the stage of business
process modeling from the context of the project in which it is carried out, you can
select the following typical steps:
(1) fixing the purpose of modeling, including the formulation of a list of questions
that will have to answer the developed process model, as well as the definition
of forms of documents as the results of modeling;

Table 1 Inclusion of design thinking techniques in the process modeling scheme

The process modeling Design thinking Reengineering
scheme
«As Is»: Guerrilla Ethnography, Fixing the business process
I. The purpose of modeling Co-Design, Moccasins, context
In-depth interviews, 5Why,
5 W, Triads
II. Gathering information Empathy Map, CJM, Service Visualization of the profile and
about the process Blueprint actions
«To Be»: POV: HMW, The transition to the destination
III. Process modeling Current-Future-Barriers, state
The World Café
IV. Process model testing The Venn diagram Balanced scorecard
‘Sustainable solutions’,
Feedback Grid: Impact/Effort
Matrix
6 E. Vasilieva

(2) collection of information about the process, including one of the techniques
of information collection (or a combination thereof): the study of documents,
interviews, questionnaires, observations;
(3) direct process modeling—creation of text, tabular and/or graphical descrip-
tions;
(4) analysis of the developed process models.
In some projects, business process modeling is an independent step, in others,
modeling is performed in the context of business process analysis.
An integrated process design scheme usually includes a description of the busi-
ness context, designing the internal structure of the business process, planning the
implementation project of the designed business process. Steps 1, 2 and 4 can be
performed using Design Thinking techniques to increase their efficiency and effec-
tiveness. Design Thinking methodology includes a variety of information visual-
ization tools that will identify and record the results of the study of the needs of
the participants of the analyzed business processes. Development of proposals for
process optimization and reengineering, as a rule, consists of several iterations, where
the project team will study the current state of the process, formulate hypotheses and
create sketches of improvement options, identify the best and test them in a test
mode.

3 Design Thinking in the Development of Project

Management Approach

Design Thinking methods and tools can also be useful in project management. The
effective application of the proposed approach implies the development of templates
for the formation of a specific project artifact by a specific tool of Design Thinking for
projects of a specific type at a specific stage of the project life cycle. Each of the stages
of project management, starting from the planning stage, involves the possibility of
reversal to clarify further actions caused by a change of context, project conditions
and other factors. The iteration of processes and the mandatory emphasis on in-depth
research of the environment in which a given process, user, product, service exists is
at the heart of the methodology of Design Thinking and is supported by a variety of
techniques and tools. Each of the steps of the integrated approach assumes that the
designers, having tested the hypothesis, can at any time make “a pivot” [3] to other
ideas.
In addition to the iteratively inherent in the Design Thinking process itself, project
management suggests that the process of forming analysis artifacts is also iterative.
This process of creating artifacts in the framework of Design Thinking involves the
development of acceptable scenarios for each of the 6 iterations, starting from the
first (product content), and ending with the sixth (product content, project content,
strategy, risk register, change response plans, adjustment of project contract terms).
When compared with PMBOK process groups, the first five iterations should be
Design Thinking in the Development of Project Management … 7

performed at the project initiation and planning stages. A mandatory requirement is

the gradual sequential inclusion in the work of the next artifact and the implemen-
tation at each iteration of the entire list of stages of Design Thinking from empathy
to prototyping and testing. This is necessary to fully understand the possible set of
scenarios for each artifact, its impact on other artifacts and on the results of the
project. If you immediately try to formalize the full chain of artifacts-then certainly
there will be a loss of information that requires understanding at the stage of risk
analysis, and we will get the same level of knowledge about the project as in the
traditional approach.
At each iteration there is a formation, comprehension of variability and quanti-
tative estimation of borders of admissible variability of a set of artifacts of the risk
analysis. For each of the artifacts, a knowledge structure template can be developed
to improve the efficiency of the Design Thinking stages. In process of accumulation
in the considered organization of knowledge on the realized projects, efficiency of
actions for risk reduction and efficiency of the made project decisions templates can
be specified taking into account the revealed specifics. The project cases themselves
can also be used as a guide in the risk analysis of new projects.
The application of Design Thinking is also justified in the design of the business
strategy of the organization, the implementation of innovations taking into account
possible risks to improve the efficiency and customer focus of business as the main
factor of adaptability of modern organizations.

4 Design Thinking Techniques in the Study of the Project

Context and Stages of Business Process Modeling

The Design Thinking approach, actively promoted as a practical tool and scientific
discipline by Hasso Plattner Institute (SAP) and d. school (Stanford), is aimed at
creating a product or service demanded by the consumer [4–8].
Design Thinking is often associated solely with the discipline of design and is
considered as the tool of creativity, which involves a huge amount of magical manip-
ulation of cards multi-colored post-it [7]. However, an outstanding scientist, Nobel
laureate Herbert Simon, whose developments are in demand today by specialists
in various technical fields (engineers, system technicians, programmers), in 1969
he first wrote about the importance of the development of human thinking through
empirical rules, experience, the ability to adapt to conditions of high uncertainty of
the environment [9]. His analysis of the nature of organized complexity is the basis
of research in the field of artificial intelligence, information processing, complex
systems. Today, many design researchers believe that Herbert Simon is the founder
of the philosophy of Design Thinking.
The Soviet scientist and inventor Heinrich Altshuller also studied the problem of
teaching people to build thought processes so that every person who is engaged
in creative work can find non-standard solutions to complex unusual problems.
Another random document with
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 “I would rather stay here and gossip with you,” she replied, “but
as you don’t seem to be in a gossiping humour, perhaps the music
might be rather nice. Yes, let us go. I don’t often hear any good
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Accordingly we went, and on the way to the hall Madeline gave
me a few further details of her experiences with her follower; and I
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“By the way,” said I, “what was the fellow like? Give me a few
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I looked with dim surprise into her smiling face and was more
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she had a wonderful way of throwing them off. Nothing could be less
suggestive of a guilty conscience than this quiet gaiety and placid
humour. However, there was no opportunity for moralizing, for her
little retort had brought us to the door of the hall; and we had barely
time to find desirable seats before the principal musician took his
place at the instrument.
It was a delightful entertainment; and if the music did not “sooth
my savage breast” into complete forgetfulness, it occupied my
attention sufficiently to hinder consecutive thought on any other
subject. Indeed, it was not until I had said “good night” to Madeline
outside her flat and turned my face towards the neighbouring station
that I was able to attempt a connected review of the recent startling
discoveries.
What could they possibly mean? The pistol alone could have
been argued away as a curious coincidence, and the same might
have been possible even in the case of the wool. But the two
together! The long arm of coincidence was not long enough for that.
The wisp of wool that we had found in the empty house was
certainly—admittedly—Madeline’s. But that wisp matched identically
the ball of wool from the pistol; and here was a missing pistol which
was certainly the exact counterpart of that which had contained the
wool plug. The facts could not be disputed. Was it possible to escape
from the inferences which they yielded?
The infernal machine, feeble as it was, gave evidence of a
diabolical intention—an intention that my mind utterly refused to
associate with Madeline. And yet, even in the moment of rejection,
my memory suddenly recalled the arrangement connected with the
electric light switch in Madeline’s bedroom. Its mechanism was
practically identical with that of the infernal machine, and the
materials used—string and screw-eyes—were actually the same. It
seemed impossible to escape from this proof piled on proof.
But if the machine itself declared an abominable intention, what
of that which lay behind the machine? The sending of that
abomination was not an isolated or independent act. It was related
to some antecedent act, as Thorndyke had implied. Whoever sent it,
had a guilty conscience.
But guilty of what?
 As I asked myself this question, and the horrid, inevitable answer
framed itself in my mind, I turned automatically from Middle Temple
Lane and passed into the deep shadow of the arch that gives
entrance to Elm Court.
 Chapter XIV.
Rupert Confides in Thorndyke
Although few of its buildings (excepting the Halls) are of really
great antiquity, the precinct of the Temples shares with the older
parts of London at least one medieval characteristic: it abounds in
those queer little passages and alleys which, burrowing in all
directions under the dwelling-houses, are a source of endless
confusion and bewilderment to the stranger, though to the
accustomed denizen they offer an equally great convenience. For by
their use the seasoned Templar makes his way from any one part of
the precinct to any other, if not in an actual bee-line, at least in an
abbreviated zig-zag that cuts across the regular thoroughfares as
though they were mere paths traversing an open meadow. Some of
these alleys do, indeed, announce themselves even to unaccustomed
eyes, as public passage-ways, by recognizable entrance arches; but
many of them scorn even this degree of publicity, artfully concealing
their existence from the uninitiated by an ordinary doorway, which
they share with a pair of houses. Whereby the unsuspecting
stranger, entering what, in his innocence, he supposes to be the
front doorway of a house, walks along the hall and is presently
astonished to find himself walking out of another front door into
another thoroughfare.
The neighbourhood of Fig Tree Court is peculiarly rich in these
deceptive burrows, indeed, excepting from the Terrace, it has no
other avenue of approach. On the present occasion I had the choice
of two, and was proceeding along the narrow lane of Elm Court to
take the farther one, which led to the entry of my chambers, when I
caught sight of a man approaching hurriedly from the direction of
the Cloisters. At the first glance, I thought I recognized him—though
he was a mere silhouette in the dim light—as the loiterer whom I
had seen on the night of my return. And his behaviour confirmed my
suspicion; for as he came in sight of me, he hesitated for a moment
and then, quickening his pace forward, disappeared suddenly
through what appeared to be a hole in the wall but was, in fact, the
passage for which I was making.
Instantly, I turned back and swiftly crossing the square of Elm
Court, dived into the burrow at its farther corner and came out into
the little square of Fig Tree Court at the very moment when the
mysterious stranger emerged from the burrow at the other side, so
that we met face to face in the full light of the central lamp.
Naturally, I was the better prepared for the encounter and I
pursued my leisurely way towards my chambers with the air of not
having observed him; while he, stopping short for a moment with a
wild stare at me, dashed across the square and plunged into the
passage from which I had just emerged.
I did not follow him. I had seen him and had thereby confirmed a
suspicion that had been growing upon me, and that was enough. For
I need hardly say that the man was Anthony Wallingford. But though
I was prepared for the identification, I was none the less puzzled
and worried by it. Here was yet another perplexity; and I was just
stepping into my entry to reflect upon it at my leisure when I
became aware of hurrying footsteps in the passage through which
Wallingford had come. Quickly drawing back into the deep shadow
of the vestibule, I waited to see who this new-comer might be. In a
few seconds he rushed out of the passage and came to a halt in the
middle of the square, nearly under the lamp, where he stood for a
few moments, looking to right and left and listening intently. And
now I realized the justice of what Madeline had said; for,
commonplace as the man was, I recognized him in an instant. Brown
hat, blue serge suit, big, sandy moustache and concave, pointed
nose; they were not sensational characteristics, but they identified
him beyond a moment’s doubt.
Apparently, his ear must have caught the echoes of Wallingford’s
footsteps, for, after a very brief pause, he started off at something
approaching a trot and disappeared into the passage by which I had
come and Wallingford had gone. A sudden, foolish curiosity impelled
me to follow and observe the methods of this singular and artless
sleuth. But I did not follow directly. Instead, I turned and ran up the
other passage, which leads into the narrow part of Elm Court; and
as I came flying out of the farther end of it I ran full tilt into a man
who was running along the court towards the Cloisters. Of course
the man was Wallingford. Who else would be running like a lunatic
through the Temple at night, unless it were his pursuer?
With muttered curses but no word of recognition, he disengaged
himself and pursued his way, disappearing at length round the sharp
turn in the lane which leads towards the Cloisters. I did not follow
him, but drew back into the dark passage and waited. Very soon
another figure became visible, approaching rapidly along the dimly
lighted lane. I drew farther back and presently from my hiding-place
I saw the brown-hatted shadower steal past with a ridiculous air of
secrecy and caution; and when he had passed, I peered out and
watched his receding figure until it disappeared round the angle of
the lane.
I felt half-tempted to join the absurd procession and see what
eventually became of these two idiots. But I had really seen enough.
I now knew that Wallingford’s “delusions” were no delusions at all
and that Madeline’s story set forth nothing but the genuine,
indisputable truth. And with these new facts to add to my
unwelcome store of data, I walked slowly back to my chambers,
cogitating as I went.
In truth, I had abundant material for reflection. The more I
turned over my discoveries in Madeline’s flat the more did the
incriminating evidence seem to pile up. I recalled Polton’s plainly
expressed suspicion that the sender of the infernal machine was a
woman; and I recalled Thorndyke’s analysis of the peculiarities of
the thing with the inferences which those peculiarities suggested,
and read into them a more definite meaning. I now saw what the
machine had conveyed to him, and what he had been trying to make
it convey to me. The unmechanical outlook combined with evident
ingenuity, the unfamiliarity with ordinary mechanical appliances, the
ignorance concerning the different kinds of gun-powder, the lack of
those common tools which nearly every man, but hardly any woman,
possesses and can use: all these peculiarities of the unknown person
were feminine peculiarities. And finally, there had been the plug of
knitting-wool: a most unlikely material for a man to use for such a
purpose, or, indeed, to possess at all.
So my thoughts went over and over the same ground, and every
time finding escape from the obvious conclusion more and more
impossible. The evidence of Madeline’s complicity—at the very least
—in the sending of the infernal machine appeared overwhelming. I
could not reject it. Nor could I deny what the sending of it implied. It
was virtually a confession of guilt. And yet, even as I admitted this
to myself, I was strangely enough aware that my feelings towards
Madeline remained unaltered. The rational, legal side of me
condemned her. But somehow, in some incomprehensible way, that
condemnation had a purely technical, academic quality. It left my
loyalty and affection for her untouched.
But what of Thorndyke? Had his reasoning travelled along the
same lines? If it had, there would be nothing sentimental in his
attitude. He had warned me, and I knew well enough that whenever
there should be evidence enough to put before a court, the law
would be set in motion. What, then, was his present position? And
even as I asked myself the question, there echoed uncomfortably in
my mind the significant suggestion that he had thrown out only a
few hours ago concerning the bottle of medicine. Evidently, he at
least entertained the possibility that the Fowler’s Solution had been
put into that bottle after Monkhouse’s death, and that for the
express purpose of diverting suspicion from the food. The manifest
implication was that he entertained the possibility that the poison
had been administered in the food. But to suspect this was to
suspect the person who prepared the food of being the poisoner.
And the person who prepared the food was Madeline.
The question, therefore, as to Thorndyke’s state of mind was a
vital one. He had expressed no suspicion of Madeline. But then he
had expressed no suspicion of anybody. On the other hand, he had
exonerated nobody. He was frankly observant of every member of
that household. Then there was the undeniable fact that Madeline
had been watched and followed. Somebody suspected her. But who?
The watcher was certainly not a detective. Amateur was writ large
all over him. Then it was not the police who suspected her.
Apparently there remained only Thorndyke, though one would have
expected him to employ a more efficient agent.
But Wallingford was also under observation, and more
persistently. Then he, too, was suspected. But here there was some
show of reason. For what was Wallingford doing in the Temple?
Evidently he had been lurking about, apparently keeping a watch on
Thorndyke, though for what purpose I could not imagine. Still, it was
a suspicious proceeding and justified some watch being kept on him.
But the shadowing of Madeline was incomprehensible.
I paced up and down my sitting room turning these questions
over in my mind and all the time conscious of a curious sense of
unreality in the whole affair; in all this watching and following and
dodging which looked so grotesque and purposeless. I felt myself
utterly bewildered. But I was also profoundly unhappy and, indeed,
overshadowed by a terrible dread. For out of this chaos one fact
emerged clearly: there was a formidable body of evidence
implicating Madeline. If Thorndyke had known what I knew, her
position would have been one of the gravest peril. My conscience
told me that it was my duty to tell him; and I knew that I had no
intention of doing anything of the kind. But still the alarming
question haunted me: how much did he really know? How much did
he suspect?
In the course of my perambulations I passed and repassed a
smallish deed box which stood on a lower book-shelf and which was
to me what the Ark of the Covenant was to the ancient Israelites:
the repository of my most sacred possessions. Its lid bore the name
“Stella,” painted on it by me, and its contents were a miscellany of
trifles, worthless intrinsically, but to me precious beyond all price as
relics of the dear friend who had been all in all to me during her
short life and who, though she had been lying in her grave for four
long years, was all in all to me still. Often, in the long, solitary
evenings, had I taken the relics out of their abiding-place and let the
sight of them carry my thoughts back to the golden days of our
happy companionship, filling in the pleasant pictures with the aid of
my diary—but that was unnecessary now, since I knew the entries
by heart—and painting other, more shadowy pictures of a future that
might have been. It was a melancholy pleasure, perhaps, but yet, as
the years rolled on, the bitterness of those memories grew less bitter
and still the sweet remained.
Presently, as for the hundredth time the beloved name met my
eye, there came upon me a yearning to creep back with her into the
sunny past; to forget, if only for a short hour, the hideous anxieties
of the present and in memory to walk with her once more “along the
meads of asphodel.”
Halting before the box, I stood and lifted it tenderly to the table
and having unlocked it, raised the lid and looked thoughtfully into
the interior. Then, one by one, I lifted out my treasures, set them
out in order on the table and sat down to look at them and let them
speak to me their message of peace and consolation.
To a stranger’s eye they were a mere collection of odds and
ends. Some would have been recognizable as relics of the more
conventional type. There were several photographs of the dead girl,
some taken by myself, and a tress of red-gold hair—such hair as I
had been told often glorifies the victims whom consumption had
marked for its own. It had been cut off for me by Barbara when she
took her own tress, and tied up with a blue ribbon. But it was not
these orthodox relics that spoke to me most intimately. I had no
need of their aid to call up the vision of her person. The things that
set my memory working were the records of actions and
experiences; the sketch-books, the loose sketches and the little
plaster plaques and medallions that she had made with my help
after she had become bed-ridden and could go no more abroad to
sketch. Every one of these had its story to tell, its vision to call up.
I turned over the sketches—simple but careful pencil drawings
for the most part, for Stella, like me, had more feeling for form than
for colour—and recalled the making of them; the delightful rambles
across the sunny meadows or through the cool woodlands, the
solemn planting of sketching-stools and earnest consultation on the
selection and composition of the subjects. These were the happiest
days, before the chilly hand of the destroyer had been laid on its
chosen victim and there was still a long and sunny future to be
vaguely envisaged.
And then I turned to the little plaques and medallions which she
had modelled and under my supervision and of which I had made
the plaster moulds and casts. These called up sadder memories, but
yet they spoke of an even closer and more loving companionship; for
each work was, in a way, a joint achievement over which we had
triumphed and rejoiced together. So it happened that, although the
shadow of sickness, and at last of death, brooded over them, it was
on these relics that I tended to linger most lovingly.
Here was the slate that I had got for her to stick the clay on and
which she used to hold propped up against her knees as she worked
with never-failing enthusiasm through the long, monotonous days,
and even, when she was well enough, far into the night by the light
of the shaded candle. Here were the simple modelling-tools and the
little sponge and the Camel-hair brush with which she loved to put
the final finish on the damp clay reliefs. Here was Lanterri’s priceless
text-book over which we used to pore together and laud that
incomparable teacher. Here were the plaques, medals and
medallions that we had prised out, with bated breath, from their too-
adherent moulds. And here—the last and saddest relic—was the wax
mould from which no cast had ever been made, the final, crowning
work of those deft, sensitive fingers.
For the thousandth time, I picked it up and let the light fall
obliquely across its hollows. The work was a medal some three
inches across, a portrait of Stella, herself, modelled from a profile
photograph that I had taken for the purpose. It was an excellent
likeness and unquestionably the best piece of modelling that she had
ever done.
Often, I had intended to take the cast from it, but always had
been restrained by a vague reluctance to disturb the mould. Now, as
I looked at the delicate, sunken impression, I had again the feeling
that this, her last work, ought to be finished; and I was still debating
the matter with the mould in my hand when I heard a quick step
upon the stair, followed by a characteristic knock on my door.
 My first impulse was to hustle my treasures back into their box
before answering the summons. But this was almost instantly
followed by a revulsion. I recognized the knock as Thorndyke’s; and
somehow there came upon me a desire to share my memories with
him. He had shown a strangely sympathetic insight into my feelings
towards Stella. He had read my diary. He now knew the whole story;
and he was the kindest, the most loyal and most discreet of friends.
Gently laying down the mould I went to the door and threw it open.
“I saw your light burning as I passed just now,” said Thorndyke
as he entered and shook my hand warmly, “so I thought I would
take the opportunity to drop in and return your diary. I hope I am
not disturbing you. If I am, you must treat me as a friend and eject
me.”
“Not at all, Thorndyke,” I replied. “On the contrary, you would be
doing me a charity if you would stay and smoke a companionable
pipe.”
“Good,” said he, “then I will give myself the pleasure of a quiet
gossip. But what is amiss, Mayfield?” he continued, laying a friendly
hand on my shoulder and looking me over critically. “You look worn,
and worried and depressed. You are not letting your mind dwell too
much, I hope, on the tragedy that has come unbidden into your
life?”
“I am afraid I am,” I replied. “The horrible affair haunts me.
Suspicion and mystery are in the very air I breathe. A constant
menace seems to hang over all my friends, so that I am in continual
dread of some new catastrophe. I have just ascertained that
Wallingford is really being watched and shadowed; and not only
Wallingford but even Miss Norris.”
He did not appear surprised or seek for further information. He
merely nodded and looked into my face with grave sympathy.
“Put it away, Mayfield,” said he. “That is my counsel to you. Try
to forget it. You have put the investigation into my hands. Leave it
there and wash your own of it. You did not kill Harold Monkhouse.
Whoever did must pay the penalty if ever the crime should be
brought home to the perpetrator. And if it never can be, it were
better that you and all of us should let it sink into oblivion rather
than allow it to remain to poison the lives of innocent persons. Let
us forget it now. I see you were trying to.”
I had noticed that when he first entered the room, he cast a
single, swift glance at the table which, I was sure, had
comprehended every object on it. Then he had looked away and
never again let his eyes stray in that direction. But now, as he
finished speaking, he glanced once more at the table, and this time
with undisguised interest.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I was trying to find in the memories of the
past an antidote for the present. These are the relics of that past. I
daresay you have read of them in the diary and probably have
written me down a mawkish sentimentalist.”
“I pray you, my friend, not to do me that injustice!” he
exclaimed. “Faithful friendship that even survives the grave, is not a
thing that any man can afford to despise. But for the disaster of
untimely death, your faithfulness and hers would have created for
two persons the perfect life. I assure you, Mayfield, that I have been
deeply moved by the story of your delightful friendship and your
irreparable loss. But don’t let us dwell too much on the sad aspects
of the story. Show me your relics. I see some very charming little
plaques among them.”
He picked up one with reassuring daintiness of touch and
examined it through a reading-glass that I handed to him.
“It really is a most admirable little work,” said he. “Not in the
least amateurish. She had the makings of a first-class medallist; the
appreciation of the essential qualities of a miniature relief. And she
had a fine feeling for composition and spacing.”
Deeply gratified by his appreciation and a little surprised by his
evident knowledge of the medallist’s art, I presented the little works,
one after another, and we discussed their merits with the keenest
interest. Presently he asked:
“Has it never occurred to you, Mayfield, that these charming little
works ought to be finished?”
“Finished?” I repeated. “But, aren’t they finished?”
“Certainly not. They are only in the plaster. But a plaster cast is
an intermediate form, just a mere working model. It is due to the
merits of these plaques and medals that they should be put into
permanent material—silver or copper or bronze. I’ll tell you what,
Mayfield,” he continued, enthusiastically. “You shall let Polton make
replicas of some of them—he could do it with perfect safety to the
originals. Then we could hand the casts to an electrotyper or a
founder—I should favour the electrotype process for such small
works—and have them executed in whichever metal you preferred.
Then you would be able to see, for the first time, the real quality of
the modelling.”
I caught eagerly at the idea, but yet I was a little nervous.
“You think it would be perfectly safe?” I asked.
“Absolutely safe. Polton would make gelatine moulds which
couldn’t possibly injure the originals.”
That decided me. I fell in with the suggestion enthusiastically,
and forthwith we began an anxious consultation as to the most
suitable pieces with which to make a beginning. We had selected
half a dozen casts when my glance fell on the wax mould. That was
Stella’s masterpiece and it certainly ought to be finished; but I was
loath to part with the mould for fear of an accident. Very dubiously, I
handed it to Thorndyke and asked:
“What do you think of this? Could it be cast without any risk of
breaking it?”
He laid the mould on the table before him so that the light fell
obliquely across it and looked down on it reflectively.
“So,” said he, “this is the wax mould. I was reading about it only
yesterday and admiring your resourcefulness and ingenuity. I must
read the entry again with the actual object before me.”
He opened the diary, which he had laid on the table, and when
he had found the entry, read it to himself in an undertone.
“Dropped in to have tea with Stella and found her bubbling with
excitement and triumph. She had just finished the portrait medal
and though her eyes were red and painful from the strain of the
close work, in spite of her new spectacles, she was quite happy and
as proud as a little peacock. And well she might be. I should like
Lanterri to see his unknown pupil’s work. We decided to make the
mould of it at once, but when I got out the plaster tin, I found it
empty. Most unfortunate, for the clay was beginning to dry and I
didn’t dare to damp it. But something had to be done to protect it.
Suddenly I had a brilliant idea. There was nearly a whole candle in
Stella’s candlestick, quite enough for a mould, and good, hard wax
that wouldn’t warp. I took off the reflector and lighted the candle,
which I took out of the candlestick and held almost upside down
over the clay medal and let the wax drip on to it. Soon the medal
was covered by a film of wax which grew thicker and thicker, until,
by the time I had used up practically the whole of the candle, there
was a good, solid crust of wax, quite strong enough to cast from.
When I went home, I took the slate with me with the wax mould
sticking to it, intending to cover it with a plaster shell for extra
safety. But my plaster tin was empty, too, so I put the slate away in
a safe place until I should get some fresh plaster to make the cast;
which will not happen until I get back from Chelmsford.
“Busy evening getting ready for to-morrow; hope I shall feel less
cheap then than I do now.”
As Thorndyke finished reading he looked up and remarked: “That
was an excellent plan of yours. I have seen Polton use the same
method. But how was it that you never made the cast?”
“I was afraid of damaging the mould. As you know, when I came
back from Ipswich, Stella was dead, and as the medal was her last
work and her best, I hardly dared to risk the chance of destroying
it.”
“Still,” Thorndyke urged, “it was the medal that was her work.
The mould was your own; and the medal exists only potentially in
the mould. It will come into actual existence only when the cast is
made.”
I saw the force of this, but I was still a little uneasy, and said so.
“There is no occasion,” said he. “The mould is amply strong
enough to cast from. It might possibly break in separating the cast,
but that would be of no consequence, as you would then have the
cast, which would be the medal, itself. And it could then be put into
bronze or silver.”
“Very well,” I said, “if you guarantee the safety of the operation, I
am satisfied. I should love to see it in silver; or perhaps it might look
even better in gold.”
Having disposed of the works, themselves, we fell to discussing
the question of suitable settings or frames; and this led us to the
subject of the portraits. Thorndyke glanced over the collection, and
picking up one, which happened to be my own favourite, looked at it
thoughtfully.
“It is a beautiful face,” said he, “and this seems to have been a
singularly happy portrait. In red chalk autotype, it would make a
charming little picture. Did you take it?”
“Yes; and as I have the negative I am inclined to adopt your
suggestion. I am surprised that I never thought of it myself, for red
chalk is exactly the right medium.”
“Then let Polton have the negative. He is quite an expert in
autotype work.”
I accepted the offer gladly and we then came back to the
question of framing. Thorndyke’s suggestion was that the portrait
should be treated as a medallion and enclosed in a frame to match
that of the medal. The idea appealed to me rather strongly, and
presently a further one occurred to me, though it was suggested
indirectly by Thorndyke, who had taken up the tress of Stella’s hair
and was looking at it admiringly as he drew it softly between his
fingers.
“Human hair,” he remarked, “and particularly a woman’s hair, is
always a beautiful material, no matter what its colour may be; but
this red-gold variety is one of the most gorgeous of Nature’s
productions.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “it is extremely decorative. Barbara had her tress
made up into a thin plait and worked into the frame of a miniature
of Stella. I liked the idea, but somehow the effect is not so very
pleasing. But it is an oblong frame.”
“I don’t think,” said Thorndyke, “that a plait was quite the best
form. A little cable would look better, especially for a medallion
portrait; indeed I think that if you had a plain square black frame
with a circular opening, a little golden cable, carried round
concentrically with the opening would have a rather fine effect.”
 “So it would,” I exclaimed. “I think it would look charming. I had
no idea, Thorndyke, that you were a designer. Do you think Polton
could make the cable?”
“Polton,” he replied, impressively, “can do anything that can be
done with a single pair of human hands. Let him have the hair, and
he will make the cable and the frame, too; and he will see that the
glass cover is an airtight fit—for, of course, the cable would have to
be under the glass.”
To this also I agreed with a readiness that surprised myself. And
yet it was not surprising. Hitherto I had been accustomed secretly
and in solitude to pore over these pathetic little relics of happier
days and lock up my sorrows and my sense of bereavement in my
own breast. Now, for the first time, I had a confidant who shared
the knowledge of my shattered hopes and vanished happiness; and
so whole heartedly, with such delicate sympathy and perfect
understanding had Thorndyke entered into the story of my troubled
life that I found in his companionship not only a relief from my old
self-repression but a sort of subdued happiness. Almost cheerfully I
fetched an empty cigar-box and a supply of cotton wool and tissue
paper and helped him tenderly and delicately to pack my treasures
for their first exodus from under my roof. And it was with only a faint
twinge of regret that I saw him, at length, depart with the box under
his arm.
“You needn’t be uneasy, Mayfield,” he said, pausing on the stairs
to look back. “Nothing will be injured; and as soon as the casting is
successfully carried through, I shall drop a note in your letter-box to
set your mind at rest. Good night.”
I watched him as he descended the stairs, and listened to his
quick foot-falls, fading away up the court. Then I went back to my
room with a faint sense of desolation to re-pack the depleted deed-
box and thereafter to betake myself to bed.
 Chapter XV.
A Pursuit and a Discovery
More than a week had passed since that eventful evening—how
eventful I did not then realize—when I had delivered my simple
treasures into Thorndyke’s hands. But I was not uneasy; for, within
twenty-four hours, I had found in my letter-box the promised note,
assuring me that the preliminary operations had been safely carried
through and that nothing had been damaged. Nor was I impatient. I
realized that Polton had other work than mine on hand and that
there was a good deal to do. Moreover, a little rush of business had
kept me employed and helped me to follow Thorndyke’s counsel and
forget, as well as I could, the shadow of mystery and peril that hung
over my friends, and, by implication, over me.
But on the evening of which I am now speaking I was free. I had
cleared off the last of the day’s work, and, after dining reposefully at
my club, found myself with an hour or two to spare before bed-time;
and it occurred to me to look in on Thorndyke to smoke a friendly
pipe and perchance get a glimpse of the works in progress.
I entered the Temple from the west, and, threading my way
through the familiar labyrinth, crossed Tanfield Court, and passing
down the narrow alley at its eastern side, came out into King’s
Bench Walk. I crossed the Walk at once and was sauntering down
the pavement towards Thorndyke’s house when I noticed a large,
closed car drawn up at its entry, and, standing on the pavement by
the car, a tall man whom I recognized by the lamp light as Mr.
Superintendent Miller.
Now I did not much want to meet the superintendent, and in any
case it was pretty clear to me that my visit to Thorndyke was not
very opportune. The presence of Miller suggested business, and the
size of the car suggested other visitors. Accordingly I slowed down
and was about to turn back when my eye caught another
phenomenon. In the entry next to Thorndyke’s a man was standing,
well back in the shadow, but not so far that he could not get a view
of the car; on which he was quite obviously keeping a watchful eye.
Indeed, he was so pre-occupied with his observation of it that he
had not noticed my approach, his back being turned towards me.
Naturally, the watchful attitude and the object of his watchfulness
aroused my suspicions as to his identity. But a movement backward
on his part which brought him within range of the entry lamp,
settled the matter. He was Anthony Wallingford.
I turned and walked quietly back a few paces. What was this
idiot doing here within a few yards of Thorndyke’s threshold? Was he
merely spying fatuously and without purpose? Or was it possible that
he might be up to some kind of mischief? As I framed the question
my steps brought me opposite another entry. The Walk was in
darkness save for the few lamps and the place was practically
deserted. After a moment’s reflection, I stepped into the entry and
decided thence to keep a watch upon the watcher.
I had not long to wait. Hardly had I taken up my rather
undignified position when three men emerged from the house and
walked slowly to the car. By the light of the lamp above Thorndyke’s
entry, I could see them quite plainly and I recognized them all. One
was Thorndyke, himself, another was Dr. Jervis, Thorndyke’s
colleague, now in the employ of the Home Office, and the third was
Dr. Barnwell, well-known to me as the analyst and toxicologist to the
Home Office. All three carried substantial bags and Dr. Barnwell was
encumbered with a large case, like an out-size suit-case, suggestive
of chemical apparatus. While they were depositing themselves and
their impedimenta in the car, Superintendent Miller gave directions to
the driver. He spoke in clear, audible tones, but though (I have to
confess) I listened intently, I caught only the question: “Do you
know the way?” The words which preceded and followed it were just
audible but not intelligible to me. It appeared, however, that they
were intelligible to Wallingford, for, as soon as they were spoken and
while the superintendent still held the open door of the car, he
stepped forth from his lurking-place and walked boldly and rapidly
across to the narrow passage by which I had come.
Realizing instantly what his intention was, I came out of the entry
and started in pursuit. As I reached the entrance to the passage, my
ear caught the already faint sound of his receding footsteps; by
which I learned that he was running swiftly and as silently as he
could. Since I did not intend to lose him, I had no choice but to
follow his example, and I raced across Tanfield Court, past the
Cloisters and round by the church as if the Devil were after me
instead of before. Half-way up Inner Temple Lane he slowed down
to a walk—very wisely, for otherwise the night porter would certainly
have stopped him—and was duly let out into Fleet Street, whither I
followed him at a short interval.
When I stepped out of the gate I saw him some little distance
away to the west, giving directions to the driver of a taxi. I looked
round desperately, and, to my intense relief, perceived an apparently
empty taxi approaching from the east. I walked quickly towards it,
signalling as I went, and the driver at once drew in to the kerb and
stopped. I approached him, and, leaning forward, said in a low voice
—though there was no one within earshot:
“There is a taxi just in front. It will probably follow a big car
which is coming up Middle Temple Lane. I want you to keep that taxi
in sight, wherever it may go. Do you understand?”
The man broke into a cynical grin—the nearest approach to
geniality of which a taxi-driver is capable—and replied that he
understood; and as, at this moment, the nose of the car appeared
coming through the arched entrance gate of Middle Temple Lane, I
sprang into the taxi and shut the door. From the off-side window, but
keeping well back out of sight, I saw the car creep across Fleet
Street, turn eastward and then sweep round into Chancery Lane.
Almost immediately, Wallingford’s taxi moved off and followed; and
then, after a short interval, my own vehicle started, and, crossing
directly to Chancery Lane, went ahead in the wake of the others.
It was an absurd affair. Now that the pursuit was started and its
conduct delegated for the time to the driver, I leaned back in the
shadow and was disposed to grin a little sheepishly at my own
proceedings. I had embarked on them in obedience to a sudden
impulse without reflection—for which, indeed, there had been no
time. But was there anything to justify me in keeping this watch on
Wallingford? I debated the question at some length and finally
decided that, although he was probably only playing the fool, still it
was proper that I should see what he was really up to. Thorndyke
was my friend and it was only right that I should stand between him
and any possible danger. Well as he was able to take care of himself,
he could not be always on his guard. And I could not forget the
infernal machine. Some one at least had the will to do him an injury.
But what about the brown-hatted man? Why had he not joined in
this novel sport? Or had he? I put my head out of the window and
looked along the street in our rear, but there was no sign of any
pursuing taxi. The ridiculous procession was limited to three
vehicles; which was just as well, since we did not want a police
cyclist bringing up the rear.
From my own proceedings my thoughts turned to those of
Thorndyke and his companions, though they were no affair of mine,
or of Wallingford’s either, for that matter. Apparently the three men
were going somewhere to make a post mortem examination. The
presence of Dr. Barnwell suggested an analysis in addition; and the
presence of Miller hinted at a criminal case of some kind. But it was
not my case or Wallingford’s. For both of us the analyst had already
done his worst.
While I reflected, I kept an eye on the passing landmarks,
checking our route and idly trying to forecast our destination. From
Chancery Lane we crossed Holborn and entered Gray’s Inn Road, at
the bottom of which we swept round by King’s Cross into Pancras
Road. At the end of this we turned up Great College Street, crossed
Camden Road and presently passed along the Kentish Town Road.
So far I had noted our progress with no more than a languid
interest. It did not matter to me whither we were going. But when,
at the Bull and Gate, we swept round into Highgate Road, my
attention awoke; and when the taxi turned sharply at the Duke of St.
Albans and entered Swain’s Lane, I sat up with a start. In a moment
of sudden enlightenment, I realized what our destination must be;
and the realization came upon me with the effect of a palpable blow.
This lane, with its precipitous ascent at the upper end, was no
ordinary thoroughfare. It was little more than an approach to the
great cemetery whose crowded areas extended on either side of it;
its traffic was almost completely limited to the mournful processions
that crept up to the wide gates by the mortuary chapel. Indeed, on
the very last occasion when I had ridden up this lane, my
conveyance had been the mourning carriage which followed poor
little Stella to her last home.
Before I had recovered from the shock of this discovery
sufficiently to consider what it might mean, the taxi came to a
sudden halt. I stepped out, and, looking up the lane, made out the
shadowy form of Wallingford’s vehicle, already backing and
manœuvring to turn round.
“Bloke in front has got out,” my driver announced in a hoarse
whisper, and as he spoke, I caught sight of Wallingford—or at least
of a human figure—lurking in the shadow of the trees by the railings
on the right-hand side of the road. I paid off my driver (who,
thereupon, backed on to the footway, turned and retired down the
hill) and having waited for the other taxi to pass down, began slowly
to ascend the lane, keeping in the shadow of the trees. Now that the
two taxis were gone, Wallingford and I had the lane to ourselves,
excepting where, in the distance ahead, the reflected light from the
head-lamps of the car made a dim halo and the shape of the gothic
chapel loomed indistinctly against the murky sky. I could see him
quite plainly, and no doubt he was aware of my presence; at any
rate, I did not propose to attempt any concealment, so far as he was
concerned. His movements had ceased to be of any interest to me.
My entire concern was with the party ahead and with the question at
to what Thorndyke was doing at this time of night in Highgate
Cemetery.
The burial ground is divided, as I have said, into two parts, which
lie on either side of the lane; the old cemetery with its great gates
and the large mortuary chapel, on the left or west side and the
newer part on the right. To which of these two parts was Thorndyke
bound? That was the question that I had to settle.
 I continued to advance up the lane, keeping in the shadow,
though it was a dark night and the precaution was hardly necessary.
Presently I overtook Wallingford and passed him without either
concealment or recognition on either side. I could now clearly make
out the gable and pinnacles of the chapel and saw the car turn in
the wide sweep and then extinguish its headlights. Presently, from
the gate-house there emerged a party of men of whom some carried
lanterns, by the light of which I could recognize Thorndyke and his
three companions; and I noted that they appeared to have left their
cases either in the car or elsewhere for they now carried nothing.
They lingered for a minute or two at the wicket by the great gates;
then, accompanied by a man whom I took to be the gate-keeper,
they crossed the road to the gate of the eastern cemetery and were
at once followed by another party of men, who trundled two wheel-
barrows, loaded with some bulky objects the nature of which I could
not make out. I watched them with growing anxiety and suspicion as
they passed in at the gate; and when they had all entered and
moved away along the main path, I came forth from the shadow and
began to walk quickly up the lane.
The eastern cemetery adjoins Waterlow Park, from which it is
separated by a low wall surmounted by tall railings, and this was my
objective. The park was now, of course, closed for the night, locked
up and deserted. So much the better. Locks and bars were no
hindrance to me. I knew the neighbourhood of old. Every foot of the
lane was familiar to me, though the houses that had grown up at the
lower end had changed its aspect from that which I remembered
when as a boy I had rambled through its leafy shades. On I strode,
past the great gates on the left and the waiting car, within which I
could see the driver dozing, past the white gatehouse on the right,
up the steep hill until I came to the place where a tall oak fence
encloses the park from the lane. Here I halted and took off my
overcoat, for the six-foot fence is guarded at the top by a row of
vicious hooks. Laying the folded overcoat across the top of the
fence, I sprang up, sat for a moment astride and then dropped down
into the enclosure.
 I now stood in a sort of dry ditch between the fence and a steep
bank, covered with bushes which rose to the level of the park. I had
just taken down my overcoat and was putting it on before climbing
the bank when its place was taken by another overcoat cast over
from without. Then a pair of hands appeared, followed by the clatter
of feet against the fence and the next moment I saw Wallingford
astride of the top and looking down at me.
I still affected to be unaware of him, and, turning away, began to
scramble up the bank, at the summit of which I pushed my way
through the bushes, and, stepping over a three-foot fence, came out
upon a by-path overshadowed by trees. Pausing for a moment to get
my bearings and to mark out a route by which I could cross the park
without coming into the open, where I might be seen by some
watchful keeper, I started off towards a belt of trees just as
Wallingford stepped over the dwarf fence and came out upon the
path behind me.
The position was becoming absurd, though I was too agitated to
appreciate its humour. I could not protest against his following me
seeing that I had come in the first place to spy upon him, and was
now, like himself, engaged in spying upon Thorndyke. However, he
soon solved the difficulty by quickening his pace and overtaking me,
when he asked in a quite matter-of-fact tone:
“What is Thorndyke up to, Mayfield?”
“That is what I want to find out,” I replied.
“He is not acting on your instructions, then?”
“No; and the probability is that what he is doing is no concern of
mine or of yours either. But I don’t know; and I have come here to
make sure. Keep in the shadow. We don’t want the keeper to see us
prowling about here.”
He stepped back into the shade and we pursued our way in
silence; and even then, troubled and agitated as I was, I noted that
he asked me no question as to what was in my mind. He was
leaving the initiative entirely to me.
When we had crossed the park in the shelter of the trees and
descended into the hollow by the little lake where we were out of
sight of the gate-house, I led the way towards the boundary
between the park and the cemetery. The two enclosures were
separated, as I have said, by a low wall surmounted by a range of
high, massive railings; and the wall and the cemetery beyond were
partially concealed by an irregular hedge of large bushes. Pushing
through the bushes, I moved along the wall until I came to the place
which I intended to watch; and here I halted in the shade of a tall
mass of bushes, and resting my arms on the broad coping of the
wall, took up my post of observation with Wallingford, silently
attentive at my side.
The great burial ground was enveloped in darkness so profound
that the crowded headstones and monuments conveyed to the eye
no more than a confused glimmer of ghostly pallor that was barely
distinguishable from the general obscurity. One monument only
could be separately identified: a solitary stone cross that rose above
a half-seen grave some sixty yards from the wall. But already the
mysterious procession could be seen threading its way in and out by
the intricate, winding paths, the gleam of the lanterns lighting up
now a marble figure and now a staring head-stone or urn or broken
column; and as it drew ever nearer, the glare of the lanterns, the
rumble of the barrow-wheels on the hard paths and the spectral
figures of the men grew more and more distinct. And still
Wallingford watched and spoke never a word.
At length, a turn of the path brought the procession into full
view, and as it approached I could make out a man,—evidently by
his uniform, the cemetery keeper,—leading, lantern in hand and
showing the way. Nearer and nearer the procession drew until at
last, close by the stone cross, the leader halted. Then, as Thorndyke
and his companions—now clearly visible—came up, he lifted his
lantern and let its light fall full on the cross. And even at this
distance I could read with ease—though it was unnecessary—the
single name STELLA.
As that name—to me so sacred—flashed out of the darkness,
Wallingford gripped my arm. “Great God!” he exclaimed. “It is Stella
Keene’s grave! I came here once with Barbara to plant flowers on it.”
He paused, breathing hard and still clutching my arm. Then, in a
hoarse whisper, he demanded:
 “What can that devil be going to do?”
There was little need to ask. Even as he spoke, the labourers
began to unload from the first barrow its lading of picks, shovels and
coils of rope. And when these were laid on the ground, the second
barrow yielded up its cargo; a set of rough canvas screens which the
men began to set up around the grave. And even as the screens
were being erected, another lantern slowly approaching along the
path, revealed two men carrying a long, bedstead-like object—a bier
—which they at length set down upon its stunted legs just outside
the screens.
With set teeth I stared incredulously between the railings at
these awful preparations while Wallingford, breathing noisily, held
fast to my arm with a hand that I could feel shaking violently. The
lanterns inside the screens threw a weird, uncertain light on the
canvas, and monstrous, distorted shadows moved to and fro.
Presently, amidst these flitting, spectral shapes, appeared one like an
enormous gnome, huge, hideous and deformed, holding an up-
raised pick. The shadowy implement fell with an audible impact,
followed by the ring of a shovel.
At the sight and the sound—so dreadfully conclusive—Wallingford
sprang up with a stifled cry.
“God Almighty! That devil is going to dig her up!”
He stood motionless and rigid for a few moments. Then, turning
suddenly, without another word, he burst through the bushes, and I
heard him racing madly across the park.
I had half a mind to follow him. I had seen enough. I now knew
the shocking truth. Why stay and let my soul be harrowed by the
sight of these ghouls. Every stroke of pick or shovel seemed to
knock at my heart. Why not go and leave them to their work of
desecration? But I could not go. I could not tear myself away. There
was the empty bier. Presently she would be lying on it. I could not
go until I had seen her borne away.
So I stayed there gazing between the railings, watching the elfin
shapes that flitted to and fro on the screen, listening to the thud of
pick and the ring and scrape of shovel and letting my confused
thoughts wander obscurely through a maze of half-realized pain and
anger. I try in vain to recall clearly what was my state of mind. Out
of the confusion and bewilderment little emerges but a dull
indignation and especially a feeling of surprised resentment against
Thorndyke.
The horrible business went on methodically. By degrees a
shadowy mound grew up at the bottom of the screen. And then
other movements and other sounds; a hollow, woody sound that
seemed to bring my heart into my mouth. At last, the screens were
opened at the end and then the coffin was borne out and laid on the
bier. By the light of the lanterns I could see it distinctly. I was even
able to recognize it, shabby and earth-stained as it now was. I saw
Thorndyke help the keeper to spread over it some kind of pall, and
then two men stepped between the handles of the bier, stooped and
picked it up; and then the grim procession re-formed and began
slowly to move away.
I watched it until it had passed round a turn of the path and was
hidden from my view. Then I stood up, pushed my way through the
bushes and stole away across the park by the way I had come. In
the ditch inside the fence I stood for a few moments listening, but
the silence was as profound as the darkness. As quietly as I could I
climbed over the fence and dropped down into the lane. There
seemed to be not a soul moving anywhere near; nevertheless, when
I had slipped on my overcoat, instead of retracing my steps down
the lane past the entrance-gates of the cemetery, I turned to the
right and toiled up the steep hill to its termination in South Grove,
where I bore away westward and descending the long slope of West
Hill, passed the Duke of St. Albans and re-entered the Highgate
Road.
It did not occur to me to look out for any conveyance. My mind
was in a whirl that seemed to communicate itself to my body and I
walked on and on like one in a dream.
The dreary miles of deserted streets were consumed unreckoned
—though still, without conscious purpose, I followed the direct road
home as a well-constructed automaton might have done. But I saw
nothing. Nor, for a time, could I be said to think coherently. My
thoughts seethed and eddied in such confusion that no product
emerged. I was conscious only of an indignant sense of shocked
decency and a loathing of Thorndyke and all his works.
Presently, however, I grew somewhat more reasonable and my
thoughts began to take more coherent shape. As a lawyer, I could
not but perceive that Thorndyke must have something definite in his
mind. He could not have done what I had seen him do without a
formal authority from the Home Secretary; and before any such
authority would have been given he would have been called upon to
show cause why the exhumation should be carried out. And such
licenses are not lightly granted. Nor, I had to admit, was Thorndyke
likely to have made the application without due consideration. He
must have had reasons for this outrageous proceeding which not
only appeared sufficient to him but which must have appeared
sufficient to the Home Secretary.
All this became by degrees clear enough to me. But yet I had not
a moment’s doubt that he had made some monstrous mistake.
Probably he had been misled by something in my diary. That seemed
to be the only possible explanation. Presently he would discover his
error—by means which I shudderingly put aside. But when the error
was discovered, the scandal would remain. It is impossible to
maintain secrecy in a case like this. In twenty-four hours or less, all
the world would know that the body of Mrs. Monkhouse’s step-sister
had been exhumed; and no subsequent explanation would serve to
destroy the effect of that announcement. Wallingford’s dismal
prophecy was about to be fulfilled.
Moreover, Thorndyke’s action amounted in effect to an open
accusation—not of Madeline or Wallingford but of Barbara, herself.
And this indignity she would suffer at my hands—at the hands of her
oldest friend! The thought was maddening. But for the outrageous
lateness of the hour, I would have gone to her at once to put her on
her guard and crave her pardon. It was the least that I could do. But
it could not be done to-night, for she would have been in bed hours
ago and her flat locked up for the night. However, I would go in the
morning at the earliest possible hour. I knew that Barbara was an
early riser and it would not be amiss if I arrived at the flat before the
maid. She must be warned at the earliest possible moment and by
me, who was the author of the mischief.
Thus, by the time that I reached my chambers I had decided
clearly what was to be done. At first, I was disposed to reject
altogether the idea of sleep. But presently, more reasonable
thoughts prevailing, I decided at least to lie down and sleep a little if
I could. But first I made a few indispensable preparations for the
morning; filled the kettle and placed it on the gas-ring, set out the
materials for a hasty breakfast, and cleaned my shoes. Then, when I
had wound the alarm clock and set it for five, I partially undressed
and crept into bed.
 Chapter XVI.
Barbara’s Message
The routine of modern life creates the habit of dividing the day
into a series of definite phases which we feel impelled to recognize
even in circumstances to which they have no real application.
Normally, the day is brought formally to an end by retirement to
bed, a process that—also normally—leads to a lapse into
unconsciousness the emergence from which marks the beginning of
another day. So, in mere obedience to the call of habit, I had gone
to bed, though, in spite of bodily fatigue, there had been no hint of
any tendency to sleep. But I might have saved myself the trouble.
True, my tired limbs stretched themselves out restfully and mere
muscular fatigue slowly wore off; but my brain continued, uselessly
and chaotically to pursue its activities only the more feverishly when
the darkness and the silence closed the avenues of impressions from
without.
Hour after hour crept by with incredible slowness, marked at
each quarter by the gentle undertone of the Treasury clock, voicing
its announcement, as it seemed, in polite protest (surely there was
never a clock that hinted so delicately and unobtrusively at the
passage of the irrevocable minutes “that perish for us and are
reckoned”). Other sound there was none to break the weary silence
of the night; but by the soft, mellow chime I was kept informed of
the birth of another day and the progress of its infancy, which
crawled so tardily in the wake of my impatience.
At last, when half-past four had struck, I threw back the bed-
clothes, and, stepping out, switched on the light and put a match to
the gas under the kettle. I had no occasion to hurry, but rather
sought to make my preparations with studied deliberation; in spite of
which I had shaved, washed and dressed and was sitting down to
my frugal breakfast when the alarm clock startled me by blurting out
with preposterous urgency its unnecessary reminder.
It had just turned a quarter past five when I set forth to take my
way on foot towards Kensington. No conveyance was necessary, nor
would it have been acceptable; for though throughout the
wearisome hours that I had spent in bed my thoughts had never
ceased to revolve around the problem that Thorndyke had set, I still
seemed to have the whole matter to debate afresh.
What should I say to Barbara? How should I break to her the
news that my own appointed agent had made an undissembled
accusation and was holding over her an unconcealed menace? I
knew well enough what her attitude would be. She would hold me
blameless and she would confront the threat against her reputation
—even against her liberty—calmly and unafraid. I had no fear for her
either of panic or recrimination. But how could I excuse myself?
What could I say in extenuation of Thorndyke’s secret, hostile
manœuvre?
The hands of the church clock were approaching half-past six
when I turned the corner and came in sight of the entrance to her
flat. And at the same moment I was made to realize the imminence
and the actuality of the danger which threatened her. In a narrow
street nearly opposite to the flat, a closed car was drawn up in such
a position that it could move out into the main road either to the
right or left without turning round; and a glance at the alert driver
and a watchful figure inside—both of whom looked at me attentively
as I passed—at once aroused my suspicions. And when, as I crossed
to the flat, I observed a tall man perambulating the pavement, those
suspicions were confirmed. For this was no brown-hatted neophyte.
The hard, athletic figure and the calm, observant face were
unmistakable. I had seen too many plain-clothes policemen to miss
the professional characteristics. And this man also took unobtrusive
note of me as my destination became apparent.
The church clock was chiming half-past six as I pressed the
button of the electric bell by Barbara’s front door. In the silence that
still wrapped the building, I could hear the bell ring noisily, though