CHAPTER XX
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL DETECTIVE
Wilton Barnstable was the inventor of a new school of detection ofcrime. The system came in with him, and it may go out with him forlack of a man of his genius to perpetuate it. He insisted that therewas nothing spectacular or romantic in the pursuit of the criminal, or,at least, that there should be nothing of the sort. And he wasespecially disgusted when anyone referred to him as "a second SherlockHolmes."
"I am only a plain business man," he would insist, urbanely, with awave of his hand. "I have merely brought order, method, system,business principles, logic, to the detection of crime. I know nothingof romance. Romance is usually all nonsense in my estimation. Thereal detective, who gets results in real life, is NOT a SherlockHolmes."
The enemies of Wilton Barnstable sometimes said of him that he wasjealous of Sherlock Holmes. When this was reported to Barnstable heinvariably remarked: "How preposterous! The idea of a man beingenvious of a literary creation!"
Perhaps his denial of the existence of romance was merely one of thoseposes which geniuses so often permit themselves. Perhaps he saw it andwas thrilled with it even while he denied it. At any rate, he lived inthe midst of it. The realism which was his metier was that sort ofrealism into which are woven facts and incidents of the most bizarreand startling nature.
And, certainly, behind the light blue eyes that could look with suchapparent ingenuousness out of his plump, bland face there was thesubtle mind of a psychologist. Barnstable, true to his attitude of theplain business man, would have been the first to ridicule the ideapublicly if anyone had dubbed him "the psychological detective." That,to his mind, would have savored of charlatanism. He would have said:"I am nothing so strange and mystifying as that--I am a plain businessman." But in reality there was no new discovery of the investigatingpsychologists of which he did not avail himself at once. His abilityto clothe himself with the thoughts of the criminal as an actor clotheshimself with a role, was marvelous; he knew the criminal soul. That isto say, he knew the human soul. He refused to see anythingextraordinary in this. "It is only my business to know such things,"he would say. "We know many things. It is our business to know them.There is no miracle about it." This was the public character he hadcreated for himself, and emphasized--that of the plain business man.This was his mask. He was so subtle that he hid the vast range of hispowers behind an appearance of commonplaceness.
Wilton Barnstable never disguised himself, in the ordinary sense of theterm. That is, he never resorted to false whiskers or wigs or obvioustricks of that sort.
But if Wilton Barnstable were to walk into a convention of blacksmiths,let us say, he would quite escape attention. For before he had beenten minutes in that gathering he would become, to all appearances, thetypical blacksmith. If he were to enter a gathering of bankers, orbarbers, or bakers, or organ grinders, or stockbrokers, orschool-teachers, a similar thing would happen. He could make himselfthe composite photograph of all the individuals of any group. Hedisguised himself from the inside out.
This art of becoming inconspicuous was one of his greatest assets as adetective. Newspaper and magazine writers would have liked to dwellupon it. But he requested them not to emphasize it. As he modestlynarrated his triumphs to the young journalists, who hung breathlessupon his words, he was careful not to stress his talent for becomingjust like anybody and everybody else--his peculiar genius for being theaverage man.
The front which he presented to the world was, in reality, hiscleverest creation. The magazine and newspaper articles which werewritten about him, the many pictures which were printed every month,presented the mental and physical portrait of a knowing, bustling,extraordinarily candid personality. A personality with a touch ofsmugness in it. This was very generally thought to be the real WiltonBarnstable. It was a fiction which he had succeeded in establishing.When he addressed meetings, talked with reporters, wrote articles abouthimself, or came into touch with the public in any manner, he assumedthis personality. When he did not wish to be known he laid it aside.When he desired to pass incognito, therefore, it was not necessary forhim to assume a disguise. He simply dropped one.
The two men with him, Barton Ward and Watson Bard, were his cleverestagents. They were learning from the master detective the art oflooking like other people, and were at present practicing by lookinglike the popular conception of Wilton Barnstable. They were clevermen. But Barton Ward and Watson Bard were, as Cleggett had felt atonce, only men of extraordinary talent, while Wilton Barnstable was agenius.
As Cleggett talked he was given a rather startling proof of WiltonBarnstable's gift. He was astonished to find a change stealing overWilton Barnstable's features. Subtly the detective began to look likesomeone else. The expression of the face, the turn of the eyes, thelines about the mouth, began to suggest someone whom Cleggett knew. Itwas rather a suggestion, an impression, than a likeness; it was ratherthe spirit of a personality than a definite resemblance. It was apsychic thing. Barnstable was disguising himself from the inside out;he had assumed the mental and spiritual clothing of someone else.
Cleggett could not think at first who it was that Wilton Barnstablesuggested. But presently he saw that it was himself. He glanced atBarton Ward and Watson Bard; they still resembled the popularconception of Wilton Barnstable.
Gradually the look of Cleggett faded from Wilton Barnstable's face. Itchanged, it shifted, that look did; Cleggett almost cried out as he sawthe face of Wilton Barnstable become an impressionistic portrait of thesoul of Logan Black. He looked at Barton Ward. Barton Ward was nowlooking like Wilton Barnstable's conception of Cleggett. But WatsonBard, less facile and less creative, still clung stolidly to thepopular conception of Wilton Barnstable.
But, even as Cleggett looked, this remarkable exhibition ceased; theWilton Barnstable look dominated the faces again. Plump, yetdignified, smiling easily and kindly, three plain business men lookedat him; respectable citizens, commonplace citizens, a little smug;faces that spoke of comfort, method, regularity; eyes that seemed towink with the pressure of platitudes in the minds behind them;platitudes that desired to force their way to the lips and out into theworld.
Yes, such was the genius of Wilton Barnstable that he could at willimpose himself upon people as the apotheosis of the commonplace. Hedid it often. It was almost second nature to him now. His urbane smilewas the only visible sign of his own enjoyment of this habitual feat.He knew his own genius, and smiled to think how easy it was to pass foran average man!