The Adventures of Shamrock Jolnes

by O. Henry

　　

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I am so fortunate as to count Shamrock Jolnes, the great New Yorkdetective, among my muster of friends. Jolnes is what is called the"inside man" of the city detective force. He is an expert in the use ofthe typewriter, and it is his duty, whenever there is a "murder mystery"to be solved, to sit at a desk telephone at headquarters and take down themessages of "cranks" who 'phone in their confessions to having committedthe crime.But on certain "off" days when confessions are coming in slowly and threeor four newspapers have run to earth as many different guilty persons,Jolnes will knock about the town with me, exhibiting, to my great delightand instruction, his marvellous powers of observation and deduction.The other day I dropped in at Headquarters and found the great detectivegazing thoughtfully at a string that was tied tightly around his littlefinger."Good morning, Whatsup," he said, without turning his head. "I'm glad tonotice that you've had your house fitted up with electric lights at last.""Will you please tell me," I said, in surprise, "how you knew that? I amsure that I never mentioned the fact to any one, and the wiring was a rushorder not completed until this morning.""Nothing easier," said Jolnes, genially. "As you came in I caught theodour of the cigar you are smoking. I know an expensive cigar; and I knowthat not more than three men in New York can afford to smoke cigars andpay gas bills too at the present time. That was an easy one. But I amworking just now on a little problem of my own.""Why have you that string on your finger?" I asked."That's the problem," said Jolnes. "My wife tied that on this morning toremind me of something I was to send up to the house. Sit down, Whatsup,and excuse me for a few moments."The distinguished detective went to a wall telephone, and stood with thereceiver to his ear for probably ten minutes."Were you listening to a confession?" I asked, when he had returned to hischair."Perhaps," said Jolnes, with a smile, "it might be called something of thesort. To be frank with you, Whatsup, I've cut out the dope. I've beenincreasing the quantity for so long that morphine doesn't have much effecton me any more. I've got to have something more powerful. That telephoneI just went to is connected with a room in the Waldorf where there's anauthor's reading in progress. Now, to get at the solution of this string."After five minutes of silent pondering, Jolnes looked at me, with a smile,and nodded his head."Wonderful man!" I exclaimed; "already?""It is quite simple," he said, holding up his finger. "You see thatknot? That is to prevent my forgetting. It is, therefore, aforget-me-knot. A forget-me-not is a flower. It was a sack of flour thatI was to send home!""Beautiful!" I could not help crying out in admiration."Suppose we go out for a ramble," suggested Jolnes."There is only one case of importance on hand just now. Old man McCarty,one hundred and four years old, died from eating too many bananas. Theevidence points so strongly to the Mafia that the police have surroundedthe Second Avenue Katzenjammer Gambrinus Club No. 2, and the capture ofthe assassin is only the matter of a few hours. The detective force hasnot yet been called on for assistance."Jolnes and I went out and up the street toward the corner, where we wereto catch a surface car.Half-way up the block we met Rheingelder, an acquaintance of ours, whoheld a City Hall position."Good morning, Rheingelder," said Jolnes, halting."Nice breakfast that was you had this morning." Always on the lookout forthe detective's remarkable feats of deduction, I saw Jolnes's eye flashfor an instant upon a long yellow splash on the shirt bosom and a smallerone upon the chin of Rheingelder -- both undoubtedly made by the yolk ofan egg."Oh, dot is some of your detectiveness," said Rheingelder, shaking allover with a smile. "Vell, I pet you trinks und cigars all round dot youcannot tell vot I haf eaten for breakfast.""Done," said Jolnes. "Sausage, pumpernickel and coffee."Rheingelder admitted the correctness of the surmise and paid the bet.When we had proceeded on our way I said to Jolnes:"I thought you looked at the egg spilled on his chin and shirt front.""I did," said Jolnes. "That is where I began my deduction. Rheingelderis a very economical, saving man. Yesterday eggs dropped in the market totwenty-eight cents per dozen. To-day they are quoted at forty-two.Rheingelder ate eggs yesterday, and to-day he went back to his usualfare. A little thing like this isn't anything, Whatsup; it belongs to theprimary arithmetic class."When we boarded the street car we found the seats all occupied --principally by ladies. Jolnes and I stood on the rear platform.About the middle of the car there sat an elderly man with a short, graybeard, who looked to be the typical, well-dressed New Yorker. Atsuccessive corners other ladies climbed aboard, and soon three or four ofthem were standing over the man, clinging to straps and glaring meaninglyat the man who occupied the coveted seat. But he resolutely retained hisplace."We New Yorkers," I remarked to Jolnes, "have about lost our manners, asfar as the exercise of them in public goes.""Perhaps so," said Jolnes, lightly; "but the man you evidently refer tohappens to be a very chivalrous and courteous gentleman from OldVirginia. He is spending a few days in New York with his wife and twodaughters, and he leaves for the South to-night.""You know him, then?" I said, in amazement."I never saw him before we stepped on the car," declared the detective,smilingly."By the gold tooth of the Witch of Endor!" I cried, "if you can construeall that from his appearance you are dealing in nothing else than blackart.""The habit of observation -- nothing more," said Jolnes. "If the oldgentleman gets off the car before we do, I think I can demonstrate to youthe accuracy of my deduction."Three blocks farther along the gentleman rose to leave the car. Jolnesaddressed him at the door: "Pardon me, sir, but are you not ColonelHunter, of Norfolk, Virginia?""No, suh," was the extremely courteous answer. "My name, suh, is Ellison-- Major Winfield R. Ellison, from Fairfax County, in the same state. Iknow a good many people, suh, in Norfolk -- the Goodriches, the Tollivers,and the Crabtrees, suh, but I never had the pleasure of meeting yo'friend, Colonel Hunter. I am happy to say, suh, that I am going back toVirginia to-night, after having spent a week in yo' city with my wife andthree daughters. I shall be in Norfolk in about ten days, and if you willgive me yo' name, suh, I will take pleasure in looking up Colonel Hunterand telling him that you inquired after him, suh.""Thank you," said Jolnes; "tell him that Reynolds sent his regards, if youwill be so kind."I glanced at the great New York detective and saw that a look of intensechagrin had come upon his clear-cut features. Failure in the slightestpoint always galled Shamrock Jolnes."Did you say your _three_ daughters?" he asked of the Virginia gentleman."Yes, suh, my three daughters, all as fine girls as there are in FairfaxCounty," was the answer.With that Major Ellison stopped the car and began to descend the step.Shamrock Jolnes clutched his arm."One moment, sir," he begged, in an urbane voice in which I alone detectedthe anxiety -- "am I not right in believing that one of the young ladiesis an _adopted_ daughter?""You are, suh," admitted the major, from the ground, "but how the devilyou knew it, suh, is mo' than I can tell.""And mo' than I can tell, too," I said, as the car went on.Jolnes was restored to his calm, observant serenity by having wrestedvictory from his apparent failure; so after we got off the car he invitedme into a cafe, promising to reveal the process of his latest wonderfulfeat."In the first place," he began after we were comfortably seated, "I knewthe gentleman was no New Yorker because he was flushed and uneasy andrestless on account of the ladies that were standing, although he did notrise and give them his seat. I decided from his appearance that he was aSoutherner rather than a Westerner."Next I began to figure out his reason for not relinquishing his seat to alady when he evidently felt strongly, but not overpoweringly, impelled todo so. I very quickly decided upon that. I noticed that one of his eyeshad received a severe jab in one corner, which was red and inflamed, andthat all over his face were tiny round marks about the size of the end ofan uncut lead pencil. Also upon both of his patent leather shoes were anumber of deep imprints shaped like ovals cut off square at one end."Now, there is only one district in New York City where a man is bound toreceive scars and wounds and indentations of that sort -- and that isalong the sidewalks of Twenty-third Street and a portion of Sixth Avenuesouth of there. I knew from the imprints of trampling French heels on hisfeet and the marks of countless jabs in the face from umbrellas andparasols carried by women in the shopping district that he had been inconflict with the amazonian troops. And as he was a man of intelligentappearance, I knew he would not have braved such dangers unless he hadbeen dragged thither by his own women folk. Therefore, when he got on thecar his anger at the treatment he had received was sufficient to make himkeep his seat in spite of his traditions of Southern chivalry.""That is all very well," I said, "but why did you insist upon daughters --and especially two daughters? Why couldn't a wife alone have taken himshopping?""There had to be daughters," said Jolnes, calmly. "If he had only a wife,and she near his own age, he could have bluffed her into going alone. Ifhe had a young wife she would prefer to go alone. So there you are.""I'll admit that," I said; "but, now, why two daughters? And how, in thename of all the prophets, did you guess that one was adopted when he toldyou he had three?""Don't say guess," said Jolnes, with a touch of pride in his air; "thereis no such word in the lexicon of ratiocination. In Major Ellison'sbuttonhole there was a carnation and a rosebud backed by a geranium leaf.No woman ever combined a carnation and a rosebud into a boutonniere.Close your eyes, Whatsup, and give the logic of your imagination achance. Cannot you see the lovely Adele fastening the carnation to thelapel so that papa may be gay upon the street? And then the romping EdithMay dancing up with sisterly jealousy to add her rosebud to the adornment?""And then," I cried, beginning to feel enthusiasm, "when he declared thathe had three daughters" --"I could see," said Jolnes, "one in the background who added no flower;and I knew that she must be --""Adopted!" I broke in. "I give you every credit; but how did you know hewas leaving for the South to-night?""In his breast pocket," said the great detective, "something large andoval made a protuberance. Good liquor is scarce on trains, and it is along journey from New York to Fairfax County.""Again, I must bow to you," I said. "And tell me this, so that my lastshred of doubt will be cleared away; why did you decide that he was fromVirginia?""It was very faint, I admit," answered Shamrock Jolnes, "but no trainedobserver could have failed to detect the odour of mint in the car."

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You may also enjoy reading O. Henry's story, The Detective Detector.

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