How many of the following questions can you answer?
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What holds water yet is full of holes?
Can you solve the following riddle?
Though in theory I am always behind you, I am also around to remind you. But in case it’s your way to give me too much say, I can hamper or, even worse, blind you. What am I?
At 840,000 square miles, this place is the largest island in the world. It is three times the size of Texas. Where is it?
What did Albert Einstein, Edgar Allen Poe, H.G. Wells, Charles Darwin, and Queen Victoria all have in common, matrimonially speaking?
(see the comment section below for the answer)
Three men were fishing. The boat flipped over and the three men fell into the water. Two of the men got their hair wet. Why didn’t the third man’s hair get wet?
(the solution can be found in the comment section below)
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What common English verb becomes its own past tense by rearranging its letters?
(see the comment section below for the answer)
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There are times in the experience of all detectives when decisions of the greatest importance hang upon the slenderest of clues. Had you been Inspector Briggs, what would you have deduced about the Renstowe claimant? Were the mother and child impostors or the true heirs?
When Wilfred Barrington, Earl of Renstowe, died fighting in France in 1917 it seemed that the long line of Barringtons as Earls of Renstowe would be broken at last and that the title would go to a distant relative–a cousin who was a curate in a rural part of England. For Wilfred, whose wife had died the year before him, was childless, and, as the newspapers pointed out, it seemed almost certain that Hubert, Wilfred’s younger brother, had died, unknown and in disgrace, several years before the war broke out.
They still discussed this Hubert in the London clubs. Not in many years had the English nobility yielded so thorough a scamp. It was well known that he had sown his wild oats with such a lavish hand that in 1904 his older brother, the Earl, had settled twenty thousand pounds on him and ordered him out of England forever. But in a couple of years hea had run through it and was back, making the Earl’s life miserable with pleas which some described as little short of brotherly blackmail. Fresh settlements from the older brother were followed by renewed escapades which nearly landed Hubert in jail, and finally the youngere Barrington disappeared from England in 1908 and joined the French Foreign Legion undere another name. Some years later rumors came that he had left the legion, settled in Algeria, and had died there in a fever epidemic in 1912; but his brother, long since disgusted with the sound of his name, did nothing to verify the news. By 1917 Hubert was assumed dead by everyone in England.
But a month after the sudden death of the Earl the Renstowe solicitors were amazed to receive a cable from Algiers which startled both them and the curate cousin. Signed by a Dr. Rupert MacArthur, it stated that, although Hubert Barrington had ided in 1912, his wife and six-year old child wer alive in Algiers and would start at once for England to claim the estate and title. Full documents proving the claim, the cable said, would be produced.
A fever of investigation set in upon the Renstowe lawyers, fo rthe curate cousin saw his claim to luxury vanishing into thin air. Could this news be true? No one had received the slightest inkling of a marriage contracted by the dissolute Hubert. And who was the doctor who rose out of nowhere to champion the claim of the woman and child of Algiers?
To their immense dissatisfaction the Renstowe lawyers found, upon investigation, that Dr. Rupert MacArthur was a duly registered English physician knowin in Algiers. While little could be learned of his character, it was learned through Algerian correspondents that MacArthur was a man of some means and had been established there for many years. If it was a hoax, thought the lawyers, then it was a well-sponsored hoax and carefully planned.
The arrival in England of MacArthur and the two claimants, however, rather shook the solicitors’ conviction that it must be a hoax. The frank personalities of the woman and her champion, and th ewealth of legally attested documents bearing on the case, seemed to indicate tha the claim was just.
The woman who claimed to be the widow of Hubert Barrington poured forth her story in a singularly compelling and pathetic way. There could be no doubt of her intimate knowledge of hte man who had disgraced himself in England in previous years. She narrated the minutest details of his faults. But there had been a regeneration of the man in the French Foreign Legion, she said, and when they had met in Algiers in 1910, he had married her and had settled down there to a happy life. the boy had been born in Algiers, July 3, 1911, she claimed, and they had been supremely happy. But on March 7th of the following year her husband had been taken in an epidemic of fever and she had compelled to give music lessons for a living ever since.
The handsome, curly-haired boy at her side, as she talked with the Renstowe solicitors, confirmed the impression which they received. He was a sturdy, proud, aristocratic-looking little chap–the image of the woman and obviously devoted to her. If he was not the true heir to the Renstowe earldom, thought the solicitors, at least he looked as a boy earl should. There was little if anything of the Barringtons in his features; but many children, they had to admit, took more after the mother than the father.
She submitted documents. Dr. MacArthur, her companion, explained that he had attended at the birth of the boy and at the death of the father. The documents were duly attested and supported by a mass of affidavits and official seals of the authorities of Algiers.
Rigorous cross-examination of MacArthur and the alleged widow of Hubert Barrington revealed no discrepancy in their stories or any haziness in their knowledge of the Barrington family affairs. On one point only could the woman’s story be regarded as weak: while she furnished a marriage certificate of the wedding of “Hubert Barrington and Adele Reamer, both English,” she could offer no proof as to her own identity as Adele Reamer. She had been taken abroad as a child, she explained, and since her parents’ death, some years before, she had lost all track of former friends in England. But she swore that she was Adele Reamer and produced several letters, addressed to her as such, which seemed to be in the hand of Hubert Barrington–letters written to her, she said, before her marriage.
It is of record in the case that the skeptical lawyers were virtually convinced of the truth of her story and were about to recommend a compromise settlement to the curate cousin. but this gentleman, somewhat suspicious, took it into his own hands to consult privately an old friend, ex-Inspector Briggs of Scotland yard. Briggs resorted to a thoroughly unethical ransacking of the woman’s baggage at her hotel one day in her absence and found amon papers in the bottom of her trunk several scribbled pages. These had apparently come loose from a notebook onces used as a diary. Altough the pages bore no signature it was obvious that they had been written in the hand of the woman who claimed to be Mrs. Hubert Barrington, nee Adele Reamer.
As is now well known, ex-Inpector Briggs, by reasoning solely from the evidence thus afforded, was able to settle the matter at once with remarkable conclusiveness. Here is a transcript of what met his eye. What would you have deduced?
The diary entries read:
Nov. 15, ’11
Have written so much in my diary this year that I have to start a new vol. to-day. Have been re-reading Nicholas Nickleby. The same old books! I wonder if I shall ever be where there are new books to read or theatres to go to. I get so sick of it all. Baby is gaining. He looks much better now.
16th.
Nothing to do but walk. Never anything to do but walk. Not so pleasant to-day. Spring is very late this year, and anyway it doesn’t thrill me as it used to. Had a letter from Julia to-day. She and Oscar are coming over Sunday. I must be careful–I think she is a little jealous of Oscar’s admiration of me, but I cannot help it, and no matter anyway, for he’ll be sailing for South America in a week and afterwards to Australia or New Zealand. I am happy, I suppose, but I do envy anone traveling about. But then, maybe these places just seem romantic because they are so far away. Perhaps it’s just that I have been rooted here so long–just three years to-day.
The questions to be answered are:
1. Was she Hubert Barrinton’s widow, or not?
2. What conclusively proves it?
3. In what part of the world was the diary written?
(See the comment section below for the answers.)
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The above mystery is borrowed from The Second Baffle Book (NY: Doubleday, Doran, & Company, Inc., 1929).
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The following account is an incident which occurred in the early twentieth century during the visit to America by Inspector Albert Marquard of Scotland Yard. This account of Colonel Willoughby Jones in his “Memoirs of a Southern Host” affords an interesting problem in observation and deduction. Would you have been able to anticipate the conclusions of the Inspector?
The conversation of Inspector Marquard was always highly interesting to me. The man trained to observations and deduction finds much of interest in commonplace everyday life, as I learned when I had opportunity to entertain the Inspector during his short visit to Atlanta.
One October day we had driven out some forty miles into the country. Marquard was a confirmed lover of landscape: trees, clouds, and rolling hills. In order to pint out the beauty of a particular view I had stopped the car in the road at the side of a large meadow, when the Inspector directed my attention some fifty yeards up the roadside to something which I had not observed.
A white linen tablecloth was spread under the largest of the few trees in the meadow, perhaps fifty yards in from the road. it was spread for a picnic; the silverware glinted in the sunlight which filtered through the leaves. Beside it stood a handsome dining kit box, such as is used by motorists. It certainly was a picnic, but an abandoned picnic. Not a human being was in sight, and there was no spot within a quarter of a mile where anyone could be concealed.
“What a strange sight!” I said. “Where are the people?”
Our curiosity aroused, we left the car and walked over the meadow to the spot.
“Not unlike the traditional description of the captain’s cabin on board the Marie Celeste!” said Marquard, evidently much amused and pleased to have run across this rather baffling circumstance while he was on vacation.
The spread cloth was of a fine quality of linen, and five places had been laid around it, and a most tempting meal was set. The china and other picnic paraphernalia were neatly arranged; the silver was ood quality plated ware.
It flashed through my mind that there had been a party of spinsters frightened off by a bull, or perhaps even an innocently grazing cow. I outlined my theory to the Inspector.
“It could hardly have been that!” he said. “There is no one on the horizon. If they had run to their motor car to escape a bull they probably would have returned by now to pick up this valuable dining kit.”
The whim struck us both to sit down and wait, and for five minutes we smoked, expecting at any moment to see the picnickers approaching across the meadow. As they did not appear I urged Marquard to look into the matter more closely.
We had noticed upon approaching that, some twenty feet beyond the cloth, a small camp fire had been burning. A few charred sticks were still smoking.
At four of the five places around the cloth, cups for coffee had been set; but none of the coffee had been poured from a large thermos bottle in which it stood. At each of these places was also a half grapefruit, partially consumed. At the fifth place stood a mug of milk, untouched. A loaf of bread, sliced but still complete and unbuttered, rested on a large plate in the center. Beside it was a bottle of olives and a bowl half full of chicken salad. Plates at four of the places bore equal portions of the salad, with a smaller portion at the fifth place, where stood the mug of milk. There were also an unopened box of crackers, two opened boxes of sardines, and an opened jar of marmalade. And at one corner of the cloth was a small plate which, from traces left on its surface, had evidently contained a quantity of butter.
“Inspector,” I said, “now I have a chance to see you in action. Why was the picnic abandoned? Who composed this party? Which one of them, if any one, brought this about? I give it up.”
“Come, come, Colonel!” replied Marquard, “the answers are upon the table and need only to be read. Surely you see that.”
Do you see?
1. What occurrence had caused the picnickers to abandon their food and equipment?
2. From what is this deduced?
3. Of whom was the party composed?
4. From what do you deduce this?
5. Which one was most instrumental in bringing about the abandonment?
6. From what do you deduce this?
(See the comment section below for the answers.)
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The above mystery is borrowed from The Second Baffle Book (NY: Doubleday, Doran, & Company, Inc., 1929).
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The strange case which follows is authentic. It presented a bizarre problem to the Berlin police a century ago. From the evidence that follows, the police were able to reconstruct the tragedy in substantial detail. Can you?
On July 17, 190_, some children hunting for mushrooms in a forest not far from Berlin discovered the dead bodies of two men lying near a large tree in a secluded ravine. The children, terrified, ran home with the news, and officers of the Kriminalpolizei, or detective police, hurried to the spot.
It proved an unusually interesting case to the detectives, for they readily recognized the dead men as ex-convicts, Heitmann and Schultz. The men had formerly served long terms for robbery and had recently fallen under suspicion of hanving committed a series of daring robberies which had been made in and around Berlin. (Several of the victims of the robbers had been brutally murdered.) Thus far the police had been unable to obtain any conclusive evidence against the two ex-convicts. None of the loot taken in the recent robberies could be found in their possession, and no sale of the stolen goods could be traced to them through any pawnshop or receiver.
The bodies bore no wounds, and no signs of a struggle were evident. They were lying near together, in contorted positions. Two new and empty suitcases of the cheapest type lay a few feet off. Between the bodies was an empty wine botttle, and near by were several crusts of bread. Both men were armed with murderous-looking knives. At a little distance stood a lunch basket containing a whole loaf of bread, part of another, half a huge sausage, and two bottles full of cheap wine, with cork stoppers. At the bottom of the basket, folded up, was a brown burlap bag of about 2 by 3 feet.
A few paces distant the police noticed a spot where the earth had been trampled considerably, and a careful examination revealed spatters of blood on several leaves. Four cigarette stubs were picked up from this trampled spot and carefully saved a evidence. The bodies, the empty wine bottle, and the basket were also removed to headquarters, where an autopsy showed that both men had died of a deadly poison. A small quantity of sediment remaining in the bottle showed the presence of the same poison, as did also the wine in one of the two full bottles in the basket. The other bottel of wine had not been poisoned, and it was noticed that the cork of this bottle was marked in ink with a tiny cross.
The four cigarette stubs proved to be of Virginia tobacco. Both of the dead men had in their pockets packages of cigarettes made of Turkish tobacco.
It was estimated that the two men had been dead about forty-eight hours.
Meanwhile a further examination of the ravine had been made, with startling results. Only a few feet away fromt he trampled spot the police discovered a shallow grave containing the body of a man stabbed twice in the heart. This man, who was readily indentified as one Mueller, know as “The Rat,” also had been convicted of theft in the past. He had not been unders suspicion, however, for the recent daring robberies, for the reason that the police believed him too timid to have committed such brutal crimes. His record was tat of a sneak thief. Still, ha had recently been observed in the company of the other tow, in Berlin, and a delicatessen keeper in the suburban town nearest to the forest testified that he had sold the bread and sausage to “The Rat” on the morning of July 15th. Cigarettes found in his pocket were of Virginia tobacco, of the same brand as the four stubs found in the ravine.
Finally, just as they were about to leave the ravine, the police discovered in a huge hollow tree a large quantity of silver, jewelry, and other articles of value, covered over with dead leaves and twigs. Among this store of loot were most of the recently stolen articles for which the police had been searching.
The questions to be answered are:
1. Who died first?
2. Were the deaths of Heitmann and Schultz premeditated murders?
3. From what evidence is your answer to the second question logically deduced?
4. How do you reconstruct the tragedy.
(See the comment section below for the answers.)
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The above mystery is borrowed from The Second Baffle Book (NY: Doubleday, Doran, & Company, Inc., 1929).
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