w*«»>?fl»?f«wwtM^fW»!W'wwf'!»mH»Hfi~ 'Kf '■ i. ^BBM0 ■ISENWEtN, .CORNELL UNIVERSITY » LIBRARY FROM .;>/ E.Beal The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027194905 ;^ Cornell University Library PN 3383.D4W45 3 1924 027 194 905 THE WRITER'S LIBRARY EDITED BY J. BERG ESENWEIN THE ART OF VERSIFICATION A COMPLETE MANUAL FOR WRITERS OF VERSE BY J. BERG ESENWEIN AND MARY ELEANOR ROBERTS CLOTH — ^$1.50 net; by mail, $1.62 THE ART OF STORY-WRITING A PRACTICAL COURSE IN FICTION WRITING BY J. BERG ESENWEIN AND MARY DAVOREN CHAMBERS CLOTH — $1.25 net; by mail, $1.35 MANUSCRIPT PREPARATION HOW TO SPELL, PUNCTUATE, EDIT AND PROOF-READ MS. BY J. BERG ESENWEIN ASSISTED BY ROBERT THOMAS HARDY AND MARIE ROWLAND BUNKER CLOTH — ?i.2S net; by mail, $1.35 (ready JANUARY, I9I4) WRITING THE SHORT-STORY A THOROUGH STUDY OF THE FICTION WRITER'S METHODS BY J. BERG ESENWEIN CLOTH — ^$1.25 — POSTPAID STUDYING THE SHORT-STORY SIXTEEN MASTERPIECES WITH METHODS FOR ANALYSIS BY J. BERG ESENWEIN CLOTH ^^1.25 POSTPAID WRITING THE PHOTOPLAY A FULL MANUAL OF PRACTICAL INSTRUCTION BY J. BERG ESENWEIN AND ARTHUR LEEDS CLOTH — ^$2.00 net; by mail, $2.12 — illustrated THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY A COMPLETE EXPOSITION OF THE FORM BY CAROLYN WELLS INTRODUCTION BY J. BERG ESENWEIN CLOTH — $l.SO net; by mail, $1.62 OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION The Technique of the Mystery Story BY CAROLYN WELLS AUTHOR OF "the CLUE," "a CHAIN OF EVIDENCE,' "the maxwell mystery," etc. INTRODUCTION BY J. BERG ESENWEIN THE WRITER'S LIBRARY EDITED BY J. BERG ESENWEIN THE HOME CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL Springfield, Mass. Publishers Copyright, 1913 The Home Correspondence School All Rights ReseiJyed Table of Contents Page Introduction xii Chapter I — The Eternal Curious i 1. The Inquisition into the Curious is Universal 2 2. Early Riddles . 6 J. The Passion for Solving Mysteries . . 8 Chapter II — The Literature of Mystery 10 1. The Rightful Place of the Mystery Story in Fiction 10 2. The Mystery Story Considered as Art 15 J. The Claims of Antagonists and Protagonists i5 Chapter III — The History oe Mystery 20 I. Ancient Mystery Tales ... 20 Chapter IV — Ghost Stories . . 25 1. A Working Classification . 26 2. The Ghost Story . 27 5. Famous Ghost Stories ■ 31 4. The Humorous Ghost Story 34 Chapter V — Riddle Stories . 37 1. Some Notable Riddle Stories . -37 2. The Nature of the Riddle Story and Its Types . 40 Chapter VI — DeteCtive Stories . ^ . . -43 1. What Is a Detective Story? 43 2. Rise of the Detective Story 44 5. The Detective — Fictive and Real 47 4. Fiction versus Fact . ■ 5° 5. The Interest of the Detective Story . . 58 6. A Summing Up -63 Chapter VII — The Detective . . -65 1. The Real Detective and His Work . ■ 65 2. Fictive Detective Material . . ■ ■ T^ VI TABLE or CONTENTS Page J. The Transcendent Detective 74 4. Pioneer Detectives of Fiction ... 76 5. Recent Detectives of Fiction -79 6. The Scientific Detective of Fiction . 81 7. The New Psychology in Detective Stories 83 8. Other Types . . . . 86 Chapter VIII — Deduction 87 1. Ratiocination in Early Detective Stories .... 87 2. Deduction Used in Every-day Life . 90 J. The Analytical Element in the Detective Story 92 4. Poe's Detective — The Prototype 94 5. The Detective in the Novel 96 Chapter IX — ^Applied Principles ... loi 1. The Detectives of Poe, Doyle, and Gaboriau loi 2. Individuality of these Detectives . . 106 J. The Real Sherlock Holmes 108 Chapter X — ^The Rationale of Ratiocination . 113 J. Sherlock Holmes' Method . . . 113 2. Lecoq's Method .120 3. Other Methods . 121 4. Holmes' Method Evaluated 123 5. The Inductive and the Deductive Methods . 125 6. Two Striking Examples 126 Chapter XI — Close Observation . 132 1. The Search for Clues . 135 2. The Bizarre in Crime . . 137 J. The Value of the Trivial . 139 4. The Tricks of Imitation 141 Chapter XII — Other Detectives of Fiction . 144 1. Some Original Traits . 144 2. Two Unique Detectives . 147 Chapter XIII — Portraits ... ... 153 1. Some Early Detective Portraits 153 2. Some More Modern Portraits 156 TABLE or CONTENTS Vll Page i6i 164 168 171 171 J. Some Less Known Portraits . 4. Idiosyncrasies of Fictional Detectives 5. Favorite Phrases of Detectives Chapter XIV — ^Devious Devices . 1. Snov) and Rain 2. Some Particularly Hackneyed Devices 172 3. Devices Which Are Not Plausible . . 175 Chapter XV — Footprints and Fingerprints . 180 1. The Omnipresence of Footprints 180 2. Other Miraculous Discoveries . . 183 3. Remarkable Deductions from Footprints 186 4. Fingerprints and Teeth-marks . 191 Chapter XVI — More Devices . . 195 1. Tabulated Clues 195 2. Worn-out Devices 199 3. The Use of Disguise 203 4. Other "Properties" 205 Chapter XVII — Fake Devices . . 208 1. The "Trace" Fallacy . . . 208 2. The Destruction of Evidence . 209 3. False Hypotheses . .210 4. Errors of Fact and of Inference . . 211 5. The Use of Illustrative Plans . . . 216 6. The Locked and Barred Room ... . . 217 Chapter XVIII — Murder in General . 219 1. Murder Considered in the Abstract .219 2. Murder as a Fine Art ... . 221 3. The Murder Theme . 227 4. The Robbery Theme ... 228 5. The Mysterious Disappearance . 231 Chapter XIX — Persons in the Story 234 1. The Victim . ... 234 2. The Criminal . . 236 3. Faulty Portrayal of the Criminal 237 via TABLE OF CONTENTS Page 4. The Secondary Detective . 238 5. The Suspects ... . . 239 6. The Heroine and the Element of Romance 241 7. The Police ... . . 243 8. The Supernumeraries . . 243 Chapter XX — The Handling of the Crime . 245 Chapter XXI — The Motive 251 Chapter XXII — Evidence . 254 1. The Coroner 254 2. The Inquest . 255 5. The Witnesses .... 256 4. Presentation of the Evidence . . 258 5. Circumstantial Evidence ... . 258 6. Deductions from Evidence . 260 y. Deductions from Clues . . . 261 8. Evidence by Applied Psychology . 264 p. Direct Observation 264 10. Exactness of Detail . 270 1 1 . Theories of Evidence ... 272 Chapter XXIII — Structure 277 1. Length , 277 2. The Short^Story and the Novel ... 277 J. Singleness of Plot in the Detective Story . . 279 4. The Question of Length . 280 5. The Narrator in the Detective Story . 285 6. The Setting .... . 288 Chapter XXIV — Plots . 290 1. The Plot is the Story . . 290 2. Constructing the Plot . .291 J. Maintaining Suspense . . . 294 4. Planning the Story . 297 5. The Question of Humor . . 300 6. Some Unique Devices . . 301 TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Chapter XXV — Further Advices 306 I. The Use of Coincidences 306 2. The Use of Melodrama 308 J. Dullness . . ... 309 4. Unique Plots and their Solubility 310 5. Women as Writers of Detective Stories . 313 Chapter XXVI — Final Advices . 316 I. General Qualities of the Detective Story 317 2. Correctness . 318 J. Names • 319 4. Titles • 320 Index . . • • 327 INTRODUCTION All the world loves a mystery; perhaps that is why Emer- son declared the same to be true of a lover. Since time out of mind, a clear and open page has ever lacked the fascination of the veiled meaning, and when some touch of the strange, the weird, and even the gruesome, has been added to the mysterious, its challenge has been the more alluring. Just wherein Ues this universal charm, is itself a puzzle. Maybe it lies in our natures, born out of an uncharted past and tending toward an unknown future; maybe it is because of man's disposition to triumph over difficulties — sending him in quest of fabled treasures, on perilous hunts in unknown lands, and bidding him struggle with his last ounce of energy to attain goals hitherto unattained; or mabye it is the ex- pression of his dual make-up — ^flesh and spirit — and when the mysterious is set before him he instinctively feels a call to match his discernment against the problem, seem it never so insoluble. But, whether from any or all of, or other than, these causes, we are all enthralled and even at times awed by the lure of the unknown, and nowhere more than in the field of fiction. Add to the bare puzzle the dramatic human element, and there is a decided advance in interest; then superadd a touch of the apparently supernatural, with the subconscious certainty that a natural explanation will be supplied in the denoue- ment, and interest is at its height. Once start the mind full tilt on such a breathless chase after the fleeing solution, and XU INTRODUCTION a thousand demands of duty and invitations to pleasure are neglected — to await the return, with the mystery well solved as a proud trophy. For one, I have never been one of those who apologize for my frank and never-ending delight in mystery stories. Their mazes have led me unwearied through mUes of printed pages, and if only the problem has been worth while, and its pursuit has led along surprising ways, past shuddery thickets and over fearsome bridges, my soul has returned to sober afiairs refreshed and content. So the joy of the mystery story consists even more in the process of solution than in the fact of solution — and quite as much in the story element as in the mystery itself. This last-named consideration seems of some moment in weighing the worth-whileness of the mystery story. As a matter of observation, this tj^e of fiction is better written, taking the average, than any other single type, not excluding the "novel with a purpose." There will be less "beautiful" passages, fewer lofty flights, and the flow of English will be not so charming; but, these qualities aside, all the remaining points go to the mystery story as a genre. For ingenious plot, log- ical movement, relentless subordination of means to ends, suppression of the irrelevant and unimportant, character contrasts, sustained and climacteric interest, and all the qualities that go to make up absorbing narration, the mys- tery yarn is unsurpassed. It is a Active game of chess, a story-telling foxchase, a promising literary bass strike — combined. To be sure, aU this is said only of the reaUy first-class mystery story. But, comparatively few poor ones are now INTRODUCTION XUl published, for the reason that to be decidedly weak at any important point quickly makes this type of yarn patently "impossible" and is prone to preclude its acceptance for publication. Again, even the weaker stories are likely to excel in one or more respects, else no publisher would feel war- ranted in bringing them out. Thus, much mystery fiction is genuine literature. Among the aristocrats of the type are stories which bid fair to live long and honorably in fiction, and not a few authors, well endowed with the gift of literary expression, have triumphed more decidedly in this field than in any other. The present work seems to me a labor of distinction. It is the first exhaustive study of the genre that has ever been brought out, and as such it is notable. In suggesting the subject to Miss Wells, I felt that no other American writer and probably no other author living was so well equipped to do such a piece of work — a distinct popular and technical service to letters. I had seen her remarkable collection of mystery fiction, comprising many hundreds of volumes and count' ess periodical issues; I had read all her own fascinating detective novels and novelettes; I knew her fictional method of work to involve careful research, painstaking plotting, and ingenious narrative devices; so the outcome of this technical treatise is no surprise. This volume is sure to interest a very much wider audience than the fraternity of mystery story writers, ancient, honor- ' able, and multitudinous as it is; all lovers of a puzzle will here find genuine charm. Three times I have read this book, and each time with increasing interest. I expect to pore over it XIV INTRODUCTION many times more. It will be a solace in the sere and yellow years, for the inquiry into how mysteries are evolved and re-solved can never lose its delight. If ever I am fortunate enough to have a lacerated finger, or otherwise kept from daily toil and yet enabled to draw accident insurance, this book will prove a delightful substitute for other activities, for it is as full of surprises as the morning's mail, and contains many less disappointments. Young men writers may experi- ence all the thrills of passing behind the scenes without being required to wear blinders; ladies of settled views may under- take these chapters and not be shocked; whUe even the most hardened may find delightful shivers awaiting them, for herein the most approved methods of murder are dispassion- ately discussed by an innocent adept. In a word, here is a remarkable volume which shows us how the wheels go round, not by dogmatic statement, but by an amazing breath and variety of citation and quotation, showing not only what the great mystery writers have thought of their art, but Ulustrating by apposite examples how they secured their effects. J. Berg Esenwein. July I, 1913. CHAPTER I THE ETERNAL CURIOUS Why is the detective story? To entertain, to interest, to amuse. It has no deeper intent, no more subtle raison d'Mre than to give pleasure to its readers. It has been argued that its "awful examples" (sometimes very awful!), are meant as cautionary pictures to restrain a possible bent toward the commission of crime. It is held by some that the habit of analytical and synthetical reasoning, requisite to appreciate the solving of these fictional mys- teries, is of value in training the mind to logical and correct modes of thinking; the practical application of which, in the everyday affairs of life, proves a valuable asset in the worldly struggle for success. Accordmg to Mr. H. E. Dudeney, in the " The Canter- bury Puzzles": "There is really a practical utility in puzzle-solving. Regular exercise is supposed to be as necessary for the brain as for the body, and in both cases it is not so much what we do as the doing of it, from which we derive benefit. Albert Smith, in one of his amusing novels, describes a woman who was convinced that she suffered from 'cobwigs on the brain.' This may be a very rare complaint, but in a more metaphori- cal sense, many of us are very apt to suffer from mental cob- webs, and there is nothing equal to the solving of puzzles and problems for sweeping them away. They keep the 2 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY brain alert, stimulate the imagination and develop the rea- soning faculties. And not only are they useful in this indirect way, but they often directly help us by teaching us some little tricks and 'wrinkles' that can be applied in the affairs of life at the most unexpected times, and in the most imex- pected ways." There is an interesting passage in praise of puzzles, in the quaint letters of Fitzosborne. Here is an extract: "The ingenious study of making and solving puzzles is a science undoubtedly of most necessary acquirement, and deserves to make a part in the meditation of both sexes. It is an art, indeed, that I would recommend to the encouragement of both the Universities, as it affords the easiest and shortest method of conveying some of the most useful principles of logic. It was the maxim of a very wise prince that 'he who knows not how to dissemble knows not how to reign;' and I desire you to receive it as mine, that 'he who knows not how to riddle knows not how to live. ' " But though all this may be true as a vague result, it is not the author's real purpose. He writes solely for entertainment ; presumably the entertainment of his audience, but often equally for the entertainment of himself. I. Inquisition into the Curious is Universal The detective story, and now we include the whole range of mystery or riddle stories, is founded on a fundamental human trait, inquisitiveness. Man is an incarnate interroga- tion point. The infant's eyes ask questions before his tongue can do so, and soon the inquiring eyes are supplemented by a little outstretched hand, trying to satisfy a curiosity by the THE ETERNAL CURIOUS 3 sense of touch. But, once having achieved a vocabulary, however small, he uses it almost entirely to make inquiries, until so prominent becomes this trait, that his conversation is cut off altogether, and he is condemned to be visible but not audible. Attaining further intelligence, his inquiries become more definite and thoughtful, though no less numerous and eager. He seeks books, whether in or out of running brooks; he inquires of authorities, or he reasons out answers for himself, as he grows in body and brain. He meets a friend in the street, he pours out questions. In his business he progresses by one question after another. Is he an inventor? He questions of Nature till he probes her various secrets. Is he a philosopher? He questions his soul. To quote Mr. Dudeney again: "The curious propensity for propounding puzzles is not peculiar to any race or to any period of history. It is simply innate in every intelligent man, woman, and child who has ever lived, though it is always showing itself in different forms; whether the individual be a Sphinx of Egypt, a Samson of Hebrew lore, an Indian fakir, a Chinese philoso- pher, a mahatma of Tibet, or a European mathematician makes little difference. "Theologian, scientist, and artisan are perpetually en- gaged in attempting to solve puzzles, while every game, sport, and pastime is built up of problems of greater or less difficulty. The spontaneous question asked by the child of his parent, by one cyclist of another while taking a brief rest on a stile, by a cricketer during the luncheon hour, or by a yachtsman lazily scanning the horizon, is frequently a prob- 4 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY lem of considerable difficulty. In short, we are all propound- ing puzzles to one another every day of our lives — ^without always knowing it." An orator makes his best effects by questions. The Book of Job is impressive largely because it is written in interroga- tive form. Many trite quotations are questions. "What is truth?" or "Is life worth living?" arrest our attention because they are debatable queries. Who is not more interested in the Questions of the Day than in the known facts? According to Mr. George Manville Fenn, the man who invented a wondrous and mysterious plot for a story deserves a palm. "He must have been a deep thinker, one well versed in the philosophy of goose quill, knowing that his story would thrill the reader, and that he had achieved the great point of seizing upon that reader's imagination, and holding it, so that he would follow the mystery of the fiction to the very end. It may have been the result of some haphazard lucky thought, but still he must have been a careful student of every-day life, and must have duly noted how largely curiosity or the desire to fathom the unknown is developed in the human brain." As with other human traits, inquiry is inherent to a greater extent and also more largely developed in some minds than in others. Some people say "How do you do?" and wait interestedly for your answer. Others say "How are you?" and without pausing for reply, go on to remark about the weather. But it is the people who are interested in answers who care for detective stories. It is the people who care for THE ETERNAL CURIOUS 5 the solution of a problem who write and read mystery tales. One who has studied these questions from many points of view, and, above all, noted how a story will "catch on," and almost electrically seize the imagination of the reading world, will constantly see that in the majority of cases the most popular fiction of the day is that in which mystery plays a prominent part — a mystery which is well concealed. This is no secret. It is the natural desire for the weird and wonder- ful — that hxmger for the knowledge of the unknown which began with the forbidden apple; and the practiser of the art in question merely grows for those who hunger, a fruit that is goodly to the eye, agreeable to the taste, and one that should, if he — or she — be worthy of the honored name of author, contain in its seeds only a sufficiency of hydrocyanic poison to make it piquant in savor. It is no forbidden fruit that he should offer, merely an apple that is hard to pick— a fruit whose first bite excites fresh desire, whose taste brings forth an intense longing for more, and of which the choicest and most enticing morsel is cleverly held back to the very end. As Mr. Dudeney observes: "It is extraordinary what fascination a good puzzle has for a great many people. We know the thing to be of trivial importance, yet we are impelled to master it, and when we have succeeded there is a pleasure and a sense of satisfaction that are a quite sufficient reward for our trouble, even when there is no prize to be won. What is this mysterious charm that many find irresistible? Why do we like to be puzzled? The curious thing is that directly the enigma is solved the interest generally vanishes. We have done it, and that is 6 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY enough. But why did we ever attempt to do it? The answer is simply that it gave us pleasure to seek the solution — that the pleasure was all in the seeking and finding for their own sakes. A good puzzle, like virtue, is its own reward. Man loves to be confronted by a mystery — and he is not entirely happy until he has solved it. We never like to feel our mental inferiority to those around us. The spirit of rivalry is innate in man; it stimulates the smallest child, in play or education, to keep level with his fellows, and in later life it turns men into great discoverers, inventors, orators, heroes, artists and (if they have more material aims) perhaps mil- lionaires." But the kernel of their interest is re-solution. A mystery and its solution designedly set forth in narra- tion, implies a previous sequence xmknown to the reader. It is this re-solution that attracts the alert brain, and stimulates the reader to solve for himself a problem whose answer he will shortly learn. But he wants to learn that answer as corroborative proof of his own solution, and not as a revelation. It is this instinct, great in some, small or perhaps even entirely lacking in others, that makes a mind interested in puzzles or mysteries. 2. Early Riddles The enjoyment of puzzles or mysteries is as old as humanity itself. First there is the ancient Riddle, that draws upon the imagination and play of fancy. Readers will remember the riddle of the Sphinx, the monster of Boeotia, who propounded THE ETERNAL CURIOUS 7 enigmas to the inhabitants and devoured them if they failed to solve them. It was said that the Sphinx would destroy herself if this one of her riddles were ever correctly answered: "What animal walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?" It was explained by (Edipus, who pointed out that man walked on his hands and feet in the morning of life, at the noon of life he walked erect, and in the evening of his days he supported his infirmities with a stick. When the Sphinx heard this explanation, she dashed her head against a rock and immediately expired. Puzzle solvers may be really useful on occasion. Then there is the riddle propoimded by Samson. It is perhaps the first prize competition in this line on record, the prize being thirty sheets and thirty changes of garments for a correct solution. The riddle was this: "Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness." The answer was, "A honeycomb in the body of a dead lion." The classic "Riddle of the Sphinx" is mythological rather than historical, and belongs to the Grecian deity, not the Egyptian Sphinx. Its date is unauthenticated, but at least it wears the halo of antiquity, for Sophocles wrote of it in the Fourth Century b. c. Samson has been called the Father of Riddles, but merely because his famous riddle was among the first to creep into print. Doubtless older and better ones were buried in an oblivion from which they can never be disinterred. "Out of the eater," propounded 1200 B.C., does not strike us as an exquisitely clever conceit, but it embodies the true principle of the riddle and of the riddle story. The asker 8 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY already knew the solution, and that was why the guessers strove to attain a re-solution. In those days riddles were proposed at wedding feasts and other social gatherings, a practice still obtaining to a degree. The Queen of Sheba came to visit Solomon, "to prove him with hard questions." And Solomon, in his turn was addicted to the giving of riddles to Hiram, King of Tyre, who was fined for those he failed to guess. Among the Egyptians, puzzling was a religious rite and the Sphinx was their goddess. We are told that such was the esoteric religion of the Egyptians that all the priests were riddlers and their religion one vast enigma. Other recorded ancient riddles are of interest to the anti- quarian, but enough has been said here to prove the inherent love of Question and Answer in man's mind from the earliest ages. From earlier than Samson to later than Sam Loyd the puzzle has held its own among mental activities. And puzzle, in its broader sense includes all branches of mystery or detective stories as well as mere riddles or conun- drums. The Century Dictionary defines puzzle as "A riddle, toy or contrivance which is designed to try one's ingenuity." ■ J. The Passion for Solving Mysteries This is the crux of the mystery story. It is designed to try the reader's ingenuity at re-solution. The exercise of this tried ingenuity is what gives the entertainment or amuse- ment found in a mystery story. The type of mentality or the kind of mental bias that gives pleasure in puzzling is the same in author and reader. The THE ETERNAL CURIOUS 9 talent that knits is the same talent that unravels. The pro- pounder uses the same kind of acumen as the guesser, and his pleasure in doing so is of the same sort. It is difficult to say just what this mental faculty is, but we who possess it know that its exercise gives us exquisite enjoyment. As the athlete rejoices in his muscular prowess, as the musician rejoices in the melodies he makes, as the artist glories in his painted masterpiece, yea, even as the clam is notoriously happy in his own element, so the mental acrobat revels in concentrating all his brain power on an analytical problem. Lowell declared that Poe had two of the prime qualities of genius, — "a faculty of vigorous yet minute analysis and a wonderful fecundity of imagination." These two qualities are present to a greater or less degree in every lover of mystery fiction; and it is the degree that determines the intensity of the call of the author and the response of the reader. CHAPTER II THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY What makes for worthwhileness in mystery fiction of any kind is the puzzle and its answer — not the gruesomeness of a setting or the personality of a hero or the delineation of a character. A liking for mystery fiction is not a mark of poor taste or an indication of inferior intellect. Its readers form an audience greatly misimderstood by other literary people whose mentality lacks this bent. But what especial audience is not misunderstood? Do not many people say to music lovers, "I don't see how you can sit through Parsifal"} Do not some scoff at people who trail through art galleries, catalogue in hand? Let us concede that a taste for mystery fiction is not universal. We will even admit that in its nicer points the riddle story may be "caviare to the general," but we will not agree that it is unworthy a place in literature or that it is outside the pale of art. I. The Rightful Place of the Mystery Story in Fiction Dr. Harry Thurston Peck says in "Studies In Several Literatures": "Supercilious persons who profess to have a high regard for the dignity of 'literature' are loath to admit that detective stories belong .to the category of serious writing. They will THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY II make an exception in the case of certain tales by Edgar Allan Poe, but in general they would cast narratives of this sort down from the upper ranges of fine fiction. They do this because, in the first place, they think that the detective story makes a vulgar appeal through its exploitation of crime. In the second place, and with some reason, they despise detective stories because most of them are poor, cheap things. Just at present there is a great popular demand for them; and in response to this demand a flood of crude, ill- written, sensational tales comes pouring from the presses of the day. But a detective story composed by a man of talent, not to say of genius, is quite as worthy of admiration as any other form of novel. In truth, its interest does not really lie in the crime which gives the writer a sort of starting point. In many of these stories the crime has occurred before the tale begins; and frequently it happens, as it were, off the stage, in accordance with the traditional precept of Horace. "The real interest of a fine detective story is very largely j an intellectual interest. Here_we see_ .the.,XQnflict of. one,; acutely analytical mind with jome qth£r__min4, v^ich^k, ' scarcely less acute^dL analytical. It is a battle of wits, a < mental duel, involving close logic, a certain amoimt of applied j psychology, and also a high degree of daring on the part both | of the criminal and of the man who hunts him down. Here i is nothing in itself 'sensational' m the popular acceptance of ] that word. "Therefore, when we speak of the detective story, and re- gard it seriously, we do not mean the penny-dreadfuls, the dime-novels, and the books which are hastily thrown to- gether by some hack-writer of the 'Nick Carter' school, but 12 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY the skillftdly planned work of one who can construct and work out a complicated problem, definitely and convincingly. It must not be too complex; for here, as in all art, simplicity is the soul of genius. The story must appeal to our love of the mysterious, and it must be characterized by ingenuity, with- out transcending in the least the limits of the probable." This is a clear and rational definition of the Detective Story as we propose to consider it, and it seems to justify the acceptance of such stories as literature. But even in the complete absence of necessity for apology, we must consider the rightful place of the Mystery Story in fiction. It is neither below nor above other types of story, but side by side with character studies, problem novels, society sketches or symbolic romances; and in so far as it fulfills the requirements of the best literature, just so far it is the best literature. There are bigoted and thoughtless critics who deny the Mystery Story any right to be considered as literature at all. But better judges are better pleased. To quote from a personal letter of Mr. Arlo Bates: "As to whether a Detective Story is literature, it seems to me that the question is not imlike asking whether a man with blue eyes is moral. No story ever took a place as litera- ture on the strength of its plot. I am in the habit of telling my classes that one can no more judge the literary value of a novel from its plot, than one can judge of the beauty of a girl from an X-ray photograph of her skeleton. To exclude detective tales would be greatly to diminish the world's literary baggage." THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY 1 3 Professor Brander Matthews tells us in "Inquiries and Opinions" that "Poe transported the detective story from the group of tales into the group of portrayals of character. By bestowing upon it a human interest, he raised it in the literary scale." But Mr. Matthews continues: "Even ftt its best, in the simple perfection of form that Poe bestowed on it, there is no denying that the Detective Story demanded from its creator no depth of sentiment, no warmth of emotion, and no large understanding of human desire. There are those who would dismiss it carelessly, as making an appeal not far removed from that of the riddle and of the conundrum. There are those again who would liken it rather to the adroit trick of a clever conjurer. No doubt, it gratifies in us chiefly that delight in difl&culty con- quered, which is a part of the primitive play-impulse potent in us all, but tending to die out as we grow older, as we lessen in energy, and as we feel more deeply the tragi-comedy of existence. But inexpensive as it may seem to those of us who look to literature for enlightenment, for solace in the hour of need, for stimulus to stififen the will in the never- ending struggle of life, the detective tale, as Poe contrived it, has merits of its own as distinct and as imdeniable, as those of the historical novel, for example, or of the sea-tale. It may please the young rather than the old, but the pleasure it can give is ever innocent; and the young are always in the majority." Perhaps with his inerrant sense of terminology. Professor Matthews struck the right word when he called the Mystery Story inexpensive. It is that, but it is not necessarily cheap. 14 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY The indiscriminate critic who pronounces all detective stories trash, would be quite as logical and veracious should he call all love stories trash or all historical novels trash. The matter of a detective story is definite and easily invoiced; the manner allows scope as high as poetry or as deep as philosophy or as wide as romance. There is as true literature in Poe's detective stories as in Bacon's Essays, though of a different sort. A recent well-known author published a book of clever detective stories anonymously. Asked why, he said that he considered the admission of its authorship beneath his literary dignity. "Because," he explained, "they are false to life and false to art." As a generalization, nothing could be more untrue. A detective story may be these things, but so may stories in any other field of fiction. It depends on the author. But to imply that a detective story is necessarily false to life and is false, per se, to art, is a mistake. To quote Julian Hawthorne's very able essayon this subject: "Of course 'The Gold Bug' is literature; of course any other story of mystery and puzzle is also literature, provided it is as good as 'The Gold Bug,' — or I will say, since that standard has never since been quite attained, provided it is a half or a tenth as good. It is goldsmith's work; it is Chinese carving; it is Daedalian; it is fine. It is the product of the ingenuity lobe of the human brain working and expatiating in freedom. It is art; not spiritual nor transcendental art but solid art, to be felt and experienced. You may examine it at your leisure, it will be always ready for you; you need not fast or watch your arms overnight in order to understand it. THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY IS Look at the nice setting of the mortises; mark how the cover fits; how smooth is the working of that spring drawer. Observe that this bit of carving, which seemed mere orna- ment, is really a vital part of the mechanism. Note, more- over, how balanced and symmetrical the whole design is, with what economy and foresight every part is fashioned. It is not only an ingenious structure, it is a handsome bit of furniture, and will materially improve the looks of the empty chambers, or disorderly or ungainly chambers that you carry under your crown. Or if it happen that these apartments are noble in decoration and proportions, then this captivat- ing little object will find a suitable place in some spare nook or other, and will rest or entertain eyes too long focused on the severely sublime and beautiful." 2. The Mystery Story Considered as Art Yes, the detective story at its best is primarily and inte- grally a work of art. It is like those Chinese carved balls, referred to by Tennyson as, "Laborious orient ivory, sphere in sphere," and as the mystery story originated in the Orient, there may be some correlation. The detective story has been called "ingenious but some- what mechanical." Here the stigma lies in th&"but." The detective story is ingenious and mechanical. On these two commandments hang all the laws of mystery fiction writing. Also ingenious and mechanical are the Fixed Forms of verse. Who denies the beauty and art of sonnets and rondeaux, and even sestinas, because they are ingenious and mechanical? 1 6 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY As the mosaic worker in Florence picks out his colored bits with utmost skill, care and patience, so the worker in Fixed Forms selects his words and fits them into his inexorable pattern until he achieves his perfect and exquisite result. Heraldic devices are not "artistic" in the accepted sense of the word, but they are an art in themselves; ingenious and mechanical, but still art. The Heraldic lions in front of the New York Public Library may not be true to nature's lions, may not be true to a poetic imagination of a lion, but they are true to the laws of the conventional lion of heraldry, and are therefore art. Oriental embroidery is art as much as an impressionist picture, though of a different type, and characterized by ingenuity and mechanism. If, as Lowell says, "genius finds its expression in the estab- lishment of a perfect mutual understanding between the worker and his material," then we can exclude no serious endeavors from the possibility of being art. And the qualities of ingenuity and mechanism are pecul- iarly fitted to bring about the establishment of just such an understanding. J. The Claims of Antagonists and Protagonists One reason for a sweeping denoimcement of the detective story is the innate propensity of the human mind for bluffing at intellect. Many people would be glad to admit a taste for mystery fiction, but tradition tells them that such things are but child's play, while a love of ethics or metaphysics betokens a great mind. Ashamed then, of their honest liking THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY 1 7 for puzzle solving, they deny it, and pretend a deep interest in subjects which really mean little or nothing to them. "How can you read such stuff?" they ask in shocked tones of the puzzle lover, who, with alert brain and bright eyes, is galloping through "The Mystery of the Deserted Wing," and then they turn with a virtuous yawn, back to the uncut pages of the erudite tome through which they are plodding their weary way. To the truly great intellect who understands and knows whereof he thinks, the above does not apply. But so long as men are unwilling to be caught in a liking for "child's play," and so long as women yearn after that smattering of abstruse literature which represents to them "a breadth of culture," so long will the detective story be ostentatiously denounced on the corners of the streets, and eagerly devoured behind closed doors. Of course there are plenty of people of real intelligence who have no taste for Mystery Stories. This proves nothing, for there are also plenty of people of real intelligence who like them. Again we might as well ask, "Does a blue eyed man like cherries?" But, as many people are fond of the authority of the good and great, let us be definite. In a personal letter. President Woodrow Wilson writes: "The fact is, I'm an indiscriminate reader of detective stories and would be at a loss to pick out my favorites. On the whole I have got the most authentic thrill out of Anna Katharine Green's books and Gaboriau's." Dr. William J. Rolfe, the famous Shakesperian editor, was exceedingly fond of Mystery Stories and puzzles of all sorts. 1 8 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY He especially reveled in the books of charades written by his friend and colleague, Professor William Bellamy. Indeed, the hasty and inconsiderate judgment that relegates all detective fiction to the trash-pile, might be modified by the knowledge of the college professors and deep-thinking scholars who turn to detective stories for recreation and enjoyment. A well known member of the English Parliament has such a taste for detective literature that his friend speaks thus of him: "The weighty work in which the eminent statesman is so deeply engrossed," he said, "is called 'The Great Rand Robbery.' It is a detective novel, for sale at all bookstalls." The American raised his eyebrows in disbelief. " 'The Great Rand Robbery?' "he repeated, incredulously. "What an odd taste!" "It is not a taste, it is his vice,'' returned the gentleman with the pearl stud. "It is his one dissipation. He is noted for it. You, as a stranger, could hardly be expected to know of this idiosyncrasy. Mr. Gladstone sought relaxation in the Greek poets, Sir Andrew finds his in Gaboriau. Since I have been a member of Parliament, I have never seen him in the library without a shilling shocker in his hands. He brings them even into the sacred precincts of the House, and from the Government benches reads them concealed inside his hat. Once started on a tale of murder, robbery, and sudden death, nothing can tear him from it, not even the call of the division-bell, nor of hunger, nor the prayers of the party Whip. He gave up his country house because when he journeyed to it in the train he would become so THE LITERATURE OF MYSTERY 1 9 absorbed in his detective stories that he was invariably carried past his station." Perhaps such an inordinate relish is not to be entirely commended, but the fact remains that an analytical men- tality gets an intense enjoyment out of the solving of puzzles or mysteries, that a differently constituted brain cannot in the least understand or appreciate. It all comes back to the incontrovertible philosophy: "Different men are of different opinions, Some like apples, some like inions." And this same thought Henry James voices thus: "In a recent story, 'The Beldonald Holbein,' it is not my fault if I am so put together as often to find more life in situations obscure and subject to interpretation than in the gross rattle of the foreground." One could not find a more luminous comment upon his short stories than these words contain. The situations that he prefers are, as he says, "obscure" but "subject to interpretation." Hawthorne's situations, however, even when obscure, are always vital. We cannot imagine Hawthorne saying, as James says, "It is an incident for a woman to stand up with her hand resting on a table and look out at you in a certain way." If, then, Mr. James gets exquisite satisfaction out of the careful consideration of this incident, why may not another equally great intellect become absorbed in finding out who stole the jewels? The curiosity aroused by Mystery Fiction is not^thenj_as, mere idle curiosity but an intellectual interest^ ^ CHAPTER III THE HISTORY OF MYSTEBY To trace the origin and history of the mystery story is simply to trace the origin and history of man's mind. Mys- tery stories were told and wonder tales invented before the days of old Rameses, before the Sphinx was hewn or Sam- son born. And indeed the rousing of latent curiosity, the tempting with a promise to divulge, which is the vital principle of the mystery story, began no later than with the subtlety of the Primal Serpent. There is no country which has not its quota of traditional and folk-lore tales, founded almost invariably on some ele- ment of mystery, surprise or suspense. And why? Because the interest of the eternal audience is "gripped" by a desire to know the unknown. Because the ancients told and retold stories of mystery with never failing success. These tales lived. Translated, re-written, paraphrased, they are still living, because of their ever new appeal to the very human trait of curiosity. I. Ancient Mystery Tales Take the story of "The Clever Thief." It comes from the Tibetan, from an ancient Buddhist book that goes back nearly a thousand years. But even then it was not new. Missionaries had carried it thither from India in an odd corner of their bags, or in some chamber of the memory not THE HISTORY OF MYSTERY 21 filled with the riddles of being. Where did they get it? Who can say? It was old when Herodotus wandered through sun-lit Egypt twenty-four centuries ago, gleaning tales from the priests of Amen and of Ptah. He tells it, point for point, as did those Buddhist missionaries, but lays it in the days of Rameses, nigh four thousand years ago. Everything is there; the cutting off of the head to elude detection, the tricks by which the relatives mourn over the headless trunk, the snare set for the thief and his outwitting it. And that same tale, like good merchandise, was carried both east and west. It found its way to India, over the vast Himalayas, to the gray roof of the world. It came with equal charm to the Mediter- ranean isles, up the Adriatic coasts, and as far as Venice. There Ser Giovanni told it, transmogrifying Pharaoh of the Nile into a worshipful Doge, as he had already been made over into a Buddhist magnate, but in no way altering the motive, the suspense, the artfulness of the tale. What is this story then? Is it Venetian? Is it Pharaonic? Is it Greek? Is it Tibetan? It is all these, and perhaps some- thing more, vastly older than them all. Its craft, mayhap, goes back to that primal serpent who, more subtle than all the beasts of the field, has ever inspired darkling feints and strategies. Stories whose motive is a subtly discerned clew are not less primordial. The most vivid of these tales of deduction are, perhaps, those which come to us through the Arabs, in their treasure store," The Thousand and One Nights." The Arabs gleaned them from every land in southern Asia, and from most ancient Egypt, in those days when Moslem power over- shadowed half the world. And then they retold them with a 22 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY charm, a vivid freshness, a roguishness, and a dash of golden light through it all that make them the finest story-tellers in the world. Can we fix the dates of these Arabian stories? Only in a general way. Some of them came from Cairo, some from Syria, some from the Euphrates and Tigris Valleys, some from Persia and India and China; and they were gathered together, it would appear, in the century before Shakespeare was born, by some big-hearted, humorous fel- low, among the great anonymous benefactors of mankind. But he made no claim of inventing them. If he had he would have been laughed at for his pains. For old men had heard them from their grandfathers, generation after genera- tion, and the gray grandsires always began to tell them, saying: "So 'twas told to me when I was such a tiny child as thou art." Though many of these tales excite merely wonder and surprise, others have the germ of that analytic deduction from inconspicuous clues, that we call ratiocination, or the detective instinct. There is an Arabic story, called "The Sultan and his Three Sons." From this we quote two illuminative passages which employ the principle of deductive analysis. And they stinted not faring till the middle way, when behold they came upon a mead abounding in herbage and in rain-water lying sheeted. So they sat them down to rest and to eat of their victual, when one of the brothers, casting his eye upon the herbage, cried, "Verily a camel hath lately passed this way laden halt with Halwa-sweetmeats and half with Hamiz-pickles." "True," cried the second, "and he was blind of an eye." Hardly, however, had they ended their words when lo! the owner of the camel came upon THE HISTORY OF MYSTERY 23 them (for he had overheard their speech and had said to himself, "By Allah, these three fellows have driven oflf my property, inas- much as they have described the burden and eke the beast as one- eyed"), and cried out, "Ye three have carried away my camel!" "By Allah we have not seen him," quoth the Princes, "much less have we touched him;" but quoth the man, "By the Almighty, who could have taken him except you? and if you will not deliver him to me, oflf with us, I and you three, to the Sultan." They replied, "By all manner of means; let us wend to the sovereign." So the four hied forth, the three princes and the Cameleer, and ceased not faring till they reached the capital of the King. Presently, asked the Sultan, "What say ye to the claims of this man and the camel belonging to him?" Hereto the Princes made answer, "By Allah, O King of the Age, we have not seen the camel much less have we stolen him." Thereupon the Cameleer exclaimed, " O my lord, I heard yonder one say that the beast was blind of an eye; and the second said that half his load was of sour stuflf. They replied, "True, we spake these words;" and the Sultan cried to them, "Ye have purloined the beast, by this proof." They rejoined, " No, by Allah, O my lord. We sat us in such a place for repose and refreshment and we remarked that some of the pasture had been grazed down, so we said: This is the grazing of a camel; and he must have been blind of one eye as the grass was eaten only on one side. But as for our saying that the load was half Halwa-sweet- meats and half Hamiz-pickles, we saw on the place where the camel had knelt the flies gathering in great numbers while on the other were none; so the case was clear to us (as flies settle on naught save the sugared) that one of the panniers must have contained sweets and the other sours." Hearing this the Sultan said to the Cameleer, "O man, fare thee forth and look after thy camel; for these signs and tokens prove not the theft of these men, but only the power of their intellect and their penetration." Later Voltaire used this method for his "Zadig," Poe for his "Dupin," and Gaboriau for his "M. Lecoq;" while later still it reappeared as the basis of the "Sherlock Holmes" stories. The story of "The Visakha" is nearly a thousand years old, 24 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY but the following quotation will prove that the element of acute observation is the same as that described in a previous story proving the wisdom of Solomon. After she had taken charge of the boy the father died. A dis- pute arose between the two women as to the possession of the house, each of them asserting that it belonged to her. They had recourse to the King. He ordered his ministers to go to the house and to make inquiries as to the ownership of the son. They investi- gated the matter, but the day came to an end before they had brought it to a satisfactory conclusion. In the evening they re- turned to their homes. Visakha again questioned Mrgadhara, who told her everything. Visakha said, "What need is there of investi- gation? Speak to the two women thus: 'As we do not know to which of you two the boy belongs, let her who is the strongest take the boy.' When each of them has taken hold of one of the boy's hands, and he begins to cry out on account of the pain, the real mother will let go, being full of compassion for him, and knowing that if her child remains alive she will be able to see it again; but the other, who has no compassion for him, will not let go. Then beat her with a switch, and she wiU thereupon confess the truth as to the whole matter. That is the proper test." Mrgadhara told this to the ministers, and so forth, as is written above, down to the words, "The king said, 'The Champa maiden CHAPTER IV GHOST STOEIES In "The Technique of the Novel," Prof. Chas. F. Home thus discusses the mystery story: "This is tlie tale of the Improbable, the story that depends chiefly upon plot, external or action plot. It deals with sur- prise, with mystery, with the unexpected. It sees truth perhaps, but only the oddities of truth, where verity fixes a feeble hope upon coincidence, or upon ignorance, and usually gropes blindly toward that comfortable travesty of material payment for immaterial efforts which man miscalls 'poetic justice.' Such a novel may be either: "i. The story of fear, which holds the excited reader shivering in darkness, by means of hinted horrors or by spectres frankly visible. Such visions haimt the 'Castle of Otranto ' and Mrs. Radclifife's more elaborate work. "2. The story of intrigue, of cunning bad folks and rather idiotic good ones, of subtle schemes, intricate knaveries, and surprising secrets coming to light at just the dramatic mo- ment needful for the triumph of virtue and defeat of vice. If one may do so without seeming to belittle the work, I would suggest 'Tom Jones' as showing the perfection of this sort of plot. "3. The detective story, in which the plot is deliberately presented upside down. Consequences are first shown, and 26 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY then worked backward to their causes, the steps being all suggested, yet made as unexpected as possible, that the reader may exercise his own wits and join the detective in an effort to solve the riddle. "4. The novel of the unknown, the story of strange sug- gestion, which reaches beyond man's knowledge of his cos- mos, not to terrify and amaze, but to analyze and understand, to suggest possibilities and questions, to see human nature in new lights, as Hawthorne does in 'Septimius Felton,' or Mr. Wells in his 'War with Mars.'" I. A Working Classification But it is obvious that the various types or kinds of mystery story cannot be classified with exactness; so they may be generally divided into three groups — a broad classification which will best suit our purpose: Ghost stories. Riddle stories, and Detective stories. Among the earliest literature the supernatural was a strong element. Its appeal was not only to curiosity, but equally if not more to wonder, awe, and terror. In safe surroundings, people like to be frightened. The baby crows with delight when we jump at him and say, "boo!" Children huddle together in ecstasy when lis- tening to bugaboo tales; and grown-ups read and write ghost stories with intense enjoyment of their inexplicable horror. Though detective stories may receive an unjust oppro- brium, yet ghost stories are admitted to the inner circles of literature and art. GHOST STORIES 27 From the days of the Witch of Endor, the superhuman personage has had an exalted place in literature. Shakespeare, Dickens, and Washington Irving number among their characters ghosts who became famous. And in latter days, Henry James, Rudyard Kipling and F. Marion Crawford have given us ghosts well worthy of their literary predecessors. The story founded on the supernatural is a distinct branch of the Mystery Story, and except for the principle of Ques- tion and Answer, has little in common with the other two branches. 2. The Ghost Story The fascination of this realm of experience, which is trar- ditional from age to age, yet always elusive, is undeniable. Few men have seen ghosts, or will confess that they have seen them. But almost everybody knows some one of the few. Haunted houses are familiar in all neighborhoods, with the same story of the roistering sceptic who will gladly pass the night alone in the haunted chamber, and give monsieur the ghost a warm welcome; but who, if not found dead in the morning, emerges pale and haggard, with a settled terror in his look, and his lips sealed forever upon the awful story of the night. Mansions in country places are advertised for sale or hire, with the attraction of a well regulated ghost, who contents himself with driving up at midnight with a great clatter of outriders, and rumble of wheels, and brisk letting down of steps, and a bustling entrance into the house, and then no more. Staid gentlemen remember in their youth awaking in 28 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY a friend's house in the summer night just in time to see the vanishing through the long window of a draped figure; a momentary pausing on the balcony outside; the sense of a penetrating, mournful look; then a vanishing; and at break- fast the cheery question of the host, "Did you see the lovely Lady Rosamond?" and a following tale of hapless love and woe. As George William Curtis tells us, in " Modem Ghosts: "The literature of ghosts is very ancient. In visions of the night and in the lurid vapors of mystic incantations, figures rise and smile or frown and disappear. The Witch of Endor murmurs her spell, and 'an old man cometh up, and he is covered with a mantle.' Macbeth takes a bond of fate, and from Hecate's caldron, after the apparition of an armed head and that of a bloody child, 'an apparition of a child crowned, with a tree in his hand, rises.' The wizard recoimts to Lochiel his warning vision, and Lochiel departs to his doom. There are stories of the Castle of Otranto and of the Three Spaniards, and the infinite detail of 'singular experi- ences,' which make our conscious daily life the frontier and border land of an impinging world of mystery. "The most refined psychological speculation may extend the range of observation. But the 'mocking laughter' of desert places, the cry of the banshee, the sudden impression of a presence, the strange and fanciful popular superstitions, as they are called, in the same way that imapprehended physical conditions are sagely called nervous prostration — what is the key to them all? What is a hallucination? Who shall say conclusively that it is the thing that is not? And if it be, whence is it, and why? " GHOST STORIES 29 In the technical Ghost Story, as we shall now consider it, the question is certain to arise: "What was It?" And the answer must be "A ghost/" — that is, an inexplicable super- natural manifestation of some sort. A rational and material explanation, as of a human being impersonating a ghost, or a mechanical contrivance responsible for mysterious sounds, takes the story out of this class at once. Kipling's tale called "My Own True Ghost Story" is not a ghost story at all; it is an exceedingly interesting riddle story. But "The Phantom 'Rickshaw" by the same author is one of the best of ghost stories. And not only must the ghost be a real ghost, but the effect of the supernatural must p>ermeate the whole story, the real people being thus more real by contrast. Although the reader be the strictest materialist, he must, to enjoy a ghost story, put himself in an attitude of belief in the supernatural for the time being. As Julian Hawthorne says, in " The Lock and Key Li- brary": "A ghost story can be brought into our charmed and charming circle only if we have made up our minds to believe in the ghosts; otherwise their introduction would not be a square deal. It would not be fair, in other words, to propose a conundrum on a basis of ostensible materialism, and then, when no other key would fit, to palm off a disembodied spirit on us. Tell me beforehand that your scenario is to include both worlds, and I have no objection to make; I simply attune my mind to the more extensive scope. But I rebel at an unheralded ghostland, and declare frankly that your tale is incredible." 30 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY Miss Wilkins' story, "The Shadow on the Wall," is a per- fect Ghost Story, told in a perfect way. There is no material explanation, the shadow on the wall has its own awful mean- ing, and the commonplace setting of the story throws into relief the weirdness of the plot. With ghosts really seen by real people, the fictional Ghost Story has nothing in common. Hundreds of ghosts are annually brought to light in the dragnets of scientific spook catchers. But while these ghosts are interesting in and of themselves, they lack the setting of the Ghost Story of fiction, and without attempting to discuss the truth or falsity of their existence we fall back upon the assertion that a ghost belongs to the category of things naturally incredible. Notwithstanding the subconscious faith that all of us have in the possibility of phantoms, our reason refuses to accept them without proof much more conclusive than we should demand for the establishment of an every-day fact. So extreme is our reluctance to believe in such phenomena that the average man of education, if he saw a spectre with his own eyes, would, on referring the matter to his judgment, prefer to regard the apparition as an illusion, rather than accept it as a supernatural manifestation. The chances are, too, that he would be correct, inasmuch as hallucinations of vision are undeniably frequent. Deep down in the heart of man there abides a firm belief in the power of the dead to walk upon the earth, and affright, if such be their pleasure, the souls of the living. Wise folks, versed in the sciences and fortified in mind against faith in aught that savors of the . supernatural, laugh ideas of the kind to scorn; yet hardly one of them will dare to walk alone GHOST STORIES 3 1 through a graveyard in the night. Or, if one be found so bold, he will surely hasten his footsteps, unable wholly to subdue the fear of sheeted spectres which may rise from the grass-grown graves, or emerge from moon-lit tombs, and follow on. For, strangely enough, the dead, if not actually hostile to the living, are esteemed dangerous and dreadful to encounter. The real-life ghost story is largely made up of vehement protestations on the part of the narrator that "This really happened," and flat-footed inquiries as to "How do you explain it, if you don't believe in ghosts!" But the Ghost Story of fiction tranquilly takes the reader's belief in ghosts for granted, and goes on to create delight- fully harrowing conditions, an atmosphere of deepest mystery and a problem unsolvable, except by the acceptance of a ghost. The ghost need not be an actual character, not even an entity; it may be an impalpable shadow, or an invisible form. Or it may be, as in one story, a fearful pair of eyes that scared the hero of the tale, — and incidentally the reader, — much farther out of his wits than any conventional spectre clanking his chains might do. And yet it is the strange fascination of this fear that attracts the reader to a ghost story. 3. Famous Ghost Stories "What Was It?" by Fitzjames O'Brien, is a typical Ghost Story of horror. The dreadfulness of the experience is graphically pictured and the hold on the reader's attention is entirely that of the supernatural. 32 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY A parallel story is Maupassant's "The Horla." This latter story is much longer and more elaborate, but the plots are almost identical. The Frenchman's story is told with a greater art, but is spun out to too great a lengthy and in some parts the horror is mere hysteria. Among Ghost Stories with an occult moral, Kipling's "They" stands pre-eminent. This story has the element of beauty rather than horror, but it is a perfect Ghost Story none the less. "The Turn of The Screw" is a wonderful Ghost Story. The supernatural element of its matter, aided by the super- natural element in Henry James' manner is a combination that makes a Ghost Story of distinguishment. For stories of sheer hair-raising horror, F. Marion Craw- ford's Ghost Stories stand easily in the first rank. "The Upper Berth" is quite as terrifying a conception as the stories of O'Brien and Maupassant, but the descriptive details give an atmosphere of fright unattained by the other two. As an example of Mr. Crawford's awful word pictures we append the following extracts: The light was growing strangely dim in the great room. As Evelyn looked, Nurse Macdonald's crooked shadow on the wall grew gigantic. Sir Hugh's breath came thick, rattling in his throat, as death crept in hke a snake and choked it back. Evelyn prayed aloud, high and clear. Then something rapped at the window, and she felt her hair rise upon her head in a cool breeze, as she looked around in spite of herself. And when she saw her own white face looking in at the window, and her own eyes staring at her through the glass, wide and fearful, and her own hair streaming against the pane, and her own Ups dashed with blood, she rose slowly from the floor and stood rigid for one moment, till she screamed once and fell straight GHOST STORIES 33 back into Gabriel's arms. But the shriek that answered hers was the fear shriek of the tormented corpse, out of which the soul can- not pass for shame of deadly sins, though the devils fight in it with corruption, each for their due share. Sir Hugh Ockram sat upright in his deathbed, and saw and cried aloud. ****** Slowly Nurse Macdonald's wrinkled eyelids folded themselves back, and she looked straight at the face at the window while one might count ten. "Is it time?" she asked in her little old, far away voice. While she looked the face at the window changed, for the eyes opened wider and wider till the white glared all round the bright violet, and the bloody lips opened over gleaming teeth, and stretched and widened and stretched again, and the shadowy golden hair rose and streamed against the window in the night breeze. And in answer to Nurse Macdonald's question came the sound that freezes the living flesh. That low moaning voice that rises suddenly, like the scream of storm, from a moan to a wail, from a wail to a howl, from a howl to the fear shriek of the tortured dead — ^he who has heard knows, and he can bear witness that the cry of the banshee is an evil cry to hear alone in the deep night. ****** He was as brave as any of those dead men had been, and they were his fathers, and he knew that sooner or later he should lie there himself, beside Sir Hugh, slowly drying to a parchment shell. But he was stiU alive, and he closed his eyes a moment, and three great drops stood on his forehead. Then he looked again, and by the whiteness of the winding-sheet he knew his father's corpse, for all the others were brown with age; and, moreover, the flame of the candle was blown toward it. He made four steps till he reached it, and suddenly the light burned straight and high, shedding a dazzling yellow glare upon the fine linen that was all white, save over the face, and where the joined hands were laid on the breast. And at those places ugly stains had spread, darkened with outlines of the features and of the tight- clasped fingers. There was a frightful stench of drying death. As Sir Gabriel looked down, something stirred behind him, softly 34 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY at first, then more noisily, and something fell to the stone floor with a dull thud and rolled up to his feet; he started back and saw a withered head lying almost face upward on the pavement, grinning at him. He felt the cold sweat standing on his face, and his heart beat painfully. For the first time in all his Hfe that evil thing which men call fear was getting hold of him, checking his heart-strings as a cruel driver checks a quivering horse, clawing at his backbone with icy hands, lifting his hair with freezing breath, climbing up and gather- ing in his midriff with leaden weight. Yet presently he bit his lip and bent down, holding the candle in one hand, to lift the shroud back from the head of the corpse with the other. Slowly he lifted it. Then it clove to the half-dried skin of the face, and his hand shook as if some one had struck him on the elbow, but half in fear and half in anger at himself, he puUed it, so that it came away with a little ripping sound. He caught his breath as he held it, not yet throwing it back, and not yet looking. The horror was working in him, and he felt that old Vernon Ockram was standing up in his iron coffin, headless, yet watching him with the stump of his severed neck. While he held his breath he felt the dead smile twisting his lips. In sudden wrath at his own misery, he tossed the death-stained linen backward, and looked at last. He ground his teeth lest he should shriek aloud. Perhaps unique amongst Ghost Stories is the one by Mr. Crawford entitled "The Doll's Ghost." It would seem dif- ficult to conceive a story of the ghost of a little girl's doll, that should be neither melodramatic nor ridiculous, but Mr. Crawford accomplished this, and the little sketch, while a true Ghost Story, is pathetic and charming. 4. The Humorous Ghost Story Rarely, and only in the hands of a master, may a Ghost Story be treated with levity. The humorous touch is dan- gerous in connection with the supernatural. But the whim- GHOST STORIES 35 sical genius of Frank R. Stockton surmounted all diflSiculties and gave us two delicious humorous Ghost Stories, of which we quote a few lines. The figure was certainly that of John Hinckman in his ordinary dress, but there was a vagueness and indistinctness about it which presently assured me that it was a ghost. Had the good old man been murdered, and had his spirit come to tell me of the deed, and to confide to me the protection of his dear — ? My heart fluttered, but I felt that I must speak. "Sir,"' said I. "Do you know," interrupted the figure, with a countenance that indicated anxiety, "whether or not Mr. Hinckman will return to- night?" I thought it well to maintain a calm exterior, and I answered: "We do not expect him." "I am glad of that," said he, sinking into the chair by which he stood. "During the two years and a half that I have inhabited this house, that man has never before been away for a single night. You can't imagine the relief it gives me." As he spoke, he stretched out his legs and leaned back in the chair. His form became less vague, and the colors of his garments more distinct and evident, while an expression of gratified relief succeeded to the anxiety of his countenance. "Two years and a half!" I exclaimed. "I don't understand you." "It is fully that length of time," said the ghost, "since I first came here. Mine is not an ordinary case." ****** The ghost smiled. "I must admit, however," he said, "that I am seeking this posi- tion for a friend of mine, and I have reason to believe that he will obtain it." "Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "Is it possible that this house is to be haunted by a ghost as soon as the old gentleman expires? Why should this family be tormented in such a horrible way? Everybody who dies does not have a ghost walking about his house." "Oh, no!" said the spectre. "There are thousands of positions of the kind which are never applied for. But the ghostship here is 36 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY a very desirable one, and there are many applicants for it. I think you will like my friend, if he gets it." "Like him!" I groaned. The idea was horrible to me. The ghost evidently perceived how deeply I was affected by what he had said, for there was a compassionate expression on his comitenance. I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and as I did so the ghost burst into the room from the doorway behind her. I say burst, although no door flew open and he made no noise. He was wildly excited, and waved his arms above his head. The moment I saw him, my heart fell within me. With the entrance of that impertinent apparition, every hope fled from me. I could not speak while he was in the room. I must have turned pale, and I gazed steadfastly at the ghost, almost without seeing Madeline, who sat between us. "Do you know," he cried, "that John Hinckman is coming up the hill? He will be here in fifteen minutes, and if you are doing anything in the way of love-making, you had better hurry it up. But this is not what I came to tell you. I have glorious news! At last I am transferred! Not forty minutes ago a Russian nobleman was murdered by the Nihilists. Nobody ever thought of him in connection with an immediate ghostship. My friends instantly applied for the situation for me, and obtained my transfer." CHAPTER V RIDDLE STORIES Riddle Stories, as we have chosen to designate them, are Mystery Stories concerned with a question and answer of absorbing interest, but one which in no way implies or in- cludes the work of a detective, either professional or amateur. As a rule. Riddle Stories are not basedjigon a crime, but on some_mjrsterious situaHoiT which is apparently inexglicable. but which turns out to have a most rational .and logical,, explanation. I. Some Notable Riddle Stories "The Sending Of Dana Da," by Kipling, is one of the best stories of this type. Here we have such a commonplace, ordinary medium as kittens, so employed as to make an unsolvable riddle. When a man who hates cats wakes up in the morning and finds a little squirming kitten on his breast, or puts his hand into his ulster pocket and finds a little half-dead kitten where his gloves should be, or opens his trunk and finds a vile kitten among his dress shirts, or goes for a long ride with his mackintosh strapped on his saddle- bow and shakes a little sprawUng kitten from its folds when he opens it, or goes out to dinner and finds a httle bUnd kitten under his chair, or stays at home and fiaids a writhing kitten under the quilt, or wriggling among his boots, or hanging, head downward, in his tobacco jar, or being mangled by his terrier in the veranda — when such a man finds one kitten, neither more nor less, once a day in a place where no kitten rightly could or should be, he is naturally upset. When he dare not murder his. daily trove because he believes 38 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY it to be a manifestation, an emissary, an embodiment, and half a dozen other things all out of the regular course of nature, he is more than upset. He is actually distressed. No one could know the truth until told and the explanation is entirely logical and satisfactory. Indeed, as the author says, finally: "Consider the gorgeous simplicity of it all." A clever Riddle Story is one by Cleveland Moffett, en- titled "The Mysterious Card." In this story, a New Yorker, while in a Paris restaurant, is presented with a card by a charming and richly clad lady. The card bore some French words written in purple ink, but not knowing that language he was unable to make out their meaning. He returned at once to his hotel to inquire concerning the message on the card. In the words of the story: Proceeding directly to the office and taking the manager aside, Burwell asked if he would be kind enough to translate a few words of French into English. There were no more than twenty words in all. "Why, certainly," said the manager, with French politeness, and cast his eyes over the card. As he read, his face grew rigid with astonishment, and, looking at his questioner sharply, he exclaimed: "Where did you get this, monsieur?" Burwell started to explain, but was interrupted by: "That will do, that will do. You must leave the hotel." "What do you mean? " asked the man from New York, in amaze- ment. "You must leave the hotel now — to-night — without fail," com- manded the manager, excitedly. Now it was Burwell's turn to grow angry, and he declared heatedly that if he wasn't wanted in this hotel there were plenty of others in Paris where he would be welcome. And, with an assumption of dignity, but piqued at heart, he settled his bill, sent for his belong- RIDDLE STORIES 39 ings, and drove up the Rue de la Paix to the Hotel Bellevue, where he spent the night. The next morning he met the proprietor, who seemed to be a good fellow, and, being inclined now to view the incident of the previous evening from its ridiculous side, Burwell explained what had befallen him, and was pleased to find a sym- pathetic listener. "Why, the man was a fool," declared the proprietor. "Let me see the card; I will tell you what it means." But as he read, his face and manner changed instantly. "This is a serious matter," he said sternly. "Npw I understand why my confrire refused to entertain you. I regret, monsieur, but I shall be obliged to do as he did." "What do you mean?" "Simply that you cannot remain here." With that he turned on his heel, and the indignant guest could not prevail upon him to give any explanation. "We'll see about this," said Burwell, thoroughly angered. The rest of the story is a succession of the hero's unfor- tunate experiences in endeavoring to solve the mystery of the card. He referred it to his dearest friend, to a detective agency, to the American Minister, and finally to his wife, but in every case the reader of the card turned from him in horror and dismay and refused to see or speak to him again. In the sequel to the story, called "The Mysterious Card Unveiled" the mystery is explained to the satisfaction of the reader. Of course the best Riddle Story of its kind ever written is that masterpiece of Frank R. Stockton, "The Lady or The Tiger? " but this principle of leaving a question unanswered is not to be advised for any writer not possessing Stockton's peculiar genius. As well as short-stories, there are many entire novels with a mystery interest but which are in no sense Detective Stories. "The Woman In White" is a good example. This book is ■•^ -- "\^ 40 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY said to have been the most popular serial story ever printed. On the publication day of the weekly in which the story was appearing in parts, the street in front of the office was thronged with people anxiously waiting for a new instalment of the adventures of Laura Fairleigh, Ann Catherick, the treacherous Baronet, and the diabolically fascinating Count Fosco. The secret of Collins's power lies not in mere description but in suggestion. He excites us not by what he tells us but what he does not tell us. The ^i^^li5g interest which holds the reader of "The Woman In White" is due less to the vivid description of dramatic incidents than to the artful suggestion of some impending fate^ 2. The Nature of the Riddle Story and its Types The distinguishing feature of theRidcUeStoryis that the reader should be confronted with^ a number of mysteriqus facts of which the explanationis reserved till the„egd. Now this reservation of the final solution, in order to pique the reader's curiosity, excite his ingenuity, and lead him on to an unexpected climax, is a quite legitimate artistic effect. The only question to be asked about it in any particular instance is whether it succeeds, whether the effect is really accomplished? And for its success two primary qualifica- tions are necessary, — first, thatjthe mystery should really be mysterioua.;_secatid,_ that the explanation should really explain. The Riddle Story, then, is based entirely on a puzzle whose solution is a clever trick of the author and usually not to be guessed by the reader. Unlike the Detective Story, there are RIDDLE STORIES 4I no clues, either true or misleading. The reader goes swiftly from his first surprise to sustained wonder, and then to an intense and abiding curiosity that lasts until the solution is flashed upon him. The plot is meant to catch the reader napping, and seldom indeed is he wide awake enough to solve the riddle. A distinct type of jjddle_ Story is .that.„which describes, a search for lost treasure^ In so far as the searchers encounter mysterious conditions, or the reader is held in suspense con- cerning the meaning or outcome of the situations, in so far is the tale a Riddle Story. But to be a r eal R iddle Stor yT-the mystery must be carefully built up, sustained and finally revealed jKitli--carefuL.aod"Cohereni,sequenfies. Poe's story, "The Oblong Box," is one of the greatest Riddle Stories ever written. The mystery is seemingly inex- plicable. The interest is intense and the conditions partake of all the elements of ghastliness and horror. The solution is unguessable but entirely logical, and Poe's inimitable workmanship makes the story a masterpiece of its kind. Equally clever, in a totally different vein, is Kipling's "His Wedded Wife," and, different still, Aldrich's "Marjory Daw." In both of these, the siuprise is perfect, and so inherent a part of the plot, so skillfully and swiftly worked up, that all demands of the true Riddle Story are complied with. In some Riddle Stories the interest is not in the unraveling of the web, but in the weaving of it. In De Quincey's "The Avenger" this is the case, and also in Bulwer's "A Strange Story." It is the strangeness of the story that captivates in these instances. The maze of mystery and hazard, and 42 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY the confidence that it will all be made plain to us at last, provide sufficient charm to the lover of the Riddle Story. Crime and its detection have no part here, but mystery and paradox reign supreme. Another sort of Riddle Story employs the cypher or crjrptogram plot, but this is of such importance as to require a chapter to itself. Poe's "Gold Bug" includes both the cryptogram and the buried treasure, and is of course the greatest story built upon either or both of these plots. A novel by James De Mille is called "The Cryptogram," and the cypher is the main point of the story. But more often, cypher or secret writing is used as a side issue or a picturesque device in a stronger mystery plot. CHAPTER VI DETECTIVE STORIES I. What is a Detective Story? The class of fiction which we shall group under this head \ must include all stories where the problem is invented and \ solved by the author and set forth in such a way as to give ,' an astute reader opportunities for guessing or reasoning out ; the answer. An actual detectiveneedjgpt.necessarily figure.in the story, but detective work rnust be done bj[^ some of the characters. ; There must be crime or apparent crime or attempted! crime. But whether the problem is one of murder, robbery or kidnapping, — whether it be solved by evidence, deduction; or a cryptogram, — it is detected, not guessed, and this is the ; main element in our classification. 1 The average or typical Detective Story of to-day is the detailed narrative of the proceedings of an individual of unusual mental acumen in unraveling a mystery. Strictly speaking, a detective is a member of the police organization or of a private detective agency. But for fictional purposes he may be such, or he may be any one with what is called "detective instinct" or a taste for detect- ive work. It appears that in its earliest days the word "detective" meant merely a shadower or follower. 44 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY A curious old story in Harper's Magazine for 1870 begins thus: The remarkable skill and penetration shown by our modem detectives in "shadowing" suspected persons until sufficient proof has been obtained to warrant their arrest is illustrated by the daily history of crime. By the term "shadowing" is meant that vigilant watch kept upon the culprit by some one who follows him like his own shadow, and to do this successfully indicates no small degree of skill on the part of the "detective." This last expression recalls to memory some strange facts which came to my knowledge in the early part of my life, and I can never meet the term in print or hear it in conversation without a painful reminiscence. The story goes on to relate the harrowing experiences of a criminal who was shadowed by the ghost of his victim, and ends thus: Such is the story in connection with the first use of the term "detective," and I never meet it, either in voice or in print, without thinking of Captain Walton, and the fearful retribution unfolded in his history. But this old story is not a Detective Story according to our classification, it is a simple Ghost Story. It is only of in- terest in referring to the earliest use of our word "detective." 2. Rise of the Detective Story The Detective Story as we know it was first written by Poe, yet he never used the descriptive word, nor was Dupin a detective, either professional or amateur, for when Poe wrote his immortal Dupin tales, the name "Detective" Stories had not been invented; the detective of fiction not having been as yet discovered. And the title is still some- thing of a misnomer, for many narratives involving a puzzle of some sort, though belonging to the category which we DETECTIVE STORIES 45 shall discuss, are handled by the writer without expert detective aid. Sometimes the puzzle solves itself through operation of circumstance; sometimes somebody who pro- fesses no special detective skill happens upon the secret of its mystery; once in a while some venturesome genius has the courage to leave his enigma unexplained. But ever since Gaboriau created his Lecoq, the transcendent detective has been in favor; and Conan Doyle's famous gentleman analyst has given him a fresh lease of life, and reanimated the stage by reverting to the method of Poe. Sherlock Holmes is Dupin redivivus, and mutatus mutandis; personally he is a more stirring and engaging companion, but so far as kinship to probabilities or even possibilities is concerned, perhaps the older version of him is the more presentable. But in this age of marvels we seem less diflScult to suit in this respect than our forefathers were. The fact is, meanwhile, that, in the Riddle Story, the detective was an afterthought, or, more accurately, a deus ex machina to make the story go. The riddle had to be unriddled; and who could do it so naturally and readily as a detective? The detective, as Poe saw him, was a means to this end; and it was only afterwards that writers perceived his availability as a character. Lecoq accordingly becomes a figure in fiction, and Sherlock, while he was yet a novelty, was nearly as attractive as the complications in which he involved himself. Detective Story writers in general, however, encounter the obvious embarrassment that their detective is obliged to lavish so much attention on the professional services which the exigencies of the tale demand of him, that he has very 46 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY little leisure to attend to his own personal equation — the rather since the attitude of peering into a millstone is not, of itself, conducive to elucidations of oneself; the professional endowment obscures all the others. We ordinarily find, therefore, our author dismissing the individuality of his detective with a few strong black-chalk outlines, and devot- ing his main labor upon what he feels the reader will chiefly occupy his own ingenuity with, — namely, the elaboration of the riddle itself. Reader and writer sit down to a game, as it were, with the odds, of course, altogether on the latter's side, — apart from the fact that a writer sometimes permits him- self a little cheating. It more often happens that the detective appears to be in the writer's pay, and aids the deception by leading the reader off on false scents. Be that as it may, the professional sleuth is in nine cases out of ten a dummy by malice prepense; and it might be plausibly argued that, in the interest of pure art, that is what he ought to be. But genius always finds a way that is better than the rules, and it will be found that the very best riddle stories contrive to drive character and riddle side by side, and to make each somehow enhance the effect of the other. The intentioi} of the above paragraph will be more precisely conveyed if we include imder the name of detect- ive not only the man from the central office, but also any- body whom the writer may, for ends of his own, consider better qualified for that function. The latter is a profes- sional detective so far as the exigencies of the tale are concerned, and what becomes of him after that, nobody need care, — there is no longer anything to prevent his becoming, in his own right, the most fascinating of mankind. DETECTIVE STORIES 47 Before Poe's or Gaboriau's stories, appeared the " Memoirs of Vidocq." This work, thought by many to be largely fiction, is the history of a clever villain who became a detective, though never called by that name. He was a Secret Agent, and is called on his own title page, Prin- cipal Agent of the French Police, jffis^jngmpirs are old- fashioned, dull and uninteresting, but they show glimmer- ings of the kind of reasoning that later marked the Fiction Detective. Perhaps Gaboriau was the first author to use the termi- nology, since become so familiar, of detective, clues, deduc- tion, etc. Poe ascribed to his Dupin, "analytic ability," and this is all that is claimed for the conventional detective of fiction, though perhaps more acutely described by Brander Mat- thews as "imaginative ratiocination." Poe goes further in saying Dupin's work was "The result of an excited or perhaps a diseased intelligence." This statement may have mirrored the author's own mind, for, while making no assertion, Professor Matthews observes that he should understand any one who might declare that iPoe had mental disease raised to the n'*" power, and we have long since been told that "great wits are sure to madness near allied." J. The Detective — Fictive and Real But it is this very principle that marks the difference between the detective in fiction and in real life. The clever- est detectives in life are not men of diseased intellect, how- ever greatly developed may be their powers of ratiocination. 48 THE TECHNIQUE Or THE MYSTERY STORY It is just that touch of abnormality, of superhuman reason- ing, that makes a Tnanscendant Detective. Again, the work of the fiction detective is always success- ful. Naturally, because his work is planned to this end by the author. The fiction detective plays his game with marked cards. Though seemingly groping in the dark, he is walking a definite path laid straight to a definite end. He is pushed off on false scents, but pulled back and set right again by an adjusting power which does not exist in the case of real detectives. Indeed, the sooner the writer of detective fiction realizes that the detective of fiction has little in common with the detective in real life, the better is that author equipped for his work. The real detective, for one thing, is rarely a man of cul- ture or high ideals. The fiction detective is usually an aristocrat, unfortunately impoverished, or working at his art for art's sake. The real detective, however great his analytic ability, often finds that he cannot apply it to his case. The fiction detective never has this experience; he finds his case ready made and perfectly fitted to his powers. The real detective finds little or nothing in the way of useful material clues. The fiction detective finds his prop- erties laid ready to his hand at the right moment. Dropped handkerchiefs, shreds of clothing, broken cuff-links, torn letters, — all are sprinkled in the path ahead of him, like roses strewn before a bride. Even Nature lends a helping hand to the favored detective of fiction. Usually "A light snow had fallen the evening DETECTIVE STORIES 4g before." This snow is declared by credible witnesses to have begun at one psychological moment, and stopped at another; thus allowing the inevitable display of footprints of certain sizes, shapes and superimposition. Indeed the laws of nature are willing to give way, at need, and vegeta- tion takes on unusual qualities to help along the good work. Sherlock Holmes continually finds his indicative footprints on turf or grass plot, and of course the criminal is identified at once. But the real detective seldom if ever finds these helpful footprints at the right time and place. In case of his need of them, the obstinate ground is hard and unimpressionable; or the snow is melting and shows only oblong holes; or the grass refuses to present a clear and definite impression; or even if fairly respectable muddy footprints appear on a nice, clean, hard-wood floor, they are so incomplete in outline that they might have been made by any well-advertised shoe. The criminals and suspects in fiction must presumably wear shoes made for the purpose, with flat level soles that touch the floor at all points and leave an exact working diagram, instead of a shapeless blotch with ragged edges. Similarly with finger-prints. Though carefully impressed in incriminating places by the fiction criminals, in real life they are rarely found where they can be of use. The finger prints found on the discarded empty frame of the Mona Lisa have not yet led to the recovery of the picture; whereas in fiction they would long ago have put the thief behind bars. No, the fiction detective is not a real person, any more than 50 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY the fairy godmother is a real person; but both are honored and popular celebrities in the realm of fiction. And if one would realize the immense superiority of the fiction detective for fiction purposes he has only to read any of the occasionally published "true detective stories," or even those which are founded on actual cases. 4. Fiction versus Fact Many years ago, old-fashioned family papers published stories, beneath whose titles a line in parenthesis read, "Founded on fact." Such tales were invariably uninterest- ing, and at last the editors learned not to pubUsh them. A true tale of a criminal problem and its solution is imin- teresting because it is not planned to be interesting. The technique of the detective story calls for the same kind of planning and preparation on the part of the author as does a successful act of legerdemain. The prestidigitator takef a rabbit out of a silk hat, but unless he had planned for it be- forehand he couldn't do it. What he might take, unplanned, out of the hat, — its leather band or gilt stamped lining, — would be of no interest to his audience. It is the old-fashioned or the inexperienced author who thinks that an incident which has come within his own ex- perience or that of his friends, is necessarily available for a story. One of Gelett Burgess' celebrated Bromides is, "Now this thing really happened!" And it is a fortunate writer who escapes the occasional, "I've something to tell you about my neighbor's mother-in-law; I know it to be true, and you can have it for one of your stories!" The enthusiastic DETECTIVE STORIES $1 generosity of the speaker causes his face to glow with the delight of "helping an author," and how can you tell him that not one in a million such anecdotes would be of use to you, and that moreover, your head and note-book are both crammed with material of the right sort waiting to be used? Your helpful friend makes no claim save that his story is a fact, and he can never understand how apt is this quality to bar it from fiction. He can never understand the difference between fact and truth — truth, the wide universal element that must be adhered to; and fact, the petty and narrow incident that is rarely of interest, and often indeed contra- dicts truth. * Realism, according to its American master, Mr. W. D. Howells, is nothing more than the truthful treatment of material; and in Mr. Howells' hands this treatment has pro- duced writings of absorbing interest. But it is an equally tcuthful treatment of material that appears in the Social and Personal column of the Miller's Corners Weekly Gazette, or in the Congressional Record, yet we are not interested in either. But in the plot of a Detective Story, or in the mental makeup of the detective, realism finds little place — as much as you wish in the material details, in the clues, the inquest, or the suspected butler, but the key-note of the story itself is that of pure fiction. It must seem to be true as fairy stories seem true to children. You must persuade your readers to believe it, as Peter Pan wheedled his audience into believing in fairies ; but " Founded on Fact" or "Elaborated from the Records of a Real Detect- ive," is fatal to the interest of a Detective Story. 52 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY Let the argument ring true, let the accessories be reaUstic, let the situations be logical and the conditions plausible; but let the magic of the unreal detective twinkle through it all as fairies dance in real moonlight. Sustain the interest by a subtly woven chain of events that leads unerringly to the climax in a way the uncertainties of real life can never do. Lead your readers on to the re-solution of the problem, whose terms have been stated in logical sequence straight through the book. The uninitiate say, "You're so fond of detective stories, I suppose you read all the murder trials in the newspapers." On the contrary, a true lover of detective fiction never reads detailed newspaper accounts of crime. Why should he? He reads detective fiction for the enjoy- ment of the complete and finished entertainment therein provided. The statement of the problem, the interesting development, the breathless chase after false clues, the never tiring return to the right track and the final roimding up of the explanatory solution — he knows when he starts he will be disappointed in no particular. Every mystery will be explained and the fun is in trying to explain them him- self. As an antagonist at chess, he pits himself against his opponent, the author, and endeavors to foresee and imder- stand his feints and maneuvers. But to whatever degree he succeeds in this, a complete revelation awaits him at the end. In real life a criminal case reported in the papers gives no assurance of ultimate solution, gives no assurance that all the developments are intentional and go to make up a com- plete and harmonious whole; that the whole story is so DETECTIVE STORIES S3 balanced and poised, so coherent and interdependent as to give only satisfaction to its readers. In a word, the Detective Story of fiction is art; the accounts in the newspapers of the crimes of the day are merely the truthful treatment of material; and the latter, unless seen through the medium of an artist, is not of interest to the lover of the Detective Story. Another argument against realism in this field of fiction, is the fact that from the nature of its plot the details of a Detective Story are often unlovely. The newspapers delight in realistic description of the gruesome elements of crime. The Detective Story writer in the interests of his art glosses these over, not only because they have no necessary bearing on his theme, "The riddle and its solution," but because they jar on the reader's taste and disturb his economy of attention. Poe, whose imagination was beyond all bounds, thus speaks of realism: "The defenders of this pitiable stuff uphold it on the groimd of its truthfulness. Taking the thesis into question, this truthfulness is the one overwhelming defect. An original idea that — to laud the accuracy with which the stone is hurled that knocks us in the head! A little less accuracy might have left us more brains. And here are critics abso- lutely commending the truthfulness with which only the disagreeable is conveyed! In my view, if an artist must paint decayed cheeses, his merit will lie in their looking as little like decayed cheeses as possible!" And so,' the writer of detective fiction pictures as much cheese and as little decay as he may. 54 THE TECHNIQUE OF THE MYSTERY STORY The tale of horror, or of gruesome interest, which not only paints the decayed cheese with realism, but with exaggera- tion, is not a Detective Story, it belongs in another class. Of course all this applies to Detective Stories which are constructed in harmony with the unwritten but inexorable laws- which require the aforementioned qualities. To be sure, plenty of Detective Stories are written which violate every requirement of true technique, but these are not in our argument. This point is well discussed by Mr. Cecil Chesterton: "I have read hundreds of such tales which made excellent reading so long as the mystery subsisted, but of which the conclusion was imspeakably weak and far-fetched and in some cases absolutely unintelligible. Nothing is more irritant in a detective story than that even one mysterious circum- stance should remain at the end unexplained. Yet the writers appear to imagine that it is quite sufficient if they have thought of some sort of explanation of the central mystery, while a hundred attendant facts, introduced solely to puzzle or mislead the reader, are left without even a sug- gestion to illumine them. "Indeed the conclusion ought to be not merely plausible, but in a sense inevitable. The reader ought not indeed to expect it, but he ought to feel afterwards that he ought to have expected it. To explain the problem at the last mo- ment, as is often done, by introducing new circumstances at which he could not possibly have guessed, is merely to leave him labouring under a half-conscious sense of injury and resentment, and rightly so, for he has been cheated into attempting to solve a puzzle which, as it turns out, was for DETECTIVE STORIES 55 him quite insoluble. In an ideal detective story all the clues to the true solution ought to be there from the first, but so overlaid as to pass unnoticed. If anyone wishes to see how this can be done, let him read attentively the first two or three chapters of 'The Moonstone,' by Wilkie Collins. Here the all-important conversation between Franklyn Blake and the doctor is given at length, but in such a context as to appear a mere incident designed to throw light on a phase of Franklyn's temperament." Recently there has been published a book of short true Detective Stories.^ These are of so little interest as to be almost unreadable. The preface says, "Crime in itself, is painful and sometimes repulsive, but a study of the methods of criminal investigation by which difficult problems are solved and the guilty brought to justice is entertaining and may be profitable." While the foregoing is true, the study of the methods of criminal investigation is not entertaining to the reader, unless written as literature, — indeed, as fiction. A simple description of a crime and the methods pursued in regard to its investigation make dry reading. The setting, the characters, the atmosphere, of a well-constructed story are necessary to make it entertaining. The preface we quote goes on to state frankly that the detectives they tell about, work in the most prosaic manner imaginable, but they somehow manage to get results, and that is what counts in the police world. Here we have merely facts. Their work doubtless is pro- saic, but a prosaic account