["R Grand Harlem призvous"] How do you do? This is Chai Brook. When the First World War began in 1914, a man named Cecil Cameron joined the army as a private. Subsequently, he won his commission and fighting on three fronts, won the Distinguished Service Order, the Legion of Honor, a Belgian decoration, and was several times mentioned in dispatches. Honored by three countries, a very gallant record. What courage must have been called for, what chances taken, what risks. Qualities such as these win much-priced rewards, and deservedly so. But in civilian life, these same qualities sometimes gain a very different acknowledgement. That is why I call this week's Case Book History the Root of All Evil. Money. A man may become a hero in one calling, in another a criminal. We must remember this before we condemn. So let me tell you the story of Private Cecil Cameron. Oh, but first we must go back four years to Christmas 1910. Cameron has not yet become a private. He's a lieutenant. Yes, a lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery. Lieutenant Cameron and his wife Ruby are entertaining a small party of friends in their home in Herriacwell, Edinburgh. They were a popular and socially prominent young couple who had met and married in romantic circumstances when Lieutenant Cameron was on garrison duty in India. They lived well and entertained lavishly, and no shadow of scandal had ever touched either of them. Mrs. Cameron was an acknowledged beauty, and tonight she was looking lovelier than ever. And no wonder. Dear Ruby, what adorable pearls. I do like them. Very exquisite. Never seen such a lovely string. They must have got a fortune. Do tell me, are they a Christmas present? Yes. What it must be to have a generous husband. Oh. Don't be greedy. You've got a husband. Yes, but he doesn't buy me pearls. Cecil didn't buy me these. He didn't? Good Lord, no. What do you think? I am a millionaire. Where did you get them? Or is it a secret? Oh, there's no secret about it. I think we can tell him, don't you dear? Yes, of course. Why not? It's rather a sad story in a way. But a gift from a very old neutral friend of ours, who may know him dear. A Maharaja? No dear, an Englishman. His name's Billy Walker. We've been out there for years and years. Something to do with banking, I think. Well, banking and other things. Tea for instance in Ceylon. And some engineering project in Kenya. He's never talked to us much about business, but he did mention once that he had an income of 40,000 a year. He's not single by any chance, is he? No, he's a widower. As a matter of fact, that's how I came to have these pearls. Father made them. I told you it was a rather sad story. Billy's wife was much younger than himself. A year or so ago, she went off with a young financier she met in Kashmir. I didn't even know him, but certainly met him once in life. She said it was a complete cat. None of us could bear him. Anyhow, Billy's wife soon found out what a bad bargain she'd made. So, about three months later, full of tears and penance, she returned to her husband. Did he take her back? Oh yes. He still loved her, you see. He not only forgave her, but allowed her to keep the presents she'd been given. Among them was this necklace of pearls. Well, not to make too long a story of it, Billy's wife picked up a typhoid germ and died about three months ago, leaving everything to her husband. But he found her jewels too pointed to remind her of her, particularly this necklace. And so he sent it to you. Yes, with rather a pathetic letter. I have it here, I think. Yes, here it is. Shall I read it? Oh, I don't think you should, Cecil. No, perhaps not. Dear old Billy, I only wish you were here now to be able to see Ruby wearing them. Where is he? Still in India? No, he's over in Africa apparently. He didn't even give us a forwarding address, so he can't even write and thank him. What's he making of the story, having so much money around to make? Well, it is rather the responsibility, I suppose, if I were you, Cecil, I'd have them insured straight away. Yes, I fully intend to. As soon as the insurance office is open after the holidays, meanwhile we shall just have to hope that nothing happens to them. Nothing did happen to the pearls, of course. And in due course, Lieutenant Cameron called on the manager of an Edinburgh Insurance Company and the desired arrangements were made. We've had the pearls examined by an expert, Mr. Cameron. He assesses the value of the string at 6,500 pounds. Would that be something near your own estimate? I'm no judge of these things, but yes, I think it would be somewhere around about that. Then suppose we work on that basis, eh? Right. I'll have the policy prepared and if you'll be kind enough to call at the same time tomorrow, we'll fix up all the details. Splendid. Shall I let you have my cheque now? Oh, my dear fellow, no. Any time to suit yourself. I'll give it to you tomorrow, then, when I collect the policy. Good. And so it went through with a minimum of fuss and maximum of courtesy, good fellowship and mutual trust. For the best part of six weeks, nothing happened. Ruby Cameron wore her pearls at various functions and they were greatly admired. And then, on the afternoon of February 7, 1911, as the Camerons were walking along Prince's Street on a shopping expedition... I'd better pop into the chemist and get some throat lozenge, I think. All right, darling, I'll wait out here. Good. I'll show you in a minute. How do you do, Mr. Cameron? How do you do, Mrs. Stewart? Quite mild this time of year, isn't it? Not to mind that I haven't picked up our filthy, filthy sore throat. Could you recommend some good lozenges? Certainly, sir. I'm a line here... Help! Help! What on earth is that? It sounds like my wife's voice. Help me! Help me! Darling, what's the matter? What's happened? I... I'm going off. What? My pearls. But... but how? As I was waiting for you, two men came up to me. One of them jostled me and bumped me into the other one. Before I knew what had happened, the second one had grabbed my pearls and... and they both ran off. Did you see which way they went? Yes, to the left. I'll see if they're in sight still. You'd better ring up the police, Mr. Cameron, the telephones and the dispensary. Yes, I will. This is terrible. This is terrible. What are we going to tell Billy? No sign of him, I'm afraid. It's almost dark outside. No, no, Mrs. Cameron, you mustn't take it like that, you know. Let's go into the dispensary and I'll mix you a sedative. Oh, you're very kind. Not at all. Ah, here's Mr. Cameron. The police will be here in a couple of minutes. Oh, terrible. Terrible. Take it easy, old girl. It's not your fault. It was all a sudden. Just a matter of taking it. Yes, yes, of course. Here we are. Drink this. Oh, thank you very much. How is that, better? Yes, I think so. Oh, oh, sir, what are we going to do? There's nothing we can do, my dear, except wait for the police. I shouldn't worry about you, Mrs. Cameron. For all it said against them, we're a smart body of police here. Our rager perceives are behind the bars and your necklace restored within 24 hours. But the chemist's touching face in the Edinburgh constabulary wasn't borne out by events. A general alarm was sent out. The city was combed from end to end for suspicious characters. Dozens of alleged trues were followed up for all to no purpose. And as day followed day, without any sign of an arrest, indignant letters began to appear in the newspapers and the atmosphere at Edinburgh police headquarters developed into one of perpetual crisis. Now listen to this, will you? As taxpayers, surely we are entitled to mourn the bungling inefficiency which today apparently is the outstanding characteristic of our police force. Bungling inefficiency, is it? And this, it seems that law-abiding citizens can no longer walk in public with any confidence in the knowledge of their safety. It's easy enough to talk. We've got to do something, Inspector. But what, sir? Surely you must have some kind of a lead on these fellows? Nothing at all, sir. Mrs. Cameron hasn't been able to give us any kind of a description of the men. I've had her check up through every photograph in our rogue's gallery, and she doesn't recognise one of them. As far as we can learn, no attempts have been made to dispose of the necklace, and no evidence even saw the theft happen. I wonder whether it really did. You mean, sir, Mrs. Cameron may have been making it all up? Stranger things have happened. But why should she do such a thing? The trials are ensured, aren't they? Yes, sir, but, oh, I do believe it. Why must have Cameron's father was a VC and commanded the chief of highlanders, and his gun father fought in the Crimea, who had highly respected people, sir? Ah, yes, I know. I suppose you're right. All the same, I've come to have a feeling of something very odd about this case. Something very odd indeed. That's why I asked head office to send you up from London. Just what is it you want me to do, sir? As you know, we've received Cameron's claim for 6,500 pounds insurance. We're not disputing our liability, of course. In fact, I issued the policy myself. But we just want to be absolutely certain everything's in order before we pay out such a sum. So you just want me to make a few judicial inquiries? Quite. Mind you, they'll have to be very judicious indeed. If Cameron were to find us investigating his bona fides, we might find ourselves involved in a costly libel suit. So whatever you do, Mr. Leach, go quiet. I shall be the sole of this question, sir. Tell me, what makes you think there might be some funny business going on? That's a question I find it difficult to answer. You have no evidence of any kind? None whatever. It's just, well, I suppose you might say intuition. Yes, there's no suggestion the necklace you ensured wasn't a genuine one. Oh, none whatever. It was examined by an expert. Had it been in the Cameron's possession for very long? I didn't ever think to ask Mr. Cameron that. But I gathered from a mutual friend that it was a recent gift to Mrs. Cameron from a man in India. Oh, you don't happen to know his name, do you? Yes, I believe it's Walker. William or Billy Walker. He's reputed to be very wealthy. Oh, Walker. Yeah. Is there anything else you can tell me? I'm afraid not. Ah, it doesn't give me much to go on, does it? I realize that. Quite possibly there may be something else. The whole thing might be open and above all broad, in which case, of course, we shall have to pay up and look as pleasant as we can. However, that's up to you to find out. You will do the best you can, won't you, Mr. Beach? Yes, of course. It may take some time, you understand. Oh, quite, quite. Still, I think I can say that if there has been any attempted fraud, I shall discover it sooner or later. What sense does it go WOW? Alfred Leach had been a private inquiry agent for many years, and much of his work had comprised the investigation of insurance claims. He was no Sherlock Holmes, perhaps, but he was patient and thorough, and he was nobody's fool. He realized he could never hope to get anywhere without the help of the police, so his first call was on the inspector in charge of the case. Ah, no eyewitnesses, you say? None that we've been able to find. No description of the thieves. Only the vaguest one from Mrs. Cameron herself, just that they were tall and dark. Ah, that's not much help, is it? None at all. Tell me, was her top coat badly torn? Her top coat? Yes, it was a cold winter's afternoon, was it not? Eh, it was that. Almost dark, in fact. That's how she must have seen the fellow's faces. Then we're to presume her coat would be buttoned at the throat. That's right, it would have been. And if the pearls were around her neck, to get to them, the thieves would first have had to tear open her coat, wouldn't they? Ah, of course they would. I never thought of that. I would have made the call and asked her about that right now. I shouldn't if I were you. Well, I mean to say it's only a small point, and one that can be cleaned up later if necessary. By the way, have you ever thought to make inquiries into Cameron's financial position? No, never. From all accounts, he entertains rather generously for a young man on a sovereign's pay, doesn't he? Eh, I suppose he does, but I don't know to get some allowance from his family. Ah, it's probably so. All the same, it might be worth investigating, do you think? That could do no harm, I suppose. Ah, come on then. Let's go. Uh, too. Well, why not have a talk to his bank manager, of course? You placed me in rather awkward position, Inspector. Oh, that's right. We have a strict rule here at the bank never to divulge the affairs of our crimes. You seem to forget, sir, that this is an official police inquiry. It's your duty as a private citizen to help the authorities in every way you can. And if you're not prepared to do that, there are such things as subpoenas at the remand office. No, no, no, no. Let's not get too hasty about this. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Not at all, my dear sir. You were quite right to remind me of my responsibility. Precisely what is it you wish to know, Inspector? What was Cameron's bank balance at the beginning of February this year? Roughly thirty pounds. And at present? Five shillings. Is it usual for it to be as low as that? Well, hardly. You're not worried about it? Not in the least. Mr. Cameron assured me some time ago that he was expecting a large sum of money. And since I've no reason to doubt him in the past, I see no reason why I should now. A large sum? Did he mention how much? I rather fancy he said it would be in the vicinity of six thousand pounds. Exactly when was it he told you this? About two or three weeks ago. Would it have been before or after February the 7th? I'm not quite sure. Is there any way to find out? Yes, sir. I keep a record of all interviews and appointments here in my diary. Excuse me a minute, I'll just make certain of the date. Ah, here we are. Lieutenant Cecil Cameron. February the 6th. February the 6th? Are you quite certain of that date, sir? There can be no possible doubt about it. It's here in black and white. Thank you. Thank you very much. That's all we want to know. Of course, this one solitary fact, startling and significant, has appeared. It really meant nothing legally. There was only the bank manager's word that Cameron made to the statement. And even if he had and admitted he had, it didn't prove anything. Still it convinced Leach that he was on the right track. And he felt doubly sure when a week or so later he received a cable grant. What do you think of this, inspector? What is it? It's a cable from a firm of private inquiry agents in India. Applying to an inquiry, I sent them. What's it say? Read it for yourself. Being unable to trace William or Billy Walker, no person of that name known at hotels or clubs in any of principal Indian cities, no record, registrar's office, of death of Mrs. Walker, will continue inquiries and advice further. Well, I'll be blessed. You realize what this means, don't you? It means there's no such person as Billy Walker exists. Precisely. And that the story the comers told their friends how they'd come into possession of the pearls was a lie from start to finish. Well, not this far as to say that. But surely it's obvious. Not necessarily. It may be that the circumstances they outlined about this fellow's wife leaving him and then returning and then willing him to pervade when she died were true enough. But for reasons of delicacy they preferred not to reveal his correct name. Oh, come, inspector. You must admit it's possible. Well, possible, yes, but highly improbable. Wasn't there supposed to have been a letter accompanying the gift? So I understand. You think you could get hold of that without arousing too much suspicion? Yes, I'd ask where I could. But what you want to get out of it and what do you think it'll prove? One never knows, my dear chap, one never knows. I'll leave it to you to obtain possession of it in the next couple of days and hold on to it until I return. Return? Why, are you going away? Yes. Where to? London. Private business or something to do with the case? Something very much to do with the case. If the Camerons didn't get the necklace from their mythical friend Billy Walker, I propose to find out where they did get it. How long do you think that's going to take? With any sort of luck, a few days. But it need be. I shall stick to it for six months. Back in London Leach began work at once on one of those dull and unspectacular jobs that are nevertheless such a vital part of so many police inquiries. First of all he armed himself with a complete list of the better known jurors. Then one by one he did the rounds and to each of them he made the same inquiries. Have you had any dealings in the last few months with Lieutenant Cecil Elmer Cameron of Herriot Row Edinburgh or with his wife Ruby Cameron of the same address? As Leach had said, it was a task that might have taken months, but fortune was with him. The list of which he worked was in alphabetical order and within four days he sat in the office of the manager of Mrs. Carrington and Company. Cameron, yes I believe we have had some dealings with an Edinburgh client of that name recently. Something to do with a pearl necklace perhaps. You know I rather fancy. Well excuse me I'll check through the files. C.A.M. Ah this looks like it. Mrs. C.A. Cameron. Yes, yes of course. I remember the whole thing quite well now. What is it you wish to know Mr. Leach? Everything you can tell me. Well according to the records here on the 20th of December through our Edinburgh branch we supplied Mrs. Cameron with a double pearl necklace on approval. The price? Price. Oh yes here we are. Six thousand three hundred guineas. What happened then did she bite? No. I see the necklace was returned on the 4th of January this year together with an order for an imitation one of a similar pattern. And is that all? No it seemed that the copy was ultimately returned as unsuitable. On what date? February the 7th. You're quite sure of that. It came back with a covering letter from Mr. Cameron. Here it is. And here's the date February the 7th. Well that certainly seems conclusive enough. By the way could I borrow that letter for a short time? I suppose so. It's a little irregular but if it's likely to be of any use to you. I assure you my dear sir it's likely to be of the greatest possible use. In that case take it by all means. Next day Leach was back in Edinburgh. An hour later he was at police headquarters bringing with him a man whom he'd stopped to pick up on the way. It's good to see you back again Mr. Leach. Any news? Yes plenty. Good let's hear it. I'll tell you everything later. First of all I want you to meet Mr. William Smith. He's a handwriting expert. How do you know that I'm in front of you Mr. Smith? How do you do it sir? No did you manage to get hold of that letter from Cameron? The one from Billy Walker you mean? Yes. You must have left him behind the door but I persuaded him at last. May I see it please? Certainly I have it here in my desk. There we are and I love an instance of this too. Calling Mrs. Cameron his darling girlie and his baby. Thank you. Now Mr. Smith I want you to compare this letter with this one addressed to Carrington and Company. Certainly. Well? This is about the simplest job I ever had. You mean? It was quite obviously written by the same person. You will swear to that in court? Of course. Thank you. That will be all for a moment Mr. Smith. You'll hear from us in due course. Always happy to be of service. Good day gentlemen. Good bye. Good bye Mrs. Smith. Good bye. Now would you mind telling me what our miss is about? Certainly. Cecil Cameron's pay as a subaltern is about four pounds ten a week. He gets no allowance from his family. Since their return from India he and his wife have been living at the rate of twenty pounds a week. But how? By running up debts all over the place of course. Anyhow towards the end of last year the situation had become so desperate that the Camerons decided they must do something about it. So they concocted a very clever scheme. What was that? They bought a pearl necklace on approval, invented a mythical benefactor to explain its presence. The Milwaukee you mean? Yes. And representing the necklace as his wife's property Cameron had it valued and insured for six thousand five hundred pounds. The necklace was then returned to the jeweler and a cheap copy ordered and jeweler delivered. Are you sure of all this? My dear fellow I can prove it. On February the seventh the copy was sent back as unsuitable and on the same afternoon the Cameron staged a little comedy with which you are so familiar regarding the theft of the pearls. A claim for the insurance on the pearls was duly submitted and there you have the whole story. Good Lord it's amazing. What do you think we should do now? Far be it from me to tell you your job inspector but wouldn't it be a good idea for you to arrest the Camerons? Aye I suppose it would. Music Naturally the arrest caused a tremendous stir in the social circles. In clubs and going rooms nothing else was discussed for days. Special editions of the daily newspapers sold like hotcakes. The general feeling among people who knew the Camerons was that the charge was monstrous and that the police had blundered once more. But when the trial began on May the 30th in the High Court of Pesticide in Edinburgh it was soon apparent as the carefully prepared evidence against them mounted that there would be no blunder this time. At last after an hour's retirement the jury's verdict. We find the prisoners guilty and charged. Cecil Aylmer Cameron and Ruby Cameron I sentence each of you to penal servitude for a period of three years. London Gazette, June the 27th, Royal Field Artillery. Lieutenant C.A. Cameron is removed from the army. His Majesty having no further occasion for his services. Cameron was released after serving his sentence and soon afterwards the first world war began. Now as I said at the beginning of this broadcast he enlisted in a private, won his commission, his second, and fighting on three fronts was honoured and decorated by three countries. The next time I see a misfit in my own profession I must try to remember that the very qualities which failed a man in one calling might have brought him success in another and vice versa. There but for the grace of God go I. When peace came Cameron, now a major, remained in the army but was stationed at the war office. One day he was found in his room dying, a revolver in his hand. For evidence given at the inquest it appeared that his failure to secure an appointment abroad, one that he had particularly wanted, had so preyed on his mind that he had taken his life. Major Cecil Cameron's qualities showed the best advantage on active service. He was buried with full military honours. Well it's over now but I'll be back again soon to tell you some more of the secrets of Scotland Yard. Meanwhile this is Tidebook saying goodbye and pleasant. Bye.
