The Hammerpond Park Burglary’ by H. G. Wells is a funny and clever story about one burglary that goes wrong. Two thieves, Teddy Watkins and his helper, plan to steal diamonds from Lady Aveling’s house during her honeymoon. Teddy pretends that he is an artist who wants to paint this house. But his plan fails when his own trap is against him and the fake artist gets caught. The story describes the pretty village and the thieves’ silly mistakes. Surprisingly, the burglary ends in a funny way when the owner of the house welcomes Teddy. This tale shows that the crime doesn’t pay, but makes you laugh with its twists. It is great for kids and all who like exciting, humorous stories with a lesson about honesty…
The Hammerpond Park Burglary
There is an element of sport in burglary. It is a sport for which no rules are at present formulated, and of which the prizes are distributed in an extremely informal manner. It was this informality of burglary that led to the failure of two capable beginners at Hammerpond Park.
The prizes offered in this affair consisted chiefly of diamonds belonging to the newly married Lady Aveling. Her marriage to Lord Aveling was largely announced in the papers, the quantity and quality of her wedding presents, and the fact that the honeymoon was to be spent at Hammerpond. The announcement of these valuable prizes created a sensation in the small circle in which Mr Teddy Watkins was the leader, and it was decided that, accompanied by a qualified assistant, he should visit the village of Hammerpond.
Mr Watkins decided to make this visit incognito, and he chose the role of a landscape artist and the modest surname of Smith. He preceded his assistant, who, it was decided, should join him only on the last afternoon of his stay at Hammerpond. Now the village of Hammerpond is perhaps one of the prettiest little corners in Sussex. So that Mr Watkins, on his arrival with two canvases, a new easel, a paint-box, and a little ladder made in sections, found himself welcomed with enthusiasm and some curiosity by a small group of other artists. It made the disguise he had chosen very probable, but he was not prepared for an aesthetic conversation.
«Have you exhibited very much?» said young Porson in the bar, where Mr Watkins went to get local information on the night of his arrival.
«Very little,» said Mr Watkins.
«Academy?»
«Of course. And at the Crystal Palace.»
«Did they hang you well?» said Porson.
«I don’t understand you,» said Mr Watkins.
«I mean did they put you in a good place?»
«What do you mean?» said Mr Watkins. «You ask strange questions.»
As the question of hanging seemed to irritate Mr Watkins, the young artist tried to change the theme of the conversation.
«Do you do figure-work?» he asked.
«No, never had a head for figures,» said Mr Watkins, «My miss, — Mrs Smith, I mean, does all that.»
«She paints, too! How interesting!»
«Very,» said Mr Watkins, though he really did not think so, and, feeling that the conversation was becoming too difficult for him, added, «I came down here to paint Hammer-pond House by moonlight.»
«Really!» said Porson. «That’s rather a new idea.»
«Yes,» said Mr Watkins, «I thought it rather a good idea. I expect to begin tomorrow night.»
«What! You don’t mean to paint in the open, by night.»
«I do, though.»
«But how will you see your canvas?»
«I’m going to have a thing called a dark lantern,» said Mr Watkins.
«But it’s about new moon now,» objected Porson. «There won’t be any moon.»
«There’ll be the house, «said Watkins, «and I’m going, you see, to paint the house first and the moon afterwards.»
«Oh!» said Porson, too astonished to continue the conversation.
«They say» said old Durgan, the landlord, who had kept silence during the technical conversation, «that there are no less than three policemen on duty in the house every night on account of this Lady Aveling and her diamonds.»
Towards sunset next day Mr Watkins, new canvas, easel, and a case of other appliances in hand, went up the pleasant pathway through the woods to Hammerpond Park, and put his apparatus in a strategic position commanding the house. Here he was observed by Mr Raphael Sant, who was returning across the park from a study of the surroundings. And as his curiosity had been aroused by Porson’s tale of the new arrival, he turned aside with the idea of discussing art by night.
Mr Watkins did not notice his approach. A friendly conversation with Lady Aveling’s butler had just ended, and that individual, surrounded by three little dogs, was retiring in the distance. Mr Watkins was mixing colour with great energy. Sant, approaching more nearly, was surprised to see the very bright and brilliant green colour.
«What are you going to do with that terrible green?» said Sant.
Mr Watkins turned round. He realized that trying to seem busy in the eyes of the butler he had made some technical mistake. He looked at Sant and hesitated.
«Pardon me,» said Sant; «but really that green is too amazing. It came as a shock. What do you mean to do with it?»
Mr Watkins tried to save the situation. «If you come here interrupting my work,» he said, «I’m going to paint your face with it.»
Sant retired, for he was a humourist and a peaceful man. Going down the hill he met Porson and Wainwright. «Either that man is a genius or he is a dangerous lunatic,» said he. «Just go up and look at his green.»
But to Porson and Wainwright Mr Watkins was less aggressive, and explained that the green colour was prepared for the first coating of his picture. It was, he said, an absolutely new method, invented by himself. But he was not going to tell every passer-by the secret of his own particular style. At this both artists «left him immediately.
Twilight deepened, first one, then another star appeared. The house lost all the details of its architecture and became a dark grey outline, and then the windows of some rooms were lighted up. The easel in the park stood deserted. Mr Watkins was busy in the shrubbery with his assistant, who had already joined him.
«That’s the dressing-room,» Mr Watkins said to his assistant, «and as soon as the maid takes the candle away and goes down to supper, we’ll come in. How nice the house looks against the star-light, and with all its windows and lights! Really, Jim, it isn’t bad to be a painter. Have you fixed the wire across the path from the laundry?»
He approached the house until he stood below the dressing-room window, and began to put together his folding ladder. Jim was watching the smoking-room. Suddenly, close beside Mr Watkins in the bushes, there was a violent crash. Someone had tumbled over the wire which his assistant had just arranged. He heard feet running on the gravel pathway beyond. Mr Watkins, like all true artists, was a very shy man, and he immediately dropped his folding ladder and began to run through the shrubbery. It seemed to him that two men were running after him, and he thought that he saw the outline of his assistant in front of him. In another moment he had jumped over the low stone wall surrounding the shrubbery, and was in the open park. He heard that two men had followed him.
So they were running in the darkness through the trees. Mr Watkins was a strong man and in good training, and he soon came up with the figure in front. Neither spoke, but, as Mr Watkins ran alongside, an awful doubt came over him. The other man turned his head at the same moment and gave an exclamation of surprise. «It’s not Jim,» thought Mr Watkins, and at the same moment the stranger flung himself at Watkins’ knees, and they fell on the ground together.
«Help me, Bill,» cried the stranger as the third man came up. And Bill helped him, in fact, with his hands and feet. The fourth man, probably Jim, had evidently turned aside and disappeared in a different direction. He did not join the trio.
Mr Watkins’ memory of the incidents of the next two minutes is very vague. He remembers only that the fight was hard. He was kicked in a great number of different places, apparently by many people.
When his sensations became less confused he was sitting upon the grass, and eight or ten men — the night was dark, and he was too confused to count — were standing round him, apparently waiting for his recovery. He supposed that he was captured, but could not speak because of his internal sensations.
He noticed very quickly that he had no handcuffs, and then a flask of brandy was put in his hands.
«He is coming round,» said a voice which he recognized as belonging to the Hammerpond second footman.
«We’ve got them, sir, both of them,» said the Hammer-pond butler, the man who had given him the flask. «Thanks to you.»
No one answered this remark. And he could not understand its meaning.
«He cannot recover himself,» said a strange voice; «the scoundrels nearly murdered him.»
Mr Teddy Watkins decided to remain silent until he understood the situation. He noticed that two of the black figures round him stood side by side, and it seemed to his experienced eye that their hands were bound together. Two! In a moment he understood his position. He emptied the little flask and with the help of the butler stood up.
«Shake hands, sir, shake hands,» said one of the figures. «Permit me to introduce myself. I am very thankful to you. It was the diamonds of my wife. Lady Aveling, which attracted these scoundrels to the house.»
«Very glad to make your lordship’s acquaintance,» said Teddy Watkins.
«I suppose you saw the scoundrels running for the shrubbery, and rushed after them.»
«That’s exactly how it happened,» said Mr Watkins.
«It was lucky for you that two of the policemen were out by the gates, and followed up the three of you.»
«Yes, that was lucky,» said Mr Watkins.
«But, I see, you walk rather lame,» said Lord Aveling. The group was now moving towards the house. «May I offer you my arm?» he added.
And instead of entering Hammerpond House by the dressing-room window, Mr Watkins entered it on the arm of a real peer, and by the front door. «This,» thought Mr Watkins, «is burglary in style!» The «scoundrels,» seen by the gaslight, proved to be local amateurs unknown to Mr Watkins. They were taken down into the pantry and there watched over by the three policemen, two gamekeepers with loaded guns, and the butler, until the dawn allowed to take them to the police-station.
Mr Watkins was invited to the drawing-room. They offered a sofa to him, and did not want to hear of a return to the village that night. Lady Aveling was sure he was brilliantly original. Someone brought up a remarkable little folding ladder that had been picked up in the shrubbery, and showed him how it was put together. They also described how wires had been found in the shrubbery, evidently placed there to stop pursuers. It was lucky he had escaped these wires. And they showed him the diamonds.
Mr Watkins was clever enough not to talk too much, and in any conversational difficulty came back to his internal pains. At last he felt a pain in the back, and began yawning. It became suddenly clear to everyone that he needed rest after his fight, so he retired early to his room, the little red room next to Lord Aveling’s suite.
The dawn found a deserted easel with a green canvas, in the Hammerpond Park, and it found Hammerpond House in agitation. But if the dawn found Mr Teddy Watkins and the Aveling diamonds, it did not communicate the information to the police.
— THE END —
