Detected by the Camera Page #2

"Detected by the Camera" is a lesser-known work by Lucy Maud Montgomery, celebrated author of "Anne of Green Gables." Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century Canada, the story delves into themes of identity, perception, and the influence of technology on personal relationships. Through rich character development and Montgomery's signature lyrical prose, the narrative explores how a camera—symbolizing both a tool of connection and an instrument of truth—shapes the lives of its characters, revealing hidden emotions and secrets. This work exemplifies Montgomery's keen insight into human nature and her ability to weave compelling stories that resonate with readers.

• Short story

								

As to the 'how,' they don't know, and as to the 'where'--well, if they
knew that, there might be some hope of finding it. The girls are in a
bad way. The money was to get them their longed-for piano, it seems,
and now it's gone."

"But how did it happen, Cecil?"

"Well, Mr. Carroll says that Mrs. Carroll handed the pocketbook back
to him at the gate yesterday, and he dropped it in the inside pocket
of his over-coat--"

"I saw him do it," I cried.

"Yes, and then, before he went to be photographed, he hung his coat up
in the hall. It hung there until the evening, and nobody seems to have
thought about the money, each supposing that someone else had put it
carefully away. After tea Mr. Carroll put on the coat and went to see
somebody over at Netherby. He says the thought of the pocketbook never
crossed his mind; he had forgotten all about putting it in that coat
pocket. He came home across the fields about eleven o'clock and found
that the cows had broken into the clover hay, and he had a great chase
before he got them out. When he went in, just as he entered the door,
the remembrance of the money flashed over him. He felt in his pocket,
but there was no pocketbook there; he asked his wife if she had taken
it out. She had not, and nobody else had. There was a hole in the
pocket, but Mr. Carroll says it was too small for the pocketbook to
have worked through. However, it must have done so--unless someone
took it out of his pocket at Netherby, and that is not possible,
because he never had his coat off, and it was in an inside pocket.
It's not likely that they will ever see it again. Someone may pick it
up, of course, but the chances are slim. Mr. Carroll doesn't know his
exact path across the fields, and if he lost it while he was after the
cows, it's a bluer show still. They've been searching all day, of
course. The girls are awfully disappointed."

A sudden recollection came to me of Ned Brooke's face as I had seen it
the day before at the gate, coupled with the remembrance of seeing him
walking down the lane at a quick pace, so unlike his usual shambling
gait, while I ran through the lawn.

"How do they know it was lost?" I said. "Perhaps it was stolen before
Mr. Carroll went to Netherby."

"They think not," said Cecil. "Who would have stolen it?"

"Ned Brooke. I saw him hanging around. And you never saw such a look
as came over his face when he heard Mr. Carroll say there was five
hundred dollars in that pocketbook."

"Well, I did suggest to them that Ned might know something about it,
for I remembered having seen him go down the lane while I was waiting
for you, but they won't hear of such a thing. The Brookes are kind of
protégés of theirs, you know, and they won't believe anything bad of
them. If Ned did take it, however, there's not a shadow of evidence
against him."

"No, I suppose not," I answered thoughtfully, "but the more I think it
over, the more I'm convinced that he took it. You know, we all went to
the back field to look at the Jerseys, and all that time the coat was
hanging there in the hall, and not a soul in the house. And it was
just after we came back that I saw Ned scuttling down the lane so
fast."

I mentioned my suspicions to the Carrolls a few days afterwards, when
I went down with the photographs, and found that they had discovered
no trace of the lost pocketbook. But they seemed positively angry when
I hinted that Ned Brooke might know more about its whereabouts than
anyone else. They declared that they would as soon think of suspecting
one of themselves as Ned, and altogether they seemed so offended at my
suggestion that I held my peace and didn't irritate them by any more
suppositions.

Afterwards, in the excitement of our cousins' visit, the matter passed
out of my mind completely. They stayed two weeks, and I was so busy
the whole time that I never got a chance to develop that third plate
and, in fact, I had forgotten all about it.

One morning soon after they went away, I remembered the plate and
decided to go and develop it. Cecil went with me, and we shut
ourselves up in our den, lit our ruby lantern and began operations. I
did not expect much of the plate, because it had been exposed and
handled carelessly, and I thought that it might prove to be
underexposed or light-struck. So I left Cecil to develop it while I
prepared the fixing bath. Cecil was whistling away when suddenly he
gave a tremendous "whew" of astonishment and sprang to his feet.

"Amy, Amy, look here!" he cried.

I rushed to his side and looked at the plate as he held it up in the
rosy light. It was a splendid one, and the Carroll house came out
clear, with the front door and the steps in full view.

And there, just in the act of stepping from the threshold, was the
figure of a boy with an old straw hat on his head and--in his
hand--the pocketbook!

He was standing with his head turned towards the corner of the house
as if listening, with one hand holding his ragged coat open and the
other poised in mid-air with the pocketbook, as if he were just going
to put it in his inside pocket. The whole scene was as clear as
noonday, and nobody with eyes in his head could have failed to
recognize Ned Brooke.

"Goodness!" I gasped. "In with it--quick!"

And we doused the thing into the fixing bath and then sat down
breathlessly and looked at each other.

"I say, Amy," said Cecil, "what a sell this will be on the Carrolls!
Ned Brooke couldn't do such a thing--oh, no! The poor injured boy at
whom everyone has such an unlawful pick! I wonder if this will
convince them."

"Do you think they can get it all back?" I asked. "It's not likely he
would have dared to use any of it yet."

"I don't know. We'll have a try, anyhow. How long before this plate
will be dry enough to carry down to the Carrolls as circumstantial
evidence?"

"Three hours or thereabouts," I answered, "but perhaps sooner. I'll
take two prints off when it is ready. I wonder what the Carrolls will
say."

"It's a piece of pure luck that the plate should have turned out so
well after the slap-dash way in which it was taken and used. I say,
Amy, isn't this quite an adventure?"

At last the plate was dry, and I printed two proofs. We wrapped them
up carefully and marched down to Mr. Carroll's.

You never saw people so overcome with astonishment as the Carrolls
were when Cecil, with the air of a statesman unfolding the evidence of
some dreadful conspiracy against the peace and welfare of the nation,
produced the plate and the proofs, and held them out before them.

Mr. Carroll and Cecil took the proofs and went over to the Brooke
shanty. They found only Ned and his mother at home. At first Ned, when
taxed with his guilt, denied it, but when Mr. Carroll confronted him
with the proofs, he broke down in a spasm of terror and confessed all.
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