Miss Hinch

“Even in this underground retreat the bitter breath of the night blew and bit, and the old woman shivered under her shawl.”

Harrison uses alliteration to illustrate the chilliness of the evening. He also uses personification in this sentence, bringing the weather in as an antagonist to the scene’s tension. The characters are unable to escape the cold, just as they cannot escape each other.

“‘Jessie Dark,’ it was manifest, was one of those most extraordinary of the products of yellow journalism, a woman ‘crime expert,’ now in action. More than this, she was a ‘crime expert’ to be taken seriously, it seemed—no mere office-desk sleuth, but an actual performer with, unexpectedly enough, a somewhat formidable list of notches on her gun.”

This passage demonstrates the parallels between the antagonist and the protagonist. Both women are “performers” who are taken seriously in their profession. Dark is an expert in her field, and Miss Hinch is an expert in hers. Harrison builds both up to create more tension between them.

“They say, sir, that, sittin’ around a table with her friends, she could begin and twist her face so strange and terrible that they would beg her to stop, and jump up and run from the table—frightened out of their lives, sir, grown-up people, by the terrible faces she could make. And let her only step behind her screen for a minute—for she kept her secrets well. Miss Hinch did—and she’d come walking out to you, and you could go right up to her in the full light and take her hand, and still you couldn’t make yourself believe that it was her.”

The passage’s first reading illustrates the cleverness and depth of Miss Hinch’s talent. Upon its second reading, once one knows the true identity of the characters, it serves as an example of dramatic irony. Dark is baiting Miss Hinch with praise for her act, trying to see if she will give herself away.

“It seemed like she knew in her own mind just what a woman would do, where she’d try to hide and all, and so she could find them time and time when the men detectives didn’t know where to look. But oh, sir, she’s never had to hunt for such a woman as Miss Hinch before.”

Harrison again applies irony to the scene; Dark talks about her craft and what she knows about Miss Hinch while the woman is on the train with her. Harrison also shows the benefit of thinking like a criminal, specifically a woman, and explains why Dark is successful.

“‘Do, sir! Yell for the police!’ burst from the old gentleman at the door.

‘And have Miss Hinch shoot her—and then herself, too.’”

The elderly man and the young gentleman on the train debate the possible conclusions to the thrilling tale of Miss Hinch. Harrison uses foreshadowing to add to the reader’s sense of unease and the inevitability of the finale.

“She looked at him hesitatingly. He stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, though he knew, in common with the rest of the reading world, that Jack Catherwood’s mother lived, not on 126th Street, but on East Tenth. Presently he wondered if his silence had not been an error of judgment. Perhaps that misstatement had not been a slip, but something: cleverer.”

The two women are caught in a battle of wits, neither certain of who is besting the other or the dire consequences of the game. Harrison increases the suspicion between the characters as the two question the motives and skills of the other.

“He was watching the woman’s faded face intently, and he saw just that look of respectful surprise break into it that he had expected.”

As the two women leave the train, there is a moment of recognition and almost challenge. Harrison draws the two together in the game; in the “respectful smile,” Dark accepts Miss Hinch’s challenge. This moment propels the rest of the narrative.

“And why not? Are we not all equal in the sight of God?”

The murderer, dressed as a clergyman, addresses his victim. Harrison uses dramatic irony by turning this religious notion on its head, but the reader is unaware of the irony until the story’s conclusion.

“Far down the street, nearly two blocks away, a tall figure in a blue coat stood and stamped in the freezing sleet; and the hurrying divine sped straight toward him. But he did not get very near. For, as he passed the side entrance at the extreme rear of the restaurant, a departing guest dashed out so recklessly as to run full into him, stopping him dead.”

The clergyman makes a break for a police officer. The old woman smashes into him, preventing him from making his escape. Harrison uses this passage to sow doubt and lead the reader to believe that the clergyman is making his escape from Miss Hinch. Harrison uses “divine” to add a sense of goodness to the clergyman, further increasing the surprise of the ending.

“The three policemen were momentarily puzzled by this testimony. But it was soon plain to them that if either the woman or the clergyman really had any information about Miss Hinch—a highly improbable supposition in itself—they would never have stopped with peppering the neighborhood with silly little contradictory messages.”

The city’s law enforcement has been buried with false alarms and tips from amateurs. None of them intends to take the cryptic notes seriously. Dark relied upon them to follow her down to the platform and rescue her, so she is now at the mercy of Miss Hinch. The “silly […] messages,” the reader knows, are deadly serious.

“They walked at a good pace and without more talk; and both their speed and their silence had a subtle psychological reaction. As the minds of the four men turned inward upon the odd behavior of the pair in Miller’s restaurant, the conviction that, after all, something important might be afoot grew and strengthened within each one of them.”

Harrison returns to the use of alliteration as the plot and the police race on. The repeated words beginning with an “s” sound draw the reader’s eyes faster across the page as the officers begin their race to the station.

“Down the steps and upon the platform pounded the feet of three flying policemen. But it was quite evident now that the express would thunder in just ahead of them. The clergyman, standing close in front of the woman, took a firmer grip on his heavy stick and smiled full into her face.

‘Miss Hinch, you are not so terribly clever, after all!’”

The clergyman shouts his triumph just as the police officers arrive on the scene. He grasps his cane, ready to strike, as he claims his victory. The narrative initially presents this as a triumph, prompting cheers for the humble man who bests the murderer, before the final plot twist outs the clergyman as the killer.

“The parson’s gentleness and efficiency had already won favorable comments from the bystanders, and of the first quality he now gave a final proof.”

Miss Hinch’s ability to become who she must be is demonstrated again. She continues to present herself as the perfectly pious clergyman as she prepares to make her escape, only moments after orchestrating a murder. Harrison sets up the scene here for the final plot twist.