CHAPTER VII.THE STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE AND STRANGER RECOVERY OF THE COUNTESS'S DIAMONDS.
A barefaced robbery— The police at fault—I form a theory—success crowns my efforts—the restoration of the valuable dressing-case.
All London was talking about the robbery. It was the most barefaced theft attempted for many years. In broad daylight at a busy London station a dressing-case containing jewels of the value of £50,000, some of them impossible to replace, vanishes as if by magic, and notwithstanding the extraordinary exertions of detectives both public and private, not a trace of it can be found.
It was the duty of the lady's maid not to lose sight of this valuable dressing-case on the journey, and while she waited for the train she took the precaution to sit on it. It was to the bookstall for a paper or to the refreshment room for a bun she went, but the interval was long enough for the thief—during the few seconds she was absent the dressing case had been spirited away and no trace of it could be found of it in the station. The poor girl who had served her mistress, whom she adored faithfully, for several years, was distracted, and it was feared she would go out of her mind. She was a well conducted girl, and came from the same district as the countess. It was impossible after the most diligent enquiry to connect the servant with the theft. There was a man servant, but he was in a different part of the station at the time, and no collusion could be attributed to him. The large reward of £2,000 was a temptation, but its announcement in all the papers yielded no results. Agents scoured Europe in search of the missing property without getting the smallest clue to its recovery.
The affair was in this unsatisfactory state when I happened to run against D——, one of the smartest officers of the Metropolitan police.
"Nothing has been heard of the countess's jewellery?" I asked.
"Nothing whatever; we are beaten; everything has been tried and a large amount of money spent on the enquiry," D—— answered. "The earl said we were to spare no expense. Several articles of the jewellery were heirlooms, worth double their real value."
"It seems extraordinary; have you formed no opinion?"
"I suspected one of the servants to be in communication with the thief, but a month's close surveillance upsets that theory. The servants are innocent."
"Did none of the less valuable jewellery ever find its way to the pawnbrokers?"
"Not a single thing. Everybody has been on the alert, but we are just as far forward as when we commenced."
"Your advertisements were peculiarly worded. Did they bring no replies?"
"Only some ridiculous suggestions."
You see you labour under this difficulty. You cannot offer through the public prints to compound a felony; that would be illegal; and the thief is not such a fool, after running the tremendous risk and getting such a magnificent haul, to take the bait. He fancies the large reward hides a trap which will hold him fast for many years."
"In all such cases that is the difficulty we labour under. In offering a reward we rely chiefly on a dissatisfied accomplice taking Queen's evidence, but it is almost certain that there was only one man in this business."
"How do you arrive at that conclusion?" I enquired.
"Five minutes after the robbery took place the investigation commenced, and everybody was questioned. The porters did not see any two men near the spot but there were several men lounging about singly by themselves."
"I suppose a woman had no hand in it."
"The act was too daring; only a man could have walked off with that dressing-case in the daylight with a station full of passengers."
"Tell me," I said, "after the dressing-case disappeared, when did the next train leave the station."
"In five minutes. The countess intended to travel by that train, but the loss of her dressing-case prevented her."
"You have my address; send me a list of the stolen things and a company's time-table, with the train which started five minutes after the robbery marked in ink, and take care there is no mistake about the train. I have been thinking a good deal about this matter, and have set up a theory of my own."
"There is one thing you may be certain about. You have no ordinary criminal to deal with."
"I am not quite of your opinion, but if anything comes of my researches you shall have a portion of the reward."
Whether it is my peculiar bent of mind or not, I cannot say, but I have often in the course of my lifetime amused myself by taking up mysterious cases where the police were at fault, and not always without success. The countess was one of the most beautiful women of her time, and as good as she was beautiful. She was naturally much grieved at the loss of the family jewels, and the numerous valuable presents she had received from royalty and others on her marriage. The earl was terribly annoyed at the theft, and blamed the countess for losing sight of the dressing-case. Every assistance, so far as publicity was concerned, was given by the press, and theTimeshad a leader about one of the missing stones, which had once been the eye of an idol in India.
The list of the stolen valuables and the marked time-table were promptly sent to me, and as I had some leisure at the time I went immediately to work to test the soundness of my theory. The robbery was committed five minutes before a certain train started, and the culprit may have left by that train.
I commenced my researches by booking by the same train to the first station at which it stopped. Here I made copious notes of the families living in the neighbourhood, and whether any of them had journeyed from London on the day in question. The station-master, an intelligent man, ran over the different names and referred to his books, but could not enlighten me. To the best of his belief, he could say that no first-class passengers arrived by that train. Next day I took the second station at which the train stopped, but with the same result. The third station did not advance me in the slightest degree, but I was not discouraged. I was determined to follow that train to its journey's end, and ascertain as well as I could what passengers alighted from it at the different stations. As it was an express train my task would soon be finished. When I had done the last station I found from my note book that about eight first-class and some seventy or eighty passengers of an inferior class had travelled from London by this particular train.
I began with the first-class passengers, and took them in rotation as they resided nearest to London. The excuse I made for calling upon them was that I had lost a valuable dog on the day named by his jumping out of the carriage at the station, and that perhaps their servants might have seen something of him. Everywhere I was treated with courtesy except when I intruded myself on a nervous old gentleman living in an old-fashioned villa about sixty miles from London.
He commenced by saying he did not keep a diary, so could not say whether he was in London or not that day; he was not in the habit of looking after stray dogs; he was astonished at my troubling him on such a trifling matter, and rather rudely wished me good-day.
I wrote under this man's name: "Manner peculiar and suspicious." Nothing could be gleaned from the remaining three first-class passengers, who turned out to be old ladies, sisters of a clergyman. Before tackling the second-class passengers I resolved, notwithstanding his repulsive manner, to pay the nervous old gentleman another visit. But this time, however, I made up my mind to adopt different and bolder tactics. There was no doubt that he had returned home by the 5.10 p.m. train.
His start of surprise at seeing me again gave me hope.
"It is not a dog this time I have come to ask you about, but as you were at the London station at the moment the disappearance occurred I am here to enquire whether you saw the dressing-case referred to in this advertisement," I said, handing him the announcement from theMorning Post. He shook like a leaf in a stiff breeze.
"Who are you?" he nervously inquired. "Are you a detective?"
"That is my card."
"Then you don't belong to the police?"
"Certainly not."
"Then, may I ask what brings you here? Your dog was a subterfuge; I suppose. Do you suspect me, a man who has held Her Majesty's commission, to be guilty of theft?"
"Not at all," I answered, "but I have a theory that the countess's dressing-case was not stolen, but carried off by mistake, and that the present possessor of it is, after all the outcry, either ashamed or afraid to send it back."
"A fine theory. Suppose it correct, could anything be done to the man who gave it up?"
"Nothing whatever."
"You, perhaps, don't know the law. Are you sure of that?"
"Quite sure."
"Well," he whispered, "I have got the dressing-case, and the possession of it has almost killed me. Come, and I will show you how the infernal error occurred."
He took me into his bedroom, and produced two dressing-cases so exactly alike I could scarcely distinguish them.
"This one," he said, "belonged to my deceased wife, and I had it with me in London. When the train was about to start I saw what I thought was my case lying on the platform, instead of being placed in the carriage by the porter, and I immediately went and took possession of it. I did not discover the stupid mistake until my arrival at home. I was the only passenger in the railway compartment, and my servant took everything out as a matter of course. The question is how is it to be restored safely, and without publicity. It would kill me with shame if my name appeared in the papers in connection with this affair."
I could see that my irascible friend spoke the language of truth. The advertisements were withdrawn, the enquiry stopped, and the countess received her valuable dressing-case intact, and with apologies without number from the hands of the man who had carried it off by mistake.
What he would have done with it had I not appeared on the scene, I cannot guess.