THE LUCK OF THE ILLINGWORTHS.
Danby Traverswas annoyed. He was one of the founders of the Burglars' Club. His entrance fee had been the temporary abstraction from the Crown Jewels of the Koh-i-noor itself. Two years ago he had kept up his membership by the burglary of the Duchess of Guiseley's emeralds; and now, by the unkindness of Fate or the simple cussedness of his committee, he could only renew his subscription by purloining the Black Pearl of Agni. It showed the folly of becoming the champion jewel burglar of the club.
Of course it was pure coincidence, for only four people knew that he was in love with Mary Illingworth. Mary knew it, because he had told her; Lord and Lady Illingworth, because they had been fatuously consulted in the matter; and he, Danby Travers, because of a stuffy, despairing feeling somewhere in his chest from the moment of awakening in the morning down to the last gleam of consciousness at night.But the Burglars' Club did not know it, nor did they know that Lord Illingworth had told him that in future he was not to cross the baronial threshold; and all because, despite his brilliant record in India and at Hurlingham, he, Danby Travers, was as poor as a chapel mouse.
Therefore he received the mandate of the club with something less than his usual urbanity. But reflection brought a Mephistophelean suggestion of comfort. He had been unable to rob Lord Illingworth of his fairest daughter. He would at any rate purloin his most valued jewel.
The Black Pearl of Agni was world-renowned. During the military operations in the Western Deccan in 1803 it had been looted by a certain Major Illingworth, of the Bengal Native Infantry, from a rich temple dedicated to the Hindoo God of Fire. From that day his fortunes had prospered amazingly. Promotion came for the asking; wealth by marriage and bequest. Influence, social and political, had followed, and a title. Succeeding generations had added to the score. Two descendants of the sepoy major had attained Cabinet rank, and the present peer had won the Derby. TheLuck of the Illingworths had become proverbial.
woman seated at a table before an idol; man leaning toward her"SHE . . . HAD SHOWN HIM THE SECRET OF ITS HIDING-PLACE."(p. 40.)
(p. 40.)
The jewel was kept at Knowlesworth. Travers knew the place well. He had spent a fortnight there, and there he had made love to Mary Illingworth. She had shown him the Pearl; and, because he was to be her husband, had shown him the secret of its hiding-place. Little did he think at the time that the next occasion on which he entered that room would be as a burglar—an amateur one, it is true, but still a burglar.
No wonder that Danby Travers was annoyed. The only justification for his conduct that he could think of was that the temporary loss of the Pearl would probably have a beneficial effect on Lord Illingworth's character.
He had received the secretary's intimation on the Friday morning. He had to show the Pearl at the next meeting of the club—on the following Tuesday night. That gave him four days for the business.
Knowlesworth was sure to be full of visitors, for Lord Illingworth had succeeded a late Master of Balliol in entertaining the most distinguished week-end parties in thecountry. Travers turned to thePost, certain to find the list. Ah! here it was:
"Lord and Lady Illingworth are having a large party at Knowlesworth, entertaining the Bohemian Ambassador and Countess Polsky, the Duke of Strathpeffer, the Marquess and Marchioness of Bridlington, the Dean of Penzance, Professor Rawson, and others."
"What a crew!" thought Travers. "Wouldn't Strathpeffer be pleased if I came a cropper! I wonder he can go there after Mary's last refusal. I'll wait till they thin a bit. Some are sure to go on Monday, so Monday night is my best time for the job. Now for Bradshaw."
On the following Monday night, Travers took a second-class ticket at Charing Cross in order to minimise the chance of running against friends. From sheer curiosity he chose a compartment in which two singular-looking men were already seated. The weather was by no means cold, yet they were swathed in winter clothing. Thick mufflers were round their necks. Their faces were partly hidden by the wraps, and partly shaded by the broad brims of silk hats built about the time of the Crimean War.But their race was unmistakable—to Travers at least. They were Hindoos—the tall one probably a man of caste, the podgy person possibly a Baboo.
In his interest at coming across these strange people Travers forgot his ultimate objective. He settled himself in his corner, prepared either to join in conversation with, or merely to watch, his quaint fellow-travellers.
On his entrance they had turned their eyes upon him, but they had resumed their conversation. As the train got on its way they raised their voices, and, confident of not being understood, they spoke with absolute unrestraint. Travers, with knowledge derived from ten years' service in the Madras and Indian Staff Corps, was easily able to follow their talk.
"At last," said the tall man, as the train moved out of the station.
"At last," repeated the other. "Buck up. Now is the conclusion of your spacious quest."
"Say rather the beginning. So far it has been easy, despite the horror of mingling with these barbarians. To lose caste was foreseen, but now we enter upon the unknown."
"Nevertheless, I take the liberty of emphasising the necessity of bucking up. To-morrow you will be a thrice happy man, and I will weave a garland of marigolds for your honourable head. Gosh!" This as the train entered a tunnel with a hideous shriek. "It is a taste of the underworld," he added.
The tall man shuddered, and remained silent. As the train emerged his companion gave a very creditable imitation of the whistle and the tunnel.
The tall man smiled sadly.
"Ramma Lal," he said, "I envy you your merry disposition. It was in a good moment that I met thee in Bombay,baboo-jee. You have served me well in guiding me hither, and in enlivening me on the long journey."
"Your honour is pleased to be excessively gracious," said the Baboo with absurd complacency. "Indeed, my tip-top spirits have been of much service to myself and many other honourable gentlemen, and have been extraordinarily admired by English ladies." He pulled out his watch. "In the space of half an hour we shall have arrived at our long-intended destination."
"So soon? Show me the plan again to refresh my memory."
The Baboo produced a piece of paper, over which they bent their heads.
"Here is the railway station at which we shall dismount. This pink streak is the highway-road along which we shall travel, eventually reaching the big brass gates belonging to ancestral home. A little beyond is a diminutive wall, which we ascend and descend. Then we step across the park and round the lake. Here and here. This sepia mark is water. Now we are in the pleasure garden. This is the hinder part of the house. Here is the right wing. The fifth window in the second row. That is your bull's eye."
"Go on," said his companion, gloomily.
"Your honour will divest yourself of polished hat and other garments, which you will transfer to my care in summer house. Here, behold it, painted in vermilion. You will climb up to the window. Inferior but friendly servant has arranged that it shall open easily. Once in the room the deed is as good as accomplished. You know the hiding-place of the jewel."
Travers started. "The hiding-place of the jewel!"
"Yes," said the gloomy Hindoo; "I know it. But Krishna Bürkut knew it twenty-five years ago, and the Swâmi Râm Nâth knew it fifty years ago, and yet another Swâmi seventy-five years ago, but none of these restored it to the Temple of Agni. All failed in their quest, and never regained their caste. I too shall fail."
"Allow me to have the felicity of indicating at least one point of difference between your honour and gentlemen mentioned," replied the Baboo. "Your honour has intelligent assistant, while enumerated catalogue had not. Have the kindness to point out fly in our ointment. It is distinguished by its absence. The jewel is yours."
"Perish the jewel!" cried the other Hindoo in a sudden outburst of fury. "Why couldn't theHuzoorhave left it alone, or have taken another jewel? Why should he have singled out the one above all others necessary to the happiness of Agni? And why should I, of all the priests of the Temple, be chosen to restore the sacred stone? Here, with five thousand miles ofspace between us, I declare to you, Ramma Lal, I do not fear the wrath of Agni. I call him humbug. I read Shakespeare. I write him an ass. I am doubtful even of Vishnu and Siva."
Travers paid no attention to Ramma Lal's reproachful reply. He was lost in amazement. Here, on the very night he had chosen for purloining the jewel, two other men were on the same errand. Stop. There was a reason for their date. They had mentioned twenty-five, fifty, and seventy-five years. It was evidently an anniversary. Every twenty-five years an attempt had to be made to restore the jewel to the Temple of Agni. Three attempts had already been made in vain, and now, on the hundredth anniversary of the theft by Major Illingworth, another attempt was in progress.
At any rate, he was forewarned. The house was a mile and a half away from the station by the main road on which the Hindoos were going. He knew a cut across the fields which shortened the distance by half a mile. He would gain ten minutes. In that ten minutes he had to obtain the Pearl.
The train pulled up at Knowlesworthstation. The two Hindoos stepped out. Travers followed. He watched them start along the road; then he briskly cut across country.
The church clock struck eight as he reached the terrace in front of the hall. From the beginning he had matured only one plan of campaign. He knew the rules of the house, and he would take advantage of them. From eight to nine the men-servants were busy in the dining-room. Anyone could open the main outer door and enter. He might, of course, be seen, and in this eventuality Travers relied upon his being known to allay suspicion. He was in evening dress, and temporarily, at any rate, would strike a servant as being one of the guests.
The nominal dinner-hour was eight. It had been his intention to enter at 8.20 in order to allow for any delay either on the part of the kitchen or the guests. Dinners at Knowlesworth were notoriously unpunctual, and if he entered now he might run into the house party or meet stragglers on the stairs. He must wait. But the Hindoos were marching down the road. Each instant brought them nearer. In ten—no, in eight minutes—they would be in the garden. Yet he dare not enter.
He waited impatiently in the shadow of the great portico. It was now 8.10. He would make an attempt.
He slowly pushed back the heavy door, and entered the vestibule. This was cut off from the hall by big glass doors, and then by heavy curtains. Still more carefully he opened the inner door, and then quickly closed it again. Through the opening had come the sound of voices and laughter. They were gathered in the hall before the fire, waiting for the summons to dinner. So there he stayed, cursing the unpunctuality of the house, and unquietly reflecting that a casual remark as to the present state of the weather might lead to the glass door being opened and himself ignominiously disclosed.
And Mary would witness his humiliation. Nay, she might even be the innocent cause of it. She was within half a dozen yards of him now, separated only by some glass and a curtain. Yet he could not speak to her—could not even see her. Ah! that was her laugh. And that Strathpeffer's raucous voice. Hang Strathpeffer!
It was now 8.15. The Hindoos were in the garden. The situation was distracting. At any moment they might enter the Temple room.
Ah! there was the sound of movement within. The guests trooped past the door. Their voices died away. All was still.
It was nineteen minutes past eight. Travers hesitated no longer. He unbuttoned his top-coat, and, with cap in hand as though he were a guest just come in from a stroll before dinner, he opened the hall door.
No one was in sight. He crossed the hall, and stepped lightly up the stairs. At their head he passed a maid. She certainly took him for a guest.
He went straight down the great corridor, and then branched to the left. It was the third door ahead. He pulled back the panel as Mary had shown him, undid the bolt from within, and entered. The room was in darkness. He struck a light, half expecting to find the Hindoo disclosed. No, he was alone, and the Pearl still there.
It was a room without furniture. In the centre was a replica of the great idol of Agni at the temple from which the Pearl had been looted. The god sat there, smug,cross-legged, and hideous. The eyes fascinated the beholder. The left one was of marble; the right made of a stone worth a prince's ransom—the one known throughout the world as the Black Pearl of Agni. At the god's knees, their holders resting on the floor, were two gigantic candles. Travers lit them.
Baboo raising arms in distress before idol"A CRY OF DESPAIR ESCAPED HIM."(p. 51.)
(p. 51.)
Then he stepped quickly to the idol, and sought the left hand of the god. He pressed the nail of the fourth finger. The god's right eyelid lifted, and the complete stone was disclosed. Travers quickly abstracted it, released the lid, and put the Pearl in his pocket.
His object was accomplished. But what was that? Listen.
There was a sound at the window. The Hindoo was there—beaten by half a minute.
Travers turned to the door. Then, impelled by an overpowering curiosity to see the end of the drama, he slipped to another window, and got behind the curtain.
There was a faint whistle from below. Hang it, what a fool he'd been! The Baboo had seen the momentary disarrangement of the curtain, and had observed his figure against the light, and now he was alarminghis friend. But the latter heeded not. Perhaps he was too excited to understand, or even to hear him.
The sash was raised, the curtain pulled back, and the Hindoo stepped into the room. He was almost naked, and his bare limbs shone with a coating of oil. He took one step forward, and looked up eagerly into the idol's face. Then a cry of despair escaped him. The stone for which he had travelled five thousand miles was not there. He had lost his caste. It could never be regained, since he had failed in his quest. Never again could he see his native land. Under the crushing blow he sank, a comatose heap, on the floor.
The minutes passed, and Travers shifted uneasily behind the curtain. There were sounds from the garden—then approaching footsteps in the corridor. The door was flung open, and Lord Illingworth burst into the room, revolver in hand. The Duke of Strathpeffer followed with other guests, and some footmen. The Hindoo stared dully at them, but did not move. He was promptly seized.
"The Pearl—where is it?" demanded Lord Illingworth.
The Hindoo did not reply.
Lord Illingworth pointed to the empty socket, and repeated the question, but the Hindoo merely shook his head.
"Search him," said Lord Illingworth.
He was searched, but, of course, nothing was found.
Lord Illingworth stood over him.
"Where is the Pearl?" he thundered, but again the Hindoo shook his head.
"Bring in the other man," said Lord Illingworth.
The Baboo entered, limp and crestfallen, in charge of two stablemen. A boy carried a silk hat and some winter clothing.
"Ask him what he has done with the Pearl," said the peer.
Ramma Lal put the question.
"I have not got it. It was not here when I came."
The Baboo repeated this to Lord Illingworth.
"It is a lie," he replied. "It was here an hour ago. I saw it myself."
"Thesahibknows that thou liest," said Ramma Lal to his friend. "Tell him a finer tale."
But the Hindoo only protested his innocence.
"What does he say?" demanded Lord Illingworth.
"He says," replied the facile Baboo, "that no sooner had he taken the Pearl than there was the flash of fire and much smoke. When it cleared away the stone had vanished. Doubtless Agni the god had come for his own."
Lord Illingworth blazed with fury.
"He has swallowed it," he said. "We shall have to cut him open."
Ramma Lal translated this terrific threat. The Hindoo gave a yell. Despair lent him strength. With a serpentine twist he slid from the grasp of one of his captors and knocked up the arm of the other. The window was still open. He sprang through it into the darkness of the night.
Lord Illingworth ran to the window, fired blindly, and then rushed from the room. The others followed. Only the Baboo, his two captors, and the boy with the clothes remained.
"Come along," said one of the grooms.
"Stay for one moment, I beseech you,"said Ramma Lal, "and let me worship Agni the god."
"None of yer blarney," returned the man. But the other, who was of a romantic temperament, said, "Wot's the odds? Let the heathen do it if he wants."
"You see, gentlemen," said the Baboo eagerly, "it is my very last opportunity. I shall be lifelong imprisoned for the inauspicious event of this evening. It is positively my last appearance in the open. Let me worship Agni as I do in my own land. No Englishman has yet witnessed the entire ceremony. It shall not take long. I will compress my supplications. Five minutes will be ample dispensation."
The grooms looked at each other. Their curiosity settled the matter.
"We'll give you four minutes, so look sharp," said one.
"Thank you," replied Ramma Lal gratefully. "Agni will bless you for your beneficence."
The men released their hold. One closed the window, the other shut the door, and placed himself before it.
Ramma Lal took off his silk hat, muffler, and coat. He advanced to the idol andsalaamed low three times. Then he raised his eyes and sang.
Travers knew the song. It was a ribald ditty of the bazaars, and it had as much to do with the worship of Agni as with the laws of gravitation.
He watched the Baboo with increasing interest. He had evidently some ulterior object in view, but what was it? Ah!
Ramma Lal had gradually approached the idol. Still singing, he had bowed his head till it had almost touched Agni's knees. Travers hardly saw the movement of the hands. Only an Oriental could have done it so swiftly. The two candles were suddenly extinguished, and the room was in absolute darkness.
With loud imprecations the two grooms rushed to where the Baboo had been—to collide with each other, and incidentally bring down the huge candlesticks. Then recovering, they dashed about the room in search of their prisoner, only to seize the boy who had the clothes. Finally one of them struck a light.
They were alone with the boy. The window was again wide open.
The men leaned out. There was nomoon. The lights of the searchers flashed in the distance. They turned blankly to each other.
"There'll be pop to pay for this," said the boy, who was still suffering from rough usage in the dark. "You'll both jolly well get sacked."
"All your blamed fault for lis'nin' to his tommy rot," said the one man savagely to his companion.
"Who'd have thought he was so cunnin'?" rejoined the other. "Wot's the good of talkin' here? Come out an' look for him. He may have broke his neck," he added hopefully.
Again the lights flashed in the garden, and then gradually extended beyond. Travers waited until he was sure there was no one below. Then he emerged from his recess, and followed the Indians through the window. Leaving the park to the searchers, he kept to the main avenue, and soon gained the high road. A ten-mile walk brought him to Dorton junction, where he just missed the last train to town.
The sun was high when Danby Travers reached his rooms, and it was late in the afternoon when he awoke. The morningpapers and his letters were at his bedside. He at once opened one of the former, curious to see if there was any reference to the events of the previous night.
Good heavens! What was this?
"BURGLARY AND FIRE AT KNOWLESWORTH.THE ILLINGWORTH PEARL STOLEN.THE HALL GUTTED."Knowlesworth Hall, the historic seat of the Illingworths, was last night the scene of two extraordinary events."Lord and Lady Illingworth were entertaining one of their famous week-end parties at dinner when a daring and successful attempt was made to steal the celebrated Pearl of Agni, the largest known black pearl in the world."A native Indian was found in a summer house in the Italian garden by a servant. As several determined attempts to steal the Pearl had already been made, the safety of this remarkable jewel was at once called into question. Lord Illingworth and his guests hurried to the Temple room, where the great Pearl was kept, and there found another native, who was promptly secured. The Pearl was missing, and the strictest search failed to bring it to light. It is believed that the thief has swallowed it, a fact which it is to be hoped that the X-rays will be able to demonstrate."Owing to gross mismanagement somewhere, the two natives escaped from custody, and it was midnight before they were again apprehended—one of them at Dorton, in a state of collapse from fear and cold; the other at Lingfield, defiant, but suffering from a sprained ankle. They will be brought up to-morrow at the Dorton Petty Sessions."Scarcely had Lord Illingworth and his guests retired to rest after an exciting evening than they were again alarmed, this time by an outbreak of fire in the Temple room. Its cause is unknown, but the flames, assisted by a high wind, spread with extraordinary rapidity, in spite of the prompt measures taken by the Hall fire brigade. Engines quickly arrived from Lingfield and Dorton, but the supply of water was totally inadequate, and it soon became evident that the whole structure was doomed. At the moment of telegraphing, the fire was raging furiously, but all sleeping in the house had been rescued without injury."In one night Lord Illingworth has lost his great family jewel and his ancestral seat. The 'Luck of the Illingworths' seems to have deserted him."It is a remarkable coincidence that a fire consumed the Hindu Temple of Agni the night that the Pearl was taken from it by Major Illingworth in 1803."Agni is the Hindu God of Fire."
"BURGLARY AND FIRE AT KNOWLESWORTH.THE ILLINGWORTH PEARL STOLEN.THE HALL GUTTED.
"Knowlesworth Hall, the historic seat of the Illingworths, was last night the scene of two extraordinary events.
"Lord and Lady Illingworth were entertaining one of their famous week-end parties at dinner when a daring and successful attempt was made to steal the celebrated Pearl of Agni, the largest known black pearl in the world.
"A native Indian was found in a summer house in the Italian garden by a servant. As several determined attempts to steal the Pearl had already been made, the safety of this remarkable jewel was at once called into question. Lord Illingworth and his guests hurried to the Temple room, where the great Pearl was kept, and there found another native, who was promptly secured. The Pearl was missing, and the strictest search failed to bring it to light. It is believed that the thief has swallowed it, a fact which it is to be hoped that the X-rays will be able to demonstrate.
"Owing to gross mismanagement somewhere, the two natives escaped from custody, and it was midnight before they were again apprehended—one of them at Dorton, in a state of collapse from fear and cold; the other at Lingfield, defiant, but suffering from a sprained ankle. They will be brought up to-morrow at the Dorton Petty Sessions.
"Scarcely had Lord Illingworth and his guests retired to rest after an exciting evening than they were again alarmed, this time by an outbreak of fire in the Temple room. Its cause is unknown, but the flames, assisted by a high wind, spread with extraordinary rapidity, in spite of the prompt measures taken by the Hall fire brigade. Engines quickly arrived from Lingfield and Dorton, but the supply of water was totally inadequate, and it soon became evident that the whole structure was doomed. At the moment of telegraphing, the fire was raging furiously, but all sleeping in the house had been rescued without injury.
"In one night Lord Illingworth has lost his great family jewel and his ancestral seat. The 'Luck of the Illingworths' seems to have deserted him.
"It is a remarkable coincidence that a fire consumed the Hindu Temple of Agni the night that the Pearl was taken from it by Major Illingworth in 1803.
"Agni is the Hindu God of Fire."
"Thank Heaven, Mary's safe!" ejaculatedTravers. "I hope she hasn't had a great fright." Then, after a pause, "And Ramma Lal caught, after all! He deserved a better fate. What an uncommon good thing I got the Pearl! If I hadn't taken it, the Indians would have been well on the way to Bombay with it by now, and if neither of us had taken it, the stone might have been burnt up. Would it, though? There mightn't have been a fire at all. Rummy notion that Agni should blaze the whole show in revenge for my desecration! It shan't interfere with my feelings of satisfaction. I'm a public benefactor—an Illingworth benefactor, anyway. I shall explain this to my lord at an early date. Hullo, what's this? A lawyer's letter. I can tell 'em by the smell. What's he threatenin' this time?"
But it wasn't a threat. It was simply an intimation that under the will of Colonel Thomas Archer, a distant relative lately deceased, he, Danby Travers, succeeded to the whole estate, a bequest made "on account of intrepidity shown in the recent Iráwadi campaign." The income therefrom, the solicitor added, was estimated at about £3,000 per annum, and he would be pleasedto have an expression of Mr. Danby Travers's wishes with respect to the same.
£3,000 a year! Travers jumped out of bed and executed a series of gyrations. £3,000 a year! That meant Mary. But did it? It was a fortune to him, but how would Lord Illingworth view it? Well, if he didn't like it he needn't. Mary and he were now independent of everybody.
He made his way to the Burglars' meeting in a blur of happiness. He was rather late. Other men were there already, and they one and all congratulated him.
"Aren't you rather premature?" he asked. "You haven't seen the Pearl yet."
"Bother the Pearl," said Altamont. "We mean the title."
"What the deuce are you drivin' at?"
"Haven't you seen the papers?"
"Crowds of 'em, and lawyers' letters too. My head's buzzin' with 'em. What is it this time?"
"Your cousin tumbled down some stone steps in Vienna last night, and you are Lord Travers now—that's all!"
Danby sat down. This final stroke of fortune was too much for him.
"I can't say I'm sorry," he blurted atlength. "Bertram wouldn't have been sorry if it had been me. And I'm glad about the title because of——. Here, I say, you fellows, what's come over the world since last night?"
"The Black Pearl of the Illingworths has changed hands, we hope," said the Secretary, who wanted to start the business of the evening.
"The Black Pearl has, and the Luck of the Illingworths went with it. They've had a fire, and I've got a bequest and a title. Perhaps you fellows'll be more superstitious in future. That's what brought my luck, anyway." Saying which, he produced the Black Pearl of Agni.
To his unbounded joy and immense surprise Lord Illingworth received the missing stone from London during the course of the next day.
The Indians had been remanded for a week, pending further inquiries, and as they had obviously not stolen the jewel after all, Lord Illingworth declined to prosecute, and they were released from custody. An unknown friend interested himself in the natives. One of them, a Baboo, was sent back to Bombay by an early steamer. Theother, who refused to return to India, thanks to the same unknown benefactor, was put in the way of earning his living by teaching Hindustani. He has since gone over to the Mohammedan faith.
With repossession of the Pearl, good fortune came once more to the Illingworths. In making excavations consequent on rebuilding the Hall, a coal seam was discovered, which eventually doubled the family wealth.
The Black Pearl of Agni is now protected from burglars by many quaint electrical conceits. When the next anniversary comes round any Indian visitors will have a very lively time of it.
Later on in the year a marriage took place between Mary, younger daughter of Lord and Lady Illingworth, and Danby, ninth Baron Travers, a nobleman who had been mentioned in despatches in the Iráwadi campaign, and who was not unknown at Hurlingham. His clubs were the Marlborough, Brooks's, and the Burglars'.
THE FELLMONGERS' GOBLET.
"Mr. Septimus Toft,—Sir," the letter ran. "The 'tecs are on the scent. If you want any further information meet me at the Blue Lion, Monument, at nine-thirty to-morrow evening without fail.—Yours, etc.,J. Driver."
Mr. Toft stared at the letter with much disgust and more alarm. It was certainly a regrettable communication for a commercial magnate, a magistrate, and a pillar of society to be obliged to attend to. It would have troubled him had it come before Bowker had absconded, but now it was much worse. Bowker would have shared the anxiety, and interviewed "J. Driver." He could have guessed on what particular scent the detectives were engaged, and his fertile ingenuity would have suggested an obvious way of circumventing them, whereas Mr. Toft's unaided vision saw none.
"Nine-thirty to-morrow evening." Mr. Toft smiled feebly at the humour of thesituation. To-morrow evening at eight o'clock he was advertised to take the chair at a Young Men's Mutual Improvement meeting, and the gentleman who was to deliver the evening's lecture occupied the post of his Majesty's Solicitor-General. "He will probably have to prosecute me on behalf of the Crown," thought Toft; so he determined to propitiate him by special attention to his discourse and by frequent applause.
On the following evening Mr. Toft made his way to the Blue Lion. The lecture had not been a success as far as he was concerned. Try as he might, he could not concentrate his thoughts on the subject. He had applauded at wrong places. Once a titter from the audience had resulted, and the Solicitor-General had turned on him a look of pained surprise. In the agony of the moment he had pulled the table-cloth, and the glass of water thereon had upset, incidentally splashing the lecturer. The titter developed into a laugh, through which a legal glare had petrified him.
At nine o'clock the lecture was over. The Solicitor-General listened in silence to Mr. Toft's apologies, and then bowed coldly.Mr. Toft felt that he was lost indeed if it came to the Law Courts, and hurried away to his appointment in a state of feverish anxiety. He had come to the lecture in a soft wide-awake hat and the oldest top-coat in his wardrobe. He now donned a woollen muffler, and put on a pair of smoked glass spectacles. This was his idea of disguise. It was simple, but ineffective; for the highly-respectable mutton-chop whiskers, the weak mouth, and cut-away chin were as noticeable as ever. His most casual acquaintance would have recognised him, and would merely have concluded that he was engaged in something disreputable.
At the Monument he dismissed his cab, and made his way to the Blue Lion Inn. It was a fifth-rate house in a fourth-rate street. Mr. Toft had never been in such an unpleasant place in his life, and he groaned as he thought that the exigences of commerce had driven him there in his old age without even the excuse of foreign competition.
It was 9.45 when he entered the inn, and he hoped that the quarter-hour he was late would impress J. Driver with the conviction that he, Toft, was not at all particularabout keeping the appointment. Apparently it did strike Mr. Driver in this way, for as the be-muffled and be-spectacled gentleman in the soft hat entered the tap-room a sarcastic voice loudly expressed the hope that he hadn't permanently injured his constitution by running. Mr. Toft was grieved at the publicity given to this remark. He sat down by the speaker, and murmured excuses; but Mr. Driver, if it were he, would have none of them. "When I says 9.30 I mean 9.30, and not 9.50, nor 9.60, nor yet 9.70. If my time won't suit you, yours won't suit me. I'm off," he said.
Mr. Toft was alarmed. "Sit down, please," he said, clutching the rising figure. "I'm sure I'm very sorry. I had made an engagement before your letter came, and I couldn't very well put it off. What will you have to drink?" he added adroitly.
"Gin and bitters," was the prompt response, and Mr. Driver sat down.
Mr. Toft now had leisure to take stock of his surroundings. J. Driver was a dark-haired man with a bold, clean-shaven chin. His voice was deep and emphatic, and his eye was piercing. He was broad and muscular, and would probably be a good boxer,thought Mr. Toft. He glanced at the drinkers at the other tables, but finding their eyes were fixed stolidly on him he looked elsewhere. He had noticed eyes and noses—that was all.
"Now to business," said Mr. Driver. "You know my name, and I know yours. That's where we're equal. You're in a beastly hole, and I aren't. That's where the difference comes in."
"I don't understand," said Mr. Toft. "In fact, I haven't the faintest idea what you are alluding to."
"Garn," said J. Driver, with a dig in the ribs that made him jump. "Garn! you old dodger. What about Government contracts?"
"What about them?" asked Mr. Toft, shrinking from his familiarity.
"What about them?" echoed the other. "What about work you never did, for which you've got false receipts? What about contracts executed with inferior stuff? What about commissions to officials, tips to men, and plunder all round?"
Mr. Toft paled at this catalogue of his business achievements. "You are misinformed," he said. "My firm does not do such things."
J. Driver thrust his tongue into his cheek. "Then how did you get your contracts, Septimus?" he asked.
"By honest competition in the open market," replied Mr. Toft loftily.
Mr. Driver laughed derisively. "Lord!" he said at last, "I wish I had your artless style. Stick to it, Mister, in the prisoner's dock. It may pull you through."
"I presume you haven't asked me here simply for the purpose of insulting me?" said Mr. Toft, with some dignity.
"What a man you are!" Mr. Driver replied, with unstinted admiration. "You must be a thought-reader, Septimus—a bloomin' thought-reader. You're quite right; I haven't. I've come for the loan of a key, and one of your visitin' cards."
"A key?" said Mr. Toft, relieved, though much surprised.
"The key of the plate chest of the Fellmongers' Company."
Mr. Toft raised his eyebrows. "You're joking," he said.
"Do I look like a joker?" replied his companion fiercely. "Do I look like a joker?" he repeated loudly, banging his fist on the table so that all turned their eyesin the direction of the noise. Mr. Toft implored him to restrain his feelings.
"Don't rouse 'em then!" said the man. "Have you got the key on you?"
"Er—yes," responded Mr. Toft.
"Then hand it over."
"My dear sir," began the unhappy Septimus.
"I'm not your dear anything," said the other; "so don't you pretend that I am. I'm as meek and pleasant as a cow to those that treat me fair and square, but when I'm irritated I'm a roarin' bull. Hand me the key."
"I can't."
"You can't. Right'o!" said Mr. Driver, rising. "At present the Admiralty only suspect. To-morrow they'll know, and you'll know too, Septimus Toft, when you get five years without the option of a fine."
"Please, please don't speak so loudly," begged Mr. Toft, beside himself with fears and anxieties. Then, to put on time whilst he collected his scattering thoughts, "What do you want to do with the key?"
"Wear it with my medals, of course," said the man sarcastically. "If you want further pertic'lers you won't get 'em, but Ipromise to return the key within forty-eight hours, and all your plate'll be there."
"It's a very extraordinary idea," said Mr. Toft incredulously.
"It is; and I'm a very extraordinary man, and you're a bloomin' ordinary one. Will you let me have the key and a visitin' card, or not?"
"If anyone asks how you got them what will you say?"
"Say I took 'em from you while you were asleep in an opium den, or when we met in a tunnel—any blessed thing you like."
Mr. Toft scarcely heard him. He was thinking over the pros and cons of the situation as rapidly as his nervous system would allow. He was Treasurer of the Fellmongers' Company, and he alone had the key of the plate safe. In the ordinary course of events he would be elected Prime Warden next year, but if there were any trouble about the plate he might not be. Better that, though, than a public exposure of his business methods. The key might have been stolen from him. Everyone lost keys now and then. Of course no one could think that the theft was to his advantage, and itwould save him from all bother at the Admiralty—but would it?
"If I let you have the key," he asked, "how do I know that you won't come in a similar way again?"
"Give it up," said Mr. Driver. "Never was good at riddles, and I didn't come here to be asked 'em neither. What the blazes do I care about what you'll know or what you won't know? I know what I know, and that's enough to account for your hair bein' so thin on top. If you don't hand me that key without any more rottin' I'll just drop this in the first pillar-box I come across." He pulled out a fat blue envelope and flourished it in front of Mr. Toft's blinking eyes. It was addressed to the Financial Secretary of the Admiralty, and was marked on one side "Important," and on the other "Private and Urgent." There was an immense seal with the impression of a five-shilling piece.
"Your death-knell's inside," said Mr. Driver. "Hear it rattle," and he shook the envelope in Mr. Toft's ear. "But it wants a stamp, or the Government might not take it in. On such trifles do our destinies depend, Septimus. Have you got a stamp?"He put an anticipatory penny on the table.
Mr. Toft hesitated no longer. From one end of his watch-chain he detached a gold key, which he handed covertly to Driver.
"Now your visitin' card."
Mr. Toft produced one, and handed it over. "You'll give me that letter now," he pleaded.
J. Driver shook his head, tore up the packet, and put it into the fire. "Better there," he said oracularly. "Now, Toft, my boy, don't worry. You'll have that key back by Friday, and all your spoons'll be in the box. If you don't interfere you'll never hear of me again, and the Admiralty won't either; but if you take one step behind my back I'll do all I've threatened, and a lot more, and you'll be building Portland Breakwater on Christmas Day. By-bye, Septimus."
With this Mr. Driver rose, and stalked out of the room. After a modest interval Mr. Toft followed.
At 9 a.m. on the following morning the bell of the Fellmongers' Company pealed vigorously. The porter hurried to answer it, and found a lady on the doorstep. Shewas neatly dressed, and was strikingly handsome. She might be twenty-five years old. A boy carrying a portfolio and a strapped-up easel stood behind.
"Is this the Fellmongers' Hall?" she asked.
"It is, Miss."
"I want to know if you will be good enough to allow me to copy a painting you have on your walls? I do not know if it is necessary to have any written permission, or where to apply for it."
"The 'All is open to the public under my supervision," said the porter pompously. "Come inside, please."
"Thank you," replied the lady. "Put those things down, Johnnie. That's right. I'll let you know when to come for them. Good-morning."
"We don't often 'ave hartists 'ere, miss," remarked the porter, "and I sometimes thinks as pictures is wasted on gentlemen dinin' with City Companies. They ain't runnin' pertic'ler strong on hart just then. Which one is it you want?"
"I don't know the title," replied the artist, "but I shall know the picture when I see it. It's a portrait."
"P'raps Nicholas Tiffany," the portersuggested, "the first warden of the company, painted by 'Olbein. Born 1455. Lived to the ripe age of ninety-four, and died regretted by his sovereign and his country. His estates were seized by his creditors. Here he is, miss."
The man opened the door of the Livery Room, the walls of which were hung with many pictures. "This is Tiffany," he said, pointing to a disreputable-looking portrait.
The lady looked at it doubtfully. "The painting I want is the one nearest to the door of the plate room," she said.
"Then it's a good bit away from it, miss. The plate room is off the Banqueting 'All, and they are all windows on that side. The pictures are opposite."
"Dear me," said the lady. "How very stupidly I have been informed. Please show me the room."
The porter led the way, and threw open the door with pardonable pride. "The Banqueting 'All of the Honourable Company of Fellmongers!" he exclaimed. It was the famous hall in which heads of City Companies and ruling sovereigns are intermittently entertained. Down one wall were ranged portraits of eminent fellmongers.The other three were pierced by doors and windows.
"Which is the plate room?" asked the lady.
"This is the door of the plate room," the porter replied. "Anyone enterin' without authority, day or night, sets in action two peals of electric bells, and aut'matic'ly discharges a revolver shot through the sky-light."
"How very interesting!" the lady remarked. "Now I must find my picture." She looked round the room, and finally selected one.
"Jeremiah Crumpet," said the porter. "A haberdasher by birth, but eventually Junior Warden of our Company. Painted by Merillo. Never gettin' beyond pot'ooks 'imself, he founded the Company's Schools at Ashby de la Zouch."
"I'm sure that's the man," said the artist. "I'll bring my things in if I may. Is there a Mrs. ——? Jeckell, thank you. I should like to see her about some water for my paints."
"I'll tell you what, Maria," said Mr. Jeckell some hours later. "If she's a hartist I ought to be President of the Royal Academy.I never saw such drawin' in my life. She can't get his face square nohow. He's smilin' in the picture, but she's made him lockjawed an' moonstruck. She says if she can't get him right she'll have to turn him into a shipwreck. She must be what the papers call an himpressionist. She spoke twice about the plate room, so I've wheeled my chair into the 'all to keep my eye on her. I'll go back now and see what she's hup to."
Mr. Jeckell would have wondered less at her drawing if he could have seen the note the lady had referred to in his absence:
"An attempt will be made during the next three days to steal a cup from the plate chest at the Fellmongers' Hall. For certain reasons warning of this must not come to the authorities from without. Apply for permission to copy painting or to sketch interior, and watch. Should any other than the Company's servant enter the plate room suggest doubt as to his credentials, and do all you can to secure his arrest. Another agent will watch the premises from 5 p.m. to 9 a.m."
While Mr. Jeckell was on his way to his chair there came another peal from thefront-entrance bell. A man in a bowler hat, and carrying a handbag, was outside.
"Mr. Toft has sent me for the Nelson Goblet," he said.
The porter was surprised. "Got a note?" he asked.
"The guv'ner gave me this," said the man, handing a card, "and the key."
"What does he want it for?" Mr. Jeckell asked.
"Got a big guzzle on at 'ome. Wants to cut an extra dash in centre-pieces."
Mr. Jeckell shook his head gravely, but made no remark. "Come along," he said shortly.
He led the way across the vestibule into the Banqueting Hall, where, behind her easel, a lady was evidently busy with her picture. He stopped at a door, which he unlocked, and both men passed through. Barely had they done so when the artist ran from behind her easel into the outer hall. "Mrs. Jeckell! Mrs. Jeckell!" she called out.
The porter's wife appeared.
"A man has gone into the plate room with your husband. I'm sure he is a thief. Warn Mr. Jeckell to get full authority before he does what this man wants."
"Gracious me!" cried the alarmed Mrs. Jeckell. "A thief! He may be murderin' Samuel!"
She rushed across to the plate room, and in a minute a storm of voices proceeded therefrom. Finally the three emerged, two hot and flurried, and the stranger, looking cool and determined, carrying a bag in one hand and a gold cup in the other. The porter hung on to his arm.
The artist was in front of the door. When she saw the man with the bag and cup she gave a little gasp of surprise, and a wave of colour overspread her face.
The man seemed equally astonished. "You!" he said at last.
"They're both thieves," whispered Mrs. Jeckell to her husband. "They're acting in collision. I'll shout for the perlice while you keep 'em." And she ran from the room.
"You are in danger," said the artist rapidly in French. "Put the cup in your pocket. Give me the bag, and knock the porter down."
The man obeyed with the promptitude of a soldier. Leaving Mr. Jeckell prostrate on the floor, they hurried from the Hall. Atthe street door was Mrs. Jeckell, wildly beckoning to a distant policeman.
"You take down there," said the artist. "Good-bye." She ran off in the opposite direction, still holding the bag, and dived down a side street.
Mrs. Jeckell grew frantically insistent to the policeman, who now came up. "Which one?" he puffed.
"The man. No, it's in the bag. Both of 'em," she cried.
At this moment her husband appeared at the door, with blood streaming from his nose. "They've killed Samuel," cried his horrified wife, running to him; but the policeman, though he wore the badge of St. John of Jerusalem on his arm, dashed down the street after the lady.
By the time he returned, after a fruitless pursuit, Mr. Jeckell's nose had stopped bleeding. "Did you hever?" said the porter. "What the blazes did she mean by first givin' the alarm and then aidin' and abettin'? And she looked so innercent-like, too. The first hartist as I've ever encouraged, and the larst. Whatever will Mr. Toft say, Maria? It's as much as my place is worth. After all these years of faithful service, too!"
But Mr. Toft was less demonstrative than might have been expected.
The next gathering of the Burglars' Club proved the most important in the history of the Club since its foundation. Every detail of it is firmly impressed on the memory of each member present; yet they never by any chance refer to that meeting. One and all would like to forget it—if they could.
It was held at Marmaduke Percy's rooms, his Grace of Dorchester, the President of the year, being in the chair.
The Secretary read the minutes, and concluded: "The business of the evening is the payment of an entrance fee—the Nelson Goblet of the Fellmongers' Company—by Martin Legendre Craven, fourth Baron Horton, a cadet member of the Club."
Lord Horton entered, bowed, and amidst general applause, placed on the table a richly-chased goblet of gold.
"Lord Horton's entrance fee being paid," said the President, "I now move that he be enrolled as a full member." Carried unanimously.
"My lord, you are one of us."
Lord Horton advanced to the table and looked round with calm deliberation. Hewas a notable man—the best amateur low comedian of his day, a traveller who had pressed far into Thibet, a diplomatist at the mention of whose name the Turk shifted uneasily in his seat and fixed his eyes despondently on the floor. He had won his V.C. in China. He had done many things.
"Your Grace, my lords and gentlemen," he said. "I thank you. In accordance with the usual custom of your Club I will explain how I have been able to fulfil my appointed duty. I received an intimation that the Nelson Goblet of the Fellmongers' Company was my entrance fee, and at once took steps to procure it. The matter was hardly difficult. A list of the Company showed me that the treasurer and plate-keeper was a certain Mr. Toft. The directory informed me that he was a steam-tug owner and a contractor to the Admiralty. Inquiry there told me he was under suspicion of bribery and corruption. I played on this little weakness of his, and, if I am not mistaken, I frightened him into the paths of virtue for the rest of his days. In return, he lent me the key of the plate safe of his Company. In broad daylight I proceeded for my booty. To my surprise, I found that I was expected.Someone had placed an agent on the spot to warn the custodian of the building of my intention. An alarm was raised. My lords and gentlemen, at whose instigation was that alarm raised?"
Lord Horton paused. Members looked at each other in mystified amazement. What on earth was he driving at? Was he waiting for a reply?
The silence grew painful. "Who instigated that alarm?" again the speaker asked.
A voice replied, "Presumably Mr. Toft."
"'Presumably Mr. Toft.' Sir Francis Marwood, I thank you for the suggestion. To continue. An alarm was raised by the agent of someone unknown. This agent was a lady who did not know that she was betraying an old friend. A minute later we were face to face. Instantly she pierced through my disguise, and by her presence of mind and fertility of resource alone did I escape."
"Like Sir Francis Marwood, I thought my betrayer was Mr. Toft, and I hastened to interview that gentleman. I found him in a state of extreme nervous prostration, but I left him convinced that it was not he who had betrayed me. So your suggestion,Sir Francis Marwood, is wrong. Can you give me another clue?"
Sir Francis did not reply. He looked uncomfortable at the attention bestowed upon his remark.
"My next step was to trace the lady who had helped me. That also was not difficult. I did not know she was in England, but being here I concluded that the Foreign Office would have her address. I was not mistaken. I found my friend, and learnt that she had her instructions to raise an alarm from—mark the name well, gentlemen—from Sir Francis Marwood, a member of this Club."
Had a live shell fallen into their midst it would probably have caused less consternation than did this announcement. There was an involuntary exclamation from everyone. For a moment all eyes were fixed on Sir Francis. Then each man drew himself up and stared blankly into space.
"The fame of your Club had reached me, and the novelty of its membership appealed to me." Again Lord Horton was speaking. "I felt that its risks would give a pleasing zest to civilian life, but I did not know that members were allowed to pay offold scores on each other through its medium. Last year I considered it my duty to advise against Sir Francis Marwood's appointment to Lisbon. This was his revenge. I was prepared to run any and all risks from without, but did not anticipate betrayal from within. Gentlemen, you have done me the honour to elect me as a member of your Club. I have paid my subscription. Now I beg to tender my resignation."
"No, no!" responded on all sides. Then cries of "Marwood! Marwood!"
"Order!" called the Duke. "Sir Francis Marwood, we are waiting."
Sir Francis rose. He was a man of some distinction in the diplomatic world.
"Gentlemen," he said, making a desperate attempt to speak his words lightly; "I really did not anticipate the matter would be taken up in this serious way. I do not dispute the accuracy of Lord Horton's statement, though I absolutely deny the motive he has ascribed to me. The reason of my action was simple. This Club was formed by us, not merely for passing time, but for keeping up our wits in degenerate days. To such a man as Lord Horton I felt that the purloining of the Fellmongers' Goblet mustfall flat indeed. I have read the marvellous account of his adventures in Thibet, and I felt that some further spice of danger in this particular affair was necessary to make it worthy of Lord Horton's reputation. I took the liberty of supplying it, though perhaps in so doing I exceeded my rights. If so, I tender my regrets."
Sir Francis resumed his seat amidst loudly expressed disapprobation.
The President rose. "Gentlemen," he said, "you have heard Lord Horton's charge and Sir Francis Marwood's reply. Our Club can exist only as long as there is absolute good faith between its members, and I never dreamt of anything less than this being possible. Two duties are obviously mine. The first, Sir Francis Marwood, is to inform you that you are no longer a member of the Club. The second is to express our sincere regrets to Lord Horton, and our earnest hope that he will reconsider his resignation."
Sir Francis rose, pale and defiant. "So be it, Duke. Some day you may regret this. Horton, you and I have a big score to wipe out now." Then, with an ugly sneer, "It is hardly necessary to say that the F.O. will no longer require the servicesof a lady who cannot be depended upon; but Lord Horton's interest will no doubt find her another situation."
"Stop!" thundered Horton. "A lady has been mentioned. Two years ago this same lady saved my life in Russia. I asked her to marry me, and she refused, because, absurdly enough, she thought it would spoil my career. We did not meet again till yesterday. Marwood, instead of an injury, you did me the greatest service in the world.
"A week ago I was offered the post of British Agent at Kabul. It was a post after my own heart, but single-handed I should have failed in it. With this lady as my wife anything would be possible. Yesterday I begged her to reconsider her decision, and to help me in my career. I am proud to say she consented. We are to be married at once. Because bachelors alone are eligible as members of your Club, I am forced to confirm my resignation. Gentlemen, and Sir Francis Marwood, good-evening."
Thus did Lord Horton leave the Burglars' Club for married life, happiness, and his brilliant after-career.