Never shall I forget that astounding spectacle. Even as I think of it now, it rises once more before me.
The room, though low, was very long and very broad; I guessed at once that originally it must have been a cellar, or possibly a series of cellars. Now as the brilliant electric rays from a dozen powerful ceiling lamps shone down through their tinted shades, they lit up a collection of treasure such as few indeed can have gazed upon.
Heaped upon trays on tables all about the room were unset precious stones of every conceivable description, which glittered and scintillated in the most wonderful way imaginable. Upon the floor, in rough, uncovered boxes, heaps of gold bracelets and brooches, gold rings and gold chains, gold ornaments and trinkets, and bits of miscellaneous jewellery were piled high in inextricable confusion, as though they had been tossed there to be thrown on to a waste heap. Upon the ground were bars of gold, the thickness of a brick, ranged carefully in rows. At one end of the room was a small smelting furnace, not now alight, and above it an iron brazier. Upon the walls hung sets of furs, many seal-skin and ermine, while at one side of the room, upon the ground, lay piled up some thousands of silver spoons and forks, also silver drinking cups and candlesticks, many silver salvers, and an endless assortment of silver articles of every kind.
When at last I had recovered from my astonishment, I turned abruptly to François, who stood at my elbow.
"This, I suppose," I said, speaking in a whisper, "is a sort of clearing-house for stolen property."
He nodded.
"The largest in the whole of France"he added a moment later, "the largest, possibly, anywhere in Europe. Stolen goods come here from all the Continental centres; also from Great Britain, the United States, and even from Australia."
"But surely," I said, "the police know of this place?"
"They know that it exists, but they don't know where it is. You see how implicitly I trust you, what faith I place in the honour ofa gentleman."
"I think not," I corrected. "You know that my tongue is tiedbecause you saved my life. That is why you trust me."
He smiled grimly.
"But why have you brought me here?" I asked, after a pause.
"For the reason I have namedto show how implicitly I trust you."
It was only then that a thought flashed in upon me.
"You say," I exclaimed sharply, "that jewellery stolen in Great Britain sometimes finds its way here?"
"Most of the English stuff is got rid of in this room."
"And are youdo youryour 'clients' tell you where the 'stuff' comes from?"
"Always," the gaunt man answered. "That is a condition of my taking it off their hands. You will understand that large rewards are sometimes offered for the return of property intact and uninjured."
I paused to collect my thoughts before speaking again, anxious not to make a false step.
"Can you recollect," I said at last, "if jewellery taken from a country house in Berkshire, Englandthe house is called Holt Manorjust after Christmas, ever found its way here?"
The gaunt man reflected for a moment. Then, without speaking, he walked across the room, unlocked the door of a little safe which was let into the wall, took from the safe a fat, leather-bound ledger, opened it, and ran his finger down a page.
"Yes," he said in his deep voice. "The property was valued at about twelve or fourteen thousand pounds. I have here a list of the articles."
Turning, he peered oddly at me out of his strange eyes.
"May I see the list?" I asked quickly.
"Have you a reason for wanting to see it?"
"Yes. Some of the jewellery taken had been generations in the family. If it is intact still, I may be able to get a fancy price offered for it, or for some of it."
"Bien" he said. "Much of the stuff has been melted down, but not all."
I read carefully down the list, which, arranged neatly and systematically, showed at once what had been melted down, and how it had been disposed of, while a complete list was given of articles kept intact. Among the latter I recognized several bits of jewellery which Dulcie had greatly valued, and quickly I arranged with the gaunt man to buy them from him then and there. After that the three of us sat talking for a considerable time, and before the time arrived for me to leave I knew beyond doubt that the jewellery I had caught sight of when Connie Stapleton's bag had burst open in the train had been the jewellery, or some of it, stolen on board the boat.
"Some day we may meet again," I said as I parted from François and his companion, in the little greengrocer's shop.
"Some day we shall," the cadaverous man answered in a strange voice. He extended his hand, and I shook it. A minute later I was in a taxi, hurrying through the streets of Lyons towards the Perrache station.
As the express sped rapidly towards Paris, endless strange reflections and conjectures crowded my brain. Was I acting wisely in thus returning to the French capital, where I might so easily be recognized, seeing how anxious I was that my friends in England should think me dead? I wasI knewthough I did not admit it even to myselfreturning to Paris mainly in the hope that I might catch a glimpse of Dulcie. And yet if I did see her, of what use would it be? Also, what should I do? Let her recognize me, and the plan I had formed to get the scoundrels arrested would most likely be spoiled at onceand more than ever I was now determined to bring them to justice in the end.
I fell into a deep sleep, for I was tired out; I had slept little enough during that night-long journey in the stolen car. When I awoke, the train was steaming into Paris; an official, who had aroused me by rubbing his hand upon my cheek, stood awaiting apourboire.
"Go to the Hotel Continental," I said in French to the driver of the taxi into which I had just stepped with my newly-bought valise. "Get there as quickly as you can."
That I was doing a mad thing in thus returning to the hotel, where in all probability the members of the gang were still staying, I knew. But a man in love hardly reckons with risks, and as I lay back in the taxi, my brain awhirl, I knew that I was as desperately in love as it is possible for man to be.
Parisgay Parislooked gloomy enough in the dull blue haze which hung over and partly enveloped its deserted, dreary streets. Happening to glance up at the windows of a house with green sun-shutters half open, my eyes met those of a faded girl with touzled hair, peering down into the street, and mechanically she ogled me. In disgust I averted my gaze, hating, for the moment, my own sex, which made such women possible. On and on the car rolled. Some revellers in dishevelled evening clothes, their eyes round and staring, their faces ghastly in the morning light, stumbled out beneath an archway above which a lamp burned dully with an orange glow.
Everything and everyone seemed only half awake. The reception clerk at the hotel was sulky and inclined to be argumentative. Yes, he was positive, he said in reply to my inquiry, that nobody of the name of Challoner was staying at the hotel,no, nor yet of the name of Stapleton. They had slept there the night before? Yes, that was quite possible, but he was not concerned with people who had stayed there, only with the people who were there then. He had no idea, he added, at what time they had left, nor yet where they had goneand did I need a room, or didn't I? Because if I didn't I had better go away.
His impertinence annoyed me, but I had too much to think about to have time to lose my temper. I told him I needed a room, and I sent up my valise. A bath, a shave and a change of clothes braced me considerably, and by the time I reached the coffee-room I felt thoroughly refreshed.
What adventures had befallen me since I had breakfasted in that room, only forty-eight hours before, I reflected, as the waiter approached with theFigaro. Breakfast was laid for a hundred or more, but barely a dozen people were in the room. All were strangers to me, so I soon became engrossed in the newspaper.
My attention was distracted by the waiter, who, again approaching, turned up two chairs at my table.
"With all those tables empty," I said to him with a wave of the hand, "you can surely put people elsewhere. I don't want strangers here."
He smiled pleasantly, showing extraordinarily white teeth.
"A gentleman and lady wish to sit at monsieur's table," he said, bowing politely, and still smiling.
"Monsieur will not object?"
He seemed so amiable that I felt I couldn't be rude to him.
"But who are the lady and gentleman? And why did they specify this table?" I asked, puzzled.
The waiter gave a little shrug, raising his eyebrows as he did so.
"How can I tell?" he answered. "They come to the door a moment ago, while monsieur is reading his newspaper; they see monsieur; they speakensemblein whispers for some moments, it would seem about monsieur; and then they call me and tell me to serve theirdéjeunerat monsieur's table."
Hardly had he stopped speaking, when my gaze rested upon two people who had just entered and were approaching.
One was the police official, Victor Albeury. The other was Dulcie Challoner!
They greeted me with, I thought, rather exaggerated nonchalance as they came up, then seated themselves, one on either side of me, Albeury telling the waiter to "hurry up with the breakfast that he had ordered five minutes ago."
I was puzzled, rather than surprised, at the matter-of-fact way that Albeury and Dulcie conversed with mefew things astonished me now. Had we all been on the best of terms, and met after being separated for half an hour or so, they could hardly have been more composed. For five minutes we discussed commonplace topics, when suddenly I noticed that Albeury was looking at me very hard. Dulcie, too, seemed to have grown curiously uneasy.
"Whereabouts is he?" Albeury said quickly in a low tone, glancing sharply at Dulcie. The door was at the back.
"Gone," she whispered. She seemed greatly agitated.
"Mr. Berrington," Albeury said hurriedly, his eyes set on mine, "I suspect that man. They all left last night. He arrived just before they left. I happened to see Doris Lorrimer engaged in earnest conversation with him."
"Of whom are you speaking?" I asked, not understanding.
"Of the waiter at this tablethat polite, unctuous man I saw talking to you. Listen. I have rescued Miss Challoner from Stapleton and her accomplices. We are going to leave Paris for London in less than half an hour; it's not safe for Miss Challoner to stay here longer. And you must travel with us. It is imperative that you should. I can't say more to you now, while that man is hanging about. Tell me quickly, before he returns: what happened to you yesterday? Where were you last night?"
"Oh, Mike!" Dulcie interrupted, "if you only knew the mental agony I have suffered, all that I endured last nightMike, I dreamed that you were dead, I dreamed that they had killed you!"
I stared at her, startled.
"They tried to," I almost whispered. "But they failed, and now I"
"Mr. Berrington," Albeury cut in, "you must forgive my brusquenessyour breakfast will be brought to you in a moment; when it is, don't eat it. Make any excuse you like, but don't eat it."
"Good God!" I exclaimed, instantly guessing his thought, "surely you can't suppose"
"I can, and do suppose. More than that, I am practically certain that"
He cut his sentence short, for Dulcie had signalled with her eyes. The waiter had re-entered the room.
I breathed more freely when at last the three of us were on our way to the railway station. Strange as it may seem, I had experienced some difficulty in ridding myself of the officious attentions of the smiling, smooth-tongued, extremely plausible waiter.
On board the steamer, in a corner of the saloon where none could eavesdrop, I related to Dulcie how I had been bound, gagged, borne out of the hotel upon the stretcher concealed beneath a sheet, and all that had subsequently occurred that I felt justified in telling her. Of the thieves' clearing-house in Lyons and my rescuer's connection with it, also of the discovery of the whereabouts of her stolen property, I could of course say nothing, my lips being in honour sealed.
A little later, as beneath the stars we slowly paced the deckthe sea was wonderfully smooth for the end of FebruaryDulcie opened her heart to me, as I had so long hoped she some day would.
"Oh, if only you knew," she suddenly exclaimed in an access of emotion, after I had, for a little while, tried to draw her on to talk about herself, "if only you knew all that I have been through, Mike, you would be sorry for me!"
"Why don't you tell me everything, my darling?" I answered gently, and, almost without my knowing it, I drew her closer to me. "You knowyou must know, that I won't repeat to a living soul anything you may say."
"Oh, yes, Mike, of course I know," she said, pressing my hands in hers, as though she sought protection, "but there is"
"There is what?"
She glanced to right and left, up the dark deck, and down it, then gave a little shudder. But for ourselves, the deck was quite deserted.
"I hardly know," she almost whispered, and I felt her trembling strangely. "Somehow I feel nervous, frightened. I feel as if some danger were approachingapproaching both of us."
Again she looked about her. Then, as I spoke soothingly, she gradually grew calmer.
"I was very, very fond of Connie Stapleton, you know," she said presently, "and I thought that she liked me. That time, at Holt, when you warned me to beware of her, I felt as if I hated you. She influenced me so strangely, Mike,I cannot explain how. Mike, my darling, I tell you this now because somehow I feel you will forgive me, as at last it's all over. It seems so odd now to think of it, but as I grew to love her my love for you seemed to grow lessI knew from the first that she detested my loving you so, and if I spoke much about you to her it annoyed her. She wanted to destroy my love for you, Mike, but never, all the time I have been with her, did I say a word against you. Do you believe me when I tell you that?"
Later she told me that the woman had quite recently hinted at her doing certain things she hardly dared to think about, and that, the very day before, she had disclosed a horrible plan which she had formulated, in which Dulcie was to play a very important parta plan to do with a robbery on a very extensive scale.
"Oh, Mike, Mike," she went on, "I must have been mad during these past weeks to have listened to what she hinted atI was mad, or else she had completely hypnotized me. You remember Mr. Osborne's being taken to that house in Grafton Street, and kept there in confinement, and the telegram I received that was supposed to come from you? Well, I know now who it was who kept him there a prisoner, and came to him in the dark, and questioned him, and tried to get him to reveal information which he alone could give. The man who did all that was"
A footstep just behind us made us both turn quickly. A faint light still shone along the almost dark deck. Before I could recognize the figure, before I had time to speak, Dulcie had sprung suddenly forward and gripped the muffled man by the arm.
"Father!" she exclaimed under her breath, with difficulty controlling her emotion, "father, what are you doing here?"
Sir Roland, whose appearance the cap pulled over his eyes had partly disguised, made a motion with his hand, enjoining silence. Then, linking Dulcie's arm in his, he walked slowly towards the saloon entrance. I walked beside them, but for the moment nobody spoke.
We presently found ourselves in a small, deserted room, apparently a card room. Here, after carefully shutting the door, Sir Roland seated himself. Then he indicated the seats that he wished us each to occupy, for he was rather deaf.
"It is unwise," he said, as he offered me a cigar, "ever to converse privately on the deck of a steamer. Though I have travelled little by sea, I know that on board ship, especially on a small boat like this, voices carry in an extraordinary manner. Standing down wind of you, on deck, some moments ago, I heard your remarks quite distinctly, in spite of my deafness. I even recognized your voicesuntil then I did not know you were on board."
"But why are you here, father?" Dulcie exclaimed. "When did you leave England?"
"I crossed the night before last. Connie wired to me to come at onceshe said in her telegram 'most urgent,' though she gave no reason for the urgency."
"And have you seen her? Where is she now?"
"I was to meet her in the lounge of the Hotel Bristol in Paris last night. Punctually at nine o'clock, the time arranged, I arrived there. I waited until nearly ten, and then a messenger arrived with a note. It was from her. She said in it that she had been telegraphed for to return to England, that she was leaving by the night boat. She expressed deep regret, and said she hoped that I would come back to London as soon as possibleand so here I am."
Again, for some moments, nobody spoke. Dulcie was the first to break the silence.
"Father," she exclaimed impetuously, "are you really going toare you still determined to marry that woman?"
Sir Roland stared at her.
"'That woman'?" he said in surprised indignation. "Whom do you mean by 'that woman'?"
"Connie Stapleton, father," she answered, looking him full in the eyes. "Have you the least idea who and what she is?"
Sir Roland gazed at her aghast. Then, obviously controlling himself:
"I know that she has done me the honour of accepting my offer of marriage," he replied, with cold dignity. "More than that, I don't ask to know; her circumstances don't interest me; my fortune is ample for both."
Dulcie made a gesture of impatience.
"For goodness' sake, father," she exclaimed, "how can you talk like that? Connie Stapleton is"
She turned to me abruptly.
"Oh, Mike," she said in a tone of great vexation, "tell him everythingI can't."
I cleared my throat to gain time to collect my thoughts. Sir Roland's rather dull stare was set upon my face inquiringly, though his expression betrayed astonishment and keen annoyance.
"It's just this, Sir Roland," I said at last, bracing myself to face an unpleasant task. "You, Dulcie, and I too, have been completely taken in by Mrs. Stapleton. We believed her to be as charming as she certainly is beautiful, we thought she was a lady, we"
"'Thought'!" Sir Roland interrupted, cold with anger. "I still consider her to be"
"Will you let me finish? I say we all thought that, I say we supposed that Mrs. Stapleton was just one of ourselves, a lady, an ordinary member of society. Then circumstances arose, events occurred which aroused my suspicions. At first I tried to dispel those suspicions, not only because I liked the woman personally, but because it seemed almost incredible that such a woman, mixing with the right people, received everywhere, could actually be what the circumstances and events I have hinted at pointed to her being. But at last proof came along that Mrs. Stapleton wasas she is stilla common adventuress, or rather an uncommon adventuress, a prominent member of a gang of clever thieves, of a clique of criminals"
"Criminals!" Sir Roland stormed, bursting suddenly into passion. Often I had seen him annoyed, but never until now had I seen him actually in an ungovernable fury. "How dare you say the lady I am about to marry isis"
"I have proofs, Sir Roland," I cut in as calmly as I could. "You may doubt my word, you can hardly doubt the word of a famous Continental detective. He is on board. I will bring him here now."
As I quietly rose to leave the room, I saw Sir Roland staring, half stupidly, half in a passion still, from Dulcie to me, then back again at Dulcie. Before he could speak, however, I had left the little room and gone in search of Victor Albeury. He was not in his cabin, nor was he in the smoking-room, where men still sat playing cards, nor was he in the big saloon. On the forward deck I found him at last, a solitary figure leaning against the stanchion rail, smoking his pipe, and gazing abstractedly out across the smooth sea, his eyes apparently focussed upon the black, far-distant horizon.
Gently I tapped him on the arm, as he seemed unaware of my approach.
"Well, Mr. Berrington," he said calmly, without looking round or moving, "what can I do for you?"
"Please come at once," I exclaimed. "Sir Roland and Miss Challoner are in the small saloon; we have been trying to explain to Sir Roland that the woman Stapleton is an adventuress. Probably you don't know that she is engaged to be married to Sir Roland. He won't believe a word we say. We want you to come to himto speak to him and open his eyes."
It was no easy matter, however, to get the old man to believe even Albeury's calm and convincing assurance that Connie Stapleton belonged to a gang of infamous people, some of whom we knew beyond question to be cold-blooded assassins. It was due, indeed, largely to Albeury's remarkable personality that in the end he succeeded in altering the opinion Sir Roland had held concerning this woman of whom he was evidently even more deeply enamoured than we already knew him to be.
"But she has been such a close friend of yours, Dulcie," he said at last, in an altered tone. "If she is all that you now say she is, how came you to remain so intimate with her all this time?"
"She has tricked me, father, just as she has hoodwinked you," she answered, with self-assurance that astonished me. "And then she seemed somehow to mesmerize me, to cast a sort of spell over me, so that I came almost to love her, and to do almost everything she suggested. By degrees she got me in her power, and then she began to make proposals that alarmed meand yet I was drawn to her still. Once or twice Mike had warned me against her, but I had refused to believe his warnings. It was only two days ago that the crisis came. She didn't ask me to do what she wanted; she told me Imustdo itand then, all at once, the scales seemed to fall from my eyes. At last her true nature was revealed to me. It was an awful moment, fatherawful!"
Far into the night the three of us remained talking. At last, when we rose to separate, Albeury turned to me.
"I sleep with you in your cabin to-night, Mr. Berrington," he said quietly. "And I have arranged that one of the stewardesses shall share Miss Challoner's cabin. Nobody can tell what secret plans the members of this gang may have made, and it's not safe, believe me it isn't, for either of you to spend the night unprotected. Locks, sometimes even bolts, form no barrier against these people, some of whom are almost sure to be on board, though I haven't as yet identified any among the passengers. You will remember that Lady Fitzgraham's cabin was ransacked last week, though she was in it, and the door locked on the inside. And poor Prestonwe can't risk your sharing his fate."
These ominous warnings would assuredly have filled me with alarm, had not Albeury's calmness and complete self-possession inspired me with a strange confidence. Somehow it seemed to me that so long as he was near no harm could befall either Dulcie or myself. Even Preston's presence had never inspired such confidence as this clever and far-seeing detective's presence had done ever since I had come to know him.
But nothing happened. When I woke next morning, after a night of sound rest, the boat was steaming slowly into port.
Together the four of us journeyed back to town, and for the first time for many weeks I had an opportunity of a lengthy talk with Dulcie. Somehow her association with the woman Stapleton seemed to have broadened her views of life, though in all other respects she was absolutely unchanged. To me she seemed, if possible, more intensely attractive and lovable than during the period of our temporary estrangementI realized now that we had during those past weeks been to all intents estranged. Perhaps, after all, the singular adventures she had experiencedsome which she related to me were strange indeedhad served some good purpose I did not know of. What most astonished me was that, during those weeks which she had spent in close companionship with Stapleton, Gastrell, Lorrimer, and other members of the criminal organization, nothing had, until quite recently, been said that by any possibility could have led her to suppose that these friends of hers, as she had deemed them to be, were other than respectable members of society. Certainly, I reflected as she talked away now with the utmost candour and unconcern, these people must constitute one of the cleverest gangs of criminals there had ever been; the bare fact that its members were able to mix with such impunity in exclusive social circles proved that.
Before the train left Newhaven I had bought a number of newspapers, but not until we were half-way to London did it occur to me to look at any of them. It was not long, then, before I came across an announcement which, though I had half expected to see it, startled me a little. The report of my supposed suicide was brief enough, and then came quite a long account of my uneventful careeruneventful until recently. Turning to Dulcie, who, seated beside me, was staring out at the flying scenery, I handed her one of the papers, indicating the paragraph.
"Good heavens, Mike!" she exclaimed when she had read it. "How awful! Supposing I had read that without knowing it to be untrue!"
She held out the paper to Sir Roland.
"Father, just read that," she said.
He had heard me relate to Dulcie the story of my narrow escape in the forest near Martin d'Ablois, and I was pleased to see a smile at last come into his eyes, for since his cruel disillusionment he had looked terribly depressed.
"After all," I said as he put the paper down, "I am glad I returned to Paris, if only because my doing so has saved you from this shock."
"If I had read that, believing it to be true," he answered quietly, "the shock would probably have killed me."
"Killed you!" I exclaimed. "Oh, no, Sir Roland, a little thing like that would not have killed you; a family like yours takes a lot of killingthe records in history prove that."
He gazed at me with a strange seriousness for some moments. At last he spoke.
"Michael," he said, and there was an odd catch in his voice, "I wonder if you have the remotest conception of the strength of my attachment to you. I don't believe you have. And yet I could hardly be more attached to you than I am if you were my own son."
When, after parting from Sir Roland and Dulcie in Londonthey were to return to Holt directI arrived with Albeury at my flat in South Molton Street, I found a stack of letters awaiting me, also several telegrams. Simon, my man, was expecting meI had telegraphed from Newhavenbut almost directly he opened the door I noticed a change in his expression, and to some extent in his manner. Deferential, also curiously reserved, he had always been, but now there was a "something" in his eyes, a look which made me think he had something on his mindsomething he wished to say to me but dared not say.
I had sent Albeury into my study to smoke a cigar and drink a glass of wine while I went up to my room to have a bath. Simon was still busy with my things when I came out of the bathroom, and, while I dressed, I took the opportunity of questioning him.
"What's amiss, Simon?" I asked lightly.
He looked up with a start.
"Amiss, sir?" he repeated, with obvious embarrassment.
"I said 'amiss.' Out with it."
He seemed, for some moments, unable to meet my glance. Then suddenly he faced me unflinchingly.
"Yes?" I said encouragingly, as he did not speak.
"I'll tell you what's amiss, sir," he answered abruptly, forcing himself to speak. "The day after you'd left, a peculiar-looking man called here, and asked to see you. When I told him you were not at home, he asked if you were out of town. I didn't answer that, sir, but I asked him quite politely if I couldn't give you any message. He answered No, that he must see you himself. Then he started to question me, in a kind of roundabout way, about you and your movements, sir."
"I hope you kept your counsel," I exclaimed quickly, for, excellent servant though Simon, was, he occasionally lacked discretion.
"Indeed I did, sir. Though I was quite courteous, I was a bit short with him. The next day he come again, about the same timeit was close on dinner timeand with him this time was another mana rather younger man. They questioned me again, sir, quite friendly-like, but they didn't get much change out of me. Yesterday they tried it on a third timeboth of them come againand, well, sir, happing to put my hand into my jacket pocket soon after they were gone, I found these in it."
As he spoke he dived into his jacket, and pulled out an envelope. Opening the envelope, he withdrew from it what I saw at a glance were bank-notes. Unfolding them with trembling hands, which made the notes crackle noisily, he showed me that he had there ten five-pound notes.
"And they gave you those for nothing?" I asked, meaning to be ironical.
"Well, sir, they didn't get anything in return, though they expect something in returnthat's only natural. They said they'd come back to see me."
"Did they say when they'd come back?"
"To-day, sir, about the same time as they come yesterday and the day before." He pulled out his watch. "It's close on seven now. Perhaps you will like to see them if they come presently, sir."
"On the other hand, perhaps I shall not," I said, and I lit a cigarette. "At the same time, if they call, you can tell me."
"Certainly, sirif anybody rings, I'll come at once and tell you."
He shuffled for a moment, then added:
"And these notes, sir; am I entitled to keep them?"
"Of course you are. Anybody has a right to accept and keep a gift. At the same time, I would warn you not to be disappointed if, when you try to cash them, you find the numbers have been stopped."
Downstairs, with Albeury, I began to look through my correspondence. The third telegram I opened puzzled me.
"Is it all right?Dick."
It had been awaiting me two days. Guessing that there must be a letter from Dick which would throw light on this telegram, I glanced quickly through the pile. I soon came to one addressed in his handwriting.
I had to read it through twice before I fully realized what it all meant. Then I turned quickly to Albeury.
"Read that," I said, pushing the letter to him across the table.
He picked it up and adjusted his glasses. A few moments later he sprang suddenly to his feet.
"My God! Mr. Berrington!" he exclaimed, "this is most serious! And it was written "he glanced at the date"eight days agothe very day you left London."
"What is to be done?" I said quickly.
"You may well ask," he answered. He looked up at the clock. "The police must be shown this at once, and, under the circumstances, told everything that happened in France. I had hoped to be able to entrap the gang without dealing with Scotland Yard direct."
For some moments he paced the room. Never since I had met him had I seen him so perturbedhe was at all times singularly calm. I was not, however, surprised at his anxiety, for it seemed more than likely that quite unwittingly, and with the best intentions, Dick Challoner had not merely landed us in a terrible mess, but that he had certainly turned the tables upon us, leaving Dulcie and myself at the mercy of this desperate gang. On board the boat I had mentioned Dick to the detective, and told him about the cypher, and the part that Dick had played. He had not seemed impressed, as I had expected him to be, and without a doubt he had not been pleased. All he had said was, I now remembered: "It's a bad thing to let a boy get meddling with a matter of this kind, Mr. Berrington"he had said it in a tone of some annoyance. And now, it would seem, his view had been the right one. What Dick had done, according to this letter just received from him, had been to start advertising in theMorning Poston his own accountin the cypher code which he had discoveredserious messages intended for the gang and that must assuredly have been read by them. With his letter two cuttings were enclosedhis two messages already published. As I looked at them again a thought flashed across me. Now I knew how it came about that my impenetrable disguise had been discovered. Now I knew how it came about that Alphonse Furneaux had been released from the room where Preston had locked him in his flat. And now I knew why the members of the gang had left the "Continental" so suddenly, scattering themselves probably in all directions, and why the woman Stapleton had dashed back to London.
I caught my breath as my train of thought hurried on. Another thought had struck me. I held my breath! Yes, it must be so. Try as I would I could not possibly deceive myself.
Dick had unwittingly been responsible for the murder of George Preston!
This was the most awful blow of all. Unconsciously I looked up at the detective, who still paced the room. Instantly my eyes met his. He may have read in my eyes the horror that I felt, or the strength of my feeling may have communicated my thought to him, for at once he stood still, and, staring straight at me, said in a tone of considerable emotion:
"That boy has done a fearful thing, Mr. Berrington. He has"
"Stop! Stop!" I cried, raising my head. "I know what you are going to say! But you mustn't blame him, Albeuryhe did it without knowingabsolutely without knowing! And only you and I know that he is to blame. Dick must never knownever. Nobody else must ever know. If his father ever finds it out, it will kill him."
For some moments Albeury remained quite still. His lip twitchedI had seen it twitch like that before, when he was deeply moved. At last he spoke.
"Nobody shall ever know," he said in the same strained tone. He paused, then:
"I must talk on your telephone," he exclaimed suddenly, turning to leave the room.
As he did so, Simon entered.
"The two men are here, sir," he said. "I have told them you are quite alone. Shall I show them in?"
They were quietly dressed, inoffensive-looking men, one a good deal younger than the other. Judged by their clothes and general appearance they might have been gentlemen's servants or superior shop-assistants. Directly they saw that I was not alone, the elder, whose age was fifty or so, said, in a tense voice:
"We wish to see you alone, Mr. Berrington. Our business is quite private."
"You can talk openly before this gentleman," I answered, for, at a glance from me, Albeury had remained in the room. "What do you want to see me about?"
"In private, please, Mr. Berrington," he repeated doggedly, not heeding my question.
"Either you speak to me in this gentleman's presence," I answered, controlling my irritation, "or not at all. What do you want?"
They hesitated for barely an instant, and I thought my firmness had disconcerted them, when suddenly I saw them exchange a swift glance. The younger man stepped quickly back to the door, which was close behind him, and, without turning, locked it. As he did so his companion sprang to one side with a sharp cry. Albeury had him covered with a revolver. The younger man had already slipped his hand into his pocket, when I sprang upon him.
Though some years have passed since I practised ju-jitsu, I have not forgotten the different holds. In a moment I had his arms locked behind himhad he attempted to struggle then he must have broken his wrists. Turning, I saw that Albeury had the other man still at his mercy with the revolvernot for an instant did he look away from him.
I was about to call loudly to Simon to call the police, when the elder man spoke.
"Stop!" he gasped, just above a whisper. "You have done us. Give us a chance to escape and well help you."
"Help me! How?" I said, still gripping my man tightly. "What have you come for? What did you want?"
"We're under ordersso help me, we are!" he exclaimed huskily. "We had at any cost to see you."
"And for that you bribed my man, or tried to?"
"Yesto let us see you alone."
Albeury's arm, extended with the cocked revolver, was as rigid as a rock. The muzzle covered the man's chest. Again the man glanced swiftly at the detective, then went on, speaking quickly:
"If you'll let us go, we'll tell everythinganything you want to know!"
I glanced an inquiry at Albeury. Though his gaze was still set upon his man, he caught my look.
"Rightwe'll let you go," he said, without moving, "if you'll tell us everything. Now speak. Why are you here?"
"We're under orders," the man repeated. "We were not to leave this flat with him alive in it," he jerked his chin at me. "If we do we shall be killed ourselves when The Four Faces know. But you've done us. We've got to escape now somehow, if you'll let us, and our only way is to give you information that'll help you to get the whole gang arrested. You've discovered a code we use, and you've tampered with it, and that's what's done it."
"Done what?"
"Got The Four Faces down on you, and made them set on killing you."
"Whom do you mean by 'The Four Faces'?"
"Why, the men and womenyou know them; Gastrell, Stapleton, and the restthe gang known as The Four Faces."
"Why are they known as 'The Four Faces'?"
"Because there are four heads, each being known as 'The Fat Face,' 'The Long Face,' 'The Thin Face,' and 'The Square Face.' And each head has four others of the gang directly under his or her orders."
"And Gastrell and Stapleton are 'faces'?"
"Yes."
"But Gastrell is dead."
"Dead? Gastrell? Impossible!"
"Yes. Go on."
For some moments astonishment held him dumb.
"Gastrell and the rest of them will be at Eldon Hall, in Northumberland, the day after to-morrow," he said at last, "for the coming of age of Cranmere's son. The house is to be lootedcleaned out. Everything is arrangedthe plan is perfectas all the arrangements of The Four Faces always areit can't fail unless"
"Yes?"
"Now that you know, you can warn Cranmere. You must warn him to be very careful, for if they get wind there's suspicion about they'll drop it and you won't catch them. You know the robberies and other things there've been, and nobody's been caughtthey've not even been suspected. Now's your chance to get them allthe first real chance there's ever been. But you mustn't show up, mind that. This house is watchedto see when we come out. Nor you nor your man must go out of this flat till the gang's been caught, every one of themit's the day after to-morrow they'll be at Eldon Hall. They're expecting a gigantic haul there, including all the Cranmere diamondsthey're worth thousands on thousands. You're both known by sight, and if you're seen about we're just as bad as dead."
He stopped abruptly, then went on:
"And you mustn't answer if anybody rings or knocks. And you mustn't answer the telephone. You understand? Nobody must answer it. It's got to be supposed you're both in here, deadyou and your man. They've got to think we done it. There's no one else living in this flat, we know that."
"I can't warn Lord Cranmere if I don't go out of here."
"He can"he indicated the detective. "He can go out at any time. They don't know he's in here. If we'd known you'd anybody with you we'd have come another time. Your man said you were alonequite alone, he saidand, well, we thought the fifty quid had squared him."
Still holding my man tightly in the ju-jitsu grip, I again spoke quickly to the detective.
"Isn't he lying?" I asked. "Is it safe to let them go?"
"Quite safe," he answered, without an instant's hesitation. "I know them both. This fellow has been four times in jailthe first time was seventeen years agohe got fourteen months for burglary; the second time was thirteen years ago, for attempted murder, when he got five years; the third was eleven years ago; the fourth was nine years back. He's got half a dozen aliases or more, and your manlet me see, yes, he's been once in jail: ten years for forgery, went in when he was eighteen and not been out above three years. It's safe to let them goquite safethey've spoken straight this time, couldn't help themselves."
While Albeury was speaking I had seen the men gasp. They were staring at him now with a look of abject terror. But still I held my man.
"I don't like to risk it," I expostulated. "The whole tale may be a plant."
"It's not, Mr. Berrington. I tell you they're straight this time, they've got to be to save their skins. I could put the 'Yard' on to them right awaybut it wouldn't serve our purpose, the gang would then escape."
His revolver still covered the elder man's chest.
"Hand out your gun," he said sharply, "and empty out your pocketsboth of you."
Soon everything the men's pockets had contained lay upon the floor. Among the things were three pistols, two "jemmies," some curious little bottles, and some queer-looking implements I couldn't guess the use of. Just then a thought occurred to me.
"But they'd have robbed this flat," I said, "if what they say is true."
"You are mistaken," Albeury answered. "They didn't come for robbery, but on a more serious errandto put an end to you. I know the methods of this gang pretty well, I can assure you. You would have been found dead, and your man dead too most likely, and the circumstances attending your death would all have pointed to suicide, or perhaps to accidental death. But we've not much time to spare. Come."
He turned to the men.
"Come over here, both of you," he said sharply, and signalled to me to release my man. I did so. To my surprise, both men seemed cowed. In silence, and without attempt at violence, they followed Albeury across to the escritoire. At that moment it was that the bell of the flat rang loudly. Without stirring, we stood expectantly waiting. I had unlocked the door of the room, and presently Simon entered.
"Mr. Osborne would like to see you, sir," he said in his usual tone of deference. "When I told him you had visitors he said he wouldn't come in. He's waiting at the door, sir."
"Jack! Splendid!" I exclaimed. "The very man we want to seeyou have heard me speak of Mr. Osborne, Albeury, and you know plenty about him." I turned to Simon. "Show him in here at once," I said. "If he still hesitates, say I want particularly to see him."
It seemed quite a long time since last I had met Osborneon the night we had gone together, with poor Preston, to Willow Road, and had afterwards been followed by Alphonse Furneaux. I had felt so annoyed with Jack for becoming enamoured of Jasmine Gastrell after all we had come to know about her that I had felt in no hurry to renew my friendship with him. But now circumstances had arisen, and things had changed. If he were still infatuated with the woman, we should, between the lot of us, I thought, quickly be able to disillusion him.
He looked rather serious as he entered, and glanced from one to another of us inquiringly. I introduced Albeury to him; as I mentioned Albeury's name I saw the two scoundrels start. Evidently he was well known to them by name, and probably by repute.
"As I was passing, I looked in," Osborne said, "as we haven't run across each other for such a long time, but I don't know that I've got anything in particular to say to you, and you seem to be engaged."
"But I have something particular to say to you," I answered quickly, coming at once to the point, as Simon left the room and shut the door behind him. "You've made pretty much of a fool of yourself with that Gastrell woman, Jack," I went on, with difficulty restraining the indignation I felt. "You are largely responsible for terrible things that have happened during the past few daysincluding the murder of George Preston."
"Murder? The newspapers said it was suicide."
"Of course they didit was arranged that they should. Now listen, Jack," I continued seriously. "We are on the eve of what may prove to be a tremendous tragedy, of an event that in any case is going to make an enormous sensationnothing less than the capture, or attempted capture, of the whole of the notorious and dangerous gang that a short time ago you appeared to be so desperately anxious to bring to justice. These two men," I indicated them, "belong to the gang in the sense that they are employed by it; but they have now turned King's evidence."
In a few words I outlined to him exactly what had happened. As I stopped speaking, Albeury interrupted.
"And if you will now listen, Mr. Osborne," he said, "you will hear a complete statement of facts which should interest you."
With that he pulled a notebook out of his pocket, opened it, laid it flat on the escritoire and seated himself, producing his fountain pen. Both men stood beside him.
Rapidly he cross-questioned them, writing quickly down in shorthand every word they spoke. Almost endless were the questions he put concerning the whole gang. One by one the name of each member of it was entered in the notebook, followed by an address which, the men declared, would find himor her. The number of members, we thus discovered, amounted to over twenty, of whom no less than eight were women. Jasmine Gastrell's career was described in detail, also Connie Stapleton's, Doris Lorrimer's, Bob Challoner's, Hugesson Gastrell's, and the careers of all the rest in addition. The names of some of these were known to us, but the majority were not. Incidentally we now found out that Hugesson Gastrell had never been in Australia, nor yet in Tasmania, and that the story of his having been left a fortune by an uncle was wholly without foundation. The natural son of well-to-do people in Yorkshire, he had been launched penniless on the world to make his way as best he could, and the rapidity with which he had increased his circle of acquaintance among rich and useful people from the time he had become a member of the gang had been not the least remarkable feature in his extraordinary career.
I shall never forget that cross-examination, or the rapidity with which it was conducted. In the course of a quarter of an hour many mysteries which had long puzzled us were revealed, many problems solved. The woman whose stabbed and charred body had been found among thedébrisof the house in Maresfield Gardens burnt down on Christmas Eve was, it seemed, another of Gastrell's victims; he had stabbed her to death, and the house had been fired with a view to destroying all traces of the crime. Questioned further, the elder of the two scoundrels went on to state that he had been in the house in Maresfield Gardens on the night that Osborne and I had called there, just before Christmas, the night we had driven up there from Brooks's Club on the pretext of Osborne's having found at the club a purse which he believedso he had told the woman Gastrellto have been dropped by Hugesson Gastrell. Other members of the gang had been in the house at the time, the man said,just before we entered they had been in the very room into which Jasmine Gastrell had shown us when she had at last admitted us, which of course accounted for the dirty tumblers I had noticed on the table, and the chair that had felt hot when I sat in it. She had first opened the door to us, the man continued, under the impression that we were additional members of the gang whom she expectedour rings at the door had accidentally coincided with the rings these men would have given. Then, at once discovering her mistake, and recognizing Osborne's voice, she had deemed it prudent to admit us, thinking thus to allay any suspicion her unusual reception might otherwise arouse in us.
He told us, too, that the great cobra kept by Gastrellhe had owned it from the time it was a tiny thing a foot longhad once or twice been used by him in connection with murders for which he had been responsibleit was far from being harmless, though Gastrell had declared to us that night that it couldn't harm anybody if it tried. Indeed, it seemed that his first intention had been to let it attack us, for he feared that our having recognized him might arouse our suspicion and indirectly lead to his arrest, and for that reason he had, while we were left in darkness in the hall, opened the aperture in the wall through which it was allowed to pass into the room into which Jasmine Gastrell had then admitted us. But a little later, deeming that the crime might be discovered in spite of all the precautions that he would have taken to conceal it, he had suddenly changed his mind, unlocked the door, and come to our rescue at the last moment.
The mysterious affair in Grafton Street had been arrangedthey went on to say when threatened by Albeury with arrest if they refused to tell everythingby Hugesson Gastrell and two accomplices, the two men with whom Osborne had entered into conversation on the night of Gastrell's reception in Cumberland Place, and it was a member of the gang, whose name I had not heard beforethe sole occupant of the house at the timewho had questioned Osborne in the dark. Upon the unexpected arrival of the police at Grafton Street this man had clambered through a skylight in the roof, crawled along the roofs of several houses, and there remained hidden until nightfall, when he had escaped down a "thieves' ladder," which is made of silk rope and so contrived that upon the thief's reaching the ground he can detach it from the chimney-stack to which it has been fastened. Jasmine Gastrell herself it was who had sent Dulcie the telegram signed with my name, her intention being to decoy me into the Grafton Street house, where I should have shared Osborne's unpleasant experience. It was Gastrell who had murdered Churchill. Who had murdered Preston on board the boat, they declared they didn't know, nor could they say for certain who had inserted in the newspaper the cypher messages disentangled by Dick, for Gastrell, Stapleton, Jasmine Gastrell, and other leaders of the gang were in the habit of communicating with their crowd of confederates by means of secret codes. Incidentally they mentioned that Connie Stapleton was in reality Gastrell's wife, and that Jasmine was his mistress, though Harold Logan, found in the hiding-hole at Holt, had been madly in love with her.
"There," I said, turning to Jack Osborne as Albeury ended his cross-examination, "now you've got it all in black and white. And that's the woman you've been fooling with and say you're going to marrynot merely an adventuress, but a criminal who has herself instigated common burglaries and has connived at and been an accessory to murders! You must be mad, Jackstark, staring. For Heaven's sake get over your absurd infatuation."
"It's not 'infatuation' on my side only, Mike," he answered, with a curious look that came near to being pathetic. "Jasmine is in love with meshe really is. It sounds absurd, I know, under the circumstances, but you know what women are and the extraordinary attachments they sometimes formyes, even the worst of them. She's promised to start afresh, lead a straight life, if only I'll marry her; she has indeed, and, what's more, she'll do it."
I heard Albeury snort, and even the scoundrels, who had stood by looking on and listening, grinned.
"In forty-eight hours she'll be arrested and sent to jail," I said calmly. "Don't be such an utter idiot, Jack!"
He sprang to his feet.
"Jasmine arrested!" he cried. "My God, she shan't be! I'll go to her now! I'll warn her! I'll"
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Albeury interrupted. "We've a trap set for the whole crew, more than twenty of them in all, and if you warn that woman she'll tell the rest and then"
"Well, what?"
"Our plan will be defeatedmore than that, the whole lot of us in this room will be murdered as sure as I'm sitting here. You've heard the truth about this gang from these two men. You know what a desperate crowd they are; what they'd be like if they get their backs against the wall you ought to be able to guess. Mr. Osborne, unless you pledge your solemn word that you'll not warn Jasmine Gastrell, I shall be forced to retain you here. Mr. Berrington has told you that I am an international police detective. I have, under the circumstances, the power to arrest you."
Osborne was evidently terribly upset. For a minute he sat, thinking deeply. A glance showed how madly in love he obviously was with the woman. Looking at him, I wondered whether what he had said could by any possibility be truethat Jasmine Gastrell had really lost her heart to him. The idea, at first thought, seemed absurd, even grotesque, and yet
Suddenly Jack looked up.
"Supposing," he said, speaking with great deliberation, "I pledge my solemn word that I won't warn her of what you intend to do, or give her any reason to suspect that such a plot exists, and that I undertake to take her abroad with me and keep her there for one year from nowI shall marry her at oncewill you undertake that she shall leave the country unmolested, and be left unmolested?"
I looked inquiringly at Albeury.
"Yes," he said at once. "I agree to thatwe both agree to it; that's so, Mr. Berrington?"
I nodded. A thing I liked about Albeury was that he made up his mind almost instantlythat he never hesitated a moment.
"All the same, Mr. Osborne," he added quickly, "you must pardon my saying that I consider you barely sane. It's no business of mine, I know, but do for God's sake think what you are doing before you bind yourself for life to such a womanthink of it,for life!"
"That's all right," Jack answered quietly. "Don't distress yourself. I know exactly what I am doing, and"
He paused, looking hard at Albeury.
"From now onward," he said slowly, "Jasmine Gastrell will be a wholly different woman. I am going away with her at once, Albeury; to-morrow, at latestwe may even leave to-night. We shall not return to England for a yearthat I promise you. For a year I shall see neither Berrington nor you nor any of my friends. But in a year's time you and Berrington and I, and Jasmine too, will meet again, and then"
The telephone in the flat rang loudly. Albeury sprang up. An instant later he was in the hall, preventing Simon from answering the call. Quickly he returned, while the bell continued ringing.
"What's your codeMorse?" he said sharply to the men.
"Nosecret," the elder man answered.
"Quick, thengo; if it's not for you, say so."
Carefully the man Albeury had cross-questioned unhooked the receiver. He held it to his ear, and an instant later nodded. Then, with the pencil which hung down by a string, he tapped the transmitter five times, with measured beat.
Still holding the receiver to his ear, he conversed rapidly, by means of taps, with his confederates at the other end. From where we stood, close by, the taps at the other end were faintly audible. For nearly five minutes this conversation by code continued. Then the man hung up the receiver and faced us.
"I done it," he said. "Now me and my pal can get away from here at onceand both of you," indicating Albeury and Osborne. "We shall meet our pals who've watched this housewe shall meet them in Tottenham Court Road in half an hour. I've told them we've done out Mr. Berrington and his man. They think you both dead. It's a deal, then?"
"What's 'a deal'?" I asked.
"That you and your man stick in here until after the gang has been taken."
"Yes, that's understood."
"And that you won't answer any bell, or knock, nor any telephone, nor show any sign of life till after they've been took?"
"Of course. That's all arranged."
"Then we'll go, andand good luck to you."
A few moments later we heard them going down the stairs. At once Albeury called Osborne and myself into the room we had just left. Then he rang for Simon.
Everything was quickly settled. Albeury was to go at once to Scotland Yard and make arrangements for the arrest of the gang at Eldon Hall on the following day but one; the arrival of the large body of detectives that would be needed would have, as he explained, to be planned with the greatest secrecy. After that he would catch the night express to the north, and, on the following morning, himself call at Eldon Hall to see Lord Cranmere. He would not alarm him in the least, he said. He would tell him merely that there were suspicions of a proposed attempted robbery, and ask leave to station detectives.
"And I'm to stay here with Simon, I suppose," I said despondently, "until everything is finished."
"Not a bit of it," he answered. "Simon will stay here, and with him a detective who will arrive to-night at midnight. We may need you at Eldon Hall, and you must be there."
"Meet you there? But I have promised those men thatbesides, supposing that I am seen."
"As far as those scoundrels are concerned," he answered, "all they care about is to save their wretched skins. You won't be seen, that I'll guarantee, but none the less you must be thereit's absolutely necessary. A closed car will await you at the Bond Street Tube station at three o'clock to-morrow morning. Ask the driver no questionshe will have his orders."
Some minutes later Albeury left us. Osborne had already gone. I told Simon, who had been taken into our confidence, to pack a few necessaries in a small bag for me, and then, seated alone, smoking a cigar for the first time since my return, I allowed my thoughts to wander.