The “Hornby Cross,” having accomplished its voyage in safety, was viewed with considerable interest as it was being manœuvred into Millwall Dock, whither it had brought a cargo of grain from India. Among the onlookers were a few whose attention was the result of curiosity alone; but the greater part of the small crowd assembled at the dock gates had business of some sort on board. There were relatives and friends of the returning seafarers, eagerly looking out for their own folk, and anxious to see them again after their long voyage. And there were numbers of touters for nearly every trade that can be patronised by seafarers. There was also Mr. Gay, a detective whom we have met before, talking to an elderly clergyman and a slim young man, whose clear blue eyes keenly watched the operations on board the incoming vessel.
Presently she was near enough to be boarded by the most venturous spirits in the crowd, and these were soon clambering about in what seemed a very reckless fashionto those unused to the sight. Among the first to touch the “Hornby Cross’s” deck was Mr. Gay, and he at once made for the captain, who was standing on the bridge, contentedly watching the operations of the dock pilot, into whose charge the vessel had been put.
“Good morning, sir,” said Mr. Gay, touching his hat in greeting. “I am glad to see you safe in port. My name is Gay. You will have received the note I sent you by the pilot this morning.”
“Your name is Gay, is it? Well, I guess you won’t feel like your name for a bit. Your note came too late, sir.”
“The deuce! Do you mean to say that Morton, as he calls himself, has given us the slip?”
“I do. You see, I would have done my best to help you if I had had only half a notion who my passenger was. As I hadn’t, you can’t be surprised at being done.”
“But the man really started from Bombay with you?”
“Yes, he really did. But he didn’t choose to come all the way with us, and I had no reason for supposing that he was wanted here. We had to call at Gibraltar for bunker coals, and Mr. Morton expressed a fancy to remain behind and explore Spain. I reckon he had funked about coming to England, and thought the Spaniards would be better chums with a rogue.”
“My clients will be dreadfully disappointed. Everything seems to go against them.”
“It seems to me that in this case it is your own stupidity that has gone against them. You must excuse the remark, but it expresses what I think.”
“And in what way have I been stupid, may I ask?”
“Well, you might have found out where we were likelyto bunker. The owners would have given you the information. Then you could have come out to intercept your man before he had a chance to clear, instead of waiting here expecting him to walk into the trap set for him. Or you could have cabled to me to detain him. But, of course, these little items are things a detective wouldn’t be likely to think of.”
“I feel quite grateful for your sympathy in my disappointment, Captain Criddle, but feel it necessary to correct you in a few particulars. Even though only a detective, I was struck with the idea that it would be wise to consult the owners. Their information left only the course adopted open to me. I was told that you had probably already taken in bunker coals at Malta, and that you would not be calling at any other place before your arrival in England. It is only six days since we learned that Morton, or, more correctly speaking, Stavanger, was on board your ship, and either meeting him, or cabling to have him detained was out of the question. You received instructions through the pilot at Gravesend, and I fail to see what further steps could have been taken for the man’s capture, unless we had been more accurately informed of your proceedings by your owners.”
“Oh, well, it isn’t their fault, as they knew no different. But I haven’t time to talk any more, as I have a swarm of people to see. Good afternoon.”
Thus peremptorily dismissed, Mr. Gay found it necessary to return to shore without the prize he had hoped to land with him, and his professional chagrin was mingled with real sorrow for the bitter disappointment of his clients. He was not a little angry withCaptain Criddle for his want of sympathy and his unflattering insinuations. These were, no doubt, prompted by the reluctance felt by most people to have anything to do with a criminal case in any shape or form, and Detective Gay was not far wrong when he suspected Captain Criddle of being rather pleased than otherwise that the expected arrest had not taken place on board his ship.
That the Corys were deeply dismayed is a foregone conclusion, and that Mr. Cory thought it useless to make further investigations for a while is not surprising.
“The man won’t have stayed in Gibraltar, that is certain,” he said. “And if we were to go there, and follow up the trail, it is doubtful if we could ever track him and secure his return to England. So long as he chooses to remain in Spain, so long is he safe. Even if he leaves there I’m afraid his pursuit would be but a wild goose chase. His predilection for aliases will make identification difficult, and he seems to possess some abnormal instinct that cautions him against coming danger.”
“I think myself, sir,” observed Mr. Gay, “that he won’t come back to England, at all events, until he has run through his plunder. Even then he may be quietly supplied with money by his father, whom we believe to to be in league with him. If I were you I would not move in the matter for a while, in order to lull all suspicion of pursuit. If we can stumble on Captain Cochrane in the meantime, so much the better. We may be able to prove Mr. Riddell’s innocence through him.”
“And if we do not stumble on Captain Cochrane?” inquiredAnnie, whose assumption of masculine garb made it more imperative upon her to keep her composure than would have been the case had she been figuring simply as Annie Cory.
“In that case it will be difficult to bring conviction to the minds of judge and jury, if you decide to move for a fresh inquiry.”
“But the ring which the present captain of the ‘Merry Maid’ is bringing home with him?”
“That may prove valuable evidence, or it may not, just as it happens.”
“It is bound to be valuable evidence when it is identified as part of the stolen property, as it is sure to be.”
“By whom?”
“By whom? Why, by the Stavanger Bros., or by Mr. Riddell, who inventoried the goods the night they disappeared.”
“Well, I don’t want to dishearten you too much; but I feel it my duty to show you how difficult the case really is. No doubt Mr. Riddell could recognise this diamond ring. But would his word be accepted? He was convicted of the robbery by overwhelming evidence, which it is now to his interest to negative by every means in his power. It is, therefore, natural that he should try to remove the onus of guilt from his own shoulders to that of another, by swearing to property traced to that other’s possession. Pray, don’t be angry! I am not stating a private conviction that Mr. Riddell would swear falsely, but that a chuckle-headed judge or jury would be likely to think so. When a man is once down, the world likes to keep him down.”
“But,” put in Mr. Cory, “there are the Brothers Stavanger,who would know the ring as well as Mr. Riddell, presumably better.”
“And how are we to guarantee that they will aid the ends of justice by identifying that which will help to prove the son of the one and the nephew of the other to be a thief, a perjurer, and an absconding vagabond? The reputation of both the firm and the family depends upon Hugh Stavanger’s safety. I firmly believe that they have already done some false swearing in the matter. Is it likely that they will reverse their former tactics and play into our hands now?”
“I’m afraid you are right. Still, we have several things to fall back upon that will help us, even if the evidence of the ring proves valueless.”
“It cannot prove valueless,” said Annie now, with considerable decision. “Captain Gerard will relate how he became possessed of it, and there is his letter to us by way of corroboration of his evidence. The Maltese jeweller will also help us, if necessary. So, even if we cannot bring the real culprits up for judgment, we can move for a new trial, and even if judge and jurors are as addlepated and obstinate as you would have us to believe, they must see that the case is much deeper and more complicated than they supposed. And if it is their natural propensity to doubt the word of people accused of crime, they will be as likely to exercise it upon the man now accused. Mr. Peary, our solicitor, must push things on without delay, and we will rely upon such evidence as we can produce, if we can secure a new trial. Meanwhile, there is still time to do some active work, and a plan I have in my head may result in the discovery of a clue to Hugh Stavanger’s whereabouts.”
What that plan was Annie would not disclose, though pressed upon the point both by her father and the detective. The latter was very much annoyed at the turn events had taken, and was by no means sanguine as to the ultimate results of the investigations that were being pursued on Harley Riddell’s behalf. But he went away with a higher admiration of Annie Cory’s pluck than he had ever felt for that of any woman in his life.
“She is game to the core,” he thought, “and if anybody can help the poor fellow in gaol, it is his sweetheart, who, it seems to me, cannot be daunted. She is one in a million. Most girls would have sat down and fretted, instead of trying to remedy the evil. Well, good luck to her, say I. If a girl like that doesn’t deserve to succeed, nobody does.”
From which remarks it may be gathered that Mr. Gay was not one of those who, to cover their discomfiture, would begrudge success to another, because he or she did not happen to be in the profession.
A few weeks later the “Merry Maid” was safely docked again, and Annie, accompanied by her father, and still figuring as Mr. Ernest Fraser, was sitting in the cabin of the steamer talking to Captain Gerard. They had awaited his arrival at the dock, being too impatient to stay at home until he had time to visit them.
His face lengthened considerably as he listened to the long account of disappointment and failure they had to give him.
“Well, I’m hanged if ever I knew anything like it,” he said at last, in a tone of great vexation. “I thought everything was plain sailing, and never dreamt that Stavangerwould alter his mind about coming on to England. You can’t touch him in Spain, and for anything we know he may stick there. I wonder where Cochrane is. He must have taken the alarm, too.”
“We hope to be able to help the case considerably by means of the ring you wrote to us about,” observed Mr. Cory.
“Well, the imp of mischief seems to be at work,” said the captain, emphasising his vexation by an oath. “Even the ring will be no use as evidence now. At Malta we coaled, coming home. There I met an old chum, who, like myself, was on his first voyage as master. I’m afraid we both jubilated till we were half seas over. I was cutting a dash with the diamond ring at the time. My friend offered to go on board my ship with me. As we were being rowed to the ship he noticed my ring, and made some remark about it. I pulled it off to show it to him. Whether it was his fault or mine I hardly know, but between us we let the ring drop into the water, with the result that it is lost beyond recovery.”