The Albert Gate Mystery
by Louis Tracy · English · Gutenberg #23150 · 472,680 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Albert Gate Mystery
Author: Louis Tracy
Release date: October 22, 2007 [eBook #23150]
Most recently updated: January 15, 2010
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALBERT GATE MYSTERY ***
Produced by D. Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
THE ALBERT GATE MYSTERY
Being Further Adventures of
REGINALD BRETT, _Barrister Detective_
BY LOUIS TRACY
_Author of_ "WINGS OF THE MORNING," "THE STOW-MARKET MYSTERY," "THE
FINAL WAR," ETC., ETC.
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 9 & 11 East 16th Street, New York :: _1904_
Copyright, 1904
BY R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
[Illustration: Hussein-ul-Mulk. --_Frontispiece._]
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I A MYSTERIOUS CRIME 7
II MEHEMET ALI'S NOTE 18
III WHAT THE POLICE SAW 29
IV THE MURDERS 42
V A STARTLING CLUE 51
VI A JOURNEY TO PARIS 69
VII THE HOUSE IN THE RUE BARBETTE 87
VIII WHAT HAPPENED IN THE RUE BARBETTE 100
IX A MONTMARTRE ROMANCE 115
X ON GUARD 125
XI A DISCONCERTED COMMISSARY 140
XII THE INNKEEPER 161
XIII THE RELEASE 176
XIV "TOUT VA BIEN" 198
XV "MARIE" 209
XVI THE HALL-PORTER'S DOUBTS 223
XVII THE YACHT "BLUE-BELL" 235
XVIII TALBOT'S ADVENTURES 247
XIX THE RACE 259
XX CLOSE QUARTERS 269
XXI THE FIGHT 281
XXII PIECING THE PUZZLE 292
THE ALBERT GATE MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERIOUS CRIME
Reginald Brett, barrister-at-law and amateur detective, had seldom been
more at peace with the world and his own conscience than when he entered
the dining-room of his cosy flat this bright October morning.
Since the famous affair of Lady Delia Lyle's disappearance and death, he
had not been busy, and the joy of healthy idleness is only known to the
hard worker. Again, while dressing, he had received a letter inviting
him to a quiet shoot at a delightful place in the country.
All these things blended with happy inconsequence to render Brett
contented in mind and affable in manner.
"It's a fine morning, Smith," he said cheerily, as he settled himself at
the table where his "man" was already pouring out the coffee.
"Bee-utiful, sir," said Smith.
"Smith!"
"Yessir."
"Not even the best English autumn weather can stand being called
'bee-utiful.' Don't do it. You will open the flood-gates of Heaven."
Smith laughed decorously. He had not the slightest idea what his master
meant, but if it pleased Mr. Brett to be jocose, it was the duty of a
servant who knew his place to be responsive.
The barrister fully understood Smith's delicate appreciation--and its
limits. He instantly noticed that the morning paper, instead of reposing
next to his folded napkin, was placed out of reach on a sideboard, and
that the eggs and bacon made their appearance half a minute too soon.
As an expert swordsman delights to execute a pass _en tierce_ with an
umbrella, so did the cleverest analytical detective of the age resolve
to amaze his servitor.
"Smith," he said suddenly, composing his features to their most severe
cross-examination aspect, "I think the arrangement is an excellent one."
"What arrangement, sir."
"That Mrs. Smith and yourself should have a few days' holiday, while
Mrs. Smith's brother takes your place during my forthcoming visit to
Lord Northallerton's--why, man, what is the matter? Is it too hot?"--for
the cover Smith had lifted off the bacon and eggs clattered violently on
the table.
"'Ot, sir. 'Ot isn't the word. You're a fair licker, that's what you
are."
Smith invariably dropped his h's when he became excited.
"Smith, I insist that you shall not call me names. Pass the paper."
"But, sir----"
"Pass the paper. Utter another word and I refuse to accept Mrs. Smith's
brother as your _locum tenens_."
Smith was silenced by the last terrible epithet. Yet he was so
manifestly nervous that Brett resolved o enlighten him before plunging
into the day's news.
"For the last time, Smith," he said, "I will explain to you why it is
hopeless for you to think of concealing tradesmen's commissions from
me."
The shot went home, but the enemy was acquainted with this method of
attack, and did not wince.
"You knew that Lord Northallerton had recently invited me to his October
pheasant-shooting. During the last few days a youth, who grotesquely
reproduces Mrs. Smith's most prominent features, has mysteriously
tenanted the kitchen, ill-cleaned my boots, and bungled over the studs
in my shirts. This morning a letter came with the crest and the
Northallerton postmark. Really, Smith, considering that you have now
breathed the same air as myself for eight long years, I did not expect
to be called on for an explanation. Besides, you have destroyed a
masterpiece."
"Sir----" began Smith.
"Oh, I understand; there is nothing broken but your reputation. Don't
you see that the mere placing of the newspaper at a distance, so that
you might have a chance to speak before I opened it, was a subtle
stroke, worthy of Lecocq. Yet you demand feeble words. What a pity!
Know, Smith, that true genius is dumb. Speech may be silvern, but
silence is surely golden."
The barrister solemnly unfolded the paper, and Smith faded from the
room. On a page usually devoted to important announcements, the
following paragraphs stood forth in the boldness of leaded type:--
"MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE IN THE WEST END.
"An affair of some magnitude--perhaps a remarkable crime--has
taken place in an Albert Gate mansion.
"Owing to the reticence of the authorities, it is at present
impossible to arrive at a definite conclusion as to the nature
or extent of the incident, but it is quite certain that public
interest will be much excited when details are forthcoming.
All sorts of rumours attain credence in the locality, the murder
of several prominent persons being not the least persistent of
these. Without, however, giving currency to idle speculation,
several authentic statements may be grouped into a connected form.
"Four weeks ago a party of Turkish gentlemen of high rank in
Constantinople, arrived in London and took up their abode in the
house in question, after some structural alterations, pointing at
great security within and without, had been planned and executed.
"Attending these Turkish gentlemen, or officials, was a numerous
suite of Moslem guards and servants, whilst, immediately following
their arrival, came from Amsterdam some dozen noted experts in the
diamond-cutting industry. These were lodged in a neighbouring
private hotel, where they were extremely uncommunicative as to
their business in London. They were employed during the day at the
Albert Gate house. The presence in the mansion, both day and night,
of a strong force of Metropolitan police, tended to excite local
curiosity to an intense degree, but no clear conception of the
business of the occupants was allowed to reach the public.
"Whatever it was that took place, the full particulars were not
only well known to the authorities--the presence of the police
hints even at Governmental sanction--but matters proceeded on
normal lines until yesterday morning.
"Then it became clear that a remarkable development must have
occurred during the preceding night, as the whole of the Dutch
workmen and the Turkish attendants were taken off in cabs by the
police, not to Morton Street Police Station, but to Scotland Yard;
this in itself being a most unusual course to adopt. They are
unquestionably detained in custody, but they have not yet been
charged before a magistrate.
"The police, later in the day, carried off some of these men's
personal belongings, from both hotel and mansion.
"A sinister aspect was given to the foregoing mysterious proceedings
by the presence at Albert Gate, early in the day, of two police
surgeons, who were followed, about twelve o'clock, by Dr. Tennyson
Coke, the greatest living authority on toxicology.
"Dr. Coke and the other medical gentlemen subsequently refused to
impart the slightest information as to the reasons that led the
police to seek their services, and the Scotland Yard authorities
are adamant in the matter.
"The representative of a news agency was threatened with arrest for
trespass when he endeavoured to gain admission to the Albert Gate
house, and it is quite evident that the police are determined to
prevent the facts from leaking out at present--if they can by any
means accomplish their wishes."
Brett read this interesting statement twice slowly. It fascinated him.
Its very vagueness, its admissions of inability to tell what had really
happened, its adroit use of such phrases as "Turkish gentlemen of high
rank," "Noted experts in the diamond-cutting industry," "The greatest
living authority on toxicology," betrayed the hand of the disappointed
journalistic artist.
"Excellent!" he murmured aloud. "It is the breath of battle to my
nostrils. I ought to tip Smith for my breakfast. Had I read this
earlier, I would not have eaten a morsel."
He carefully examined the page at the back. It contained matter of no
consequence--a London County Council debate--so he took a pair of
scissors from his pocket and cut out the complete item, placing the slip
as a votive offering in front of a finely-executed bust of Edgar Allen
Poe, that stood on a bookcase behind him.
Within three minutes the scissors were again employed. The new cutting
ran--
"There is trouble at Yildiz Kiosk. A Reuter's telegram from
Constantinople states that a near relative of the Sultan has fled
to France. The Porte have asked the French Government to apprehend
him, but the French Ambassador has informed Riaz Pasha that this
course is impracticable in the absence of any criminal charge."
"These two are one," said the barrister, as he turned towards Poe's bust
and laid the slip by the side of its predecessor. This time he had
mutilated a critique of an Ibsensite drama.
The rest of the newspaper's contents had no special interest for him,
and he soon threw aside the journal in order to rise, light a cigarette,
and muster sufficient energy to write a telegram accepting Lord
Northallerton's invitation for the following day.
He was on the point of reaching for a telegraph form when Smith entered
with a card. It bore the name and address--
"The Earl of Fairholme, Stanhope Gate."
"Curious," thought Brett. "Where is his lordship?" he said aloud--"at
the door, or in the street?"
(His flat was on the second floor.)
"In a keb, sir."
"Bring his lordship up."
A rapid glance at "Debrett" revealed that the Earl of Fairholme was
thirty, unmarried, the fourteenth of his line, and the possessor of
country seats at Fairholme, Warwickshire, and Glen Spey, Inverness.
The earl entered, an athletic, well-groomed man, one whose lines were
usually cast in pleasant places, but who was now in an unwonted state of
flurry and annoyance.
Each man was favourably impressed by the other. His lordship produced an
introductory card, and Brett was astonished to find that it bore the
name of the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
"I have come----" commenced his lordship hesitatingly.
But the barrister broke in. "You have had a bad night, Lord Fairholme.
You wish for a long and comfortable chat. Now, won't you start with a
whiskey and soda, light a cigar, and draw an easy chair near the fire?"
"'Pon my honour, Mr. Brett, you begin well. You give me confidence.
Those are the first cheerful words I have heard during twenty-four
hours."
The earl was easily manoeuvred into a strong light. Then he made a
fresh start.
"You have doubtless heard of this Albert Gate affair, Mr. Brett?"
"You mean this?" said the other, rising and handing to his visitor the
longer paragraph of the two he had selected from the newspaper.
"That is very curious," said the earl, momentarily startled. But he was
too preoccupied by his thoughts to pay much heed to the incident. He
merely glanced at the cutting and went on:
"Yes, that is it. Well, Edith--Miss Talbot, I mean--vows that she won't
marry me until this beastly business is cleared up. Of course, we all
know that Jack didn't slope with the diamonds. He's tied up or dead, for
sure. But--no matter what may have become of him--why the dickens that
should stop Edith from marrying me is more than I can fathom. Just look
at some of the women in Society. They don't leave it to their relatives
to be mixed up in a scandal, I can tell you. Still, there you are. Edith
is jolly clever and awfully determined, so you've got to find him, Mr.
Brett. Dead or alive, he must be found, and cleared."
"He shall," said Brett, gazing into the fire.
The quiet, self-reliant voice steadied the young peer. He checked an
imminent flow of words, picked up the newspaper slip again, and this
time read it.
Then he blushed.
"You must think me very stupid, Mr. Brett, to burst out in such a manner
when you probably have never heard of the people I am talking about."
"You will tell me, Lord Fairholme, if you get quietly to work and try
to speak, so far as you find it possible, in chronological sequence."
His lordship knitted his brows and smoked in silence. At last he found
utterance.
"That's a good idea of yours. It makes things easier. Well, first of
all, Edith and I became engaged. Edith is the daughter of the late
Admiral Talbot. She and Jack, her brother, live with their uncle,
General Sir Hubert Fitzjames, at 118, Ulster Gardens. Jack is in the
Foreign Office; he is just like Edith, awfully clever and that sort of
thing, an assistant secretary I think they call him. Now we're getting
on, aren't we?"
"Splendidly."
"That's all right. About a month ago a chap turns up from
Constantinople, a kind of special Envoy from the Sultan, and he explains
to the Foreign Office that he has in his possession a lot of uncut
diamonds of terrific value, including one as big as a duck's egg, to
which no figures would give a price. Do you follow me?"
"Each word."
"Good. Well--I can't tell you why, because I don't know, and I could not
understand it if I did--there was some political importance attached to
these gems, and the Sultan roped our Foreign Office into it. So the
Foreign Office placed Jack in charge of the business. He fixed up the
Envoy in the house at Albert Gate, got a lot of diamond cutters and
machinery for him, gave him into the charge of all the smart policemen
in London; and what do you think is the upshot?"
"What?"
"The Envoy, his two secretaries, and a confidential servant were
murdered the night before last, the diamonds were stolen, and Jack has
vanished--absolutely gone clean into space, not a sign of him to be
found anywhere. Yesterday Edith sends for me, cries for half an hour,
tells me I'm the best fellow that ever lived, and then I'm jiggered if
she didn't wind up by saying that she couldn't marry me."
The Earl of Fairholme was now worked up to fever heat. He would not calm
down for an appreciable period, so Brett resolved to try the effect of
curiosity.
He wrote a telegram to Lord Northallerton:--
"Very sorry, but I cannot leave town at present. Please ask
me later. Will explain reason for postponement when we meet."
He had touched the dominant note in mankind.
"Surely!" cried the earl, "you have not already decided upon a course of
action?"
"Not exactly. I am wiring to postpone a shooting fixture."
"What a beastly shame!" exclaimed the other, in whom the sporting
instinct was at once aroused. "I'm awfully sorry my affairs should
interfere with your arrangements in this way."
"Not a bit," cried Brett. "I make it a sacred rule of life to put
pleasure before business. I mean," he explained, as a look of
bewilderment crossed his hearer's face, "that this quest of ours
promises to be the most remarkable affair I have ever been engaged in.
That pleases me. Pheasant-shooting is a serious business, governed by
the calendar and arranged by the head-keeper."
An electric bell summoned Smith. The barrister handed him the telegram
and a sovereign.
"Read that message," he said. "Ponder over it. Send it, and give the
change of the sovereign to Mrs. Smith's brother, with my compliments and
regrets."
CHAPTER II
MEHEMET ALI'S NOTE
Then he turned to Lord Fairholme.
"Just one question," he said, "before I send you off to bed. No, you
must not protest. I want you to meet me here this evening at seven, with
your brain clear and your nerves restored by a good, sound sleep. We
will dine, here or elsewhere, and act subsequently. But at this moment I
want to know the name of the person most readily accessible who can tell
me all about Mr. Talbot's connection with the Sultan's agent."
"His sister, undoubtedly."
"Where can I find her?"
"At Ulster Gardens. I will drive you there."
The barrister smiled. "You are going to bed, I tell you. Give me a few
lines of introduction to Miss Talbot."
The earl's face had brightened at the prospect of meeting his _fiancée_
under the favourable conditions of Brett's presence. But he yielded with
good grace, and promptly sat down to write a brief note explanatory of
the barrister's identity and position in the inquiry.
The two parted at the door, and a hansom rapidly brought Brett to the
residence of Sir Hubert Fitzjames.
A stately footman took Reggie's card and its accompanying letter, placed
them on a salver with a graceful turn of his wrist, which oddly
suggested a similar turn in his nose, and said:
"Miss Talbot is not at home, sir."
"Yes, she is," answered Brett, paying the driver of the hansom.
The footman deigned to exhibit astonishment. Here was a gentleman--one
obviously accustomed to the manners of Society--who declined to accept
the courteous disclaimer of an unexpected visit.
"Miss Talbot is not receiving visitors," he explained.
"Exactly. Take that card and the letter to Miss Talbot and bring me the
answer."
Jeames was no match for his antagonist. He silently showed the way into
a reception room and disappeared. A minute later he announced, with much
deference, that Miss Talbot would see Mr. Brett in the library, and he
conducted this mysterious visitor upstairs.
On rejoining Buttons in the hall he solemnly observed:
"That's a swell cop who is with the missus--shining topper, button-hole,
buckskin gloves, patent leathers, all complete. Footmen ain't in it with
the force, nowadays."
Jeames expanded his magnificent waistcoat with a heavy sigh over this
philosophical dictum, the poignancy of which was enhanced by his
knowledge that the upper housemaid had taken to conversing with a
mounted policeman in the Park during her afternoons off.
The apartment in which Brett found himself gave ready indications of the
character of its tenants. Tod's "Rajasthan" jostled a volume of the
Badminton Library on the bookshelves, a copy of the Allahabad _Pioneer_
lay beside the _Field_ and the _Times_ on the table, and many
varieties of horns made trophies with quaint weapons on the walls.
A complete edition of Ruskin, and some exquisite prints of Rossetti's
best known works, supplied a different set of emblems, whilst the room
generally showed signs of daily occupation.
"Anglo-Indian uncle, artistic niece," was the barrister's rapid comment,
but further analysis was prevented by the entrance of Miss Edith Talbot.
The surprise of the pair was mutual.
Brett expected to see a young, pretty and clever girl, vain enough to
believe she had brains, and sufficiently well endowed with that rare
commodity to be able to twist the good-natured Earl of Fairholme round
her little finger.
Young, not more than twenty--unquestionably beautiful, with the graceful
contour and delicately-balanced features of a portrait by Romney--Edith
Talbot bore few of the marks that pass current as the outward and
visible signs of a modern woman of Society. That she should be
self-possessed and dressed in perfect taste were as obvious adjuncts of
her character as that each phase of her clear thought should reflect
itself in a singularly mobile face.
To such a woman pretence was impossible, the polite fictions of
fashionable life impossible. Brett readily understood why the Earl of
Fairholme had fallen in love with this fair creature. He had simply
bent in worship before a goddess of his own creed.
To the girl, Brett was equally a revelation.
Fairholme's introductory note described the barrister as "the smartest
criminal lawyer in London--one whose aid would be invaluable." She
expected to meet a sharp-featured, wizened, elderly man, with
gold-rimmed eye-glasses, a queer voice and a nasty habit of asking
unexpected questions.
In place of this commonplace personality, she encountered a handsome,
well-groomed gentleman--one who won confidence by his intellectual face,
and retained it by invisibly establishing a social equality.
Fortunately, there is yet in Britain an aristocracy wherein good birth
is synonymous with good breeding--a freemasonry whose passwords cannot
be simulated, nor its membership bought.
Brett read the wonder in the girl's eyes, and hastened to explain.
"The Earl of Fairholme," said Brett, "thought I might be of some service
in the matter of your brother's strange disappearance, Miss Talbot. I am
not a professional detective, but my friends are good enough to believe
that I am very successful in unravelling mysteries that are beyond the
ken of Scotland Yard. I have heard something of the facts in this
present affair. Will you trust me so far as to tell me all that is known
to you personally?"
"My uncle, General Fitzjames, has just gone to Scotland Yard," she
began, timidly.
"Quite so. Perhaps you prefer to await his return?"
"Oh, no, I do not mean that. But it is so hard to know how best to act.
Uncle expects the police to accomplish impossibilities. He says that
they should long since have found out what has become of Jack. Perhaps
they may resent my interference."
"My interference, to be exact," said Reggie, with the pleasant smile
that had fascinated so many women. Even Edith Talbot was not wholly
proof against its magic.
"I, personally, have little faith in them," she confessed.
"I have none."
"Well, I will do as you advise."
"Then I recommend you to take me into your confidence. I know Scotland
Yard and its methods. We do not follow the same path."
"I believe in you and trust you," said the girl.
So ingenuous was the look from the large, deep eyes which accompanied
this declaration of confidence, that many men would have pronounced Miss
Talbot to be an experienced flirt. Brett knew better. He simply bowed
his acknowledgements.
"What is it that you want to know?" she continued. "We ourselves are no
better informed than the newspapers as to what has actually happened,
save that four men have been killed as the result of a carefully-planned
robbery. As for my brother----"
She paused and strove hard to force back her tears.
"Your brother has simply vanished, Miss Talbot. If the criminals did not
scruple to leave four dead men behind, they would not draw the line at a
fifth. The clear inference is that your brother is alive, but under
restraint."
"I can see that it is possible he was alive until some time after the
tragedy at Albert Gate. But--but--what connection can Jack have with the
theft of diamonds worth millions? These people used him as their tool in
some manner. Why should they spare him when success had crowned their
efforts?"
"We are conversing in riddles. Will you explain?"
"You know that my brother is an assistant Under-Secretary in the Foreign
Office?"
"Yes."
"Well, early in September, his chief placed him in charge of a special
undertaking. The Sultan had decided to have a large number of rough
diamonds cut and polished by the best European experts. They were all
magnificent gems, exceedingly valuable it seems, being rare both in size
and purity; but one of them was larger than any known diamond. Jack told
me it was quite as big as a good-sized hen's egg. Both it and the
others, he said, had the appearance of lumps of alum; but the experts
said that the smaller stones were worth more than a million sterling,
whilst the price of the large one could not be fixed. No one but an
Emperor or Sultan would buy it. His Excellency Mehemet Ali Pasha was the
especial envoy charged with this mission, and he brought credentials to
the Foreign Office asking for facilities to be given for its execution.
He and the two secretaries who accompanied him have been killed."
"Yes?" said Brett, whose eyes were fixed intently on the hearthrug.
"Jack was given the special duty of looking after Mehemet Ali and his
companions during their residence in London. It was his business to
afford them every assistance in his power, to procure them police
protection, obtain for them the best advice attainable in the diamond
trade, and generally place at their disposal all the resources which the
British Government itself could command if it undertook such a curious
task. He had been with them about a month--not hourly engaged, you
understand, as once the preliminary arrangements were made, he had
little further trouble--but he used to call there every morning and
afternoon to see if he could render any assistance. Matters had
progressed so favourably until the day before yesterday, that in another
month he hoped to see the last of them. He was always saying that he
would be glad when the business was ended, as he did not like to be
officially connected with the fate of a few little bits of stone that
happened to be so immensely valuable."
"Did your brother call there as usual on Monday afternoon?" said Brett.
"Yes; he came straight here from Albert Gate, and had tea with uncle and
myself. He sat in the very chair and in the very position you now
occupy. I can remember him saying: 'By jove! the hen's egg'--that is
what he used to call the big diamond--'is turning out in fine style.' He
even discussed the possibility of bringing us to see the collection when
it was finished and before it left this country."
"Did your brother say why the diamonds were brought to this country in
the first instance?"
"Yes; the Sultan and his advisers seemed to think the work of cutting
them could be performed more safely and expeditiously here than anywhere
else. Even the Turk has a high regard for the manner in which law and
order are maintained in Britain. Yet the sequel has shown that the
diamonds and their guardians were perhaps in greater danger here than
they would have been in Constantinople."
"Was that the only reason?" said Brett, who had apparently made up his
mind with reference to the pattern of the carpet, and was now gazing
into the bright fire which danced merrily in the grate, for the day
though fine was chilly.
The girl wrinkled her brows in thought before she answered: "I think I
do remember Jack saying that he believed there was some State business
mixed up in the affair, but I am quite sure he did not know the exact
facts himself."
"Can you recollect any of the special precautions taken to protect the
gems? Your brother may have mentioned some details in conversation, you
know."
"Oh, I think I know all about them. In the first instance, the house at
Albert Gate had previously been tenanted by a rich banker, and it was
well defended by all ordinary means against the attacks of ordinary
burglars. But, in addition to this, before the diamonds left the safe at
the Bank of England, the building was practically torn to pieces inside
by workmen acting under the direction of the Commissioner of Police. It
was absolutely impossible for anyone to enter except through the front
door, unless they flew out of the second storey window. Servants and
workmen, like everybody else, had to use this door alone, as the windows
and doors in the basement had all been bricked up. Inside the
entrance-hall there were always twelve policemen, and an inspector in
charge.
"Every one who left the house was searched by the inspector on duty, and
Jack used to say that he was very glad he invariably insisted upon this
examination, although the police were at first disinclined to meet his
wishes in the matter, he being, so to speak, their direct superior for
the time. Beneath the entrance-hall were rooms occupied by several
Turkish and other servants. Mehemet Ali himself, in the presence of his
secretaries, used to open the door leading to the suite of apartments in
which the diamond cutters worked, and two of the Turkish gentlemen would
remain there all day until the men left in the evening. The Envoy and
both secretaries used to meet Jack when he visited the place, and for
the last three weeks he had nothing to do but see the diamonds, count
them, drink an excellent cup of coffee, and smoke a wonderful cigarette,
made of some special Turkish tobacco, cultivated and prepared only for
the Imperial household."
"Ah!" sighed Brett, with a note of almost unconscious envy in his voice.
He knew exactly what that coffee and those cigarettes would be like. "I
beg your pardon," he went on, perceiving that Miss Talbot did not
understand his exclamation. "Will you tell me as nearly as you can the
occurrences of Monday evening?"
"They were simple enough," said the girl. "My brother dined at home. We
had one or two guests, and were all in the drawing room about 10 15,
when a note came for him from Mehemet Ali. I know exactly what was in
it. I looked over his shoulder whilst he read it. The words were: 'I
wish to see you to-night on important business. Come, if possible, at
once.' I have to tell you that it was in French, but this is an exact
translation."
"Your brother was quite sure that it was from Mehemet Ali himself?" said
Brett.
"Quite sure," was the reply. "He knew his handwriting well, having had
several communications from him during the progress of the business."
"Did your brother leave the house immediately?" asked Brett.
"That instant. He went downstairs, put on his overcoat and hat, and got
into a cab with the messenger who brought the note."
"Do you know who this messenger was?"
"One of the policemen on duty in the house itself."
A slight pause ensued, and Brett was about to take his departure, having
no further questions to ask at the moment, when some one was heard
hastily ascending the stairs, talking to a companion as he advanced.
"This is my uncle," exclaimed Miss Talbot, rising to go to the door.
Before she could reach it an elderly gentleman entered, bearing upon him
all those distinguishing tokens that stamp a man as a retired
major-general.
He exclaimed impetuously--
"I have brought a gentleman from Scotland Yard, my dear." Then he caught
sight of Brett. "Who is this?"
Edith was about to explain, when another man entered--a strongly-built,
bullet-headed man, with keen eyes and firm mouth, and a curious
suggestion in his appearance of having combined pugilism with
process-serving as a professional means of existence. His face extended
into a smile when his eyes fell upon the barrister.
"Ah, Mr. Brett," he cried. "Now we have something to do that is up to
your mark. You are on the spot first, as usual, but this time I can
honestly say that I am glad to see you."
Sir Hubert Fitzjames glanced in astonishment from his niece to the
barrister. He could find nothing better to say than--
"This, my dear, is Mr. Winter, of Scotland Yard."
CHAPTER III
WHAT THE POLICE SAW
Brett promptly cleared the situation by explaining to Sir Hubert, in a
few words, the reason for his unexpected presence, and when the
Major-General learnt the name of the distinguished personage who had
sent Lord Fairholme to the barrister he expressed a ready acquiescence
in the desire to utilise his services. Nor was the effect of such a
notable introduction lost on Mr. Winter, whose earlier knowledge of the
barrister's remarkable achievements in unravelling the tangled skein of
criminal investigation was now supplemented by a certain amount of awe
for a man who commanded the confidence of His Majesty's Government.
"Well," said Sir Hubert Fitzjames, with the brisk animation of one
accustomed to utter commands that must be instantly obeyed, "we will now
proceed to business."
For the moment no one spoke. The Scotland Yard detective evidently
wished his distinguished colleague to take the lead. No sooner did Brett
perceive this than he rose, bowed politely to Miss Talbot and her uncle,
and said--
"The first thing to do is to trace the whereabouts of Mr. Talbot, and
this should be a comparatively easy task. The other features of this
strange occurrence impress me as highly complex, but it is far too early
a stage in the investigation to permit any definite opinion being
expressed at this moment."
Every one seemed to be surprised by Brett's attitude.
"Where are you going to, sir?" asked Mr. Winter.
"That depends largely upon you," was the smiling reply. "If you come
with me we will go direct to Albert Gate, but if you decide to prosecute
further inquiries here, I will await your arrival at my flat."
"That is as much as saying that there are no facts worth inquiring into
to be learnt here?"
"Exactly so. Miss Talbot has told me all that is material to our
purpose. Her brother was unexpectedly sent for after dinner on Monday
night, and left the house hurriedly, without affording any clue to his
subsequent proceedings beyond that contained in a brief note sent to him
by Mehemet Ali Pasha. Indeed, it was impossible for him to afford any
explanation, as he himself was quite unprepared for the summons.
Meanwhile, every moment lost in the endeavour to follow up his movements
is precious time wasted."
The barrister's manner, no less than his words, impressed Mr. Winter so
greatly that he too rose from the seat which he had occupied, with the
intention of conducting a long and careful examination of each member of
the household.
"Then I will come with you at once," he said.
"Oh," cried the Major-General, "I understood you to say as we came here
that there were many questions which required immediate inquiry in this
house, on the principle that the movements of the missing man should be
minutely traced from the very commencement."
Mr. Winter looked somewhat confused, but Edith Talbot broke in--
"I think, uncle dear, it would be well to defer to Mr. Brett's
judgment."
"Do you really believe," she said, turning to the barrister, "that you
will soon be able to find my brother?"
"I am quite sure of it," he replied, and the conviction in his tone
astonished the professional detective, whilst it carried a message of
hope to the others. Even Sir Hubert, for some reason which he could not
explain, suddenly experienced a strong sense of confidence in this
reserved, distinguished-looking man. He stepped forward eagerly and held
out his hand, saying--
"Then we will not detain you, Mr. Brett. Act as you think fit in all
things, but do let us have all possible information at the earliest
moment. The suspense and uncertainty of the present position of affairs
are terribly trying to my niece and myself." The old soldier spoke with
dignity and composure, but his lips quivered, and the anguish in his
eyes was pitiful.
Brett and Mr. Winter quitted the house; they hailed a hansom, and drove
rapidly towards Albert Gate.
"Do you know," said the man from Scotland Yard, breaking in on his
companion's reverie, "you surprised me by what you said just now, Mr.
Brett?"
"I thought you were too old a hand to be surprised at anything," was the
reply.
"Oh, come now, you know well enough what I mean. You said you thought
it would be a comparatively simple matter to find Mr. Talbot, whilst the
other features of the crime are very complex. Now the affair, thus far,
impresses me as being the exact opposite to that statement. The crime is
simple enough. A clever gang of thieves get into the place by working
some particularly cool and daring confidence game. They don't hesitate
at murder to cover up their tracks, and they make away with the plunder
under the very noses of the police. All this may be smart and up-to-date
in its methods, but it is not unusual. The difficult question to my mind
is, what have they done with Mr. Talbot, and how did they succeed in
fooling him so completely as to make him what one might almost call a
party to the transaction?"
The barrister pulled out a cigar-case.
"Try one of these, Winter," he said. "You will find them soothing."
"I never smoke whilst on business," was the testy reply.
"I invariably do." He proceeded to light a cigar, which he smoked with
zest.
"I do not know how it is," went on Mr. Winter, "but whenever I happen to
meet you, Mr. Brett, in the course of an inquiry, I always start by
being very angry with you."
"Why?" There was an amused twinkle in Brett's eyes, which might have
warned the other of a possible pitfall.
"Because you treat me as if I were a precocious youth. You listen to my
theories with a sort of pitying indulgence, yet I have the reputation of
being one of the best men in Scotland Yard, or I should not have been
put on this job. And I am older than you, too."
"I may surely pity you," said Brett, "even if I don't indulge you too
much."
"There you go again," snapped the detective. "Now, what is there silly
about my theory of the crime, I should like to know."
"You shall know, and before you are much older. Bear with me for a
little while, I beg of you. You may be right, and I may be quite wrong,
but I think there is much beneath the surface in the investigations we
are now pursuing. My advice to you is to drop all preconceived theories,
to note every circumstance, however remote it may appear in its bearing
upon events, and in any case not to act precipitately. Whatever you do,
don't arrest anybody."
"But," said the other, somewhat mollified by Brett's earnestness, "half
a dozen people may be arrested at any moment."
"Pray tell me how?"
"Descriptions of the stolen diamonds and of the suspected persons are in
every police office in Great Britain and in most Continental centres by
this time. Passengers by all steamers are most carefully scrutinised.
Every pawnbroker and diamond merchant in the country is on the look-out,
and, generally speaking, it will be odd if somebody does not drop into
the net before many hours have passed."
"It will, indeed," murmured Brett; "and no doubt the somebody in
question will experience a certain amount of inconvenience before he
proves to you that he had nothing whatever to do with the matter. Now,
don't answer me, Winter, but ponder seriously over this question: Do you
really think that the intelligence which planned and successfully
carried through an operation of such magnitude will be trapped by
plain-clothes constables watching the gangways of steamships, or by any
pawnbroker who has ever lent half the value of a pledge?"
Almost impatiently the barrister waved the subject out of the hansom,
and the detective had sense enough to leave him alone during the few
remaining minutes before the vehicle pulled up near the Albert Gate
mansion.
Brett stopped the driver some little distance short of the house itself,
as he did not wish to attract the attention of a knot of curious
sightseers in the street. He asked Winter to precede him and make known
the fact that he was coming, so that there would be no delay at the
door. This the detective readily agreed to, and Brett rapidly took in
the main external features of the house which had become the scene of
such a remarkable tragedy.
It was a palatial structure, built on the sombre lines of the Early
Victorian period. Miss Talbot's brief description of the measures taken
to protect its occupants from interference was fully borne out by its
aspect. There was no access to the basement; the main entrance was
situated at the side; all the ground-floor and first-storey windows
facing into the street were fitted with immovable wooden venetians.
Presumably those on the Park side were similarly secured, whilst the
back wall abutted on to that of another mansion, equally large and
strongly built, tenanted by a well-known peer.
Truly, it required a genius almost unrivalled in the annals of crime to
murder four people and steal diamonds worth millions in such a place
whilst guarded by twelve London policemen and under the special
protection of the Home Office.
The appearance of Winter at the door caused the gaping idlers in the
street to endeavour to draw nearer to the mysterious portals. Thereupon
three policemen on duty outside hustled the mob back, and Brett took
advantage of the confusion thus created to slip to the doorway almost
unperceived. One of the police constables turned round to make a grab at
him, but a signal from a _confrère_ inside prevented this, and Brett
quickly found himself within a spacious entrance hall with the door
closed and bolted behind him.
Winter was talking to two uniformed inspectors, to whom he had explained
the barrister's mission and credentials.
"We have here, Mr. Brett," he said, "Inspector Walters, who was on duty
until ten o'clock on Monday night, and Inspector Sharpe, who relieved
him. They will both tell you exactly what took place."
"Thank you," said the barrister, "but it will expedite matters if you
gentlemen will first accompany me over the scene of the crime. I will
then be able to understand more accurately what happened. Suppose we
start here. I presume that this is where the police guard was
stationed?"
Inspector Walters assumed the _rôle_ of guide.
"I was in charge of the first guard established a month ago," he said,
"and the arrangements I then made have been adhered to without deviation
night and day ever since."
From the outer door a short passage of a few feet led up half a dozen
steps into a large reception room, the entrance to which was closed by a
light double door, half glass. On both sides of the first short passage
were two small apartments, such as are often used in London mansions for
the purposes of cloak-rooms. The doors from these rooms opened into the
inner hall. A large dining-room was situated on the left or Park side,
and on the right was a breakfast or morning-room. At the back of the
reception hall a handsome staircase led from left to right to the upper
floors, whilst a doorway beneath the staircase gave access to the
kitchens and basement offices.
"Here," said the inspector, pointing to the foot of the staircase, "two
police-constables were constantly stationed. Another stood there,"
indicating the passage to the kitchen, "and a fourth at the glass door.
As the outer basement entrance was not only securely fastened by bolts
and bars, but actually bricked up inside, it was absolutely impossible
for any person to enter or leave the house save by the front door, nor
could any one go from the kitchen to the upper part of the house without
passing under the observation of all four constables. I arranged my
guards in military fashion, having three men for each post, with one
hour on duty and two hours off, but the same men were never on guard
together at definite hours, as they were relieved at varying times. You
will understand that I considered it a very responsible task to
safeguard these premises, and thought it best to render it impossible
for any section of the force under my command to take part in a
conspiracy, although such a thing was in itself most improbable."
They then ascended the staircase and found themselves on the first
floor.
There were six spacious apartments on this storey, and all of them had
originally opened on to the landing. The special precautions taken to
guard the diamonds of the Turkish mission had altered all that. Five
doorways had been bricked up, the result being that admission to the
whole set of rooms could only be obtained through the first door that
faced the top of the staircase.
This apartment was luxuriously furnished, and Inspector Walters
explained that the Turkish Envoy and his suite passed the working hours
of each day there after they had personally thrown open the other
apartments to the diamond polishers and unlocked the safes in which the
gems were stored, when work ceased on the previous day.
"His Excellency," said the inspector, "kept the keys of this room and
the others, together with those of the safes, in his own possession
night and day. He slept upstairs, and so did the other two gentlemen. No
one was allowed to come to this floor except the confidential servant,
named Hussein, who used to bring coffee, cigars, and newspapers or other
things the gentlemen might require, together with their lunch in the
middle of the day. The workmen brought their lunch with them, so that
they came in and out once a day only."
"Where did this confidential servant sleep?" said Brett.
"I believe he used to lie curled up on the rug outside his Excellency's
door."
"And the other servants?"
"They all slept in the basement."
"What were they, Turks or Christians?"
"Well, sir," said the inspector with a smile, "two of them were Turks in
costume, whilst three were Christians in appearance. That is the best I
can say for the Christians, as they were Frenchmen, though certainly the
cook was a first-rate _chef_. Of course, we all got our meals here
whilst on duty."
"Did his Excellency and the other members of the mission eat food
prepared in the ordinary way?"
"Oh, yes; they appreciated French dishes as keenly as anybody might do."
"It was in this room, then," continued Brett, "that the murders took
place?"
"Yes; I suppose that must be so," said the inspector. "But my friend
here," pointing to Inspector Sharpe, "can tell that part of the story
better than I can."
They passed into the inner rooms, which were quite silent and deserted,
and presented a strange appearance considering the character of the
house and its locality. Although the ceilings were decorated with
beautiful paintings and fringed with superbly emblazoned mouldings,
although the walls were papered with material that cost as much per yard
as good silk, each apartment was occupied with workmen's benches, and
curious devices for cutting and polishing diamonds.
In the first room were two small safes, one of which was intended to
receive the gems under treatment at the close of each day's work; the
other held certain valuable materials required in the diamond cutter's
operations. Three of the rooms were on the Park side, and it was here
that the small colony of skilled artisans had been installed.
The other two rooms were not tenanted, nor had any communicating doors
been broken through the walls in order to gain access to them.
The windows of the three apartments occupied by the workmen were not
only guarded by strong iron bars, but possessed the additional security
of external wire blinds of exceedingly small mesh. Each window admitted
plenty of light, and could be raised to allow a free circulation of air,
but it was seemingly quite impossible for any active communication to
take place with the outside. The three rooms looked out over a small
enclosed lawn, which was separated from the park by a brick wall
surmounted by iron railings. All the fireplaces had been closed with
bricks and mortar.
"You will see, sir," said the inspector, when he had called Brett's
attention to these details, "that mysterious though the murders were,
they were as nothing compared with the disappearance of the diamonds.
Every person who came downstairs was most carefully and methodically
searched each time he passed the constable on duty at the bottom. It may
be admitted that a few small stones could be so secreted as to escape
observation, but some of these stones were so large that such a notion
is not to be thought of, whilst the size of the great diamond which Mr.
Talbot christened the 'Hen's Egg' rendered its transference past the
searchers beneath absolutely impossible. There was no humbug about the
search, you will understand, Mr. Brett. People had to take their boots
off, open their mouths, and hand over their hats, coats, sticks, or
umbrellas for inspection. Every part of their clothing was scrutinised,
and the contents of their pockets, money, watches, keys, and the rest,
thoroughly examined. These were our orders, and they were strictly
obeyed, Mr. Talbot himself being the first to insist that the regulation
should be carried out rigidly, so far as he was concerned. Why, one day
a Cabinet Minister came here to see the diamonds. He was elderly and
stout, and did not at all like having to take off his boots, I can
assure you, as he nearly got apoplexy whilst lacing them up again."
During the inspector's running comments Brett had carefully scrutinised
each of the windows. He at once came to the conclusion, by a simple
analysis of the possibilities, that by no other means than through the
barrier of iron wire had the diamonds passed out of the house; but the
most thorough examination failed to reveal any loophole by which this
achievement had been accomplished. He opened each of the windows, tested
every iron bar, and saw that the fastenings of the external blind were
undisturbed, whilst the fine wire mesh showed no irregularities in its
hexagonal pattern wherein any defect would at once be visible.
"We have done all that long since, sir," said the second police officer,
smiling at the obviousness of an amateur's method of inspection, for it
happened that he had never met the barrister before, though he had often
heard of him.
"You have?" said Brett, with the slightest tinge of sarcasm in his
voice. "Did you do this?" and he commenced to thump with a clenched fist
upon every portion of the external screen that he could reach.
"No, we did not," said the policeman, "and I don't see that it is going
to accomplish anything except hurt your hand."
"That may be so," murmured Brett; "but the diamonds went this way and
none other."
He tested every portion of one window screen in this manner without
effect. Then he approached the second window, and, beginning at the
left-hand top corner, did the same thing. Suddenly an exclamation came
from the three interested watchers. In the centre of the lower part of
the screen Brett's hand made a visible impression upon the iron wire.
Using no more force than had been applied to other portions, the blow
served to tear a section of the blind about eight inches across.
Instantly the barrister ceased operations, and, producing a
pocket-microscope, minutely examined the rent.
"I expected as much," he said, taking hold of the torn part of the
screen and giving it a vigorous pull, with the result that a small
piece, measuring about eight inches by six, came bodily out. "This has
been cut away, as you will see, by some instrument which did not even
bend the wire. It was subsequently replaced, whilst the fractured parts
were sufficiently cemented by some composition to retain this section in
its place, and practically defy observation. There was nothing for it
but force to reveal it thus early. No doubt in time the composition
would have dried, or been washed away, and then this bit of the screen
would have fallen out by the action of wind and weather. Here, at any
rate, is a hole in your defensive armour." He held out the _pièce de
conviction_ to the discomfited Sharpe, who surveyed it in silence.
It was no part of Brett's business in life, however, to snatch plaudits
from astounded policemen.
"This is a mere nothing," he continued. "Of course, there must have been
some such means of getting the diamonds off the premises. Let us return
to the ante-room and there you can tell me the exact history of events
on Monday evening."
CHAPTER IV
THE MURDERS
In less confident tones Inspector Walters resumed his narrative--
"On Monday evening, sir," he said, "about eight o'clock, his Excellency
and the two secretaries were dining downstairs, and matters had, thus
far, gone on with the same routine as was observed every preceding day.
The workmen quitted work at six o'clock. The three gentlemen went out
for a drive as soon as everything was locked up, and came in again at a
quarter to eight. They did not change their clothes for dinner, so there
was no occasion to search them, as no one had gone upstairs since they
had descended soon after six. They had barely started dinner when some
one called at the front door, and I was sent for. The door bell, I may
explain, was always answered by one of the house servants, and he, if
necessary, admitted any person who came, closing the door; but the
visitor had to be examined by the policeman stationed in the passage
before he was permitted to come any further. On this occasion I went out
and found three gentlemen standing there. They were Turks, as could be
easily seen by their attire, and appeared to be persons of some
consequence."
"What do you mean by the words 'their attire'?" interrupted Brett. "Were
they dressed in European clothes or in regular Turkish garments?"
"Oh," said the inspector, "I only meant that they wore fezzes; otherwise
they were quite accurately dressed in frock coats and the rest, but they
were unmistakably Turks by their appearance. Two of them could speak no
English, and the third, who acted as the leader of the party, first of
all addressed me in French. Finding I did not understand him, he used
very broken, but fairly intelligible, English. What he wanted was to be
taken at once to his Excellency, Mehemet Ali Pasha. I said that his
Excellency was dining and that perhaps he had better call in the
morning, but he replied that his business was very urgent, and he could
not wait. He made me understand that if I sent in the cards of himself
and his companions they would certainly be admitted at once. I did not
see any harm in this, so I took the three cards and gave them to
Hussein, who was crossing the hall at the moment."
"As the cards were printed in Turkish characters you could not, of
course, tell what the names were," said Brett.
A look of blank astonishment crossed the inspector's face as he replied:
"That is a good guess, but it is so. The hieroglyphics on the piece of
pasteboard were worse than Greek. However, Hussein glanced at them. He
appeared to be surprised; he went into the dining-room, returning with
the message that the gentlemen were to be admitted. Of course I had
nothing else to do but to let them in, which I did, accompanying them
myself to the door of the dining-room, and making sure, before the door
was closed, that their presence was expected."
"How did you do that?" said Brett.
"Well, although they spoke in what I suppose was Turkish, it is not very
difficult to distinguish by a man's tones whether his reception of
unexpected visitors is cordial or not, and there could be no doubt that
the visiting cards had conveyed such names to his Excellency as
warranted the introduction of the party into the house. The six
gentlemen remained in the dining-room until 9.17 (I have the time noted
here in my pocket-book). They then came out and went upstairs in a body
to the ante-room, where they all sat down, as I could tell by the
movement of chairs overhead, and in a few minutes Hussein was rung for
to bring cigarettes and coffee. This was at 9.21. Hussein was searched
as he came downstairs after receiving the order, and again at 9.30 when
he returned after executing it. I was relieved at ten o'clock, and
beyond describing the three gentlemen, I know nothing more about the
business."
"They were well dressed?" inquired Brett; "they impressed you as Turkish
gentlemen by their features, and they wore fezzes?"
"Yes," said the policeman, with a smile; "but there was a little more
than that."
"It is of no importance," said Brett.
"But really it must be," urged the inspector. "One of them, the man who
spoke to me, had a bad sword-cut across his right cheek, whilst another
squinted horribly; besides, they were all elderly men."
"Pardon me, inspector," said Brett, "but you admit, no doubt, that this
is a very remarkable crime I am investigating."
"I should just think it is, sir," was the answer.
"Well, now, does it not strike you that the perpetrators thereof, who
were not afraid to be scrutinized by yourself and by several other
policemen, and to be searched and further scrutinized by a different set
of officers when they came out again, would be very unlikely persons to
bear about them such distinguishing characteristics as would lead to
their arrest by the first youthful police-constable who encountered
them? I do not want to be rude, or to indicate any lack of discretion on
your part, but, from my point of view, I would vastly prefer not to be
furnished with any description of these three persons, nor would I care
to have seen them as they entered or left the house."
"Well, that is very curious," said Inspector Walters, dropping his hands
on his knees in sheer amazement at such an extraordinary statement from
a man whose clearness and accuracy of perception had been so fully
justified by the incident of the window-blind.
"And now, Mr. Sharpe," said Brett, turning to the other officer, "what
did you observe?"
"I came on duty at ten o'clock, sir; posted my guards, and received from
Inspector Walters an exact account of what had taken place before my
arrival. Inspector Walters had hardly quitted the house, when one of the
junior members of the mission came downstairs with a note which he asked
me to send at once by a constable to Mr. Talbot."
"You are quite sure he was one of the members of the mission?" said
Brett.
"Perfectly certain. I have seen him every previous night for nearly a
month, as the gentleman often went out late to the Turkish Embassy, and
elsewhere. I sent the note, as requested, and Mr. Talbot came back with
the constable in about twenty minutes. Mr. Talbot went upstairs
accompanied by Hussein; Hussein came down, was searched, went down to
the kitchen, brought up more coffee, and never appeared again. The next
time I saw him was about noon yesterday, when we broke open the door,
and found his dead body. At 11.25, Mr. Talbot, accompanied by the one
whom Inspector Walters has described as the spokesman of the strangers,
came down the stairs. Mr. Talbot looked somewhat puzzled, but not
specially worried, and submitted himself to the searching operation as
usual. The other man seemed to be surprised by this proceeding, but
offered no objection when his turn came, and said something laughingly
in French to Mr. Talbot, when he had to take his boots off. The two
gentlemen went outside and called a cab. Mr. Talbot got in, and the
constable at the door heard the foreigner tell the driver to go to the
Carlton Hotel. He repeated the address twice, so as to make sure the man
would make no mistake.
"Then they drove off, and there was no further incident to report until
five minutes past twelve, when the other two foreigners came downstairs.
Then we had a bit of a job. They knew no English, and one of our men,
who could speak French, found that they did not understand that
language. However, at last in dumb show we got them to perceive that
everybody who came downstairs had to be searched. They submitted at
once, and I took special care that the investigation was complete. There
was nothing upon them to arouse the slightest suspicion, no weapons of
any sort beyond a small pocket-knife carried by one man, and not much
in the way of either papers or money. Before going out one of them
produced a small card on which was written, 'Carlton Hotel.'
"I took it that this was their residence, so I instructed a constable to
see them into a cab and tell the driver where to take them. I also
showed them how much money to give the cabman. None of the gentlemen
upstairs put in an appearance, nor did I hear them retire to rest. To
make quite sure that all was right, I and a sergeant who looked in a
little later, went upstairs and tried the door of the ante-room. This
was locked and everything was quiet within, so we returned to the hall,
and the night was passed in the usual manner. Hussein always made his
appearance about eight o'clock in the morning, when he came down to
procure coffee for his Excellency and the others. As he did not show up
I wondered what had become of him. When nine o'clock came, I determined
to investigate matters. By that time the diamond cutters had put in an
appearance, and were gathered in the hall, undergoing a slight search
preparatory to their day's work."
"How many of these men were there?" broke in Brett.
"Fourteen exactly. They were mostly Dutchmen, with, I think three
Belgians. Taking a constable with me, I went upstairs, and ascended to
the second storey, where I knew his Excellency's suite was situated, and
where I expected to find Hussein asleep on a mat in front of the bedroom
door. The mat was there, but no Hussein. Then I went higher up to the
rooms occupied by the two assistants. I knocked, but received no answer.
One door was locked; the other was open, so I went in, but the room was
empty, and the bed had not been slept upon. This seemed so strange that
I knocked loudly at the other door, with no result. I returned to his
Excellency's floor and hammered at the door, which was locked,
sufficiently to wake the soundest sleeper that ever lived. This again
was useless, so I returned downstairs and sent off two messengers post
haste--one to Mr. Talbot, and the other to the Commissioner of Police at
Scotland Yard. The man who went to Mr. Talbot's house returned first,
bringing the startling information that Mr. Talbot had not been home all
night, and that his uncle and sister were anxious to know where he was,
as they had received no message from him since he quitted the house the
previous night at 10.15. The Commissioner of Police came himself a
little later. By that time Inspector Walters had reached here for his
turn of day duty, and after a hasty consultation we decided to break in
all the doors that were locked, commencing with that of the second
assistant. His room was empty, and so was his Excellency's, neither
apartment having been occupied during the night. We then returned to the
first floor and forced the door of the ante-room, which, we discovered,
was only secured by a spring latch, the lower lock not having been used.
As soon as we entered the room, we found the four dead men. Hussein, the
servant, was nearest the door and was lying in a crumpled-up position.
He had been stabbed twice through the back and once through the spinal
column at the base of the neck. His Excellency and the two assistants
were seated in chairs, but had been stabbed through the heart. The
instrument used must have been a long thin dagger or stiletto. There was
no sign of it anywhere in the room, and most certainly none of the men
who came out the previous night had such a weapon concealed upon him.
"Doctors were at once sent for, and the first medical gentlemen to
arrive said that each of the four had been dead for many hours, but they
also imagined that the coffee, the remains of which we found in some
cups on the table, had been drugged. So, before disturbing the room and
its contents in any way, the Commissioner sent for Dr. Tennyson Coke.
After careful investigation Dr. Coke came to the same conclusion as the
other gentlemen. He believes that his Excellency and his two assistants
were first stupefied by the drug and then murdered as they sat in their
chairs, whilst the appearance of Hussein and the nature of his wounds
seemed to indicate that he had been unexpectedly attacked and killed
before he could struggle effectually or even call for assistance.
"Of course, the diamonds had vanished, whilst in the safes or on the
tables we found the keys which had evidently been taken from his
Excellency's pockets. We were all puzzled to account for the
disappearance of the diamonds and the dagger, but you have clearly shown
the means whereby they were conveyed off the premises. Dr. Coke took
away the coffee for analysis. The four bodies were carried to the
mortuary in Chapel Place, and the fourteen workmen were conveyed to
Scotland Yard, not because we have any charge against them, but the
Commissioner thought it best to keep them under surveillance until the
Turkish Embassy had settled what was to be done with them, in the matter
of paying such wages as were due and sending them back to Amsterdam. The
men themselves, I may add, were quite satisfied with our action in the
matter. That is really all I have to tell you."
"It is quite clear, then," said Brett, "that two men succeeded in
murdering four and in getting away with their plunder and arms without
creating the slightest noise or exciting any suspicion in your mind."
"That is so," admitted Inspector Sharpe ruefully.
"Then," said Brett, "there is nothing else to be done here. Will you
come with me, Mr. Winter?"
"Where to, sir?" inquired the detective.
"To find Mr. Talbot, of course."
"Easier said than done," remarked Inspector Walters, as the door closed
behind the visitors.
Inspector Sharpe was less sceptical.
"He's a very smart chap is Brett," he said. "Neither you nor I thought
of punching that wire screen, did we?"
CHAPTER V
A STARTLING CLUE
Once clear of the Albert Gate mansion, the barrister was bound to
confess to a sense of indefiniteness, a feeling of uncertainty which
seldom characterised either his thoughts or his actions. He admitted as
much to his companion, for Brett was a man who would not consent to pose
under any circumstances.
"It is quite true," he explained, "that our first duty must be to find
Mr. Talbot, and it is still more certain that we will be able to
accomplish that part of our task; but there are elements in this inquiry
which baffle me at present."
"And what are they, sir?" said the detective.
"I fail to see why Mr. Talbot was dragged into the matter at all. On the
straightforward assumption that Turks were engaged in the pleasant
occupation of taking other Turks' lives--an assumption to which, by the
way, I attach no great amount of credence--why did they not allow Mr.
Talbot to go quietly to his own home? It was not that they feared more
speedy discovery of their crime. The hour was then late; it was
tolerably certain that he would make no move which might prove injurious
to them until next morning, and then the whole affair was bound to be
discovered by the police in the ordinary course of events."
"I don't quite follow you, sir," said Winter, with a puzzled tone in his
voice. They had, for the sake of quietude, turned into the Park, and
were now walking towards Hyde Park Corner. "What do you mean by saying
that Mr. Talbot would make no move in the matter until next morning?"
"Oh, I forgot," said Brett. "Of course, you don't know why the diamonds
were stolen?"
"For the same reason that all other diamonds are stolen, I suppose."
"Oh, dear no," laughed the barrister. "This is a political crime."
"Political!" said the amazed policeman.
"Well, we won't quarrel about words, and as there are perhaps no
politics in Turkey, we will call it dynastic or any other loud-voiced
adjective which serves to take it out of the category of simple felony.
Why? I cannot at this moment tell you, but you may be perfectly certain
that the disappearance of those diamonds from the custody of Mehemet Ali
Pasha will not cause the Sultan to sleep any more soundly."
"What beats me, Mr. Brett," said the detective, viciously prodding the
gravel path with his stick, "is how you ferret out these queer
facts--fancies some people would call them, as I used to do until I knew
you better."
"In this case it is simple enough. By mere chance I happened to read
this morning that there had been some little domestic squabble in royal
circles at Constantinople. I don't know whether you are acquainted with
Turkish history, Mr. Winter, but it is a well-recognised principle that
any Sultan is liable to die of diseases which are weird and painfully
sudden; for instance, the last one is popularly supposed to have
plunged a long sharp scissors into his jugular vein; others drank coffee
that disagreed with them, or smoked cigarettes too highly perfumed. In
any case, the invariable result of these eccentricities has been that a
fresh Sultan occupied the throne. Now, don't forget that I am simply
theorising, for I know no more of this business than you do at this
moment, but I still think that you will find some connection between my
theory and that which has actually occurred. At any rate, I have said
sufficient to prove to you the importance of not being too ready to make
arrests."
"I quite see that," was the thoughtful rejoinder. "But you must not
forget, sir, that we in Scotland Yard are bound by rules of procedure.
Perhaps you will not mind my suggesting that a word from you to the
Foreign Office might induce the authorities to communicate officially
with the Home Department, and then instructions could be issued to the
police which would leave the matter a little more open than we are able
to regard it under the existing conditions."
"I will see to that," said the barrister. "When does the inquest take
place?"
"This evening at six."
"It will be adjourned, of course?"
"Oh, yes; no evidence will be given beyond that necessary for purposes
of identification, and this can be supplied by the police themselves and
an official from the Turkish Embassy."
"Very well. You will mention to no one the theory I have just explained
to you?"
"Not if you wish it, sir."
"I do wish it at present. Which way are you going?"
"Straight to the Yard."
"In that case I will accompany you a portion of the distance."
They had now reached Hyde Park Corner, and, hailing a hansom, Brett told
the driver to stop outside the Carlton Hotel. The man whipped up his
horse and drove in the direction of Constitution Hill, evidently
intending to avoid the congested traffic of Piccadilly and take the
longer, but more pleasant, route through the Green Park and the Mall.
"By the way," said Brett, "did the driver of the hansom which conveyed
Mr. Talbot and his companion from Albert Gate on Monday night tell you
which road he followed?"
"Yes," said the detective, "he went this way."
Brett rubbed his hands, with a queer expression of thoughtful pleasure
on his keen face.
"Ah," he said, "I like that. It is well to be on the scent."
He did not explain to his professional _confrère_ that it was a positive
stimulant to his abounding energy and highly-strung nerves to find that
he was actually following the path taken by the criminal whom he was
pursuing. The mere fact lent reality to the chase. For a mile, at any
rate, there could be no mistake, though he might expect a check at the
Carlton. Arrived there, Brett alighted.
"Are you going to make any inquiries in the hotel, sir?" said Mr.
Winter.
"Why should I?" said Brett. "You have already ascertained from the
management that no person even remotely resembling any of the parties
concerned is staying at the hotel."
"Yes, confound it, I know I did," cried the other, "but I never told you
so."
"That is all right," laughed Brett. "Come and see me at my chambers
this evening when the inquest is finished. Perhaps by that time we may
be able to determine our plan of action."
Once left to himself, Brett did not enter the hotel. Indeed, he hardly
glanced at that palatial structure, having evidently dismissed it from
his mind as being in no way connected with the tragedy he was
investigating. He made it an invariable rule in conducting inquiries of
this nature to adopt the French method of "reconstituting" the incidents
of a crime, so far as such a course was possible in the absence of the
persons concerned. He reasoned that a very plausible explanation of the
unexpected appearance of the three strangers in the Albert Gate mansion
on Monday night had been given to Jack Talbot. This young gentleman, it
might be taken for granted, had not been selected by the Foreign Office
to carry to a successful issue such an important and delicate matter as
that entrusted to him, without some good grounds for the faith in his
qualities exhibited by his superiors. Brett thought he could understand
the brother's character and attributes from his favourable analysis of
the sister, and it was quite reasonable, therefore, to believe that
Talbot was a man not likely to be easily duped. The principals in this
crime were evidently well aware of the trust reposed in the Assistant
Under-Secretary, and they, again, would not underrate his intelligence.
Hence there was a good cause for Talbot to accept the explanations,
whatever they were, given him during the conclave in the dining-room;
the effect of which, in Inspector Sharpe's words, had been to "puzzle"
the young Englishman. Further, there must have been a very potent
inducement held out before Talbot would consent to drive off with a
stranger at such a late hour, and when the cab was dismissed at the
Carlton, the excuse given would certainly be quite feasible.
"It must surely be this," communed Brett. "The man explained that he was
a stranger in London, that he lived quite close to the Carlton Hotel,
and that he found it convenient not only for the purpose of giving
directions that would be understood, but also for paying fares, to
direct the drivers of hired vehicles to go there and not to his own
exact address, which he had found by experience many of them did not
recognize, whilst his knowledge of the language was not ample enough to
enable him to describe the locality more precisely. It follows, then, in
unerring sequence that Talbot was conveyed to some place within a very
short distance of the spot where I now stand."
He looked along Pall Mall, up the Haymarket, and through Cockspur
Street, and he noted with some degree of curiosity that there were very
few residential buildings in the neighbourhood. Clubs, theatres, big
commercial establishments and insurance offices occupied the bulk of the
available space. It was a part of his theory that none of the other
great hotels in this district could harbour the criminals, otherwise
there would have been no excuse to stop the hansom outside the Carlton.
Brett did not take long to make up his mind once he had decided upon a
definite course. He stood at the corner barely three minutes, and then
walked off through Pall Mall and down the steps near the Duke of York's
Column into the Horse Guards' Parade, intending to walk quietly to his
Victoria Street flat. A call at the Foreign Office procured him an
official authorization from the Under-Secretary to inquire into the
circumstances of Talbot's disappearance and a promise that the Home
Office should be communicated with.
He desired to review the whole of the circumstances attending this
strange mystery of modern life, and the result of his reflections
quickly became apparent when he reached his residence, for in the first
instance he despatched a telegram, and then made several notes in his
private diary.
The telegram, in due course, produced an elderly pensioned police
inspector, a quiet reserved man, whom the barrister had often employed.
He explained briefly the circumstances attending Mr. Talbot's
disappearance, and added--
"I want you to find out the names, and if possible the
business--together with any other information you may happen to come
across--of every person who lives within a distance, roughly speaking,
of two hundred yards from the Carlton Hotel. The Post Office Directory
and your own observation will narrow down the inquiry considerably. It
is the unrecorded balance of inhabitants with whom I am particularly
anxious to become more definitely acquainted." The man saluted and
withdrew.
Brett imagined that he would now be left in undisputed enjoyment of a
few hours' rest before the Earl of Fairholme kept the appointment fixed
for seven o'clock. But in this he was mistaken.
Smith brought in some tea, which was refreshing after his walk, for the
engrossing nature of the morning's occupation caused him to forget his
lunch. A cigar and evening paper next claimed his attention, but he had
barely settled down to the perusal of a garbled account of events at
Albert Gate when his man again entered, announcing in mysterious tones
the presence of Mr. Winter. Smith's attitude towards the myrmidons of
Scotland Yard who occasionally visited the barrister on business, was
peculiar. He regarded them with suspicion, tempered by wholesome awe,
and he now made known the arrival of the detective in such a manner as
caused his master to laugh at him.
"Show him in, Smith," he said cheerily; "he has not come to arrest me
this time."
Winter entered, and a glance at his face brought Brett quickly to his
feet.
"What is the matter?" he cried when the door had closed behind the
servant. "You have received important news?"
"I should think I have," replied the detective, dropping into a seat. "I
was just writing a report in the Yard when I was sent for by the Chief,
and you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard the
reason. I suppose I am acting rightly in coming at once to tell you,
although in my flurry at the time I quite forgot to ask the Chief's
permission, but as you are mixed up in the case at the request of the
Foreign Office, I thought you ought to learn what had happened."
"Well, what is it?" cried Brett, impatient of the other's careful
provisos.
"Simply this," said the detective. "Mr. Jack Talbot bolted from London
on Tuesday in company with a lady. They crossed over from Dover to
Calais by the midday boat, and went direct to Paris. Mr. Talbot calmly
booked rooms for himself and the girl in the Grand Hotel, had the nerve
to write 'Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, 118, Ulster Gardens, London, W.,' in the
register, and both of them disappeared forthwith. But we will soon lay
hands on the gentleman, no fear. I have somehow suspected, Mr. Brett,
that your notion of a political crime was all poppy-cock. It is a good
big brazen-faced steal."
"Is it?" said Brett, his face glistening with excitement at the
intelligence so suddenly conveyed to him. "Would you mind explaining to
me how this precious information reached you?"
"There is no use, sir, in fighting against facts," said the detective,
with dogged insistence. "This time you are dead wrong. Mr. Talbot was
recognized at Calais by a Foreign Office messenger returning from
France. Seeing him with a lady, and knowing that he was not married, the
messenger--Captain Gaultier by name--did not speak to him, especially as
Mr. Talbot seemed rather to avoid recognition. Captain Gaultier thought
nothing of the matter until this morning, when he visited the Foreign
Office on duty and heard something of the affair. He then saw the
Under-Secretary, the same gentleman who sent the Earl of Fairholme to
you, and told him what had happened. The Under-Secretary could hardly
refuse to believe such a credible witness, so telegrams were despatched
to the Embassy in Paris and the police at Dover. From Dover came the
information that exactly such a couple as described by Captain Gaultier
had crossed to France on Tuesday morning; and a few hours later a wire
from Paris announced the discovery of the registered names at the Grand
Hotel. The Paris telegram went on to say that the gentleman had told the
manager his luggage was following from the Gare du Nord, and that his
wife and himself were going out for half an hour, but would return in
time to dress for dinner. When his traps arrived they were to be taken
to his room. No luggage ever came, nor was either of the pair seen
again; but we will lay hands on them, never fear."
Brett took a hasty stride or two up and down the room.
"So you think," he burst forth at last, "that Mr. Talbot has not only
taken part in some vulgar intrigue with a woman, but that he has also
bolted with the Sultan's diamonds, sacrificing his whole career to a
momentary impulse and imperilling his neck for the sake of a few gems,
which he cannot even convert into money?"
"Why not? It is not the first time in the history of the world that a
man has made a fool of himself over a woman, or even committed a murder
in order to steal diamonds."
"My dear Winter, do be reasonable. Where is the market for diamonds such
as these are supposed to be? You know, even better than I do, that the
slightest attempt to dispose of them at any figure remotely approaching
their value will lead to the immediate detection and arrest of the
person rash enough to make the experiment. Don't you see, man, that the
Foreign Office and its messenger, its Under-Secretary, your
Commissioner, and the Embassy officials in Paris have been completely
and abjectly fooled--fooled, too, in a particularly silly fashion by the
needless registration of names at the hotel?"
"No, I do not see it. One cannot go against facts, but this time the
evidence looks so strong that I shall be mightily mistaken if Mr. Talbot
does not swing for his share in the matter. Anyhow, I have done my duty
in letting you know what has happened, so I must be off."
"To arrest somebody, of course?" cried Brett, with an irritating laugh;
but Mr. Winter was already hurrying down the stairs.
The momentary feeling of annoyance soon passed, to be succeeded by
profound pity for the household at 118, Ulster Gardens. He well knew
that once the police became convinced that a particular individual was
responsible for the commission of a crime it required the eloquence of
several counsel and the combined intelligence of a judge and jury at the
Old Bailey to force them to change their opinion. Brett had never, to
his knowledge, seen Talbot, yet he felt that this bright, alert and
trustworthy young official was innocent of the slightest voluntary
complicity in a crime which must shock London when its extent became
known.
The testimony of the Foreign Office messenger was, of course, staggering
at first sight, especially when backed up by the hurried investigations
made at Dover and Paris. But there must be an explanation of Talbot's
supposed journey, and, even assuming the most unfavourable view of his
actions, why on earth should he so ostentatiously parade himself and his
companion at the bureau of the Grand Hotel? There could be but one
answer to this question. He acted in this manner in order to make
certain that his presence in Paris should be known to the police at the
first instant they endeavoured to trace him. Then, who could the woman
be? The last thing that a clever criminal flying from outraged law would
dream of doing would be to encumber himself with a young and probably
good-looking companion of the opposite sex.
The more Brett thought out the complexities of the affair, the more
excited he became, and the longer and more rapid were his strides up and
down the length of his spacious sitting-room. This was his only outward
sign of agitation. When thinking deeply on any all-absorbing topic, he
could not remain still. He felt obliged to cast away physical as well as
mental restriction on the play of his imagination, and he would at times
pace back and forth during unrecorded hours in the solitude of his
apartments, finally awakening to a sense of his surroundings by reason
of sheer exhaustion.
He was not destined to reach this ultimate stage on the present
occasion. With a preliminary cough--for the discreet Smith was well
versed in his master's peculiarities--his servant announced the
appearance of the Earl of Fairholme.
Brett looked at his watch, and was caught in the act by his visitor.
"Yes, I know we fixed on seven o'clock," cried the impetuous young peer,
"but I was simply dying to hear the result of your inquiries thus far,
and I ventured to call an hour earlier."
The barrister explained that he sought to learn the time as a matter of
mere curiosity. "Indeed," he added, "your appearance at this juncture is
particularly welcome. I want to ask you many things concerning Mr.
Talbot."
"Fire away," said Fairholme. "I'm no good at spinning a yarn, but I can
answer questions like a prize boy in a Sunday-school."
"Well, in the first instance, have you known him many years?"
"We were at school together at Harrow. Then I entered the Army whilst he
had a University career. My trustees made me give up the Service when I
succeeded to the estates, and about the same time Jack entered the
Foreign Office. That is three years ago. We have seen each other
constantly since, and, of course, when I became engaged to his sister
our friendship became, if anything, stronger."
"Nothing could be more admirably expressed. Do you know anything about
his private affairs?"
"Financially, do you mean?"
"Well, yes, to begin with."
"He got a salary, I suppose, from Government, but he has a private
income of some thousands a year."
"Then he is not likely to be embarrassed for money?"
"Most unlikely. He is a particularly steady chap--full of eagerness to
follow a diplomatic career and that sort of thing. Why, he would sooner
read a blue-book than the _Pink 'Un_!"
"If you were told that he had bolted with a nondescript young woman,
what would you say?"
"Say!" vociferated Fairholme, springing up from the seat into which he
had subsided, "I would tell the man who said so that he was a d----d
liar!"
"Exactly. Of course you would! Yet here are all kinds of people--Foreign
Office officials, policemen, and hangers-on of the British Embassy in
Paris--ready to swear, perhaps to prove, if necessary, that Talbot and
some smartly-dressed female went to Paris quite openly by the day
service yesterday, and even took care to announce ostentatiously their
arrival in the French capital."
For a moment the two men faced each other silently, the one amused by
the news he was imparting, the other staggered by its seeming absurdity.
Then Fairholme flung himself back into his chair.
"Look here, Mr. Brett," he went on, "if Jack himself stood there and
told me that what you have said is true I would hardly believe it." A
note of agony came into his voice, as he added: "Do you know what this
means to his sister? My God, man, it will kill her!"
"It will do nothing of the sort," cried Brett. "Surely you understand
Miss Talbot better. She will be the first to proclaim to the world what
you and I believe, namely, that her brother is innocent, no matter how
black appearances may be. I have no knowledge of him save what I have
learned within the last few hours, yet I stake my reputation on the
certainty that he is in no way connected with this terrible occurrence
save by compulsion."
"It gives one renewed courage to hear you speak so confidently," said
the earl, his face lighting with enthusiasm as he looked eagerly at the
other, whose earnestness had, for an instant, lifted the veil from
features usually calm and impassive, betraying the strength of character
and masterful purpose that lay beneath the outward mask.
"Is there anything else I can tell you?" asked Fairholme.
"You are quite sure that his was a nature that could not stoop to a
vulgar intrigue?" said Brett. "Remember that in this relation the finest
natures are prone to err. From long experience, I have learnt to place
such slips in quite another category than mere lapses of criminality."
"Of course any man who knows the world must appreciate your reasons
fully, but from what I know of Jack I am persuaded the thing is quite
impossible. Even if it were otherwise, he would never be so mad as to go
off when he knew that something very unusual and important was about to
occur with reference to a special mission for the successful conclusion
of which he had been specially selected by the Foreign Office."
"Ah, there you touch on the strange happenings of coincidence.
Circumstantial evidence convicts many offenders, but it has hanged many
an innocent man before to-day. I could tell you a very remarkable case
in point. Once----"
But Smith appeared to announce dinner, and Brett not only insisted that
his new acquaintance should dine heartily, but also contrived to divert
him from present anxieties by drawing upon the rich storehouse of his
varied experiences.
The meal, therefore, passed pleasantly enough. Both men arranged to
visit Sir Hubert Fitzjames during the evening and decide on a definite
course of action which would receive the approval of the authorities.
Armed with a mandate from the Foreign Office, Brett could enter upon his
task without fear of interference from officialdom. Nothing further
could be done that night, as the private inquiry agent could not
possibly complete any portion of his house-to-house scrutiny in the
vicinity of the Carlton until the following morning at the earliest.
They smoked and chatted quietly until 7.30 p.m., when Inspector Winter
again put in an appearance, to announce that the coroner's jury had
brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder by some two or more persons
unknown."
The detective was somewhat quieter in manner now that the sensational
turn of events in Paris had assimilated with the other remarkable
features of the crime. Moreover, the presence of a peer of the realm had
a subduing influence upon him, and he had the good taste not to insist
too strenuously that Lord Fairholme's prospective brother-in-law was not
only an accessory to a foul murder, but also a fugitive thief.
One new fact was established by the post-mortem examination of the
victims. Considerable violence had been used to overcome the struggles
of the servant, Hussein. His neck was almost dislocated, and there was a
large bruise on his back which might have been caused by the knee of an
assailant endeavouring to garrotte him.
They were discussing this discovery and its possible significance when
Smith entered, bearing a lady's visiting-card, which he silently handed
to his master.
Brett read the name inscribed thereon. He merely said, "Show the lady
in." Then he turned to the Earl of Fairholme, electrifying the latter by
the words: "Miss Edith Talbot is here."
An instant later Miss Talbot came into the room. The three men knew that
she brought momentous, perchance direful, intelligence. She was deathly
pale. Her eyes were unnaturally brilliant, her mouth set in tense
resolution.
"Mr. Brett," she said, after a single glance at her lover, "we have
received a letter from my brother."
"A letter from Jack!" cried Fairholme.
"Well, I never did!" ejaculated Mr. Winter.
But Brett only said--
"Have you brought it with you, Miss Talbot?"
"Yes; it is here. My uncle, who was too ill to accompany me, thought you
ought to see it at once," and she handed a torn envelope to him.
He glanced at the postmark.
"It was posted in Paris last evening," he said, his cool utterance
sending a thrill through the listeners. "Is the address written by him?"
he added.
"Oh, yes. It is undoubtedly from Jack."
Here was a woman moulded on the same inscrutable lines as the man whom
she faced. Seldom, indeed, would either of these betray the feelings
which agitated them. Then he took out the folded letter. It contained
but three lines, and was undated.
"My dear Uncle and Sister," it ran. "I am in a position of some
difficulty, but am quite safe personally.--Ever yours, JACK."
Mr. Winter was the first to recover his equanimity. He could not control
the note of triumph in his voice.
"What do you think of it now, Mr. Brett?"
The barrister ignored him, save for a glance which seemed to express
philosophical doubt as to whether Mr. Winter's head contained brains or
sawdust.
"You are quite positive that both letter and envelope are in your
brother's handwriting?" he said.
"Absolutely positive."
"There can be no doubt about it," chimed in Fairholme, to whom, in
response to a gesture, Brett had passed the damning document.
"Then this letter simplifies matters considerably," said Brett.
Miss Talbot looked at him unflinchingly as she uttered the next
question:
"Do you mean that it serves to clear my brother from any suspicion?"
"Most certainly."
"I thank you for your words from the bottom of my heart. Somehow, I knew
you would say that. Will you please come and help to explain matters to
my uncle? Harry, you will come too, will you not?"
The sweet gentle voice, with its sad mingling of hope and despair,
sounded so pathetic that the impetuous peer had some difficulty in
restraining a wild impulse to clasp her to his heart then and there.
Even Mr. Winter was moved not to proclaim his disbelief.
"I will see you in the morning, sir," he muttered.
Brett nodded, and the detective went out, saying to himself as he
reached the street--
"Nerve! Of course he has nerve. It's in the family. Just look at that
girl! Still, it did require some grit to sign his name in the hotel
register and then calmly sit down to write a letter telling his people
not to worry about him. I've known a few rum cases in my time, but this
one----"
The remainder of Mr. Winter's soliloquy was lost in the spasmodic
excitement of boarding a passing omnibus, for this latest item of news
must be conveyed to the Yard with all speed.
CHAPTER VI
A JOURNEY TO PARIS
The sight of Talbot's letter seemed to fire Brett's imagination. He
radiated electric energy. Both Lord Fairholme and Miss Talbot felt that
in his presence all doubts vanished. They realized, without knowing why,
that this man of power, this human dynamo, would quickly dispel the
clouds which now rendered the outlook so forbidding. For the moment,
heedless of their presence, he began to pace the room in the strenuous
concentration of his thoughts. Once he halted in front of the small bust
of Edgar Allan Poe, whose pedestal still imprisoned the two cuttings of
a newspaper which formed the barrister's first links with the tragedy.
His ideas suddenly reverted to the paragraph describing the efforts of
the Porte to obtain from the French Government the extradition of a
fugitive relative of the Sultan. At that instant, too, a tiny clock on
the mantelpiece chimed forth the hour of eight.
"That settles it," said Brett aloud. "Smith," he vociferated.
And Smith appeared.
"Pack up sufficient belongings for a short trip to the Continent. Don't
forget a rug and a greatcoat. Have the portmanteau on a cab at the door
within three minutes."
"I am sorry, Miss Talbot," he continued, with his charming smile and a
manner as free from perplexity as if he was announcing a formal visit to
his grandmother. "I have just decided to go to Paris at once. The train
leaves Victoria at 8.15. Lord Fairholme will take you home, and you will
both, I am sure, be able to convince Sir Hubert that to yield too
greatly to anxiety just now is to suffer needless pain."
"You are going to Paris, Mr. Brett!" cried Edith. "Why?"
"In obedience to an impulse. I always yield to impulses. They impress me
as constituting Nature's telegraphs. I have a favourite theory that we
all contain a neatly devised adaptation of Marconi's wireless system,
and the time may come when the secret will be scientifically laid bare.
Then, don't you see, it will be possible for a man in London to ring up
a sympathetic soul in San Francisco. At present the code is not
understood. It is not even properly named, so people are apt to distrust
impulses."
He rattled on so pleasantly that Edith, absorbed by the agony of her
brother's disappearance and possible disgrace, could not conceal an
expression of blank amazement at his levity.
Brett instantly became apologetic.
"Pray forgive my apparent flippancy, Miss Talbot," he said. "I am really
in earnest. I believe that a flying visit to Paris just now must
unquestionably advance us an important stage in this inquiry. Let me
explain exactly what I mean. Here is a letter from your brother, in
handwriting which you and others best qualified to judge declare to be
undeniably his. It also bears postmarks which would demonstrate to a
court of law that it was posted in Paris last night and received here
to-day. But it does not follow that it was written in Paris; it might
have been written anywhere. Now, according to the police, there is an
entry in the visitors' book at the Grand Hotel which appears to prove
that your brother wrote his name therein on Tuesday night. If the
handwriting in the Grand Hotel register corresponds beyond all doubt
with that in this letter and envelope, then your brother must be in
Paris. If it does not, he is not there. I am convinced that the latter
hypothesis is correct, but to make doubly sure I will go and see with my
own eyes. There now--I owed you an explanation, and I have barely time
to catch my train. Good-bye. I will wire you in the morning."
He placed the mysterious letter in his note-book, gave them a parting
smile, and was gone.
He managed to catch the 8.15, which started punctually, the sole remnant
of railway virtue possessed by the Chatham and South Eastern line. A
restful porter, quickened into active life by a half-crown tip, found
him a vacant seat in a first-class smoking carriage, and Brett's hasty
glance round the compartment revealed that his travelling companions, as
far as Dover, at any rate, were severely respectable Britons bound for
the Riviera.
The harbour station at Dover wore its usual aspect of dejected misery.
The hurrying passengers pushed and jostled each other in their frenzied
efforts to board the steamer, for the average British tourist has a
rooted belief that such pushing and jostling and banging of apoplectic
portmanteaus against the legs of others are absolutely necessary if he
would not be left behind.
With an experience born of many voyages, Brett quickly noted the
direction of the wind and the vessel's bearings. A stiff breeze had
brought up a moderate sea, and the barrister dumped down his bag and
flung himself into a chair on what a novice would regard as the weather
side of the charthouse. He bore the discomfort for a few minutes, and
was rewarded for his foresight by possessing the most sequestered nook
on deck when the vessel turned her head seawards and began one of the
shortest, but perhaps the most disagreeable, voyages in the world.
Having retained his seat long enough to establish a proprietary right
therein, Brett rose and made a short tour of the ship. To distinguish
any one on deck was almost out of the question. The passengers were
huddled up in indefinable shapes, and there was hardly light sufficient
to effect a stumbling progress over the multitude of hand-baggage. So
the barrister dived down the companion-way and cannoned against a burly
individual who had propped himself against a bulkhead on the main deck
saloon.
Something hard in the man's pockets gave Brett a sharp rap, and when
they separated with mutual apologies, he laughed silently.
"Handcuffs!" he murmured. "Scotland Yard is always prepared for
emergencies. I will wager a considerable sum that as soon as Winter
reached headquarters his story about the letter caused a telegram to be
despatched to Dover. Here's a detective bound for Paris and prepared to
manacle Talbot the moment he sees him. What a fearful and wonderful
thing is the English police system. A crime, obviously clever in its
conception and treatment, can be handled by a sharp policeman wearing
regulation boots and armed with handcuffs. Really, I must have a drink."
Clinging to the hand-rails and executing some crude but effective
balancing feats, he reached the dining saloon, which was woefully
denuded of occupants, for the English Channel that night had sternly set
its face against the indiscriminate use of cold ham and pickles.
Near the bar, however, solemnly digesting a liqueur, stood a man to whom
the choppy sea evidently gave no concern. He had the square shoulders,
neat-fitting clothes and closely clipped appearance at the back of the
neck which mark the British officer; but he also stood square on his
feet and swayed with unconscious ease whether the vessel pitched or
rolled or executed the combined movement.
"Now, I wonder," said Brett, "if that is Captain Gaultier. He must be.
Gaultier, from his name, should be a Jersey man, hence his facility in
foreign languages and his employment as a Foreign Office messenger. It's
worth trying. I will make the experiment."
He reached the bar and ordered a whisky and soda. Turning affably to the
stranger, he remarked--
"Nasty night, isn't it? I hope we shan't be much behind time."
The stranger glanced at him with sharp and inquisitive eyes, but the
glance evidently reassured him, for he replied quite pleasantly--
"Oh, no. A matter of a few minutes, perhaps. They usually manage to make
up any delay after we leave Calais."
"That's good," said Brett, "because I want to be in Paris at the
earliest possible moment."
The other man smiled.
"We are due there at 5.38," he said. "Rather an early hour for business,
isn't it?"
"Well, yes," assented the barrister, "under ordinary circumstances, but
as my only business in Paris is to examine an hotel register and then
get something to eat before I return, I do not wish to waste time
unnecessarily on the road."
The other man nodded affably, but gave no sign of further interest.
"So," communed Brett, "if it be Gaultier, he has not heard the latest
developments. I must try a frontal attack."
"Does your name happen to be Gaultier?" he went on.
The stranger arrested his liqueur glass in the final tilt.
"It does," he said; "but I do not think I have the pleasure of knowing
you."
"No," said Brett, "you haven't."
"Well?" said the other man.
"The fact is," said Brett, "I heard you had been in London. I guessed
from your appearance that you might be a King's messenger, and it was
just possible that the Captain Gaultier in whom I was interested might
start back to the Continent to-night, so I put two and two together,
don't you see, with the result that they made four, a thing which
doesn't always happen in deduction if in mathematics."
Now, Foreign Office messengers are not chosen for their simplicity or
general want of intelligence. Captain Gaultier eyed his questioner with
some degree of stern suspicion as he said from behind his cigar--
"May I ask who you are?"
"Certainly," replied Brett, producing his card.
After a quick glance at the pasteboard, Gaultier continued--
"I suppose, Mr. Brett, you have some motive in addressing me? What is
it?"
"I am interested in the fate of a man named Talbot," was the
straightforward reply, "and as you told the Under-Secretary that you had
seen Talbot crossing to Paris in company with a lady last Tuesday, I
hoped that perhaps you would not mind discussing the matter with me."
Captain Gaultier was evidently puzzled. Private conversations with
Under-Secretaries of State are not, as a rule, public property, and his
momentary intention to decline further conversation with this
good-looking and fascinating stranger was checked by remembrance of the
fact.
"Really, Mr. Brett," he said, "although I do not question the accuracy
of your statement, you will readily understand that I can hardly discuss
the matter with you under the circumstances."
"Naturally. You would not be holding a responsible position in His
Majesty's service if you were at all likely to do any such thing. But I
propose, in the first instance, to reassure you as to my bona fides, and
I may point out, in the second place, that as I have met you by a
fortunate chance, you can hardly deem it a breach of confidence to
discuss with me the mere accidental appearance on a cross-Channel
steamer of a man known not only to both of us, but to society at large."
Gaultier clearly hesitated, but did not refuse to accept the
Under-Secretary's letter, which Brett handed to him, with the words--
"You know the handwriting, no doubt?"
"That speaks for itself." The King's messenger smiled when he returned
the note. "It is an odd coincidence," he added, "and still more curious
that you should spot me so readily. However, Mr. Brett, we have now
cleared the air. What can I do for you?"
"Simply this," said the barrister; "do you mind telling me how you came
to recognize Mr. Talbot?"
"Well, for one thing," was the thoughtful reply, "I knew his overcoat. I
often met Talbot in the Foreign Office, and one day he drove me to his
club wearing a very handsome coat lined with astrachan. It struck me as
a peculiarly comfortable and well-fitting one, and although there are
plenty of men about town who may possess astrachan coats, it is a
reasonable assumption that this was the identical garment when it
happened to be worn by the man himself."
"Then you are quite certain it was Talbot?" went on the barrister.
"Quite certain."
"Would you swear it was he, though his life depended on your accuracy?"
"Well, no, perhaps not that; but I would certainly swear that I believed
it was Mr. Talbot."
"Ah, that is a material difference. The only way in which you could be
positively certain was to enter into conversation with him, was it not?"
"Yes, that is so."
"I do not want you to think, Captain Gaultier, that I am cross-examining
you. Let me tell you at once that I believe you saw someone masquerading
in Talbot's clothes, and made up to represent him. Was there anything
about his appearance that might lend credence to such a view?"
The other reflected a little while before answering.
"There was only one thing," he said--"he did not seem to notice me. Now,
he is a sharp sort of chap, and as it was broad daylight and a fine day,
he must have seen me, for he knows me well. Again, from all that I have
heard of him, I do not think that he would either pass an acquaintance
without speaking to him, nor take flying trips to the Continent with
ladies of the music-hall persuasion."
"You have supplied two very powerful reasons why the individual you saw
should not be Jack Talbot. Yet, as you say, it was broad daylight, and
you had a good look at him."
"No, no," interrupted the other. "I had a good look at his coat--and the
lady. Whoever the man was, he appeared to be wrapped up in both of them,
and he certainly did not court observation. I naturally thought that the
feminine attachment accounted for this, and for the same reason, I did
not even seek to scrutinize him too closely. To put the thing in a
nutshell, I saw a man whom I believed to be Jack Talbot--and who
certainly resembled him in face and figure--attired in Talbot's clothes,
and wearing a coat which I had noted so particularly as to be able to
describe it to my tailor when ordering a similar one. Add to that the
appearance of an attractive lady, young and unknown, and you have my
soul laid bare to you in the matter."
"Thank you," said Brett. "I am much obliged."
He would have quitted the saloon, but Captain Gaultier laughed--
"Hold on a bit: it is my turn now. Suppose I try to pump you."
A giant wave took hold of the vessel and shook her violently, and Brett,
though an average amateur sailor, felt that the saloon was no place for
him.
"Between you and the ship, Captain Gaultier," he said, "the success of
the operation would be certain. I have secured a quiet corner of the
deck. If you wish for further talk we must adjourn there."
The transit was effected without incident, much to Brett's relief. After
a minute or two he felt that a cigar was possible. He turned to his
companion with a quiet observation--
"The vessel has failed. You can start now."
"Well," said Gaultier, "tell me what is the mystery attaching to
Talbot's movements. I only heard the vaguest of rumours in the
Department, but something very terrible appears to have happened, and,
indeed, I heartily wished I had kept my mouth shut concerning my
supposed meeting with him last Tuesday, as the affair was no business of
mine. Moreover, you have now somewhat shaken my belief in his identity,
although I can hardly tell you why that should be so."
Brett paused to make sure that no one would overhear him, but the fierce
wind whistling round the chart house and bridge, the seas that smote the
ship's quarter with a thunderous noise, the all-pervading sense of
riotous fury in the elements, rendered the precaution almost
unnecessary. In any case, there was no one near enough to act the part
of eavesdropper, and Brett, exercising the rapid decision which
frequently impressed others as a gift of divination, determined that to
let such a man as the King's messenger into the secret could not
possibly be harmful to the interests of his client, whilst his help
might be beneficial.
In the fewest possible words, therefore, he poured the tale into the
other's wondering ear. When he had finished, Gaultier remained silent a
few minutes.
Already the clear radiance of the magnificent light at Calais was
sending intermittent flashes of brightness over the deck, and the long
shoulder of Cape Grisnez was thrusting the force of the gale back into
mid-Channel.
"I think," said Gaultier, speaking slowly and thoughtfully, "that your
view is the right one, Mr. Brett. There is much more in this business
than meets the eye, and any man who believes that Jack Talbot would mix
himself up in it must be a most determined ass. Of course, such people
do exist, but they shouldn't be in the police force. You are going on to
Paris, you said?"
"Yes."
"Then we can travel together. All that you have said is quite new to me.
Curiously enough, I have just returned from Constantinople, and I may be
able to assist you."
Brett silently thanked his stars for the gratuitous circumstance which
threw him into the company of Captain Gaultier. He recognized that the
King's messenger, with the precaution that might be expected from one
whose daily life demanded extreme prudence, desired to mentally review
the strange facts made known to him before he committed himself further.
With ready tact the barrister changed the conversation to matters of the
moment until they reached the pier at Calais, when both men, not
encumbered with much luggage, were among the first flight of passengers
to reach the station buffet.
On their way they captured a railway official and told him to reserve a
_coupé lit_ compartment. In the midst of their hasty meal the Frenchman
arrived, voluble, apologetic. The train was crowded. Never had there
been such a rush to the South. By the exercise of most profound care he
had secured them two seats in a compartment, but the third had already
taken itself. He was sorry for it; he had done his best.
When they entered their carriage the third occupant was in possession.
He was French, aggressively so. Phil May might have used him for a
model. The poor man had been wretchedly ill from the moment he left
Dover until the vessel was tied to her berth in the harbour at Calais.
He paid not the least attention to the newcomers, being apparently
absorbed in contemplation of his own misery. The two Englishmen, though
experienced travellers, were sufficiently insular to resent the presence
of the stranger, whom Brett resolved to put to the language test
forthwith.
"It is very cold in here," he said. "Shall I turn on the hot air?"
The Frenchman seemed to understand that he was addressed. He looked up
with a shivering smile and explained that he had only booked one seat.
The remainder of the compartment was at their disposal. He was evidently
guiltless of acquaintance with the English tongue, but Brett did not
like his appearance.
Though well-dressed and well-spoken he was a nondescript individual, and
the flash of his dark eyes was not reassuring. Yet the man was so ill
that Brett forthwith dismissed him from his thoughts, though he took
care to occupy the centre seat himself, thus placing Captain Gaultier on
the other side of the carriage. After a visit from the ticket examiner,
the Frenchman disposed himself for a nap and the train started.
Captain Gaultier by this time had made up his mind as to the information
he felt he could give his new acquaintance.
"It is very odd," he said, "that those diamonds should disappear just at
the moment when there is every sign of unrest in Turkey. You know, of
course, the manner of the last Sultan's death?"
Brett nodded.
"And you have heard, no doubt, something of the precautions taken by the
present Sultan to safeguard his life against the attacks of possible
assassins?"
"Yes," said Brett.
"Well, these have been redoubled of late, and the man never goes out
that he is not in the most abject state of fear. He is a pitiful sight,
I assure you. I saw him less than a fortnight ago, driving to the Mosque
on Friday, and his coachman evidently had orders to go at a gallop
through the streets, whilst not only was the entire road protected by
soldiers, but every house was examined previously by police agents.
There is something in the wind of more than usual importance in the
neighbourhood of Yildiz Kiosk just now, I am certain. I suppose you did
not chance to see any mention of the fact that Hussein-ul-Mulk, the
Sultan's nephew, has recently fled from Turkey, and is now under the
protection of the French Government?"
"Yes, I noticed that."
"You don't seem to miss much," was Gaultier's sharp remark, pausing in
his narrative to light a cigar.
"One of my few virtues is that I read the newspapers."
The train was slowing down as it neared the town station in Calais, and
Gaultier's voice could be momentarily heard above the diminishing
rattle.
"Well," he said, "I happen to know Hussein-ul-Mulk, and if we find out
where he lives in Paris I will introduce you to him."
Brett looked at the slumbering Frenchman out of the corner of his eye.
The man appeared to be dozing peacefully enough, but the alert barrister
had an impression that his limbs were not sufficiently relaxed under the
influence of slumber. Indeed, he felt sure that the Frenchman was wide
awake and endeavouring to catch the drift of their conversation.
"I will be most pleased to meet your friend, Captain Gaultier," he said,
"and lest it should slip your memory I will give you a reminder."
He opened his card-case and wrote on the back of a card: "Grand Hotel.
Breakfast 11.30. No more at present."
The quick-witted King's messenger read and understood.
"It seems to me," he went on, "that he is the very man for your purpose.
Though he is not in favour at Court just now he has plenty of friends in
the various departments, and he could give you letters which would be
certain to secure you some excellent orders. I suppose you are going to
the East as the result of the rumoured intention of the Turkish
Government to reconstitute the navy."
Brett made a haphazard guess at Gaultier's meaning.
"Yes," he said, "we ought to place a good many thousand tons with them."
Gaultier leant forward to strike a match and glanced at their companion.
For some indescribable reason he shared Brett's views concerning this
gentleman, and immediately started a conversation of general
significance. They soon discovered that they had several mutual
acquaintances, and in this way they passed the dreary journey to Paris
pleasantly enough.
At the Gare du Nord, their knowledge of French methods enabled them to
get quickly clear of the _octroi_, as neither of them had any baggage
which rendered their presence necessary at the Custom-house. The
Frenchman, who seemed to be thoroughly revived by the air of his beloved
Paris, hurried out simultaneously with themselves. He had no difficulty
in hearing Brett's directions to a cabman. Gaultier entered another
vehicle.
Brett was the first away from the station. He fancied he saw his French
travelling companion hastily whisper something to a lounger near the
exit, so he suddenly pulled up his _voiture_, gave the driver a
two-franc piece and told him to go to the Grand Hotel and there await
his arrival. The cab had halted for the moment in the Rue Lafayette, at
the corner of the Place Valenciennes, and the cabman, recognizing that
his fare was an Englishman and consequently mad, drove off immediately
in obedience to orders.
Though nearly six o'clock in the morning, it was quite dark, but as
Brett walked rapidly back towards the station he had no difficulty in
picking out Gaultier, who occupied an open vehicle. Some little distance
behind came another, and herein the barrister thought he recognized the
man to whom the Frenchman in the train had spoken. By this time many
other cabs were dashing out of the station-yard, so Brett took the
chance that he might be hopelessly wrong.
He hailed a third vehicle and told the driver to follow the other two,
which were now some distance down the Rue Lafayette. Not until the three
cabs had crossed the Place de l'Opera and passed the Madeleine could
Brett be certain that the occupant of the second was following his
friend Gaultier. Then he chuckled to himself, for this was surely a rare
stroke of luck.
Quickly reviewing the possibilities of the affair, he came to the
conclusion that the travelling Frenchman really understood little, if
any, English, but that he had caught the name of the fugitive from the
Sultan's wrath and had forthwith betrayed an interest in their
conversation which was, to say the least, remarkable. At the exit from
the Gare du Nord the stranger had readily enough ascertained Brett's
destination, but he clearly regarded it as important that Gaultier--the
man who claimed Hussein-ul-Mulk as a friend--should be tracked, and had
given the necessary instructions to the confederate who awaited his
arrival.
Although Gaultier had not said as much, Brett guessed that his
destination was the British Embassy in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré.
The route followed by the cabman led straight to that well-known
locality. The Frenchman in the second cab evidently thought likewise,
for, at the corner of the Rue Boissy he pulled up, and Brett was just in
time to give his driver instructions to go ahead and thus avoid
attracting undue notice to himself.
Gaultier turned into the Embassy, and Brett himself halted a little
further on. Dismissing his _cocher_ with a liberal fare, he walked
rapidly back, and saw the spy enter into conversation with the night
porter on duty. The latter personage, however, was clearly a trustworthy
official, for he loudly told the other to be off and attend to his own
affairs.
Then followed a most exciting and perplexing chase through many streets,
and it was only by the exercise of the utmost discretion that Brett
finally located his man at a definite number in the Rue Barbette, a tiny
thoroughfare in the Temple district.
By this time dawn was advancing over Paris, and the streets were
beginning to fill with early workers. He inquired from a passer-by the
most likely locality in which he could find a cab, and the man civilly
conducted him to the Rue de Rivoli. Thence he was not long in reaching
the Grand Hotel, where he found the astonished _cocher_ of his first
vehicle still safeguarding his bag and arguing fiercely with a porter
that he had unquestionably obeyed the Englishman's instructions.
Tired though he was, Brett did not fail to scrutinize the list of
arrivals at the hotel on the preceding Tuesday. He instantly found the
entry he sought. The arrival of "Mr. and Mrs. John Talbot, London," was
chronicled in the register with uncompromising boldness. Hastily
comparing the writing in Talbot's letter with that of the visitors'
book, Brett was at first staggered by their similarity, but he quickly
recognized the well-known signs which indicate that a man who himself
writes a bold and confident hand has been copying the signature of
another with the object of reproducing it freely and with reasonable
accuracy. There are always perceptible differences in the varying
pressure of the pen and the distribution of the ink.
Allowance had evidently not been made for the fact that Englishmen
almost invariably write their names very badly in Continental hotel
registers, owing to their inability to use foreign pens. The man who not
only forged Mr. Talbot's name, but also supplied him with a wife,
laboured under no such disadvantage. Indeed, Talbot himself would
probably not have written his own name so legibly.
"That is all right," said Brett wearily, traversing a corridor to gain
his room. "Now, I wonder if there is any connexion between
Hussein-ul-Mulk and the Rue Barbette."
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUSE IN THE RUE BARBETTE
Brett was called at ten o'clock. After reinvigorating himself with a
bath and a hearty breakfast, he was ready to meet Captain Gaultier, who
arrived promptly at 11.30.
In the spacious foyer of the Grand Hotel it was impossible to say who
might be looking at them.
"Come to my room," said Brett. "There we will be able to talk without
interruption."
Once comfortably seated, Brett resumed the conversation where he had
broken it off in the train overnight.
"You say you know Hussein-ul-Mulk," he commenced.
"Yes," replied the King's messenger, "and what is more, I have
discovered his residence since we parted. It seems that one of the
attachés at the Embassy met him recently and thought it advisable to
keep in touch with the Young Turkish party, of which Hussein-ul-Mulk is
a shining light. So he asked him where he lived, and as the result I
have jotted down the address in my note-book." Gaultier searched through
his memoranda, and speedily found what he wanted.
"Wait a minute," interrupted Brett. "Does it happen to be No. 11, Rue
Barbette?"
The barrister had more than once surprised his companion during the
previous night, but this time Gaultier seemed to be more annoyed than
startled.
"If you know all these things," he said stiffly, "I don't see why you
should bother me to get you the information. I certainly gathered from
your remarks that the only acquaintance you had with Hussein-ul-Mulk was
obtained from the newspapers, and that individual himself has the best
of reasons for not publishing his address broadcast."
Brett smiled.
"You mean," he said, "that Hussein-ul-Mulk does live at No. 11, Rue
Barbette."
"Why, of course he does," was the irritable answer.
"That is very odd," said the barrister. "It was a mere guess on my part,
I assure you."
His assurance evidently did not weigh much with Captain Gaultier, who
replaced the note-book in his pocket, and obviously cast about in his
mind for a convenient excuse to take his departure.
Brett knew exactly what was troubling him.
"I am quite in earnest," he said, "in telling you that I simply hazarded
a guess at the address. To prove that this is so, I must place you in
possession of certain incidents which took place after we parted at the
Gare du Nord."
Rapidly but succinctly he told the amazed King's messenger of the chase
in the cab across Paris, and how he (Brett) had followed the Frenchman
who was tracking Gaultier's movements so closely.
"You will understand," he concluded, "that, in view of my preconceived
theory, it was not a very far-fetched assumption to connect
Hussein-ul-Mulk with the house in the Rue Barbette into which your spy
vanished."
"Well," gasped his astonished hearer, "I must say, Mr. Brett, that I owe
you an apology. I really thought at first you were fooling me, whereas
now I learn that you simply kept your eyes open much wider than other
people, perhaps. Nevertheless, you have given me a genuine explanation
of circumstances that were otherwise puzzling. For, do you know, I heard
about that chap calling at the Embassy last night. The incident was
unusual, to say the least, but I paid little attention to it, and
certainly failed altogether to connect it with your visit to Paris. Even
yet I do not see what reason anyone can have for shadowing my
movements."
"I regard it as mere chance. I imagine that our fellow-passenger in the
train caught the name of Hussein-ul-Mulk in our conversation, and this
decided him to shadow your movements, by means of the confederate who
awaited his arrival at the station. As it happened, they simply hit upon
the wrong person. It might have paid them much better to follow me. The
outcome of the blunder is that I am in a fair way towards ascertaining
all I want to know about them, whereas, up to the present, they do not
even suspect my existence as an active agent in the affair."
"Well, now, in what way can I help you regarding Hussein-ul-Mulk?"
"Can you introduce me to him?"
"In what capacity?"
Brett reflected for a moment before replying.
"It would best suit my purpose if I met him as a political sympathiser."
Gaultier evidently did not like the idea. Foreign Office messengers do
not care to be associated with politics in any shape or form.
"Is there no other way?" he asked dubiously.
"Plenty," said Brett. "I might pose as a friend of yours interested in
Turkish carpets, or coffee, or cigarettes, but for the purpose of my
inquiry it would be well to jump preliminaries at once and make this
chance acquaintance under the guise of a wire-puller."
"All right," said Gaultier. "I don't see that it matters much to me, and
the letter you have in your possession from the Under-Secretary is
sufficient warrant for me to give you any assistance that lies in my
power."
He glanced at his watch. "It is just about time for _déjeûner_," he
continued. "What do you say if we drive to the Rue Barbette at once?"
The barrister assented, and they were soon crossing Paris with the
superb disregard for other people's feelings that characterises the
local cab-driver.
"By the way," inquired Gaultier, "have you learned anything else since
your arrival?"
"Only this--it was not our friend Talbot who came here on Tuesday with a
lady."
"You are sure?"
"Positive. I have compared the handwriting in the hotel register with a
letter undoubtedly written by Mr. Talbot, and the two do not agree. The
entry 'Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, London,' in the visitors' book of the Grand
Hotel, was a mere trick intended to amuse the police for a few hours
until the conspirators had perfected their scheme for final and complete
disappearance."
"It was a bold move."
"Very. Quite in keeping with the rest of the details of an uncommon
crime."
At last the _fiacre_ stopped in front of the house in the Rue Barbette
which Brett had already scrutinized during the early hours of the
morning.
"Here we are," said Gaultier with a laugh. "If we find Hussein-ul-Mulk
at home I don't know what the deuce we are going to say to him. Remember
that I depend on you to carry out a difficult situation, because my
Turkish friend will become suspicious the minute he finds me dabbling in
intrigue. He knows full well that such matters are quite outside of my
usual business."
"I think I will be able to interest him," said Brett calmly; and without
further preliminary Gaultier ascertained from the _concierge_ that the
Turkish gentleman was within.
The two men ascended to the second storey.
Gaultier rapped loudly on the first door he encountered, and the summons
appeared to scatter some of the inhabitants, judging by the rapid
opening and closing of doors that preceded the appearance of an elderly
and solemn-looking Turk, who cautiously demanded their business.
Gaultier sent in his card, and the servitor locked the door in the faces
of the two men while he went to ascertain his master's orders.
"They evidently do not mean to take many risks," said the King's
messenger in a low voice.
"You are right," replied Brett, "though they appear to take the greatest
one of all without giving it a thought."
"And what is that?"
"This exhibition of nervousness and precaution before visitors are
admitted. The best way to excite suspicion is to behave exactly as they
are doing."
But now the door was reopened, and the elderly Turk ushered them into a
spacious room on the right of the entrance hall, where they were
received by a young man--a tall, dignified Mohammedan, who rose hastily
from a chair, having apparently abandoned the perusal of a newspaper.
"Ah! mon brave Gaultier," he cried, "I am so pleased to see you. I did
not know you were in Paris. I have been spending an idle moment over
smoke and scandal." He spoke excellent French, and appeared to be quite
at his ease, but Brett noticed that Hussein-ul-Mulk held the discarded
newspaper upside down. He was smoking a cigarette, lighted the instant
before their appearance, and notwithstanding his Oriental phlegm he
seemed to be labouring under intense excitement.
Nevertheless, Hussein-ul-Mulk could control his nerves.
"Have you had _déjeûner_, or have you time to join me in a cigarette?"
he went on.
"We will be delighted," said Gaultier, taking the proffered case. "The
fact is, I only heard of your presence in Paris by accident, and I
mentioned the fact to my friend here, who has interested himself in the
Armenian cause in London. He at once expressed a keen desire to make
your acquaintance, so I ventured to bring him here and introduce him to
you. This is Mr. Reginald Brett, an English barrister, and one who
keenly sympathizes with the reform movement in Turkey."
"I am delighted to know you, Mr. Brett," said the suave Oriental. "It is
naturally a great pleasure to me to make the acquaintance of any
influential Englishman who has given sufficient thought to Eastern
affairs to understand the way in which my country suffers under a
barbarous and unenlightened rule."
He spoke with the glibness of a born agitator, yet all the while he was
inwardly wondering what could be the true motive of the visit paid him
by this distinguished-looking stranger, and Brett was silently resolving
to startle Hussein-ul-Mulk out of his complacency at the earliest
possible moment.
"It is an even greater pleasure to me," he said, "to find myself talking
to a reformer so distinguished as you. Your name is well known in
England. Indeed, in some quarters, it has come to be feared, which in
this world is one of the signs of success."
Hussein-ul-Mulk was puzzled, but he remained outwardly unperturbed.
"I was not aware," he purred, "that my poor services to my country were
so appreciated by my English friends."
"Ah," said Brett, with a smile that conveyed much, "a man like you
cannot long remain hidden. I have good reason to know that at the
present moment your achievements are earnestly attracting the attention
of the Foreign Office."
Hussein-ul-Mulk became even more puzzled. Indeed, he exhibited some
slight tokens of alarm lest Brett's vehement admiration should reach the
ears of others in the adjoining room.
"Really," he said, "you flatter me. Will you not try these cigarettes?
They are the best; they are made from tobacco grown especially for the
Sultan's household, and it is death to export them. I understand that
the cigarette habit has grown very much of recent years in England?"
"Yes," said Brett, "it certainly has developed with amazing rapidity. In
trade, as in politics, this is an astounding age."
Gaultier knew that there was more behind the apparent exchange of
compliments than appeared on the surface. Having fulfilled his pledge to
Brett, he said hurriedly, "Both of you gentlemen will understand that I
cannot very well take part in a political discussion. With your
permission, Hussein, I will now leave my friend with you for a
half-hour's chat, as I have an appointment at the Café Riche."
Although Hussein was profoundly disconcerted by Brett's manner no less
than his utterances, he could not well refuse to accord him a further
audience, so Gaultier quitted the apartment and the Englishman and the
Mussulman were left face to face.
Brett felt that the situation demanded a bold game. Under some
circumstances he knew that to throw away the scabbard and dash with
naked sword into the fray was the right policy.
"I came to see you, Hussein-ul-Mulk," he said, speaking deliberately,
"not only because I have an interest in the progressive policy voiced by
the young Turkish party, but on account of matters of personal interest
to you, and to friends of mine in England."
The Turk bowed silent recognition of the barrister's motives.
"You are aware," said Brett, "that a large number of valuable diamonds
were stolen from the special Envoy of his Majesty the Sultan, in London,
last Tuesday night, and that the theft was accompanied by the murder of
four of the Sultan's subjects and the abduction of a prominent official
in the British Foreign Office?"
It is difficult for an olive-skinned man to turn pale, but
Hussein-ul-Mulk did the next most effective thing for one of his race.
His face assumed a dirty green shade, and his full red lips whitened.
For some few seconds he strove hard to regain his composure and frame a
reply, but Brett, nonchalantly puffing a cloud of smoke into the
intervening space, and thus helping his hearer to control his emotions,
went on--
"Pray do not trouble to deny your knowledge of the fact. It is far
better for men of the world like you and me to discard subterfuge when
engaged in grave and difficult negotiations. I do not purpose wasting
time by describing to you the details of a crime with which you are
thoroughly acquainted. Let me say, in a sentence, that my chief, perhaps
my only, motive in coming here to-day is to secure the release of my
friend Mr. Talbot from the place where he is at present confined, and at
the same time to obtain from you a statement which will satisfactorily
clear Mr. Talbot in the eyes of his superiors of all personal complicity
in the Albert Gate incident."
Again there was a breathless silence.
Hussein-ul-Mulk had regained his nerve. He was now considering how best
he could dispose of this Englishman who knew so much. To purchase his
silence was too hopeless. He must die as speedily and unostentatiously
as possible. So he answered not, but thought hard as to ways and means.
Brett, in imminent danger of his life, disregarded all semblance of
danger. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes in complete
enjoyment of Hussein's cigarettes, which were really excellent, and
said, in the even, matter-of-fact tones of one who discusses an abstract
problem--
"Of course, my dear friend, you are thinking that the best answer you
can give me is to strangle me or to shoot me, or adopt some other
drastic remedy which finds favour in Constantinople. But let me point
out to you that this will be a serious error of judgment. I have not
come here without safeguarding my movements. You are aware that Captain
Gaultier, a trusted Foreign Office messenger, brought me here in person.
Some members of the British Government, and several important officials
of Scotland Yard know that I am in your house and discussing this matter
with you. If any accident interferes with my future movements, you will
simply precipitate a crisis quite lamentable in its results to yourself,
to your association, and to your cause. You will see, therefore,
Hussein, that to kill me cannot really be thought of. A man of your
penetration and undoubted sagacity must surely admit this at once, and
we can then proceed to discuss matters in a friendly and pleasant
manner."
At last Hussein found his tongue. "I have never met you before, Mr.
Brett," he said, "but you interest me."
Brett smiled and bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment.
"Of course, I admit nothing," went on the Mohammedan.
"Of course."
"Least of all do I admit that I contemplated any breach of hospitality
towards yourself."
Brett waved his hand in deprecation of such a pernicious thought.
"But you will understand," went on Hussein-ul-Mulk, "that it is quite
impossible for me to even attempt to discuss the very interesting facts
you have brought to my notice without some inquiry on my part, and on
yours some proof that the events concerning which you have informed me
have really happened. You see, one cannot trust newspapers. They get
such garbled accounts of occurrences, particularly of State affairs;
they are misleading----"
"Excuse me, I am sure you will admit that although I dispensed with
details in my brief statement, the facts were undeniable. I can tell you
exactly how and why Mehemet Ali and his two secretaries, together with
Hussein, his confidential servant, were murdered. But the circumstances
were revolting, and need not be unduly discussed between gentlemen. I
can tell you how the diamonds were obtained from the Albert Gate
mansion, and how they were conveyed to Paris. But as they are probably
in your possession, and the main object of your enterprise has thus been
accomplished, it seems to me that all these otherwise dramatic effects
are needless. I have told you exactly the object of my visit, and I
still await an answer."
Hussein-ul-Mulk laughed a trifle uneasily.
"On my part, monsieur, I might attempt to question the extent of your
knowledge, but as you are mistaken in one part of your summing-up of
evidence, you may be wrong in others."
"To what do you allude?"
The Mohammedan reflected for a moment, and then answered--
"I can see no harm in telling you that I am not aware of any diamonds in
which I am personally interested having arrived in Paris."
"Indeed!" said Brett, leaning forward in his chair, and instantly
dropping the listless air which had hitherto characterized his
utterances. "That is a very curious thing, because the diamonds have
been in Paris at least two days, and if they are withheld from the
possession of those who employed certain agents to secure them, there
must be a powerful reason to account for the delay. Speaking quite
disinterestedly, monsieur, I would advise you to inquire into the matter
at once."
His words evidently perturbed the Turk.
"Will you object," he said, "if I leave you alone a few minutes? I wish
to consult with a friend of mine who happens to be staying here."
"Assuredly," said Brett; "but let me beg you to leave your cigarettes
behind. They are exquisite."
Hussein-ul-Mulk had never before encountered such a personality as
Reginald Brett. His eyebrows became perfectly oval with surprise and
admiration for the man who could thus juggle with a dangerous situation.
"Here is my case," he said, "and when we have concluded this most
interesting conversation I hope you will leave me your address, so that
I may have the extreme pleasure of sending you a few hundreds."
Then he quitted the room. He was absent fully five minutes.
On his return he said--
"In the opinion of my friend, Mr. Brett, it is impossible for us to do
anything at the present moment. We must inquire; we must verify; we must
consult others. You will see that the negotiations you have undertaken
require on our part some display of the extreme delicacy and tact in
which you have given us so admirable a lesson. Suppose, now, we agree to
meet here again to-morrow at the same hour. Am I to understand that what
has transpired this morning remains, we will not say a secret, but a
myth, a mere idle phantasy as between you and me?"
"That is precisely my idea," said Brett. "One hates to mention such a
brutal word as 'police' in an affair demanding finesse. Personally I
hate the blunderers. They rob life of its charm. They have absolutely no
conception of art. Romance with them can end only in penal servitude or
on the gallows. Believe me, Hussein, I am very discreet." In another
minute he was standing in the street, and inhaling generous draughts of
the keen air of Paris.
"I wonder how much my life was worth during the first five minutes?"
said he to himself; and then he made his way to a telegraph office,
whence he despatched the following message--
"TO THE EARL OF FAIRHOLME,
"STANHOPE GATE, LONDON.
"Have received definite intelligence which confirms my views. Expect
our friend will be discovered within forty-eight hours. If possible,
join me at Grand Hotel, Paris, to-night, eleven o'clock.
"BRETT."
CHAPTER VIII
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE RUE BARBETTE
Pending Fairholme's arrival, Brett was not idle. He visited a prominent
jeweller in the Rue de la Paix, and, after making some trivial
purchases, led the conversation to the question of diamonds. By skilful
inquiry he ascertained a good deal about precious stones, both in their
crude and their finished states. The accommodating Frenchman showed him
a good many samples of South African, Brazilian, and Indian stones, and
explained to him the various tests which were used to determine their
value.
Brett had no special object in seeking this information. When engaged in
elucidating any mystery he made it an invariable rule to post himself as
accurately as possible concerning all minor details which might, by any
straining of circumstances, become useful.
He returned to his hotel and jotted down some notes of this
conversation. Whilst engaged in the task a telegram arrived from the
Earl of Fairholme announcing that nobleman's departure from London by
the afternoon train service via Boulogne.
Punctually at the time appointed the earl reached the hotel. He was all
eagerness to learn what had happened since they parted in London, and
why Brett had so suddenly summoned him to Paris.
"I really have not much definite information," said the barrister. "Thus
far I am building chiefly on surmise, but I have undoubtedly come into
contact with the persons who organized and planned, if they did not
actually carry out, the raid on the Albert Gate mansion."
"Then you have news of Jack?" broke in Fairholme excitedly.
"Not exactly. All I can do at present is to assure you that the scent is
hot, and we may run our quarry to earth some few minutes after eleven
o'clock to-morrow morning."
"I am jolly glad that there is a chance of my being useful in this
matter," said the earl gleefully. "If only I am a little bit
instrumental in recovering her brother, Edith hasn't got a leg to stand
on in the matter of getting married. That's awkwardly put, isn't it?
What I mean is that when Talbot is restored to his family and everything
is satisfactorily cleared up, Edith and I can get spliced immediately,
can't we?"
"I regard it as the most assured fact we have yet encountered," said
Brett, pleasantly.
"But you haven't told me yet the exact manner in which I can be useful."
"No," said the barrister. "I have been revolving in my mind the
possibilities of to-morrow morning, and you must play an important part
in what, by chance, may turn out to be a melodrama. Now, listen to me
carefully. In the neighbourhood of the Porte St. Martin there is a
street known as the Rue Barbette. At eleven o'clock to-morrow I go to
the house No. 11 in that street, and you will accompany me as far as the
door. It will be your duty to stand outside and take note of all
persons who enter or leave the house once I have disappeared from view
in the interior. You must exercise your powers of observation most
minutely, paying heed to the height, build, complexion, and clothing of
any individual, male or female, who enters or leaves No. 11, Rue
Barbette, after you have taken your stand in the street. It is more than
probable that no person will demand scrutiny, unless it be some chance
tradesman's assistant visiting the building in pursuance of his ordinary
work. However, do you feel capable of attending to this part of the
programme?"
"Perfectly."
"You will maintain watch until 11.30. If at that hour I have not
rejoined you, make your way to the nearest policeman, and tell him that
you have good reason to believe that a friend of yours has either been
murdered or suffered serious personal injury in a room on the second
storey of the house in question. You will then, in company with the
policeman, come rapidly to the apartment I have indicated and demand an
immediate entrance--if necessary bursting the door open."
"And what then?" gasped the amazed earl.
"I really don't know," said Brett imperturbably. "It is possible you may
find my gory corpse in one of the inner rooms. The best I can hope for
is that I shall be simply a prisoner, but I fully expect to be seriously
injured at the very least."
"But look here, Brett: are you doing the right thing in this matter? Why
on earth should you run such an awful risk, and take it alone, too?
Isn't it possible to obtain some trustworthy detective to keep watch in
the street, and let me go into the place with you? Don't you see, old
chap, that two of us might make a reasonable show if violence is
attempted? One man hasn't much chance."
The barrister cut short his friend's protestations.
"I sent for you, Lord Fairholme," he said, "because I felt that I could
trust you to obey my instructions implicitly. This is a matter in which
I do not want the police to interfere. My visit to the Rue Barbette
to-morrow morning may end quite satisfactorily. If it does, we shall be
in possession of important information leading to the prompt release of
Mr. Talbot. If it fails, there will certainly be some shooting or
stabbing, or perhaps an attempt may be made to keep me a prisoner. This
latter eventuality renders the presence of the police essential. No
matter what has happened to me, they will, with your assistance, be able
to take up the inquiry exactly where I leave it off. In this note-book
here, which I am placing in a locked drawer"--and he suited his action
to the words--"you will find details of all that I have done up to the
present moment, together with the lines along which future inquiries
should proceed. In particular, you will find an elaboration of the
theory which I expect to-morrow's visit to confirm. You fully understand
me? All this anticipates that after 11.30 to-morrow I shall be
personally unable to conduct the investigation further."
"Yes," agreed the earl, with rueful emphasis, "I fully understand the
proposition, and I tell you, Brett, I don't like it. There has been
enough blood spilt in this beastly business already, and I feel a sort
of personal responsibility for you, you know, because I brought you into
it."
"Then," said the barrister, with a laugh, "I solemnly acquit you of any
such responsibility. I am going into the business with my eyes open. It
interests me strangely, and I would not abandon the quest now on any
account."
"But can't you explain matters a little more clearly? Is it necessary
that I should be kept in the dark as to the circumstances which have led
up to this critical movement to-morrow?"
"Not in the least. It is, indeed, very important that you should
comprehend all that has gone before; I only started at the end, so to
speak, so as to fix accurately in your mind your part of the business,
which now stands separate and distinctly outlined in your memory. What I
am going to tell you simply leads up to the expected denouement."
He then recited to the wondering earl the whole of the curious events
which had happened during the preceding twenty-four hours.
It was late when they got to bed, but they rested well, and, after the
manner of their race, fortified themselves with a good breakfast against
the trials of the day, whatever these might prove to be. A few minutes
before the appointed hour they quitted a _fiacre_ in the vicinity of the
Rue Barbette, and at eleven o'clock Brett passed the _concierge_, whilst
Fairholme took up his stand outside.
The barrister was received with smiling complacence by Hussein-ul-Mulk.
On this occasion he was conducted to another room of the flat, and he
promptly noted that the windows looked out to the rear of the building,
whereas during his previous visit he could survey the street.
"This promises badly," said Brett to himself, but he betrayed not the
slightest unwillingness to fall in with the arrangements made for his
reception, and lounged back in a comfortable chair so easily that not
even the quick-witted Turk suspected that the barrister's hip pocket
contained a very serviceable revolver.
Hussein-ul-Mulk commenced the conversation. "I have," he said, "a couple
of friends here who are interested in the matter you were good enough to
mention to me yesterday. With your permission I will introduce them,"
and he threw open another door with a single Turkish word which Brett
imagined was an invitation to enter.
Two men came from an adjoining room. They were Turks--swarthy,
evil-looking customers, but well-dressed, and evidently persons of
consequence in their own country. The newcomers eyed the barrister
curiously, and with no very friendly intent.
A brief conversation in Turkish resulted in Hussein-ul-Mulk addressing
Brett.
"I must apologize for the fact that my friends here only speak their
native tongue. Before we proceed to business I wish to ask you a few
questions."
"Certainly," said Brett; "go ahead."
"You mentioned to me yesterday that you had no desire to invoke the aid
of the police in prosecuting the inquiry which interests you."
"Quite right," said Brett.
"May I ask if you have adhered to that intention?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, Mr.--Mr."--Hussein-ul-Mulk consulted a visiting card--"Mr.
Reginald Brett, I think, is your name? It would be idle on my part to
compliment you on your bravery, but it would be still more futile to
attempt to conceal from you the danger of the position in which you now
stand."
"Sit," corrected Brett, still smiling.
"Well," said the Turk, "we will not quibble about words. The fact
remains, Mr. Brett, that you have needlessly thrust yourself into an
enterprise of such a desperate character that all interlopers can be
dealt with only in one way."
"You kill them," said Brett, airily.
"Yes," said the Turk, "I deeply regret to inform you that you have
guessed the object of my remarks with the singular skill you have
already betrayed in reaching the existing position. I can only add that
I am surprised the same skill did not influence you to avoid forcing
upon us the only alternative left."
"Am I to be killed at once?" said Brett, speaking with a slight
affectation of boredom.
Even the self-possessed Turk could not conceal his amazement at the
manner in which his strange visitor conducted himself.
"That is a point we have not yet decided," he said. "We are strangely
unwilling to take the life of such a brave man as yourself. If we were
assured of your silence, we would even be disposed to permit you to
escape this time, with a solemn warning not to cross our path again. But
we feel that clemency is out of the question. There is one hope--a
slight one, it is true--which may permit us to gag you and tie you
securely in this room, where you will be left in peace for at least
forty-eight hours, after which time a telegram can be despatched to any
address you choose to supply us with. But really, owing to unforeseen
circumstances, this chance of a reprieve is remote. It wholly depends
upon the arrival, or otherwise, at this house, of a gentleman whom we
expect at 11.15."
Brett leaned forward in his chair, and took out his watch. The other
misunderstood his movement, and each of the three men promptly produced
a revolver.
Brett laughed quite heartily. "Really, gentlemen," he cried, "your
nervousness is ludicrous."
He saw that he yet had five minutes' grace before his self-constituted
judges would proceed to execute their sentence. As for the Turks, they
were manifestly ashamed of having betrayed such trepidation, and they
replaced the weapons so readily staged.
"That is a point in my favour," thought Brett. "Next time, if I do wish
to reach my revolver, I may be able to get the draw on them first."
"During the interval," said Hussein-ul-Mulk suavely, "is there anything
you wish to do--any letters to write, or that sort of thing?"
"No," said Brett, "I do not think so; it seems to me that you have
thoroughly misunderstood the purpose of this meeting. I came here in
order to obtain from you particulars which will lead to the release of
Mr. Talbot and redeem his character in the eyes of his superiors. I did
not come here to be killed, Hussein-ul-Mulk. I am not going to be
killed. If you touch a hair of my head you will only leave this house
for a prison, and subsequently for the gallows. And so, you see, you are
talking childishly when you dangle these threats and preliminaries to
immediate execution before my eyes. It is not you, but I, who will
dictate the terms on which we part. It may perhaps interest you to
explain this new phase of the situation to your fellow-countrymen, and
the matter will also serve to dissipate the few minutes which yet have
to elapse before 11.15."
Hussein-ul-Mulk made no direct reply to this remarkable speech. That it
impressed him was quite evident from his manner. Forthwith an animated
but subdued conversation took place between the triumvirate.
While it was yet in progress a peculiar knock was heard on the outside
door of the apartment.
"Ah! he comes," said Hussein-ul-Mulk in French. He left the room in
order to meet the new arrival. He returned without delay, bringing with
him a man very different from those whom Brett had encountered thus far
in connection with the crime. This was a dapper little Frenchman,
wizened, yellow-skinned, black-haired, and dressed almost in the extreme
of fashion. He at once addressed himself to the barrister.
"They tell me, my friend," he said, "that you have thrust your finger
into the pie which the friends of his Majesty the Sultan are preparing
for him. It is a bad business. You are too soon for the banquet. The
result is that your poor little finger may get burnt, as the pie is
still being cooked."
The man smiled maliciously at his feeble witticism, and Brett instantly
took his measure as a member of the gang of flash thieves which infest
Paris. He knew that such a ruffian was both pitiless and cowardly.
Whatever the outcome of the situation which faced him, he would not
stoop to conciliatory methods with this despicable rascal.
"I suppose," he said, "that the only part of the affair which concerns
you is the robbery."
"Well, and what if it is?"
"I can only say that your political friends will be well advised to keep
a close eye on you, for you would rob them just as soon as the persons
against whom they have employed you."
The little thief laughed cynically. "You are right, _mon vieux_. I would
be delighted to have the chance. But this time it is impossible. The
stones are too big. They are worth--pouf!--millions of francs, so I
must be content to receive my pay, which is good."
"Have you entrusted the Sultan's diamonds to the care of a scamp like
this?" said Brett, addressing himself to Hussein, and inwardly resolving
that unless the conversation by chance took a turn favourable to
himself, he would forthwith open fire on the gang and endeavour to
escape.
"Yes," cried the conspirator with a savage laugh. "You have never seen
them, Mr. Brett? Here they are. To many men the sight would be a
pleasant one. To you it should be terrible, for the arrival of these
diamonds at this moment means that you must die."
So saying, he produced from an inner pocket of his frock-coat a large,
plain morocco case. The pressure of a spring caused the lid to fly back,
revealing to the eyes of those in the room a collection of diamonds
marvellous by reason of the size and magnificence of each stone.
In the centre reposed the Imperial diamond itself. For an instant Brett
reflected that whilst the other men were fascinated by the spectacle, he
would have a good opportunity to shoot some of them without mercy and
make a dash for liberty.
But at the same moment there came to him an odd thought. His friend the
jeweller of the Rue de la Paix had not given him a lesson in vain during
the previous afternoon.
The barrister suspected--in fact, he was almost sure--that the gems now
flaunting their half-revealed glories in the light of the day--for not
one of them had undergone the final process peculiar to the
diamond-cutter's trade--were not the real stones stolen from Albert
Gate, but well fabricated substitutes.
To his acute brain there came an immediate confirmation of his theory.
Evidently the diamonds had not been previously in the Turk's possession.
The little Frenchman had just delivered them, and this in itself was a
strange circumstance in view of the fact that the genuine stones must
have been in Paris at least three days.
Brett concentrated all his dramatic faculties in look, voice, and
gesture.
"You fools!" he cried. "You have been swindled by a device which a child
might suspect. These are not the Sultan's diamonds. These are
frauds--cleverly concocted bits of crystal and alum--intended to keep
you happy until you return to Constantinople and discover how thoroughly
you were deceived."
"You lie!" roared the little Frenchman. "They are genuine."
Brett wanted to punch the diminutive scoundrel heavily in the face, but
he restrained himself. Turning with a magnificent assumption of
courteousness to Hussein-ul-Mulk, he said--
"Come, I told you you were acting childishly; this proves it. A most
outrageous attempt has been made to swindle you, if I may use such a
term to persons who confessedly are plotting to rob another. Surely this
will convince you that you have nothing to fear from me. I am here as
the agent neither of Sultan nor police. It is a simple matter for you to
verify my statement. All that is necessary is for one of your party to
take any of these alleged diamonds--I would suggest the smallest one so
as not to create suspicion--to any jeweller in the district, and he will
test it for you immediately, thus proving the truth of my statement.
Look here; I will convince you myself."
He took the monster diamond irreverently in his hand before
Hussein-ul-Mulk could prevent him and turned to the window. He pressed
the stone against the glass and tried to make it cut. It failed. He
placed it against his cheek. It was warm. A pure diamond would be icy
cold. More than this, a small portion of the composition of which the
imitation had been hastily concocted, broke off in his fingers.
"You see," he laughed. "Do you require further proof?"
Even while he spoke the diminutive little Frenchman turned and bolted.
One of the Turks drew a revolver and rushed after him, but
Hussein-ul-Mulk uttered some authoritative words which prevented the man
from firing. The Frenchman was evidently an adept in the art of dodging
pursuit. In the passage he ducked suddenly, and threw the Turk heavily
to the ground. Then, without further interference, he slipped the latch
of the door and slammed it hastily behind him, leaving Brett silently
laughing at Hussein-ul-Mulk and his remaining confederate, whilst the
gentleman who had been upset was slowly regaining his disturbed gravity.
"Can it be possible that what you say is true?" said Hussein-ul-Mulk, in
such piteous accents that Brett was moved to further mirth.
"Surely you do not doubt the evidence?" he said. "Take any of these
stones; they will crumble to pieces on the hearth if struck the
slightest blow. See, I will pulverise one with my heel."
And he did so, though the amazed and despairing men whom he addressed
would have restrained him, for they still could not bring themselves to
believe.
"Come, now," he went on "arouse yourselves; and give me the information
I want. That is the only way in which you may attain your ends. Of
course I cannot help you. It may be that as you have bungled matters so
badly, the authorities will stop you and land you all in prison; but
that is no concern of mine. At this moment I simply wish to release my
friend and proclaim his innocence. For the rest, you must take care of
yourselves. You know best who it is that has so thoroughly outwitted
you."
Hussein-ul-Mulk was the first to recover his scattered senses.
"We cannot choose but believe you, Mr. Brett," he said. "We are even
indebted to you for making this disastrous discovery at such an early
date. We paid our agents so highly that we thought their honesty was
assured. We find we are mistaken, and consequently we apologise to you
for using threats which were unnecessary. We rely on your honour not to
incriminate us with the police. All we can tell you is that your friend
is not dead, but we do not know his whereabouts."
"Nonsense," cried Brett angrily. "Why do you seek to mislead me in this
fashion?"
"Sir," said the Turk, "I am telling you the truth. We believe that Mr.
Talbot is a prisoner in London, but we do not know in what locality. My
friends here and myself, as you have already surmised, are merely
members of a political organisation. It was necessary for us to secure
possession of the Imperial diamond and its companions. We spared no
expense, nor hesitated at any means that would accomplish our purpose.
We have been foiled for the moment. I can tell you nothing else, and I
advise you to leave us and forget that such persons exist, for I swear
to you by the beard of the Prophet that had events turned out differently
you would now be a lifeless corpse in this room, whilst your body would
not be discovered for many weeks, as we intended to leave Paris this
afternoon as soon as the diamonds came into our possession."
[Illustration: "The door was thrown bodily from its hinges." --_Page
113._]
At this moment a thunderous knocking reverberated through the house.
The Turks gazed at each other in affright. None of them moved to open
the door. But the knock was not repeated, for the door itself was thrown
bodily from its hinges, and the stalwart form of Lord Fairholme,
accompanied by two policemen, appeared in the passage.
"Ah," cried Brett, intervening with ready tact, "I had forgotten you,
Fairholme. I see you kept your appointment. These are not required," he
rattled on pleasantly, turning towards the stern-looking _sergents de
ville_; "I am quite alive and uninjured. My friends here and myself had
a few earnest words, but we have settled matters satisfactorily."
The suspicious policemen glanced from the smiling Englishman to the
perturbed Turks. At the first sound of danger Hussein-ul-Mulk had closed
the case in which lay the spurious diamonds, so these pretentious-looking
gems did not excite the curiosity of the men of law.
The senior officer demanded from Lord Fairholme an explanation of the
exciting statements which induced them to accompany him, but Brett
stepped into the breach.
"It is quite true," he said, "that my friend was anxious on my account.
It was even possible these Turkish gentlemen here and myself might have
proceeded to extremities, but the affair has ended satisfactorily, and
if you will allow me----" He put his hand into his pocket and a slight
monetary transaction terminated the incident pleasantly for all parties.
Soon Brett and Fairholme found themselves in the street, and again did
the barrister draw in deep and invigorating draughts of Paris air.
"Where now?" said Fairholme.
"Tell me," cried Brett eagerly, "did you notice in which direction the
little man ran who left No. 11 about ten minutes ago?"
"Better than that, I heard where he was going to. He was in such a
fiendish funk that he paid heed to nobody, but flung himself into a
passing cab and yelled, 'Take me to the Cabaret Noir, Boulevard
Montmartre.'"
"Good. You are a splendid detective. You have saved me hours of search
and perhaps days of failure. Come; let us, too, go to the Cabaret Noir."
CHAPTER IX
A MONTMARTRE ROMANCE
The exterior of the Cabaret Noir belied its name.
Originally, no doubt, it was one of the vilest dens in a vile locality,
but the fairy hand of the brewer had touched the familiar wineshop, and
it glistened to-day in much mahogany, more brass, and a dazzling
collection of mirrors.
Brett was surprised when the driver of their cab pulled up in front of
such an ornate establishment. Somehow, he expected the Cabaret Noir to
be a different place. Not so Fairholme, accustomed only to the glaring
exterior of London tied houses.
"Here we are," said his lordship cheerfully. "Let's take them by
surprise and run over the whole show before any one can stop us."
"No," said Brett; "this is Paris, and the police here have ways even
more mysterious than those of Scotland Yard. We will gain nothing by
drastic measures. Indeed, had I known the sort of place we were coming
to I would have visited it to-night and in disguise. As it is, we have
been seen already by any one interested in our movements, and it would
be useless to adopt any pretence, so follow me."
He boldly entered through the main door, and found himself in a light,
airy room, filled, in three-fourths of its area, with little
marble-topped tables surrounded by diminutive chairs, whilst a bar
counter was partitioned off in a corner.
The attendant in charge was a dreary-eyed waiter, who seemed to think
that the presence of a couple of sight-seeing Englishmen at such an hour
was another testimony to the lunatic propensities of the Anglo-Saxon
race. He welcomed them volubly, assuring them that the establishment
kept the best Scotch whisky in stock, and guaranteed that roast beef
would be ready in ten minutes.
"This is the Cabaret Noir?" questioned Brett.
"But yes, monsieur."
"There is no other of the same name in Montmartre?"
"But no, monsieur."
"A gentleman, a friend of mine, came here a few minutes ago in a
_fiacre_. He was small, slight, so high"--illustrating the stature by
his hand. "He was dressed in dark blue clothes with shiny boots. He
was----"
Brett's eager description was cut short by the appearance of a new
character. Through a narrow door leading into the bar came a handsome
dark-eyed woman, aged perhaps twenty-five, well dressed, shapely, and
carrying herself with the easy grace of a born Parisienne.
Her hair was jet black. Her large dark eyes were recessed beneath arched
and strongly pencilled eyebrows. Her skin had that peculiar tint of
porcelain-white so often seen in women of southern blood.
Yet there was nothing delicate in this lady's appearance or manner. A
rich colour suffused her cheeks, and her language was remarkably free
both in volume and style. She addressed a few observations to the waiter
in the common vernacular of Montmartre, the only translatable portion
being the question why he was standing about the floor like the ears of
a donkey when there was work to be done.
Her manner changed somewhat as she addressed herself to Brett and his
companion. There was sufficient of the landlady in her demeanour when
she said, "And what would messieurs be pleased to command?"
Now, if there was one type of femininity more than another which Brett
thoroughly understood it was the saucy, quick-witted, handsome
adventuress. He knew that the woman scrutinizing him so coolly came well
within this category.
He could not tell, of course, in what way she might be associated with
the gang whose proceedings contained the explanation of Talbot's fate,
but he instantly resolved to adopt a determined position with the lady
who half-petulantly, half-curiously, was awaiting his reply.
He came nearer to her.
"I am glad," he said, "that I have met you."
The woman looked him boldly in the eyes. "Was it for the happiness of
seeing me that monsieur has visited the house?"
"That might well serve as the reason, but the pleasure is all the
greater since it was unexpected."
"You are pleased to be facetious," she replied. "Will you not tell me
your business? I have affairs to occupy me."
"Assuredly. I have driven here as quickly as possible from No. 11, Rue
Barbette."
This attack, so direct and uncompromising, did not fail to have its
effect. A ready mask of suspicion fell across the woman's impudent
pretty face.
There was just a tinge of stage laughter in her tone when she cried:
"Really, how interesting! And where is the Rue Barbette, monsieur? In
what way am I concerned with--No. 11, did you say?"
Brett well knew how to conduct the attack upon this lady. His voice fell
to a determined note, his eyes looked gravely into hers as he
answered--"It is useless to pretend that you do not understand me. You
are losing moments worth gold, perhaps diamonds! Within a few minutes
the police will be here, and then it will be too late. Help me first,
and I will let the police take care of themselves. Refuse me your
assistance, and I will leave you and your friends to the mercy of the
district _commissaire_."
A dangerous light leaped into the woman's eyes at this direct challenge.
"Monsieur is pleased to speak in riddles," she said. "This is a
restaurant. We can execute your orders, but we are not skilled in acting
charades. You will find better performers in the booths out there"; and
she swept her hands scornfully towards the boulevard, with its medley of
tents, stalls, and merry-go-rounds.
Brett smiled. "You are a stupid woman," he said. "You think you are
serving your friends by adopting this tone. In effect you are bringing
them to the guillotine. Now listen. If I leave you without further words
you do not see me again. You will know nothing of what is going on until
the police have lodged you in a cell. Neither you nor your associates
can escape. I promise nothing, but perhaps if you tell me what I want to
know there may be a chance for you. Otherwise there is none. Shall I
go?"
And he turned as if to approach the door.
For an instant the woman hesitated, and Brett thought that he had
scored.
"Wait," she said, lowering her voice, though there was still the menace
of subdued passion in her accents. "Who is your friend?"
"A gentleman whose identity in no way concerns you. You must deal with
me, and it will be better if you ask who I am."
"I know," she said, laconically. "Come this way, both of you."
She raised a flap-door located at one side of the counter. Brett
followed her into a passage behind the doorway that led into the bar.
Fairholme succeeded him.
The trio passed rapidly through a door at the end of the passage, and
quickly found themselves in a long, low room, usually devoted to
billiards. The place was dark and smelled evilly of stale tobacco.
Daylight penetrated but feebly through the red blinds that blocked up
three windows on one side. The woman drew two of these blinds, and thus
illuminated the interior. The windows opened on to a yard, and the place
was thoroughly shut off from all observation from the street.
"Now," she said, "I will show you something."
She walked towards the fireplace at the end of the room. On the
mantelpiece was a square of iron sheeting, painted white and studded
with curious-looking spikes in circles, triangles, and straight lines.
From a box close at hand she took half a dozen small glass bulbs, red
and blue. She placed them in a line on some of the spikes at intervals
of two inches. Then she retired to that side of the room where they had
entered. The distance was perhaps thirty feet.
Before Brett or Fairholme could vaguely guess her intention she whipped
a revolver out of her pocket. It would be idle to deny that they were
startled, but the woman paid not the least attention to them.
She steadily levelled the weapon and fired twice, smashing the two outer
balls of the six. Then she transferred the pistol to her left hand and
smashed another pair. Then she turned her back to the target, adjusted a
small mirror attached to the butt of the revolver, and smashed both of
the remaining bulbs by firing over her left shoulder. Sweeping round
with a triumphant smile towards the barrister, she said, "I can do that
in fifty other ways, but six will suffice."
"It is very clever, madame," he said. "May I ask why I am indebted to
you for this display?"
She replaced the revolver in her pocket. "It is my answer to your
question, monsieur," she said. "That is the way I and my friends often
talk to people who annoy us; and now I shall wish you good-day. You will
find other sights in Montmartre to interest you."
Brett laughed easily, and bowed low.
"Believe me," he said, "I will find few performers so expert and, may I
add, so discreet. We will meet again, and perhaps test your skill."
Without another word the party returned to the front room of the
restaurant, and Brett and Fairholme passed into the street where their
cab was waiting.
"I suppose she meant," said Fairholme "that if we were not jolly
careful she would put a bullet through our hearts as easily as through
those glass bulbs."
"Such was her intention," said Brett, dryly. "But women never have true
dramatic genius. That was a piece of melodrama which might suffice with
many of her class. It amused me, but it was a waste of time on her
part."
"Anyhow, we shall not get much out of her in the way of information."
"Oh, yes, we will. She will tell us everything. She has told me a great
deal already."
"What?" cried his lordship. "Did that shooting affair convey anything
more to you than what I have said?"
"Of course. What need was there for such a trick? In the first place it
is very simple. You or I could do it after ten minutes' practice with an
expanding charge and a show pistol. Secondly, she admitted that the
Cabaret Noir is a centre of operations for the gang in whom we are
interested. By the way, I should like to know her name."
He directed the driver to wait for them at a street corner some little
distance further on. Close to where they stood an itinerant vendor was
selling some mechanical toys.
Brett bought one. The price was twenty sous. He gave the man a two-franc
piece and refused the change.
"Do you know," he said, "who is the proprietor of the Cabaret Noir?"
"Certainly, monsieur," replied the gutter-merchant; "it is Gros Jean.
His name is Beaucaire."
"Ah! And the lady who lives there, a dark pretty woman with white skin,
who is she?"
"That is his daughter," said the man. "She is known as La Belle
Chasseuse."
"Why such a name?"
"Because she is clever with firearms. She used to be in a circus, but
she left the profession a year ago."
"And does she live here constantly?"
"I cannot say. I think she goes away a great deal. She was travelling
recently; she came back--let me see--last Tuesday night."
"Thank you," said Brett. The two re-entered their cab, and Brett told
the driver to proceed as rapidly as possible to the Rue St. Honoré.
"I hope to goodness," he said to Fairholme, "that Captain Gaultier has
not left Paris already; these Foreign Office messengers are liable to be
despatched to the other end of the earth at a moment's notice."
"Why do you wish to see him?" said Fairholme.
"Simply to obtain definite confirmation of my theory. La Belle Chasseuse
was the woman who accompanied the man made up to look like Jack Talbot
during his journey from London. If Gaultier can see her and assure me
that I am right I will be convinced concerning that which I already know
to be true."
"By Jove!" cried Fairholme, "that never occurred to me. I wonder if it
is so?"
"Mademoiselle Beaucaire is quite an adept in two things: she can break
tiny glass bulbs and she can flirt. She chose to exhibit the first of
these accomplishments to us, and convey what was intended to be a
warning; in reality, she gave us some valuable information."
"I suppose," said Fairholme, "that this crowd will watch us pretty
closely, won't they?"
Brett leaned back in the cab and laughed heartily.
"We are the most interesting persons in Paris to them at this moment,"
he said. "That poor fellow who sold us the toys will have to change his
position, I am afraid. One of them is following us now. Let's see who it
is."
At the next street corner he stopped the cab suddenly, and jumped out,
followed by Fairholme. A minute later another vehicle dashed into the
street. In it was seated a lady, closely veiled; but a large feather hat
and the grotesque pattern of a black veil could not wholly conceal the
pretty, determined face of La Belle Chasseuse.
Evidently she had no one at hand to undertake the mission, so she
followed Brett in person. He signalled to her and to her driver.
Astonished, the man pulled up. Brett instantly advanced and took off his
hat with that pleasant smile of his which usually went straight to the
female heart, but which now thoroughly lost its effect on the furious
young woman who looked at him from the interior of the _voiture_.
"Allow me," he said, "to offer my friendly services. It is a close day
and mademoiselle has, I am sure, many other calls on her time. I will
save you at least an hour, and myself nearly the same period. I am going
to secure the presence of a witness to identify you as the lady who
crossed the Channel last Tuesday in company with a gentleman. You both
drove to the Grand Hotel, and your companion signed the register there
in the names of Mr. and Mrs. Talbot; is it not so?"
She bent forward and looked at him viciously. Her eyes sparkled with
annoyance at being caught so easily in her self-imposed piece of
espionage.
"Monsieur is clever," she snapped.
"Thank you," he replied, still smiling. "I can occasionally hit the mark
with a guess as well as mademoiselle can with her pistol. But, believe
me, I only intend at this moment to be polite. Of course, the presence
of a witness to identify you is unnecessary. Mademoiselle can now return
to the Cabaret Noir, whilst my friend and I will proceed direct to the
Grand Hotel. It saves so much trouble, does it not?"
For a moment the woman looked as though she would have liked to produce
that infallible revolver and shot him on the spot. Then she angrily
commanded her driver to return.
Fairholme surveyed the scene with open-eyed amazement. "Well," he said,
"that beats everything. You really have a splendid nerve. The whole
business reads like a chapter out of one of Gaboriau's novels."
"That is the way people live in Paris, my dear fellow. Life is an
artificial matter here. But all this excitement has made me hungry. Let
us have _déjeûner_."
CHAPTER X.
ON GUARD
On their way to the hotel, Brett, yielding apparently to a momentary
impulse, stopped the cab at a house in the Rue du Chaussée d'Antin.
Without any explanation to Lord Fairholme he disappeared into the
interior, and did not rejoin his companion for nearly ten minutes.
"It is perhaps not of much use," he explained on his return, "but I do
not like to leave any stone unturned. The man I have just called on is a
well-known private detective, and I can trust him to look after my
business without taking the police into his confidence. Two of his
smartest agents will maintain a close watch on both the Cabaret Noir and
No. 11, Rue Barbette, during the afternoon."
"You do not seem to expect much result?"
"No; we are tracking some of the most expert and daring criminals in
France. It is hopeless to expect them to provide us with clues; they
simply won't do it. No one but a genius in criminality would have risked
such a dramatic move as the personation of Jack Talbot, or dared to put
in an open appearance at the Grand Hotel. So my agents here can only
hope, at the best, to get sight of any messenger or assistant scoundrel
who may turn up at either of the places indicated."
"May we expect to be busy to-night?"
Brett did not answer at once. It was evident that whilst he rattled on
in a careless strain his active brain was busily employed in discounting
the future.
"I hope so," he said at last. "Of course I cannot tell. Our only chance
is that we may be able to guess the course of the hidden trail. If
to-night does not yield us some information, our chances of solving the
mystery will be remote, in which case we may as well abandon the quest."
This faint-hearted reply naturally surprised Lord Fairholme
considerably. To his mind, a considerable measure of success had already
been achieved, and he utterly failed to understand why his friend should
take such a pessimistic view of affairs at the very moment when they
appeared to be opening up somewhat. Brett noted the Earl's perplexity,
and smiled with genial deprecation.
"Do not be afraid, Fairholme; I will liberate Mr. Talbot and clear his
name so effectually that all difficulties will disappear from the path
of your marriage."
"Then what is it that makes you so downcast?" cried Fairholme.
"I hate to be beaten at the final stage, and I have a premonition that
were I in England--had I but the power to proceed unchecked and
unhindered by officialdom--I would soon lay my hands on the man who
originated the Albert Gate mystery. But we are in France--in a country
of queer legal forms and unusual methods. At home I can always
circumvent Scotland Yard; here I am in the midst of strange
surroundings, and know not what may happen. Therefore, we must possess
our souls in patience and wait developments. The agent I have just
employed has promised me to report every two hours at the hotel until
eight o'clock. Then I will take personal charge of the Cabaret Noir,
and----"
"What about me?" cried Fairholme.
"You, my dear fellow, will remain at the hotel and await orders."
This arrangement did not seem to suit the active young Englishman who
had been so suddenly plunged into the excitement of a criminal chase in
Paris.
"Really, Brett," he said, "I hate to grumble at anything you propose,
because you are always right; but you must pardon me for saying that I
do not see what particular value my presence here has been to you."
"What!" laughed Brett; "not after your dramatic appearance in the Rue
Barbette this morning?"
"Oh, any one could have done that. All I had to do was to break in a
door at a given hour."
"Exactly," said Brett gravely. "I wanted a friend whom I could trust to
implicitly obey my orders, and you did it. I am sure you will fall in
with my wishes now."
So Fairholme was silenced on this point, but he ventured to put another
question.
"How long am I to sit chewing cigars in our rooms, then?"
"All night, if necessary. If I do not appear by seven o'clock to-morrow
morning you had better go to the Embassy and tell one of the secretaries
everything connected with our visit to Paris. He will then take action
through the police in proper form, and after that you must simply await
developments."
"Do you mean to say," said Fairholme, anxiously, "that you are
contemplating another risky bit of business to-night?"
"Once I take my stand outside the Cabaret Noir about 8.30 I cannot tell
where Fate may lead me. If I am lucky I will certainly return, whatever
be the personal outcome. If, on the other hand, I learn nothing, you may
certainly expect to see me about two in the morning."
At the hotel Brett found awaiting him a letter delivered by the midday
post. It was from his elderly assistant in London, whom he had told to
make a close scrutiny of all inhabited houses within a certain radius of
the Carlton Hotel. The man had done his work systematically, and in only
three instances was he called on to report doubtful cases.
Two foreign restaurants in side streets contained a number of residents
concerning whom it was difficult to obtain specific information.
One of these establishments he believed to be the resort of Continental
gamblers driven from Soho by the too marked attentions of the police.
The other was a place of even more questionable repute, and in both
instances he had utterly failed to obtain the slightest information from
the servants, who apparently "stood in" with the management.
The third dwelling which courted observation was a flat situated above
some business premises in another quiet street. So far as he could
learn, it was tenanted by an elderly lady who was a helpless invalid,
waited on by a somewhat curious couple.
"They are Italians, I think," wrote the ex-policeman, "and very
uncommunicative people. I have twice called, on one pretext or another,
but when the door is opened it is always kept on the chain, and I
cannot see more than the face of a man or woman and a few inches of wall
beyond. Still, I have no reason to doubt that the view taken by the
milkman and baker is correct, namely, that the owner of the flat is
confined to her bed and is suffering from a nervous disease, which
renders it imperative she should be shut off from all noise. The
landlord informs me that these people have occupied the place for nearly
two months. Their rent is paid in advance, and they have not given the
slightest cause for complaint. There are, of course, in this district a
large number of private hotels and lodging-houses, but they seem to be
run on regular lines, and, although some of their patrons might well
demand closer observation, I have come across nothing suggestive of any
suspicious circumstance whatever with reference to them. I have detained
my report until I was able to give details concerning the other houses
in the district, and I will now fall back on the second part of your
instructions, i.e., to maintain a close watch on the three
establishments which I have picked out as being more unusual in their
habits than the others."
This was all.
Brett read the concluding portion of the report to Fairholme.
"He is a level-headed, shrewd observer," he said--"one of the few men
whom I can trust to do exactly what I want, neither more nor less. I
think when we return to London we must endeavour to get that chain taken
off the invalid lady's door, or, at any rate, obtain some specific facts
concerning her disease from her medical adviser."
Fairholme smiled. "I am glad to hear," he cried, "that you do anticipate
our return."
"Oh," said Brett airily, "I never count on failure."
Soon after three o'clock a report arrived from the agent in the Rue du
Chaussée d'Antin. It read--
"Nothing unusual has occurred in the vicinity of the Cabaret Noir.
The customers frequenting the place are all of the ordinary type
and do not call for special comment.
"A Turkish gentleman quitted the house No. 11, Rue Barbette, at
1.15 p.m., but returned shortly before two o'clock. Half an hour
later a man, whom my assistant recognized as a member of a well-known
gang of flash thieves, entered the place. His name is Charles Petit,
but he is generally known to his associates as 'Le Ver.' He is small,
well dressed, and of youthful appearance, but really older than he
looks. He is still in the house inhabited by the Turks."
"What is the meaning of 'Le Ver'?" said Fairholme.
"It means 'The Worm,'" answered Brett.
"I must say these chaps do find suitable nicknames for one another. I
wonder if he is the fellow we followed to Montmartre this morning?"
"Possibly, though I am puzzled to understand why he should trust himself
in that hornets' nest again. Most certainly the description covers him,
but we shall probably hear more details later. I wonder where the
Turkish gentleman went whom 'Le Ver' seems to have followed. He could
not have gone to the Cabaret Noir in the time?"
Brett's curiosity was answered to some extent by the next report,
delivered about five o'clock. It read as follows--
"Le Ver is still in the house No. 11, Rue Barbette. My agent
explains that he did not follow the Turk, who left and returned
to the place earlier, because his definite instructions were not
to leave the locality, but to report on all persons who entered
or left. Absolutely nothing has transpired in this neighbourhood
since my first report.
"Gros Jean, the father of La Belle Chasseuse, arrived at the Cabaret
Noir soon after four o'clock. My agent ascertained from the cabman who
drove him that Gros Jean had hired the vehicle outside the Gare de Lyon.
Otherwise nothing stirring."
At seven o'clock came developments.
"Three Turkish gentlemen have quitted No. 11, Rue Barbette, but the
Frenchman is still there. As it might be necessary to follow another
person leaving this house, I stationed another watcher with my
assistant, and this second man followed the Turks to a restaurant in
the Grand Boulevard. So far as he could judge, they seemed to be
excited and apprehensive. They drank some wine and conversed together
in low tones. At 6.15 they quitted the café and rapidly jumped into
an empty _fiacre_, being driven off in the direction of the Opera.
So unexpectedly did they leave their seats that before my agent could
hire another cab they had disappeared in the traffic, and although he
drove after them as rapidly as possible, he failed to again catch
sight of them. I have reprimanded him for his negligence, although he
did right in coming at once to me to report his failure. In accordance
with your instructions, I have ordered the watchers at the Café Noir
and in the Rue Barbette to be in this office at 8.15 p.m."
"Now I wonder," said Brett, "why the Turks left the Frenchman alone in
No. 11. It is odd, to say the least of it. Since the dramatic discovery
of the spurious diamonds this morning they must be even more in the
dark than I am. It must be looked into, but I cannot attend to it now.
At this moment, if I am not mistaken, the centre of interest is the Café
Noir."
The two men occupied a sitting-room on the first floor of the hotel, and
their respective bedrooms flanked it on each side. Brett explained that
he could not tackle the table d'hote dinner, so he made a hasty meal in
their sitting-room and then excused himself whilst he retired to his
bedroom to change his clothing.
He was absent some twenty minutes, and Fairholme amused himself by
glancing over the copies of the day's London newspapers which had
recently arrived. Suddenly the door of Brett's bedroom opened, and a
decrepit elderly man appeared, a shabby-genteel individual, disfigured
by drink and crumpled up by rheumatism.
"Who the devil----" began Fairholme.
But he was amazed to hear Brett's familiar voice asking--
"Do you think the disguise sufficiently complete?"
"Complete!" shouted Fairholme, "why, your own mother would not know you,
and your father would probably punch me for suggesting that it could be
you."
"That is all right," said the barrister cheerfully. "I will now proceed
to get quietly drunk at the Café Noir. Good-bye until seven o'clock
to-morrow morning--perhaps earlier, and perhaps--well, no--until seven
o'clock!"
They shook hands and parted, and not even Brett, the cleverest amateur
detective of his day, could have remotely guessed where and how they
would meet next.
Montmartre by day and Montmartre by night are two very different places.
This Parisian playground, perched high on the eminence that overlooks
the Ville Lumière, does not wake to its real life until its repose is
disturbed by the lamplighter. Then the Moulin Rouge, festooned with
lamps of gorgeous red, flares forth upon an expectant world. The Café de
l'Enfers opens its demoniac mouth to swallow ten minutes' audiences and
vomit them forth again, amused or bored, as the case may be, by the
delusions provided in the interior, whilst other questionable resorts
shout forth their attractions and seek to beguile a certain number of
sous from the pockets of sightseers.
The whole district is a place of light and shade. It is artificial in
every brick and stone, in the pose of every stall, the lettering of
every advertisement. And it flourishes by gaslight; by day it is garish
and forlorn.
Prominent among the regular houses of entertainment was the Cabaret
Noir, which, between the hours of 9 p.m. and 1 a.m., usually drove a
roaring trade. Situated in the heart of a mountebank district, its
patrons embraced all classes of society, from the American tourist with
his quick eyes noting the vagaries of demi-mondaines, to the
sharp-witted Parisian idler, on the alert for any easy and dishonest
method of obtaining money which might present itself.
Among such a crowd a wine-sodden and decrepit old man was not likely to
attract particular attention.
He sprawled over the table close to one of the windows which commanded a
view of the side passage leading to the rear of the building. Although
none of the noisy crowd in the café could suspect the fact, the
half-closed eyes of this elderly drunkard noted the form and features of
every individual who entered or left by the main door, whilst at the
same time he paid the utmost possible attention to the comings and
goings of any person who used the passage by the window.
To facilitate his observations in this direction he querulously
complained to the waiter that the atmosphere was stuffy, and prevailed
on the man to raise the window a few inches, thus admitting a breath of
clear cold air.
Brett had previously ascertained from his agent that Gros Jean and his
daughter were still in the private part of the building. No other
visitor had put in an appearance, and so the time passed, until the
clock in the café marked eleven, without any incident occurring which
could be construed as having even a remote bearing upon his quest.
Brett began to feel that his diligence that night would not be rewarded.
At five minutes past eleven, however, a pink-and-white Frenchman, neatly
attired, unobtrusive both in manner and deportment, entered the café and
seated himself quietly near the door. He ordered some coffee and cognac,
and lighted a cigarette.
The barrister, of course, took heed of him as of all others, and he
would soon have placed him in the general category that merited no
special attention had he not noticed that the newcomer more than once
glanced at the clock and then towards the corner bar, whence, it will be
remembered, a small door led towards the billiard saloon in which La
Belle Chasseuse had displayed her prowess with the pistol.
In such a community the stranger's self-possession and reticence were
distinguishable characteristics. So Brett watched him, largely for want
of better occupation.
"That is a man of unusual power," was his summing up. "He is elegant,
fascinating, unscrupulous. Although apparently out of his natural
element in this neighbourhood, he has some purpose in putting in an
appearance in such a place as this at a late hour. Perhaps he is one of
mademoiselle's lovers, though he looks the sort of person who would be
singularly cool in conducting affairs of the heart, and most unlikely to
wait many minutes beyond the time fixed for an appointment. His hands
are large and sinewy, his wrists square, and, although slight in
physique, I should credit him with possessing considerable strength.
Being a Frenchman, he should be an expert with the foils. The effeminate
aspect given to his face by his remarkable complexion might easily
deceive one as to his real character. As a matter of fact, he is the
only unusual man I have seen during my two hours' lounge in this
corner."
Brett had hardly concluded this casual analysis of the person who had
enlisted his close observation, when the private door into the bar
opened and Mlle. Beaucaire entered.
Without taking the least notice of any of the numerous occupants of the
café she turned her back on them, and apparently busied herself in
checking the contents of the cash register. Beyond this useful
instrument was a mirror, and Brett at once perceived that from the point
where she stood she could command a distinct reflection of the
pink-and-white Frenchman.
The latter was gazing at the clock, and whilst doing so stroked his chin
three times with his right hand. Immediately afterwards La Belle
Chasseuse three times rang the bell of the register, and then, having
apparently concluded her inspection, quitted the bar as unceremoniously
as she had entered. Half a minute later the Frenchman finished the
remains of his cognac, lit another cigarette, and passed into the
street.
It was with difficulty that Brett restrained himself from following him,
but he was certain that no one could leave the residential portion of
the building without using the passage--a view of which he commanded
from his window--and he resolutely resolved to devote himself for that
night to shadowing the movements of the ex-circus lady.
His patience and self-denial were soon rewarded. A light quick step
sounded in the passage, and a shrouded female form shot past the open
window.
Then the inebriated individual, now hopelessly muddled by drink,
staggered towards the door and lurched wildly round the corner, just in
time to see mademoiselle cross the Boulevard and daintily make her way
between the rows of stalls.
The air seemed, however, to have a surprising effect on the old
reprobate, for the simple reason that to simulate drunkenness and at the
same time keep pace with the lady's rapid strides was out of the
question.
La Belle Chasseuse was evidently in a hurry. She sped along at a
surprising pace, until she reached a crossing where the rows of stalls
and booths were temporarily suspended. At one corner stood a cab, and
towards this vehicle she directed her steps. Before Brett quite realized
what was happening, the door of the cab opened, mademoiselle jumped
inside, and, as if he were waiting for her appearance, the driver
whipped up his horse and drove off at a furious pace.
At that instant a small victoria with a sturdy pony in the shafts, which
had just deposited a lively fare in the vicinity of the Moulin Rouge,
drove along the street.
Brett sprang into it and said eagerly to the driver--
"Keep that cab in sight! I will pay you double fare!"
The man tightened his reins and raised his whip in prompt obedience to
the order, when suddenly two men jumped into the vehicle from opposite
sides, seized Brett and forced him down on to the seat, whilst one of
them said in stern tones to the astonished cabby--
"Take us at once to the Central Prefecture of Police."
The man recognized that these newcomers were not to be trifled with.
Without a word or a question, he rattled his horse across the stone
pavement, and Brett, choking with rage at this interference at a supreme
moment, realized that for some extraordinary reason he was a prisoner,
and in the hands of a couple of detectives.
By this time the cab containing the lady had vanished, but the barrister
made one despairing effort.
"For heaven's sake," he said to his captors, "take me where you will,
but first follow that cab and ascertain its destination."
"What cab?" demanded one of his guards sarcastically.
"The cab which I wished our driver to overtake at the moment when you
pounced on me."
"This is a mere trick," broke in the other. "Don't bother about his cab.
We have got him safe enough, and let the _commissaire_ deal with him
now."
"Listen to me,"
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