wrappings, and tie it about with the original string.
“We are certainly a step nearer to a good deal,” he said, making a neat job of his parcel and patting it affectionately as if he had been a milliner’s apprentice doing up a choice confection. “And the next thing we do is to take a walk together into Hyde Park. On the way I will tell you why we are going there–that is, I will tell you what I know of the reason for such an expedition. It isn’t much–but it has certain possibilities.”
The two North-countrymen listened with great curiosity as they marched across the grass towards the tea-house. Each possessed the North-country love of the mysterious and the bizarre–this last development tickled their fancy and stirred their imagination.
“What on earth d’ye make out of it all?” asked Allerdyke. “Gad!–it’s more like a children’s game of hide-and-seek in an old house of nooks and corners than what I should have imagined police proceedings would be. What say you, Ambler?”
“I don’t know how much romance and adventure there usually are in police proceedings,” replied Appleyard cautiously.
“A good answer, Mr. Appleyard,” said the chief laughing. “Ah, there’s a lot more of both than civilians would think, in addition to all the sordid and dismal details. What do I make out of it, Mr. Appleyard? Why–I think somebody has all this time been making a special investigation of this mystery for himself, and that at last he’s going to wind it up with a sensational revelation to–us! Don’t you be surprised if you’ve an application for that fifty thousand pound reward before to-night!”
“You really think that?” exclaimed Allerdyke incredulously.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” answered the chief, “Something considerable is certainly at hand. Now let us settle our plan of campaign. This tea-garden, I remember, is a biggish place. We will sit down at one of the tables–we will appear to be three quiet gentlemen disposed to take a cup of coffee with our cigars or cigarettes–we will be absorbed in our own conversation and company, but at the same time we will look about us. Therefore, use your eyes, gentlemen, as much as you like–but don’t appear to take any particular interest in anything you see, and don’t openly recognize any person you set eyes on.”
It was a very warm and summer-like day, and the lawns around the tea-house were filled with people, young and old. Some were drinking tea, some coffee; some were indulging in iced drinks. Nursemaids and children were much in evidence under the surrounding trees; waitresses were flitting about hither and thither: there was nothing to suggest that this eminently London park scene was likely to prove the setting of the last act of a drama.
“You’re much more likely to see and to recognize than we are,” remarked Allerdyke, as the three gathered round a table on the edge of the crowd. “For my part I see nothing but men, women, and children–except that I also see Chettle, sitting across yonder with another man who’s no doubt one of your lot.”
“Just so,” assented the chief. He gave an order for coffee to a passing waitress, lighted a cigar which Allerdyke offered him, and glanced round as if he were looking at nothing in particular. “Just so. Well, I see my own four men–I also see at least six detectives who belong to the City police, and there may be more. But I know those six personally. They are spread about, all over the place, and I daresay that every man is very much on the stretch, innocent enough as he looks.”
“Six!” exclaimed Appleyard. “And four of yours! That looks as if they expected to have to tackle a small army!”
“You never know what you may have to tackle in affairs like this,” replied the chief. “Nothing like having reserves in hand, you know. Now let me give you a tip. It is almost exactly two o’clock. Never mind the people who are already here, gentlemen. Keep your eyes open on any new-comers. Look out–quietly–for folk who seem to drop in as casually as we do. Look, for example, at those two well-dressed men who are coming across the sward there, swinging their sticks. They–“
Allerdyke suddenly bent his head towards the table.
“Careful!” he said. “Gad!–I know one of ’em, anyhow. Van Koon, as I live!”
CHAPTER XXXII
THE CHILVERTON ANTI-CLIMAX
The chief allowed himself to take a quick searching glance at the two men he had indicated. He had already heard of Van Koon and of his sudden disappearance from the hotel after the chance encounter with Chilverton, and he now regarded him with professional interest.
“The tall man, you mean?” he asked.
“Just so,” answered Allerdyke. “The other man I don’t know. But that’s Van Koon. What’s he here for, now? Is he in this, after all?”
The chief made no reply. He was furtively watching the two men, who had dropped into chairs at a vacant table beneath the shade of the trees and were talking to a waitress. Having taken a good look at Van Koon, he turned his attention to Van Koon’s companion, a little, dapper man, smartly dressed in bright blue serge, and finished off with great care in all his appointments. He seemed to be approaching middle age; there were faint traces of grey in his pointed beard and upward-twisted moustaches; he carried his years, however, in very jaunty fashion, and his white Homburg hat, ornamented with a blue ribbon, was set at a rakish angle on the side of his close-cropped head. In his right eye he wore a gold-rimmed monocle; just then he was bringing it to bear an the waitress who stood between himself and his companion.
“You don’t know the other man, either of you?” asked the chief suddenly.
Allerdyke shook his head, but Appleyard nodded.
“I know that chap by sight,” he said. “I’ve seen him in the City–about Threadneedle Street–two or three times of late. He’s always very smartly dressed–I took him for a foreigner of some sort.”
The chief turned to his coffee.
“Well–never mind him,” he said. “Pay no attention–so long as that man is Van Koon, I’ll watch him quietly. But you may be sure he has come here on the same business that has brought us here. I–“
Allerdyke, whose sharp eyes were perpetually moving round the crowded enclosure and the little groups which mingled outside it, suddenly nudged the chief’s elbow.
“Miss Slade!” he whispered. “And–Rayner!”
Appleyard had caught sight of his two fellow inmates of the Pompadour at the very moment in which Allerdyke espied them. He slightly turned away and bent his head; Allerdyke followed his example.
“You can’t mistake them,” he said to the chief. “I’ve described the man to you–a hunchback. They’re crossing through the crowd towards the tea-house door.”
“And they’ve gone in there,” replied the chief in another minute. “Um!–this is getting more mysterious than ever. I wish I could get a word with some of our men who really know something! It seems to me–“
But at that moment Blindway came strolling along, his nose in the air, his eyes fixed on the roofs of the houses outside the park, and he quietly dropped a twisted scrap of paper at his superior’s feet as he passed. The chief picked it up, spread it out on the marble-topped table, and read its message aloud to his companions.
“City men say the informant is here and will indicate the men to be arrested in a few minutes.”
The chief tore the scrap of paper into minute shreds and dropped them on the grass.
“Things are almost at the crisis,” he murmured with a smile. “It seems that we, gentlemen, are to play the part of spectators. The next thing to turn up–“
“Is Fullaway!” suddenly exclaimed Allerdyke, thrown off his guard and speaking aloud. “And, by Gad!–he’s got that man Chilverton with him. This–by the Lord Harry, he’s caught sight of us, too!”
Fullaway was coming quickly up the lawn from the direction of the Serpentine; he looked unusually alert, vigorous, and bustling; by his side, hurrying to keep pace with him, was the New York detective. And Fullaway’s keen eyes, roving about, fell on Allerdyke and the chief and he made through the crowd in their direction, beckoning Chilverton to follow.
“Hullo–hullo!” he exclaimed, clapping a hand on Allerdyke’s shoulder, nodding to the chief, and staring inquisitively at Appleyard. “So you’re here, too, eh, Allerdyke? It wasn’t you who sent me that mysterious message, was it?”
“What message?” growled Allerdyke. “Be careful! Don’t attract attention–there are things going on here, I promise you! Drop into that chair, man–tell Chilverton to sit down. What message are you talking about?”
Fullaway, quick to grasp the situation, sat down in a chair which Appleyard pulled forward and motioned his companion to follow his example.
“I got a queer message–typewritten–on a sheet of notepaper which bore no address, about an hour ago,” he said. “It told me that if I came here, to this Hyde Park tea-house, at two o’clock, I’d have this confounded mystery explained. No signature–nothing to show who or where it came from. So I set out. And just as I was stepping into a taxi to come on here, I met Chilverton, so he came along with me. What brings you, then? Similar message, eh? And what–“
“Hush!” whispered Appleyard. “Miss Slade’s coming out of the tea-house! And who’s the man that’s with her?”
All five men glanced covertly over their shoulders at the open door of the tea-house, some twenty to thirty yards away. Down its steps came Miss Slade, accompanied by a man whom none of them had ever seen before–a well-built, light-complexioned, fair-haired man, certainly not an Englishman, but very evidently of Teutonic extraction, who was talking volubly to his companion and making free use of his hands to point or illustrate his conversation. And when he saw this man, the chief turned quickly to Allerdyke and intercepted a look which Allerdyke was about to give him–the same thought occurred to both. Here was the man described by the hotel-keeper of Eastbourne Terrace and the shabby establishment away in the Docks!
“Miss Slade!” exclaimed Fullaway. “What on earth are you talking about? That’s my secretary, Mrs. Mar–“
“Sh!” interrupted the chief. “That’s one of your surprises, Mr. Fullaway! Quiet, now, quiet. Our job is to watch. Something’ll happen in a minute.”
Miss Slade and her talkative companion edged their way through the crowd and passed out to an open patch of grass whereon a few children were playing. And as they went, two or three men also separated themselves from the idlers around the tables and strolled quietly and casually in the same direction. Also, Van Koon and the man with him left their table, and, as if they had no object in life but mere aimless chatter and saunter, wandered away towards the couple who had first emerged from the enclosure. And thereupon, Fullaway, not to be repressed, burst out with another exclamation.
“My God, Chilverton!” he cried. “There is Van Koon! And, by all that’s wonderful, Merrifield with him. Now what–“
The New York detective, who was under no orders, and knew no reason why he should restrain himself, wasted no time in words. Like a flash, he had leapt from his chair, threaded his way through the surrounding people, and was after his quarry. And with a muttered exclamation of anger, the chief rose and followed–and it seemed to Allerdyke that almost at the same instant a score of men, up to that moment innocently idling and lounging, rose in company.
“Damn it!” he growled, as he and Appleyard got up. “That chap’s going to spoil everything. What is he after? Confound you, Fullaway!–why couldn’t you keep quiet for a minute? Look there!”
Van Koon had turned and seen Chilverton. So, too, had Van Koon’s companion. So, also, had Miss Slade and the man she was walking with. That man, too, saw the apparent idlers closing in upon him. For a second he, and Van Koon, and the other man stared at each other across the grass; then, as with a common instinct, each turned to flee–and at that instant Miss Slade, with a truly feminine cry, threw herself upon her companion and got an undeniably firm grip on his struggling arms.
“This is the Eastbourne Terrace man!” she panted as Allerdyke and half-a-dozen detectives relieved her. “Get the other two–Van Koon and Merrifield. Quick!”
But Van Koon was already in the secure grip of Chilverton, and the person in the light blue suit was being safely rounded up by a posse of grim-faced men.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE SMART MISS SLADE
In no city of the world is a crowd so quickly collected as in London; in none is one so easily satisfied and dispersed. Within five minutes the detectives had hurried their three captives away towards the nearest cab-rank, and the people who had left their tea and their cakes to gather round, to stare, and to listen had gone back to their tables to discuss this latest excitement. But the chief and Allerdyke, Fullaway and Appleyard, Miss Slade and Rayner stood in a little group on the grass and looked at each other. Eventually, all looks except Rayner’s centred on Miss Slade, who, somewhat out of breath from her tussle, was settling her hat and otherwise composing herself. And it was Miss Slade who spoke first when the party, as a party, found itself capable of speech.
“I don’t know who it was,” observed Miss Slade, rather more than a little acidly, “who came interfering in my business, but whoever he was he nearly spoilt it.”
She darted a much-displeased look at the chief, who hastened to exculpate himself.
“Not I!” he said with a smile. “So don’t blame me, Miss Slade. I was merely a looker-on, a passive spectator–until the right moment arrived. Do I gather that the right moment had not actually arrived–for your purpose?”
“You do,” answered Miss Slade. “It hadn’t. If you had all waited a few moments you would have had all three men in conference round one of those tables, and they could have been taken with far less fuss and bother–and far less danger to me. It’s the greatest wonder in the world that I’m not lying dead on that grass!”
“We are devoutly thankful that you are not,” said the chief fervently. “But–you’re not! And the main thing is that the three men are in custody, and as for interference–“
“It was Chilverton,” interrupted Fullaway, who had been staring at his mysterious secretary as if she were some rare object which he had never seen before. “Chilverton!–all Chilverton’s fault. As soon as he set eyes on Van Koon nothing would hold him. And what I want to know–“
“We all want to know a good deal,” remarked the chief, glancing invitingly at Miss Slade. “Miss Slade has no doubt a good deal to tell. I suggest that we walk across to those very convenient chairs which I see over there by the shrubbery–then perhaps–“
“I want to know a good deal, too,” said Miss Slade.
“I don’t know who you are, to start with, and I don’t know why Mr. Appleyard happens to be here, to end with.”
Appleyard answered these two questions readily.
“I’m here because I happen to be Mr. Allerdyke’s London representative,” he said. “This gentleman is a very highly placed official of the Criminal Investigation Department.”
Miss Slade, having composed herself, favoured the chief with a deliberate inspection.
“Oh! in that case,” she remarked, “in that case, I suppose I had better satisfy your curiosity. That is,” she continued, turning to Rayner, “if Mr. Rayner thinks I may?”
“I was going to suggest it,” answered Rayner. “Let’s sit down and tell them all about it.”
The party of six went across to the quiet spot which the chief had indicated, and Fullaway and Appleyard obligingly arranged the chairs in a group. Seated in the midst and quite conscious that she was the centre of attraction in several ways, Miss Slade began her explanation of the events and mysteries which had culminated in the recent sensational event.
“I daresay,” she said, looking round her, “that some of you know a great deal more about this affair than I do. What I do know, however, is this–the three men who have just been removed are without doubt the arch-spirits of the combination which robbed Miss Lennard, attempted to rob Mr. James Allerdyke, possibly murdered Mr. James Allerdyke, and certainly murdered Lydenberg, Lisette Beaurepaire, and Ebers. Van Koon is an American crook, whose real name is Vankin; Merrifield, as you know, is Mr. Delkin’s secretary; the other man is one Otto Schmall, a German chemist, and a most remarkably clever person, who has a shop and a chemical manufactory in Whitechapel. He’s an expert in poison–and I think you will have some interesting matters to deal with when you come to tackle his share. Well, that’s plain fact; and now you want to know how I–and Mr. Rayner–found all this out.”
“Chiefly you,” murmured Rayner, “chiefly you!”
“You had better let your minds go back to the morning of the 13th May last,” continued Miss Slade, paying no apparent heed to this interruption. “On that morning I arrived at Mr. Fullaway’s office at my usual time, ten o’clock, to find that Mr. Fullaway had departed suddenly, earlier in the morning, for Hull. I at once guessed why he had gone–I knew that Mr. James Allerdyke, in charge of the Princess Nastirsevitch’s jewels, was to have landed at Hull the night before, and I concluded that Mr. Fullaway had set off to meet him. But Mr. Fullaway has a bad habit of leaving letters and telegrams lying about, for any one to see, and within a few minutes I found on his desk a telegram from Mr. Marshall Allerdyke, dispatched early that morning from Hull, saying that his cousin had died suddenly during the night. That, of course, definitely explained Mr. Fullaway’s departure, and it also made me wonder, knowing all I did know, if the jewels were safe.
“This, I repeat, was about ten to half-past ten o’clock. About twelve o’clock of that morning, the 13th, Mr. Van Koon, whom I knew as a resident in the hotel, and a frequent caller on Mr. Fullaway, came in. He wanted Mr. Fullaway to cash a cheque for him. I told him that I could do that, and I took his cheque, wrote out one of my own and went up town to Parr’s Bank, at the bottom of St. Martin’s Lane, to get the cash for him. Mr. Van Koon stayed in the office, reading a bundle of American newspapers which had just been delivered. I was away from the office perhaps forty minutes or so; when I returned he was still there. I gave him the money; he thanked me, and went away.
“Towards the end of that afternoon, just before I was leaving the office, I got a wire from Mr. Fullaway, from Hull. It was quite short–it merely informed me that Mr. James Allerdyke was dead, under mysterious circumstances, and that the Nastirsevitch property was missing. Of course, I knew what that meant, and I drew my own conclusions.
“Now I come to the 14th–a critical day, so far as I am concerned. During the morning a parcels-van boy came into the office. He said that on the previous day, about half-past twelve o’clock, he had brought a small parcel there, addressed to Mr. Fullaway, and had handed it to a gentleman who was reading newspapers, and who had answered ‘Yes’ when inquired of as Mr. Fullaway. This gentleman–who, of course, was Van Koon–had signed for the parcel by scribbling two initials ‘F. F.’ in the proper space. The boy, who said he was new to his job, told me that the clerk at the parcels office objected to this as not being a proper signature, and had told him to call next time he was passing and get the thing put right. He accordingly handed me the sheet, and I, believing that this was some small parcel which Van Koon had taken in, signed for, and placed somewhere in the office or in Mr. Fullaway’s private room, signed my own name, for Franklin Fullaway, over the penciled initials. And as I did so I noticed that the parcel had been sent from Hull.
“When the boy had gone I looked for that parcel. I could not find it anywhere. It was certainly not in the office, nor in any of the rooms of Mr. Fullaway’s suite. I was half minded to go to Mr. Van Koon and ask about it, but I decided that I wouldn’t; I thought I would wait until Mr. Fullaway returned. But all the time I was wondering what parcel it could be that was sent from Hull, and certainly dispatched from there on the very evening before Mr. Fullaway’s hurried journey.
“Nothing happened until Mr. Fullaway came back. Then a lot of things happened all at once. There was the news he brought about the Hull affair. Then there was the affair of the French maid. A great deal got into the newspapers. Mr. Rayner and I, who live at the same boarding-house, began to discuss matters. I heard, through Mr. Fullaway, that there was likelihood of a big reward, and I determined to have a try for it–in conjunction with Mr. Rayner. And so I kept my own counsel–I said nothing about the affair of the parcel.”
Fullaway, who had been manifesting signs of impatience and irritation during the last few minutes, here snapped out a question.
“Why didn’t you tell me at once about the parcel?” he demanded. “It was your duty!”
Miss Slade gave her employer a cool glance.
“Possibly!” she retorted. “But you are much too careless to be entrusted with secrets, Mr. Fullaway. I knew that if I told you about that parcel you’d spoil everything at once. I wanted to do things my own way. I took my own way–and it’s come out all right, for everybody. Now, don’t you or anybody interrupt again–I’m telling it all in order.”
Fullaway made an inarticulate growling protest, but Miss Slade took no notice and continued in even, dispassionate tones, as if she had been explained a mathematical problem.
“The affair prospered. The Princess came. The reward of fifty thousand pounds was offered. Then Mr. Rayner and I put our heads together more seriously. Much, of course, depended upon me, as I was on the spot. I wanted a chance to get into Van Koon’s rooms, some time when he was out. Fortunately the chance came. One afternoon, when Van Koon was in our office, he and Mr. Fullaway settled to dine out together and go to the theatre afterwards. That gave me my opportunity. I made an excuse about staying late at Mr. Fullaway’s office and when both men were clear away I let myself into Van Koon’s room–I’d already made preparations for that–and proceeded to search. I found the parcel. It was a small, square parcel, done up in brown paper and sealed with black wax; it had been opened, the original wrapper put on again, and the seals resealed. I took it into Mr. Fullaway’s rooms and opened it, carefully. Inside I found a small cigar-box, and in it the Princess’s jewels. I took them out. Then I put certain articles of corresponding weight into the box, did it up again precisely as I had found it, smeared over the seals with more black wax, went back to Van Koon’s room with it, and placed it again where I had found it–in a small suit-case.
“I now knew, of course, that Mr. James Allerdyke had sent those jewels direct to Mr. Fullaway, immediately on his arrival in Hull, and that they had fallen by sheer accident into Van Koon’s hands. But I wanted to know more. I wanted to know if Van Koon had any connection with this affair, and if, when he saw that the parcel was from Hull, he had immediately jumped to the conclusion that it might be from James Allerdyke, and might contain the actual valuables. Fortunately, Mr. Rayner had already made arrangements with a noted private inquiry agent to have Van Koon most carefully and closely watched. And the very day after I found and took possession of the jewels we received a report from this agent that Van Koon was in the habit of visiting the shop and manufactory of a German chemist named Schmall, in Whitechapel. Further, he had twice come away from it, after lengthy visits, in company with a man whom the agent’s employees had tracked to the Hotel Cecil, and whom I knew, from their description, to be Mr. Merrifield, Mr. Delkin’s private secretary.
“Naturally, having discovered this, we gave instructions for a keener watch than ever to be kept on both these men. But the name of the German chemist gave me personally a new and most important clue. There had been employed at the Waldorf Hotel, for some weeks up to the end of the first week in May, a German-Swiss young man, who then called himself Ebers. He acted as valet to several residents; amongst others, Mr. Fullaway. He was often in and out of Mr. Fullaway’s rooms. Once, Mr. Fullaway being out, and I having nothing to do, I was cleaning up some photographic apparatus which I had there. This man Ebers came in with some clothes of Mr. Fullaway’s. Seeing what I was doing, he got talking to me about photography, saying that he himself was an amateur. He recommended to me certain materials and things of that sort which he said he could get from a friend of his, a chemist, who was an enthusiastic photographer and manufactured chemicals and things used in photography. I gave him some money to get me a supply of things, and he brought various packets and parcels to me two or three days later. Each packet bore the name of Otto Schmall, and an address in a street which runs off Mile End Road.
“Now, when the private inquiry agent made his reports to Mr. Rayner and myself about Van Koon, and told us where he had been tracked to more than once, I, of course, remembered the name of Schmall, and Mr. Rayner and I began to put certain facts together. They were these:
“_First._–Ebers had easy access to Mr. Fullaway’s room at all hours, and was often in them when both Mr. Fullaway and I were out. Mr. Fullaway is notoriously careless in leaving papers and documents, letters and telegrams lying around. Ebers had abundant opportunities of reading lots of documents relating to (1) the Pinkie Pell pearls, and (2) the proposed Nastirsevitch deal.
“_Second._–Ebers was a friend of Sehmall. Schmall was evidently a man of great cleverness in chemistry.
“_Third._–All the circumstances of Mr. James Allerdyke’s death, and of Lisette Beaurepaire’s death, pointed to unusually skillful poisoning. Who was better able to engineer that than a clever chemist?
“_Fourth._–The jewels belonging to the Princess Nastirsevitch had undoubtedly fallen into Van Koon’s hands. Van Koon was a friend of Schmall. So also, evidently, was Merrifield. Now, Merrifield, as Delkin’s secretary, knew of the proposed deal.
“Obviously, then, Schmall, Van Koon, and Merrifield were in league–whether Ebers was also in league, or was a catspaw, we did not trouble to decide. But there was another fact which seemed to have some bearing, though it is one which I have never yet worked out–perhaps some of you know something of it. It was this: Just before he went to Russia, Mr. James Allerdyke, being in town, gave me a photograph of himself which Mr. Marshall Allerdyke had recently taken. I kept that photo lying on my desk at Mr. Fullaway’s for some time. One day I missed it. It is such an unusual thing for me to misplace anything that I turned over every paper on my desk in searching for it. It was not to be found. Four days later I found it, exactly where it ought to have been. Now, you can draw your own conclusions from that–mine are that Ebers stole it, so that he could reproduce it in order to give his reproduction to some person who wanted to identify James Allerdyke at sight.
“However, to go forward to the discovery which we made about Schmall, Van Koon, and Merrifield. As soon as we made that discovery, Mr. Rayner was for going to the police at once, but I thought not–there was still certain evidence which I wanted, so that the case could be presented without a flaw. However, all of a sudden I saw that we should have to act. Ebers was found dead in a small hotel near the Docks, and at a conference in which Mr. Fullaway insisted I should join, in his rooms, and at which Van Koon, who had been playing a bluff game, was present, there was enough said to convince me that Van Koon and his associates would take alarm and be off with what they believed themselves to possess–the jewels in that parcel. So then Mr. Rayner and I determined on big measures. And they were risky ones–for me.
“I had already been down, more than once, into Whitechapel, and had bought things at Schmall’s shop, and I was convinced that he was the man who accompanied Lisette Beaurepaire to that little hotel in Eastbourne Terrace. Now that the critical moment came, after the Ebers-Federman affair, I went there again. I got Schmall outside his premises. I took a bold step. I told him that I was a woman detective, who, for purposes of my own, had been working this case, and that I was in full possession of the facts. If I had not taken the precaution to tell him this in the thick of a crowded street, he would have killed me on the spot! Then I went on to tell him more. I said that his accomplice had led him to believe that he had the Nastirsevitch jewels in a parcel in his possession. I said that Van Koon was wrong–I had them myself–I told him how I got them. He nearly collapsed at that–I restored him by saying that the real object of my visit to him was to do a deal with him. I said that it did not matter two pins to me what he and his accomplices had done–what I was out for was money, nothing but money. How much would he and the others put up for the jewels and my silence? I reminded him of the fifty thousand pound reward. He glared at me like the devil he is, and said that he’d a mind to kill me there and then, whatever happened. Whereupon I told him that I had a revolver in my jacket pocket, that it was trained on him, and that if he moved, my finger would move just as quick, and I invited him to be sensible. It was nothing but a question of money, I said—how much would they give? Finally, we settled it at sixty thousand pounds. He was to meet me here–to-day at two–the other two were to be about–the money was to be paid to me on production of the jewels, for which purpose one of them was to go with me to my boarding-house. And–you know the rest.”
Miss Slade came to a sudden stop. She glanced at Rayner, who had been watching the effect of her story on the other men.
“At least,” she added suddenly, “you know all that’s really important. As Ebers’ affair was in the City, we warned the City police and left things with them. I think that’s all. Except, of course, Mr. Marshall Allerdyke, that we formally claim the reward for which you’re responsible. And–equally of course–that Mr. Rayner and I will hand over her jewels in the course of this afternoon to the Princess. Miss Lennard’s property, I should say, you’ll find hidden away on Schmall’s premises. Yes–that’s all.”
“Except this,” said the chief quietly. He unwrapped the newspaper in which he had carried his small parcel and revealed its contents to Miss Slade. “The jewels, you see, Miss Slade, are here. It has been my painful duty to visit your hotel, and to possess myself of them. Sorry but–“
Miss Slade gave one glance of astonishment at the chief and his exhibit; then she laughed in his face.
“Don’t apologize, and don’t trouble yourself!” she said suavely. “But you’re a bit off it, all the same. Those are some paste things which Mr. Rayner got together for me in case it came to being obliged to exhibit some to the crooks. You don’t think, really, that I was going to run any risks with the genuine articles? Sakes–they’re all right! They’re deposited, snug and safe, at my bankers, and if you’ll get a cab, we’ll drive there and get them!”
CHAPTER XXXIV
MERRIFIELD EXPLAINS
Late that afternoon Marshall Allerdyke and Fullaway, responding to an urgent telephone call, went to New Scotland Yard, and were presently ushered into the presence of the great man who had been so much in evidence that day. The great man was as self-possessed, as suave, and as calmly cheerful as ever. And on the desk in front of him he had two small and neatly made up parcels, tied and sealed in obviously official fashion.
“So we seem to have come to the end of this affair, gentlemen,” he observed as he waved his visitors to chairs on either side of him. “Except, of course, for the unpleasant consequences which must necessarily result to the men we caught to-day. However, there will be no consequences–of that sort–for one of them. Schmall has–escaped us!”
“Got away!” exclaimed Fullaway. “Great Scott you don’t mean that!”
“Schmall committed suicide this afternoon,” replied the chief calmly. “Clever man–in his own line, which was a very bad line. He was searched most narrowly and carefully, so I’ve come to the conclusion that he carried some of his subtle poison in his mouth–the hollow tooth dodge, no doubt. Anyway, he’s dead–they found him dead in his cell. It’s a pity–for he richly deserved hanging. At least, according to Merrifield.”
“Ah!” said Fullaway, with a start. “According to Merrifield, eh? Now what may that mean? To find Merrifield in this at all was, of course, a regular shock to me!”
“Merrifield–just the type of man who would!–has made a clean breast of the whole thing,” answered the chief. “He made it to me–an hour ago. He thought it best. He wants–naturally enough–to save his neck.”
“Will he?” growled Allerdyke. “A lot of necks ought to crack, after all this!”
“Can’t say–we mustn’t prejudge the case,” said the chief. “But that’s his desire of course. He would tell me everything–at once. I had it all taken down. But I remember every scrap of it. You want to hear? Well there’s a good deal of it, but I can epitomize it. You’ll find that you were much to blame, Mr. Fullaway–just as that smart young woman, your secretary, was candid enough to tell you.”
“Oh, I know–I know!” asserted Fullaway. “But–this confession?”
“Very well,” responded the chief. “Here it is, then but you must bear in mind that Merrifield could only tell what he knew–there’ll probably be details to come out later. Anyway, Merrifield–whose chief object is, I must also remind you, the clearing of himself from any charge of murder–he doesn’t mind the other charge, but he does object to the graver one!–says that though he’s been playing it straight for some time, ever since he went into Delkin’s service, in fact–he’d had negotiations of a questionable sort with both Schmall and Van Koon before years ago, in this city and in New York. He renewed his acquaintance with Schmall when he came over this time with Delkin–met him accidentally, and got going it with him again–and they both resumed dealings with Van Koon–who, I may say, was wanted by Chilverton on a quite different charge. Schmall had set up a business here in the East End as a small manufacturing chemist–he’d evidently a perfect and a diabolical genius for chemistry, especially in secret poisons–and down there Merrifield and Van Koon used to go. Also, there used to go there the young man Ebers, or Federman–we’ll stick to Ebers–who, from Merrifield’s account, seems to have been a tool of Schmall’s. Ebers, a fellow of evident acute perception, used to tell Schmall of things which his calling as valet at various hotels gave him knowledge–it strikes me that from what we now know we shall be able to trace to Schmall and Ebers several robberies at hotels which have puzzled us a good deal. And there is no doubt that it was Ebers who told Schmall of the two matters of which he obtained knowledge when he used to frequent your rooms. Mr. Fullaway–the pearls belonging to Miss Lennard, and the proposed jewel deal between the Princess Nastirsevitch and Mr. Delkin. But in that last Merrifield came in. He too, knew of it, and he told Schmall and Van Koon, but Ebers supplied the detailed information of what you were doing, through access, as Miss Slade said, to your papers–which you left lying about, you know.”
“I know–I know!” groaned Fullaway. “Careless–careless!”
“Very!” said the chief, with a smile at Allerdyke “Teach you a lesson, perhaps. However, there this knowledge was. Now, Schmall, according to Merrifield, was the leading spirit. He had the man Lydenberg in his employ. He sent him off to Christiania to waylay James Allerdyke: he supplied him with a photograph of James Allerdyke, which Ebers procured.”
“I know that!” muttered Allerdyke. “Clever, too!”
“Exactly,” agreed the chief. “Now at the same time Schmall learned of Miss Lennard’s return. He sent Ebers, who already knew and had been cultivating the French maid, down to Hull to meet her and bring her away with Miss Lennard’s jewel-box. That was done easily. The Lydenberg affair, however, did not come off–through Lydenberg. Because, as we now know, James Allerdyke sent the Nastirsevitch jewels off to you, Mr. Fullaway. But there, fortune favoured these fellows Van Koon, for purposes of theirs, had taken up his quarters close by you–in your absence the box came into his hands. And–we know how the ingenious Miss Slade despoiled him of it!”
The chief paused for a moment, and mechanically shifted the two parcels which stood before him. He seemed to be reflecting, and when he spoke again he prefaced his words with a shake of the head.
“Now here, from this point,” he continued, “I don’t know if Mr. Merrifield is telling the truth. Probably he isn’t. But I confess that, at present, I don’t see how we’re going to prove that he isn’t. He strenuously declares that neither he nor Van Koon had anything whatever to do with the murder of Lisette Beaurepaire, Lydenberg, or Ebers. He further says that he does not know if Lydenberg poisoned James Allerdyke. He declares that he does not know if it was ever intended to poison James Allerdyke, though he confesses that it was intended to rob him at Hull. Schmall, he says, was the active partner in all this–he took all that into his own hands. According to Merrifield, he does not know, nor Van Koon either, if it was Schmall who went down to Hull and shot Lydenberg, or if Lydenberg was murdered by some person who had a commission for his destruction from some secret society–Lydenberg, he believed, was mixed up with that sort of thing.”
“I know that, I think!” exclaimed Allerdyke.
“I daresay we all three know what we think,” observed the chief. “Schmall seems to have had a genius for putting his tools out of the way when he had done with them. It was undoubtedly Schmall who took Lisette Beaurepaire to that hotel in Paddington and poisoned her; it was just as undoubtedly Schmall who took Ebers to the hotel in London Docks and got rid of him. But, I tell you, Merrifield swears that neither he nor Van Koon knew of these things, and did not connive at them.”
“Did they know of them–afterwards?” asked Fullaway.
“Ah!” replied the chief. “That’s what they’ll have to satisfy a judge and jury about! I think they’ll find it difficult. But–that’s about all. Except this–that they were all three about to clear out when the enterprising Miss Slade turned up and told Schmall she’d got the Nastirsevitch jewels. That was a stiff proposition for them. But they were equal to it. For you see Miss Slade let him know that she was open to do a deal–for sixty thousand pounds! How were they to get sixty thousand pounds? Ah!–now came a confession from Merrifield which has already–for I’ve told him of it–made Mr. Delkin stare. Delkin, it appears, keeps a very big banking account here in London–so big, that his bankers think nothing of his drawing what we should call enormous cash cheques. Now Merrifield–you see what a clean breast he’s made–admitted to me that he was an expert forger–so he calmly forged a cheque of Delkin’s, drew sixty thousand in notes–and they had them on them–at least Merrifield had–when we took all three a few hours ago. Nice people, eh!”
There was a silence of much significance for a few minutes; then Allerdyke got up from his chair with a growl.
“I’d have given a good deal if that fellow Schmall had saved his neck for the gallows!” he muttered. “He’s cheated me!”
“It’s my impression,” said the chief, “that if Miss Slade hadn’t been so smart, Schmall would have cheated his two accomplices. He had what he believed to be the parcel containing the Nastirsevitch jewels in his possession, and he also had Miss Lennard’s pearls locked up in his safe. We got those this afternoon, on searching his premises; Miss Slade gave us the real Nastirsevitch jewels from her bank. Here they are–both lots, in these parcels. And if you two gentlemen will go through the formality of signing receipts for them, you, Mr. Fullaway, can take her parcel to the Princess, and you, Mr. Allerdyke, can carry hers to Miss Lennard. And, er–” he added, with a quiet smile, as he rose and produced some papers–“you won’t mind, either of you, I’m sure, if a couple of my men accompany you–just to see that you accomplish your respective missions in safety?”
CHAPTER XXXV
THE ALLERDYKE WAY
With the recovered pearls in his hand, and Chettle as guardian and companion at his side, Allerdyke chartered a taxi-cab and demanded to be driven to Bedford Court Mansions. And as they glided away up Whitehall he turned to the detective with a grin that had a sardonic complexion to it.
“Well–except for the law business–I reckon this is about over, Chettle,” he said. “You’ve had plenty to do, anyway–not much kicking your heels in idleness anywhere, while this has been going on!”
Chettle pulled a long face and sighed.
“Unfortunate for me, all the same, Mr. Allerdyke,” he answered. “I’d meant to have a big cut in at that reward, sir. Now I suppose that young woman’ll get it.”
“Miss Slade’ll doubtless get most of it,” replied Allerdyke. “But I think there’ll have to be a bit of a dividing-up, like. You fellows are certainly entitled to some of it–especially you–and two or three of those folks who gave some information ought to have a look in. But, of course, Miss Slade will feel herself entitled to the big lump–and she’ll take care to get it, don’t make any mistake!”
“She’s a deal too clever, that young lady,” observed Chettle. “I like ’em clever, but not quite as clever as all that. In my opinion, she’s mistaken her calling, has that young woman. She ought to have been one of us–they’re uncommonly bent that way, some of these modern misses–they can see right through a thing, sometimes, where we men can’t see an inch above our noses.”
“Intuition,” said Allerdyke, with a laugh. “Aye, well perhaps Miss Slade’ll have got so infected with enthusiasm for your business that She’ll go in for it regularly. This reward’ll do for capital, you know, Chettle.”
“Ah!” responded Chettle feelingly. “Wish it was coming to me! I wouldn’t put no capital into that business–not me, sir! I’d have a nice little farm in the country, and I’d grow roses, and breed sheep and pigs, and–“
“And lose all your brass in a couple of years!” laughed Allerdyke. “Stick to your own game, my lad, and when you want to grow roses, do it in your own back yard for pleasure. And here we are–and you’d best wait, Chettle, until Miss Lennard herself gives a receipt for this stuff, and then you can take it back to Scotland Yard and frame it.”
He left Chettle in an anti-room of Miss Lennard’s flat while he himself was shown into the prima donna’s presence. She was alone, and evidently unoccupied, and her eyes suddenly sparkled when Allerdyke came in as if she was glad of a visitor.
“You!” she exclaimed. “Really!”
“It’s me,” said Allerdyke laconically. “Nobody else,” He looked round to make sure that the door was safely closed; then he advanced to the little table at which Miss Lennard was sitting and laid down his parcel.
“Something for you,” he said abruptly. “Open it.”
“What is it?” she asked, glancing shyly at him. “Not chocolates–surely!”
“Never bought aught of that sort in my life,” replied Allerdyke. “More respect for people’s teeth. Here–I’ll open it,” he went on, producing a penknife and cutting the string. “I’ve signed one receipt for this stuff already–you’ll have to sign another. There’s a detective in your parlour waiting for it, just now.”
“A detective!” she exclaimed. “Why–why–you don’t mean to say that box has my pearls in it? Oh! you don’t!”
“See if they’re all right,” commanded Allerdyke “Gad!–they’ve been through some queer hands since you lost ’em. I don’t know how you feel about it, but hang me if I shouldn’t feel strange wearing ’em again! I should feel–but I daresay you don’t!”
“No, I don’t!” she said as she drew the jewels out of their wrappings and hurriedly examined them. “Of course I don’t; all I feel is that I’m delighted beyond measure to get them back. You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t,” agreed Allerdyke. He dropped into a chair close by, and quietly regarded the owner of the fateful valuables. “I’m only a man, you see. But–I should know better how to take care of things like these than you did. Come, now!”
“I shall take better care of them–in future,” said Miss Lennard.
Allerdyke shook his head,
“Not you!” he retorted. “At least–not unless you’ve somebody to take care of you. Eh?”
Miss Lennard, who was still examining her recovered property, set it hastily down and stared at her visitor. Her colour heightened, and her eyes became inquisitive.
“Take care of–me!” she exclaimed. “Of–whatever are you talking about, Mr. Allerdyke?”
“It’s like this,” replied Allerdyke, involuntarily squaring himself in his chair. “You see me?–I’m as healthy a man as ever lived!–forty, but no more than five-and-twenty in health and spirits. I’ve plenty of brains and a rare good temper. I’m owner of one of the best businesses in Yorkshire–I’m worth a good ten thousand a year. I’ve one of the best houses in our parts–I’m going to take another, a country house, if you’re minded. I’ll guarantee to make the best husband–“
Miss Lennard dropped back on her sofa and screamed.
“Good heavens, man?” she exclaimed. “Are you–are you really asking me to–to marry you?”
“That’s it,” replied Allerdyke, nodding. “You’ve hit it. Queer way, maybe–but it’s my way. See?”
“I never heard of–of such a way in all my life!” said the lady. “You’re–extraordinary!”
“I am,” said Allerdyke. “Yes–we are out of the ordinary in our part of the world–we know it. Well,” he went on after a moment’s silence, during which they looked at each other, “you’ve heard what I have to say. How is it to be?”
The prima donna continued to gaze intently on this strange wooer for a full minute. Then she suddenly stretched out her hand.
“I’ll marry you!” she said quietly.
Allerdyke gave the hand a firm pressure, and stood up, unconsciously pulling himself to his full height.
“Thank you,” he said. “You shan’t regret it. And now, then–a pen, if you please. Sign that.”
He handed his betrothed a paper, watched her sign it, and then, picking up the pen as she laid it down, took a cheque-book from his pocket and quickly wrote a cheque. This he placed in an envelope taken from the writing-table. Envelope and receipt in hand, he turned to the door.
“Business first,” he said, smiling over his shoulder. “I’ll send Chettle off–then we’ll talk about ourselves.”
He went away to Chettle and put the paper and the envelope in his hand.
“That’s the receipt,” he said. “T’other’s a bit of a present for you–naught to do with the reward–a trifle from me. Ah!–you might like to know that I’ve just got engaged to be married!”
Chettle glanced round and inclined his head towards the room from which Allerdyke had just emerged.
“What!–to the lady!” he exclaimed. “Deary me. Well,” he went on, grasping the successful suitor’s hand, and giving it a warm and sympathetic squeeze, “there’s one thing I can say, Mr. Allerdyke–you’ll make an uncommon good-looking pair!”