Stolen Idols

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER VI

  Mr. Johnson found plenty of time during the journey to Norwich toexchange remarks with and take notice of his companion. The sulkiness ofher expression lightened considerably with the pleasure of the rapidmotion, the sense of freedom springing from this unexpected holiday. Theroad wound its way between hedges from which the late honeysuckle stilldrooped, through a tract of pleasant and varied country; corn fieldswhere harvesting machines with their musical mechanism were at work,rich meadows where the cows stood knee-deep in flower-starred herbage,across a great common where clumps of heather and gorse stretched awayto the borders of a thick, encircling wood. The Ballaston pheasantsstrutted about on every side. From a slight rise in the road a mile orso beyond the village they caught a glimpse of the back of the Hall.

  "I lunched there to-day," Mr. Johnson confided.

  The girl looked at him curiously.

  "Who was there?" she enquired.

  "Only Sir Bertram and his son and Mr. Henry Ballaston. I thought it wasrather decent of them to ask me."

  She made no reply.

  "Do you know them?" he asked.

  "I see Sir Bertram often," she replied. "He comes down to the LittleHouse two or three times a week when he is here."

  "And Mr. Henry?"

  "Mr. Henry does not visit Madame to my knowledge."

  "Do you know Sir Bertram's son, Gregory?" he continued.

  She turned and looked at him. Her eyes were quite wide open now and hewas once more astonished to find how beautiful they were. Neverthelesstheir expression at that moment was not pleasing. She seemed surprisedat his question--if such a thing were possible, a little frightened.

  "I know him, of course," she replied. "He too visits Madameoccasionally."

  "I am interested in the family," Mr. Johnson confessed, "and I havefaith in your instincts. What do you think of Gregory Ballaston?"

  "What should I think of him?" she answered indifferently. "Agood-looking young man, run after at times by all the young women in thecounty, a great sportsman, a great traveller, and, I suppose, a greatlibertine. How on earth should I, Madame's companion, know or thinkanything about him?"

  "One forms impressions," he murmured.

  "If I allowed myself to form any," she rejoined, "they would befavourable. He treats me always just a little more politely, because Iam a dependent. If I were a silly girl, I dare say I should be like therest of them in this horrible neighbourhood."

  "Why do you call it that?" he protested.

  "I call it that," she rejoined, "because I detest nearly all the peopleI know in it."

  "Well, there don't seem to be many," he remarked good-humouredly, "evenif you include me."

  "I certainly do not include you," she assured him. "You may disappointme like the others, but at the present moment you seem to me a verysimple, good-natured person, who actually takes the trouble to go out ofhis way to do a kindness."

  "Not in the least," he protested. "You're not suggesting, I hope, thatthere is any kindness in driving you to Norwich?"

  "Why not?" she retorted. "What else can it be?"

  "It is certainly pleasanter for me," he pointed out, "to have you by myside than to go alone."

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  "Why?" she demanded. "I am not good-looking. I am not agreeable. I amnot amusing. If you are fond of gallivanting--well, I am sure that youhave sense enough to know that it doesn't appeal to me. How can Ipossibly, therefore, be of any interest to you?"

  He smiled.

  "You're all there with the words," he acknowledged. "I rather dependupon feelings. I only know that I feel it pleasanter to have you whereyou are than to be alone. As a matter of fact, there are several ofthose glib statements of yours I could quarrel with if I wished."

  "Well?"

  "Your manner," he admitted, "is rather difficult. No one could call youparticularly amiable. As to not being attractive, however, I differ fromyou. I think if you took the slightest trouble about yourself--put yourhat on straight, for instance, gathered up those wisps of hair, andindulged in a smile now and then--you would be distinctly good-looking."

  For a moment her frown seemed even a little more sullen than ever. Therewas a positive scowl upon her face, until to his amazement, she suddenlyburst out laughing. He saw then that she had the whitest of teeth andthe little flush of colour which had been gradually finding its way intoher cheeks completely dispelled the sallowness of her complexion. Hereyes seemed to reflect her unexpectedly kindled sense of humour. Shestraightened her hat and felt her hair.

  "You really are a very nice person," she said. "You can go on talkingnonsense, if you want to. I rather like it. And if it will give you anysatisfaction, I will spend that hour during which you are going to leaveme alone in Norwich, at the hairdresser's."

  "I knew I was right," he declared. "You're a good sort."

  "So are you," she rejoined. "Let's be friends. I am going to start byasking you a question."

  "For God's sake," he begged, "don't ask me why I came to settle atMarket Ballaston."

  "Why not?"

  "Because every one's pestering me to death with the same thing," hecomplained. "No one can get that murder out of their heads. It seems tohave absorbed every effort at individual thought in the whole place.Why, I've seen men killed by the dozen. I've lived in a place wherethere was a murder every day. Yet here they seem obsessed by their onelittle tragedy. I can never get away from it. I go down to the villageinn. The tradespeople are just like the tradespeople in any othervillage. I should like a little local information and gossip. Not a bitof it. The murder, and nothing but the murder! I lunch at the Hall.Before I have been there half an hour I know that I am an object ofsuspicion. I must have come to the neighbourhood because of the murder.Hang it all, in self-defence I shall have to set to work and find outwho _did_ kill this fellow Endacott, and tell you all about it."

  "I hope you won't try," she begged earnestly.

  "Another mystery!" he exclaimed. "What the mischief can it matter toyou?"

  "I don't know," she answered. "I don't care much about any of thesepeople, but I don't like unhappiness. The man's dead. I think all overthe village the same feeling exists. I think they are afraid of whatmight happen if the truth really came to light."

  She leaned a little forward in the car, her eyes fixed upon the steepleof the Cathedral, slowly emerging to definite form, slender, exquisite,yet dominating, as it rose from amongst an incongruous mass of red-tiledbuildings. Mr. Johnson waited for several moments. Then, as he swunginto the main road, he broke the brief silence.

  "That's queer," he confided. "I had formed the same impression myself.Anyway, we will drop it for the present."

  She nodded assent.

  "I wonder if you realise," she said, "what a great holiday this is forme. I have never been in Norwich. I have not been in a car for years. Iam enjoying myself thoroughly, and I am not going to think of anotherdisagreeable thing. Please put me down wherever you like and when youhave done your business, I will meet you wherever you say."

  "Have you any shopping to do, beyond your visit to the hairdresser?" heasked her.

  "Shopping!" she repeated scornfully. "Why should I have any? Living thesort of life I do, one needs no clothes. One thing does as well asanother. Still, the hairdresser will take a little time, and I can amusemyself very well looking at the shop windows."

  "I shall put you down in the market place," he decided. "I shall be gonefor about three quarters of an hour. At the end of that time I will meetyou at the tea shop you can see on our right hand. After that, if wehave any time to spare, we will look round the place together. Is thatagreed?"

  "Delightful!" she assented.

  * * * * *

  The Chief Constable was in and happy to see Mr. Johnson. He was anamiable ex-officer, as competent as could be expected, and exceedinglypopular in the county, of which he was a native.

  "I am
Major Holmes," he announced, glancing at the card which he stillheld in his hand. "What can I do for you, Mr. Johnson?"

  "Give me a little of your time, and a great deal of your patience," wasthe quiet reply. "I have just come to live in your county at MarketBallaston. I have taken the Great House there."

  "The Great House," the other repeated reminiscently. "Oh, yes, Iremember, of course. So you are living there. The scene of a veryunfortunate tragedy which cost us a lot of time and trouble lately."

  "So I hear," Mr. Johnson murmured.

  Major Holmes leaned back in his chair.

  "I am afraid," he confessed, "that Norfolk has added to the somewhatscanty list of undiscovered crimes. We don't lay it too much to heart,however, as Scotland Yard took the whole business out of our hands inthe early stages."

  "A little unwise of them, perhaps," Mr. Johnson observed. "Local policemay not be so intelligent, but they are at least tenacious, and theyoften have the better grasp of the situation."

  The Chief Constable remained silent. He had his own opinion, but it wasnot a matter for discussion with an outsider.

  "I imagine," his visitor proceeded, "that it would be rather a score forthe county police if they were to achieve a success where Scotland Yardhas failed."

  Major Holmes glanced across at his caller keenly.

  "Have you brought me any information?" he asked.

  "Yes," was the laconic reply.

  The Chief Constable was startled but eager.

  "God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, sitting up. "You're a welcomevisitor. Look here, let me ring for my Superintendent."

  Mr. Johnson held out his hand.

  "Not for the moment, if you please," he begged. "I would rather say whatI have to say to you in confidence. Afterwards, I understand theinformation must be used in such manner as you think fit."

  The other nodded.

  "Very well," he agreed.

  The tenant of the Great House squared himself up to the desk. He was adifferent-looking man to the kindly person who had driven Miss Besantover to Norwich.

  "Major Holmes," he said, "I shall ask you to consider as private so muchof this conversation as does not come under the heading of officialinformation."

  "Certainly."

  "The murdered man, Endacott, and I were associated in a very largebusiness established in China, Alexandria and New York. We were togetherfor over twenty years. For the last ten years he was my partner. Wewound up the business a little over twelve months ago and he brought agreat fortune to England."

  "You were his partner," Major Holmes repeated in a tone of considerablesurprise.

  "No one in this neighbourhood knows of my connection with Endacott," Mr.Johnson continued. "I have chosen to keep it secret. Now let me come tothe more precise information which I have to offer. A month or so beforeEndacott left the East, a Chinese temple near Pekin was robbed, and twostatues, wooden Images they were, with a very peculiar history, werestolen. There were two young men concerned in the robbery--an Englishmanand an American. The American got as far as the railway, and, althoughhe was murdered by a band of robbers who boarded the train, one of theImages reached its destination. The Englishman was captured by thepriests, and as, by their religion, they are unable to shed blood, hewas handed over by them to a notorious river pirate with instructionsthat he was to be thrown to the alligators. I heard of the affair in avillage where I was trading up the Yun-Tse River, rescued him from thepirate and brought him down to the coast. The name of the young man wasGregory Ballaston."

  The Chief Constable stared across the table. It was an odd story to heartold in such a matter-of-fact way in the law-abiding city of Norwich.

  "Greg Ballaston!" he exclaimed. "Good Lord!"

  "Mr. Gregory Ballaston," the narrator continued, "found his Imagewaiting for him on the steamer, although his friend was dead. The secondof the Images, with which the robbers had decamped, came, by means ofindirect traffic with them, into my possession. I showed it to Mr.Ballaston in my warehouse. He coveted it. If the old superstition weretrue, his Image without mine was useless."

  "How, useless?" Major Holmes asked, puzzled.

  "Because both were supposed to contain, hidden somewhere in theirinterior, a sacred treasure of jewels accumulated by the priests in thetemple. If I attempt to explain the matter more fully, you will thinkthat I am telling fairy stories, so I will content myself by sayingthat, according to an ancient superstition, credited by many who hadknowledge of the affair, and also by these two young men, the possessionof one Image without the other was useless. Gregory Ballaston left forEngland, taking his Image. The other, when we wound up the affairs ofthe firm, was brought home to England by Ralph Endacott, together with anumber of old manuscripts from the temple, which had also come into ourpossession. Up to, at any rate, a few days before his murder, that Imagestood in his study, the room where he was found shot. To-day that Imageis in Ballaston Hall."

  Major Holmes sat for a moment or two without speaking. It was scarcelyto be wondered at that his prevailing impressions were of blankincredulity.

  "You are telling me a most extraordinary story, Mr. Johnson," he saidguardedly.

  "The truth is sometimes extraordinary," the other agreed. "You caneasily verify, however, the correctness of the main points of mystatements. I can give you references, for instance, to my bankers inLondon, who will assure you that I was the head of the firm in which Mr.Endacott was partner, that I am a man of wealth and reputation, and in aposition to know the truth concerning these matters. Gregory Ballastonhalf recognised me, but as out there I passed as a Chinaman, he is onlysuspicious. I adopted the garb and speech of the Chinese very early inlife, because no confessed European has a chance of trading successfullyin the interior of the country. Gregory Ballaston is a young man againstwhom I have no ill-feeling--in fact, I rather like him--but Endacott wasmy associate for twenty years and I was responsible for the Image beingin his possession. It was arranged between us that, with the help of afriend of his at the British Museum, he should obtain a translation ofthe documents we had acquired concerning it, and we should then, on myreturn to England, discuss the possibility of the existence of thejewels. I am very certain that in his lifetime he would never willinglyhave parted with the Image to Gregory Ballaston."

  "And you say that that Image is now at Ballaston Hall?" the Majordemanded.

  "It is there at the present moment," was the unequivocal reply. "Ilunched there to-day and saw it, together with the fellow Image whichGregory Ballaston brought home."

  The Chief Constable moved uneasily in his chair. The story to which hehad listened was barely credible, but there was something veryconvincing about this rather ponderous man of slow speech and steadyeyes.

  "You are a stranger in these parts, Mr. Johnson," he said, after amoment's pause. "You probably don't know that the Ballastons are one ofour oldest and most prominent county families. Sir Bertram is LordLieutenant at the present moment. He hunts the hounds and occupies agreat position."

  "I am aware of that," Mr. Johnson replied. "I also know, as probably youdo, that the family are in great financial straits."

  "It comes to this then," the Chief Constable summed up unwillingly. "Youare practically accusing young Ballaston not only of theft but of themurder of your late partner, Endacott."

  "I have not gone so far as that," the other pointed out. "I havesupplied you with a motive for the murder. I have given you informationthat property belonging to the dead man--equally to me, by-the-by--isnow in the possession of the Ballastons."

  "But is this Image really of great value?" Major Holmes asked. "Leavingout the other improbabilities, could its possession be considered as apossible incentive for the perpetration of such an atrocious crime?"

  "The jewels supposed to be concealed in the two Images," Mr. Johnsonconfided, "are estimated, if they exist at all, to be worth anything upto a million pounds. It was Sir Bertram who first heard the story whenhe was in the Diplomatic Service and persona grata at the la
te Emperor'sCourt in China. He passed it on to his son, and without doubt the twotogether planned the expedition."

  Major Holmes felt a certain amount of conviction creeping in upon him.It was only his sense of officialdom which enabled him to conceal hisgrowing sense of horror.

  "You must forgive me, Mr. Johnson," he begged, "if I accept your storywith some reserves. As a man of common sense, I am sure you will seethat it has its incredible side, especially when one considers the greatposition of the Ballastons and the horrible results which must ensue ifyour story be proved true. By-the-by, didn't I hear that GregoryBallaston was going abroad again for some years?"

  "It is that fact," Mr. Johnson admitted, "which has induced me to payyou this visit instead of pursuing a few investigations myself."

  Major Holmes pushed pen and paper across the table.

  "Will you write down the address of your bankers," he invited, "to whomI may refer? If you also care to give me a reference to your lawyers orsome private person, I must confess that I should proceed with moreconfidence."

  Mr. Johnson acquiesced without hesitation. There was somethingconvincing about the name of the bank and the solicitors, written in hisfirm handwriting.

  "You have no further suggestions to make, I suppose?" the ChiefConstable asked.

  "None at all," Mr. Johnson replied, "except that I should much preferyour keeping my intervention in this matter entirely secret for a shorttime. You will probably place such investigations as you decide to makein the hands of your subordinate who first took charge of the case. Ifyou can arrange to let him pay me a visit at the Great House, I shouldbe glad."

  Major Holmes sat for a moment or two in silence.

  "Let me see," he reflected, "Cloutson was the man who had the matter inhand before we were overrun by the Scotland Yard people. He istravelling inspector now for the northern part of the county. I shallcatch him to-night at Lynn and will have him return at once."

  "There is one thing more I should tell you," Mr. Johnson concluded. "Itwas my intention, before I heard of Gregory Ballaston's impendingdeparture, to deal with this matter myself. I have a young man from aprivate detective agency stationed down at Ballaston. He watches,however, for one purpose only."

  "Unless you have any special reason for not telling me," the ChiefConstable suggested, "I think, especially as we are going to act, I hadbetter know what that one purpose is."

  "I anticipate at some time or another," Mr. Johnson confided, "aburglarious visit at the Great House from some one at Ballaston. Nowthat I have discovered that the Image has already been stolen thepossibility is not so great, but it is obvious that as yet GregoryBallaston has not learned the secret of helping himself to the treasure.Now there is one room--an annex to the study--locked and boarded, on thewindows of which Miss Endacott has had bars placed. I believed that theImage was in there, but what certainly is there is the coffer of Chinesemanuscripts which Endacott brought home with him, and which we believedto contain instructions as to the connection between the Images and thetreasure. I have examined that room, and, though of course aprofessional burglar could manage it easily enough, it wouldn't be asimple matter for an amateur to tackle. Still, having gone so far, Iexpect Gregory Ballaston to make the last effort. That is why my youngman watches Ballaston Hall at night."

  Major Holmes was a matter-of-fact man of limited vision, and once morehe had the sensation of having been plunged into a world of phantasies.

  "Chinese manuscripts!" he muttered. "Images! Greg Ballaston! Finestcaptain Oxford ever had, you know, Mr. Johnson, and captained theGentlemen two years. It's awfully hard for me to get a coherent grip ofthis, especially when you sit there and tell me that you lived in theEast disguised as a Chinaman. The whole thing seems fantastic."

  Mr. Johnson tapped with his forefinger the slip of paper upon which hehad written the two addresses.

  "When you take up my references with the lawyers," he suggested, "writeto Mr. Stockton personally. Ask him his opinion of me as a man ofbusiness, a practical man. You can have him down, if you like. Myaffairs are of some importance to him and he would not hesitate to makethe journey. You must have confidence in me, because now that I havemoved in the matter at all, I wish to be sure of the end."

  Major Holmes rose to his feet and opened the door for his visitor.

  "You can rely upon my taking the necessary steps in the matter," hepromised. "The whole business is more painful to me than I can tell you,but it will proceed from now on automatically. I will send InspectorCloutson in to see you the first time he is at Market Ballaston."

  Mr. Johnson, as he walked down the hill from the Castle, glanced morethan once at the grim jail with its fortress-like walls and barewindows. He was no sentimentalist. Fifteen years' trading upon theYun-Tse River had accustomed him to scenes of horror and bloodshed, but,nevertheless, he gave a little shiver as he passed the nail-studdedentrance. It was here, only a week ago, that a man had been hanged. Herecalled the circumstances, only to dismiss the memory immediately. Hewas concerned with more immediate events. He himself had started intorelentless motion the cumbersome machinery of the law. The memory of theChief Constable's room waxed faint. The tolling of the Castle clockstartled him. He glanced up. Above was the scaffold.