Hushed Up! A Mystery of London

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  MORE STRANGE FACTS

  Compelled against my will to accompany the inspector to the policehead-quarters in the High Street, I made a statement--a rather lameone, I fear.

  I concealed the fact that the lady of the previous night's conferencewas my wife, and explained my visit to Stamford, and my inquiries atthe George, by the fact that I had met the man Lewis abroad, and hadhad some financial dealings with him, which, I now suspected, were notaltogether square. So, hearing that he had motored to the north, I hadfollowed, and had inquired at several of the well-known motoringhotels for news of him, being unsuccessful until I had arrived atStamford.

  This story would, of course, not have held water had Miss Hammond, themanageress, been present. Happily, however, she had not accompaniedme, hence I was able to concoct a somewhat plausible excuse to thelocal superintendent.

  "Then you actually know nothing concerning these people?" he asked,regarding me shrewdly.

  "Nothing beyond the fact of meeting Lewis abroad, and very foolishlytrusting in his honesty."

  The superintendent smiled. I think he regarded me as a bit of a fool.Probably I had been.

  "They are a clever gang, no doubt," he declared. "The Archduchess'snecklace must have been stolen by some one travelling in the train.I've been on to Scotland Yard by telephone, and there seems asuspicion because at Grantham--the last stopping-place beforeLondon--a ticket-collector boarded the train. He was a stranger to theothers, but they believed that he had been transferred from one orother of the branches to the main line, and being in the company'suniform they, of course, accepted him. He collected the tickets _enroute_, as is sometimes done, and at Finsbury Park descended, and waslost sight of. Here again the busy collectors came and demandedtickets, much to the surprise of the passengers, and the curiousincident was much commented upon."

  "Then the bogus collector was the thief, I suppose?"

  "No doubt. He somehow secured the dressing-bag and dropped it out at apoint between Grantham and Essendine--a spot where he knew hisaccomplices would be waiting--a very neatly-planned robbery."

  "And by persons who are evidently experts," I said.

  "Of course," replied the grey-haired superintendent. "The manner inwhich the diamonds have been quickly transferred from hand to hand andcarried out of the country is sufficient evidence of that. The ganghave now scattered, and, for aught we know, have all crossed theChannel by this time."

  "Well," I assured him; "I know nothing more of the affair than what Ihave told you. If I were an accomplice I should hardly be here--makinginquiries concerning them."

  "I don't know so much about that," he replied, rather incredulously."Such an action has been known before, in order to place the policeupon a wrong scent. I fear I must ask you to remain here, in Stamford,until this evening, while I make some inquiry into your _bona fides_,sir."

  "What!" I cried. "You intend to detain me!"

  "There is no indignity," he declared. "You may go about the town whereyou will--providing you do not attempt to leave it. I regret, but itis my duty to ascertain who and what you are, Mr. Biddulph."

  I had given him my card, and he, seeing the look of annoyance upon myface, added--

  "I can only express apologies, sir. But you will see it is my duty.You have admitted knowledge of at least one of the mysterious gang."

  "Very well," I replied reluctantly; "make what inquiries you will."And I gave him the address of my solicitors and my bankers.

  Then, walking out of the office, I strolled down the quiet old HighStreet into the market place, full of evil forebodings.

  Who was this man Lewis--or Louis--with whom my wife had escaped?

  He was a blackguardly adventurer, anyhow. He had addressed her as"dear," and had been solicitous of her welfare throughout! To him shehad signalled from her box in the theatre, well knowing that he wasmaking secret preparations for her elopement. Indeed, she had writtenthat note and placed it upon my blotting-pad before we had gone forthtogether, she well knowing that she would never again re-cross mythreshold.

  Ah! The poignant bitterness of it all had gripped my heart. My cup ofunhappiness was now assuredly full.

  How brief had been my joy; how quickly my worst fears had beenrealized.

  About the quiet, old-world decaying town I wandered, hardly knowingwhither I went. When, every now and then, in the fading light, I foundmyself going into the country I turned back, mindful of my promise notto leave the place without permission.

  About six I returned to the George and sat beside the fire in thelounge--in that selfsame chair where my fugitive wife had sat. I waseager to renew the chase, yet until I received word from the police Iwas compelled to remain helpless.

  Old Cross, the boots, became inquisitive, but I evaded his questions,and ate my dinner alone in the small cosy coffee-room, awaiting thereappearance of Inspector Deane. I had given my chauffeur liberty tilleight o'clock, but I was all anxiety to drive back to London.

  Still, if I returned, what could I do? Sylvia and her companions haddriven away--whither was a mystery.

  The Criminal Investigation Department had already issued an officialdescription of the persons wanted, for while I had been at thepolice-office the inspector had been closely questioning the man Crossand Miss Hammond.

  Already the police drag-net was out, and the combined police forces ofEurope would, in an hour or two, be on the watch for Sylvia and hermysterious companions.

  So far as the United Kingdom was concerned sixty thousand officers,detectives and constables would be furnished with a completedescription of those who had held that secret consultation. Thetightest of tight cordons would be drawn. Every passenger who embarkedat English ports for abroad would be carefully scrutinized byplain-clothes men. Every hotel-keeper, not only in London, but in theremote villages and hamlets would be closely questioned as to theidentity and recent movements of his guests. Full descriptions ofSylvia and her friends would be cabled to America, and the Americanpolice would be asked to keep a sharp look-out on passengers arrivingon all boats from Europe. Descriptions would also be sent to thepolice head-quarters in every European capital.

  In face of that, what more could I do?

  The situation had become unbearable. Sylvia's unaccountable action hadplunged me into a veritable sea of despair. The future seemed blankand hopeless.

  Just before eight o'clock I strolled back to the police-office andreported myself, as it were. The superintendent expressed himselfperfectly satisfied with the replies he had received from London, and,with apologies, gave me leave to depart.

  "Inquiry is being made along the roads in every direction from here,"he said. "We hear that the three men and the woman called at the Bell,at Barnby Moor, and had some breakfast. Afterwards they continuednorthward."

  "Barnby Moor!" I echoed. "Why, that's near Doncaster."

  "Yes, sir. Motorists patronize the place a good deal."

  "And is that all that is known?" I inquired eagerly.

  "All at present," he said. Therefore I left and, returning to thegarage, mounted the car and, with head-lamps alight, drove out intothe pitch darkness in the direction of Grantham. We sped along thebroad old coach-road for nearly three hours, until at last we pulledup before an ancient wayside inn which had been modernized and adaptedto twentieth-century requirements.

  The manager, in reply to my eager questions, said it was true that theDoncaster police had been there making inquiries regarding fourmotorists--three gentlemen and a lady--who had called there thatmorning and had had breakfast in the coffee-room.

  The head-waiter who had attended them was called, and I questionedhim. I think the manager believed me to be a detective, for he wasmost courteous, and ready to give me all information.

  "Yes, sir," replied the tall, slim head-waiter. "They came here in agreat hurry, and seemed to have come a long distance, judging from theway the car was plastered with mud. The lady was very cold, for theyhad an open car, and she wore a
gentleman's overcoat and a shawl tiedaround her head. The tallest of the gentlemen drove the car. Theycalled him Lewis."

  "Did you hear them address the lady?" I asked eagerly.

  "They called her Sonia, sir."

  "And you say she seemed very fatigued?"

  "Very. She went upstairs and changed her evening gown for a stuffdress, which was brought out of the car. Then she came down and joinedthe others at breakfast."

  "They gave you no indication as to their destination, I suppose?"

  "Well, sir, I think they were returning to London, for I heard one ofthe gentlemen say something about catching the boat-train."

  "They may have meant the Harwich boat-train from the north," Iremarked.

  "Very likely, sir. One portion of that train comes through Doncasterin the afternoon to Peterborough and March, while the other comes downto Rugby on the North-Western, and then goes across to Peterborough byway of Market Harborough."

  "Then they may have joined that, and if so they would just about beleaving Parkeston Quay by now!"

  "If so, the police are certain to spot them," laughed the waiter."They're wanted for the theft of a princess's jewels, they say."

  What should I do? It was now long past ten o'clock, and I could notpossibly arrive at Parkeston before early morning. Besides, if theyhad really gone there, they would, no doubt, be arrested. The man withthe pimply face whose description so closely tallied with that ofReckitt, was surely too clever a criminal to run his neck into a nooseby going to any port of embarkation. Therefore I concluded thatwhatever had been said at table had been said with the distinct objectof misleading the waiter. The very manner in which the diamonds hadbeen stolen showed a cunning and a daring unsurpassed. Such men werecertainly not easily trapped.

  My sole thought was of Sylvia. I could not bring myself to believethat she had wilfully forsaken her home and her husband. Upon her, Ifelt confident, some species of blackmail had been levied, and she hadbeen forced away from me by reasons beyond her control.

  That incident of the photograph--the picture believed to have been ofmyself--which the foreigner tried to secure but which the man Lewishad himself destroyed, was incomprehensible. What had been intended bythe foreigner?

  I gathered all the information I could in the hotel, and then, after ahasty meal, re-entered the car and set out upon the dark, cold returnjourney to London.

  Where was Sylvia? Who were her mysterious friends? And, chief of all,who was that man Lewis who addressed her in such endearing terms?

  What could possibly be the solution of the mystery?