Mrs. Vanderstein's jewels

by Mrs. Charles Bryce

  CHAPTER XII

  The next morning dawned grey and boisterous. The English climate wasgiving an example of that infinite variety to which custom neverreconciles the stranger within our gates. Julie Querterot, whoselife had been passed entirely in London, suffered from an hereditarysensitiveness to the changes of the weather, and was never able toprevent her spirits from drooping as the barometer fell. Rain and gloomyskies made her dismal even when her whole day was spent within doors,and on this Wednesday morning, when she had done with the business ofsweeping and cleaning about the house, and took up her station in thelittle shop behind the hair-pins and pomades, the view from the windowmust have had more than its usual depressing effects upon her, for ifthe unlooked for had happened and a customer had chanced to enter hemight have seen that her eyelids were swollen as by the shedding of manytears.

  Soon after midnight the storm that had been brewing had burst over theempty streets; for hours the lightning had torn the clouds and thetremendous noise of the thunder had made sleep impossible. All nighttorrents of rain had fallen, and people lying awake, or at best dozinguneasily, had heard its constant patter. Julie's face, white and weary,looked as if to her at least the night had brought no rest. Sitting inthe half-dusk of the shop she took up her work with slow deliberation;then letting it fall back to her knee leant her chin upon her palm witha hopeless gesture. She had had no breakfast, and hunger was combiningwith fatigue to bring her to the point of exhaustion. By her, on thecounter where she had put it down, a halfpenny paper lay spread out; andpresently she took it up, and glanced again at the prominent headlines,which in large black type flaunted across the page.

  "DISAPPEARANCE OF LADIES FROM THEIR HOME IN WEST END."

  "Mystery of Missing Millionairess."

  After a while Julie rose and put away her needlework. Going up to herlittle bedroom, she took from the cupboard a small black hat, andregardless of the weather prepared to go out. Not that she made anelaborate toilette. A neat coat of plainest black was added to herblouse and skirt, a rather tawdry brooch pinned where a button had beentorn off, and another, for pure ornament, in a place where it was notneeded. It has already been said that Julie was fond of trinkets, andshe seemed to derive some slight comfort from them even this morning.Two or three bracelets jingled already on either wrist, and when shehad added a pair of gloves her attire was complete. A few minuteslater the girl opened her umbrella and stepped into the street; then,locking the shop door behind her, she set her face westward. The rainwas falling less heavily, and before she had taken many turnings itceased altogether. Julie shut her umbrella with a sigh of relief. Sinceleaving the house she had not been able to put aside a minor, but stillconsuming, anxiety, as to the fate of her hat.

  * * * * *

  In his rooms in Whitehall, Gimblet was studying a copy of the samenewspaper that lay now neglected in the Pimlico shop. One glance at theheadlines had told him to whom they referred, and the paragraph thatfollowed was still more explicit.

  "We learn that anxiety is felt as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Vanderstein, a lady residing at No. 90, Grosvenor Street, W. Mrs. Vanderstein left her house on the evening of Monday last for the purpose of attending the gala performance at the Royal opera house at Covent Garden. She was accompanied by a young lady, Miss Barbara Turner, who lives at Grosvenor Street in the capacity of friend and companion to Mrs. Vanderstein. The two ladies drove to the opera in their private motor car, and some surprise was felt by the servants on being told at the door of the theatre that their return after the performance was over was not desired. No alarm, however, was experienced until yesterday morning, when the household awoke to find that neither of the ladies had returned.

  "Inquiry at the hospitals, where it was thought the ladies might have been carried in the event of an accident having occurred, were productive of no result, and as the day passed without news of their whereabouts being obtained it was deemed advisable to secure the services of a detective. It is whispered that one of London's most celebrated criminal investigators has consented to look into the matter. Rumours reach us that differences between Mrs. Vanderstein and one of her nearest relatives have more to do with her disappearance than at first seems obvious. Mrs. Vanderstein is the widow of the late Mr. Moses Vanderstein, a financier well known in city circles. She is a lady of remarkable personal attractions, and is a great favourite in Jewish society. Miss Turner is the daughter of the late Mr. William Turner, of Newmarket, and is not much over twenty years of age. It is believed that the police have a clue to the continued absence of the two ladies, and that foul play is apprehended."

  "So," said Gimblet to himself, "it appears that the worthy Mr. Chark hasbeen talking."

  As he threw aside the paper, and took up another to see if it also hadsomething to say on the same subject, the bell of the flat rang, and amoment later Higgs announced Mr. Joseph Sidney.

  With a scarcely perceptible start Gimblet recognised the young man hehad observed in the Park on Sunday.

  "I hope I don't disturb you," Sidney said at once, "but they told me inGrosvenor Street that you had been up there asking questions, and so Isuppose Sir Gregory has engaged you to look into this business."

  "That is so," said Gimblet. "I hope you have come to give me someassistance."

  "Why, I wish to goodness I could," said Sidney, "but I never heard aword about it till I saw the paper this morning; and then I couldn'tbelieve it. But I rang up Grosvenor Street pretty quick, and old Blake,my aunt's butler, swears it's gospel. It's a queer thing to happen,isn't it? What can they have done with themselves? Really, women oughtnot to be allowed out alone. If my aunt couldn't take care of herself, Ido think she might have made an effort to look after Miss Turner!"

  "It's a queer business indeed," said Gimblet, "and I'm afraid it looksstranger every minute, and very much more serious than it did at first.For here's another night gone by and no news of either of the ladies.And we have no clue, no idea where to hunt, nor anything whatever to goon in our search. I was in hopes you might have some information tooffer me, Mr. Sidney; you were, I believe, one of the last people whospoke with Mrs. Vanderstein on Monday."

  Gimblet looked narrowly at the young man, who, for his part, seemed notaltogether at his ease. He hesitated, crossed to the window and drummedwith his fingers on the pane. In the detective's ears was echoing asentence heard above the murmur of the crowd: "I'm pretty desperate, Ican tell you. There's nothing I wouldn't do to get the money."

  A second later Sidney turned; and, coming back to where Gimblet satimpassively waiting, drew up a chair upon which he sat himself down withan air of resolution.

  "I did see my aunt on Monday, Mr. Gimblet, and to tell you the truth Idon't like telling you what she said to me then. One doesn't care aboutconfiding one's private family affairs to strangers. Still, if youthink it can be of any possible use.... Well, the fact is that I had afrightful row with Mrs. Vanderstein on Monday."

  "What about?" asked Gimblet.

  "I," Sidney hesitated again, and then continued with a plunge, "I havebeen losing a great deal of money lately; I am ashamed to say that Ihave lost it on race-courses, and that it is a sum far larger than Ican afford. I went to my aunt to ask for help. I asked her, in fact, tolend me some money to tide over my difficulties for the present. She wasvery irate about it. She can't stand betting; and as soon as I told hershe got in a fearful rage and threw me out of the house. That is all theconversation I had with her on Monday. You can understand I don't muchlike owning up to it, as it's not precisely to my credit." Sidney endedwith a rueful laugh.

  "Mrs. Vanderstein absolutely refused to help you in any way?"

  "Said she'd see me damned first. Well, you know, she mayn't have put itexactly like that."

  "Hardly, I should think. I'd rather have her own words, if you canremember them, please."

  Sidney searched his memory. "As far as I can recollect, what sheactually said was,
'I will have nothing whatever to do with a gamblerlike you. Not only will I not give you money now, but you shall neverhave a penny that is mine to use for that degrading vice. I shallalter my will,' she said, 'and that to-morrow. And never let me seeyou again. I'll not have you in my house.' That's what she said, and Ihad nothing to do but to go out of the house like a whipped dog. And Iwent." Sidney's voice was bitter as he recalled his humiliation, butwhen he spoke again he had recovered his normal good temper. "Poor AuntRuth," he said, "there's a good deal to be said on her side, you know,and just about nothing at all on mine. However, I didn't come to talkabout my own rotten affairs. I wonder where she can have got to? There'ssomething uncommon fishy about her vanishing this way, don't you think?Hope to goodness she's not been knocked on the head for the sake of herdiamonds, you know."

  His tone was light, but Gimblet seemed to perceive a note of genuineanxiety underlying it.

  "I hope not, indeed," he agreed gravely.

  "I really feel a bit worried about her--her and Miss Turner," went onthe young man. "Hang it all, since I've begun confiding in you I think Imay as well make a clean breast of the whole show. The fact is I've gota beastly guilty conscience sort of feeling, because I was on the verge,a day or two ago, of playing the dickens of a shabby trick on Aunt Ruth.You can see how badly I want this money, as I told you, to pay my debtsnext week. Well, I as near as makes no difference tried to get it outof my aunt by what I suppose you'd call false pretences--which sounds anice blackguardly thing to do, don't it? I don't suppose anyone's toldyou that she had a craze for Royalty in any shape? Well, I didn't knowit myself till lately, but it seems there's nothing she wouldn't do toget in contact with great people. A friend of mine suggested that weshould get another of my pals to impersonate some royal prince, and thatI should introduce him to my aunt. The idea was that he should rathermake up to her, and then intercede on my behalf, or get the money out ofher in some way. I don't think I should have done it when it came to thepoint, because I saw very plainly the next day what an impossible thingit was to do. And if I'd gone as far as to ask my friend to help, Ihaven't the slightest doubt he would have told me not to be an ass. Butthere you are--I did think of it, and it sticks on my conscience now.I shall never get the taste out of my mouth, I believe, and if there'sanything you think I could do to be of any use, now that she's gone andmislaid herself, you can understand that I'd do it all the more gladlysince I feel I owe her a good turn."

  He ceased speaking, crossed one leg over the other, and leant back,looking at Gimblet with an air half ashamed, half ingenuous.

  The detective returned his gaze with interest.

  "Here," he was saying to himself, "is a young man either very innocentor beyond the common crafty."

  "Who was it who suggested this questionable proceeding in the firstplace?" he asked.

  "Oh, I really can't tell you that," cried Sidney; "it can't have anyimportance, and I'm not so dead to all sense of decency as you naturallythink!"

  "You say you only contemplated it for a short time. Did you tell yourfriend ultimately that, on second thoughts, you didn't like the ideaand had decided to give it up?"

  "It wasn't necessary. Before I could communicate with my friend I got amessage from her--him--my friend, I mean----" Sidney grew scarlet as herealised his slip, but continued hastily in the vain hope of coveringit, "a message to say that the plan was ruined. I don't know what hadhappened, but for some reason, apparently, it was completely off,irrespective of my jibbing."

  "And so now," said Gimblet, after a pause, "you have no hope, I suppose,of paying your debts."

  A shade crossed Sidney's face as he replied sadly: "Devil a hope."

  "There has been no alteration in your prospects since Monday then,"pursued the detective; "you have had no better news to-day? Yourdifficulties have not so far been removed?" He spoke with greatdeliberation, while one hand, hidden in his pocket, fingered thetelegraph form that Barbara Turner had omitted to sign.

  Sidney looked up suspiciously, but the little man's face wore noexpression beyond one of calm inquiry.

  "No," said he slowly, "everything is just as it was. I have heardnothing at all and my prospects are as bad as they can be."

  There was something about Sidney that disarmed suspicion, and Gimbletdid not fail to be influenced by it. In vain he reflected that the youngman was certainly refraining from telling him of Miss Turner's telegram,and deliberately, since Gimblet had purposely reminded him of it byquoting words it actually contained. As he sat considering what shouldbe his next move, the door opened, and Sir Gregory Aberhyn Jones wasannounced.

  "Good morning, Mr. Gimblet. Have you any news for me? No, I see youhave not; and there is none in Grosvenor Street, as you doubtless know.Ah, Sidney, how are you? This is a trying time for us all. I am gladto see you, very." He shook hands warmly with the young man; and then,before Gimblet guessed what he would be at, the harm was done. "I'm morethan glad to meet you, my dear boy," Sir Gregory was declaring, "so asto be able to tell you that I don't believe a word they may say againstyou. I'm positive you never had a hand in this black business, any morethan I did myself. And all the Charks and beastly rags of newspapersin London shan't convince me to the contrary." Sir Gregory, stillholding Joe by the hand, shook it up and down with extra and exaggeratedheartiness.

  Sidney wrenched it away.

  "What the deuce are you talking about?" he exclaimed. "Who's been sayingthings about me?"

  "I tell you I don't believe a word of it," said Sir Gregory soothingly."But you must have seen it in the papers. 'It is believed,' they say,'that a quarrel took place between Mrs. Vanderstein and a near relative,which has more to do with the unfortunate ladies' disappearance thanseems plain at first.' You did quarrel with her, didn't you? And Chark,her lawyer, you know, is taken with the idea; in fact, he's been roundtelling me this morning that he's ascertained for a fact that you'reinfernally hard up, which would provide a motive, he says. Infernalnonsense, of course."

  "Infernal lies," cried Sidney; "what the devil does anyone mean bysuggesting such things? Do they imagine I've spirited away not onlyAunt Ruth but Miss Turner too, and am holding them for ransom, or what?Or perhaps your friend Chark would rather think that I was given topoisoning my relations? If it comes to that, I'll begin on him if hedon't look out. Infernal ass."

  He was furious. Gimblet, watching him with interest, wondered whetherhis face was so red from anger or from some other emotion.

  Sir Gregory, for once, was silenced.

  "Where's this newspaper editor?" demanded Sidney. "I'm going to kickhim, now, at once."

  "You'd better wait till he gets up," said Gimblet; "at this hour he'sprobably still in bed."

  "I'll soon get him out."

  "Better not take any notice of it. More dignified not to," urged SirGregory, repenting too late his well-meant assurances. "Best treat thatsort of idiot with contempt," he went on. "Chark's the worst. It's hethat's put them up to it."

  "Mr. Chark," said Gimblet, "has a longing to be mixed up in asensational affair. I saw that yesterday. He ought to know better thanto indulge in libel, a lawyer too! I daresay he's frightened to death,now that he has done it, and has time to think of the consequences."

  "I'll frighten him," said the young man.

  He calmed down, however, as the detective continued to pour oil on thetroubled waters, and was at last persuaded to depart peacefully.

  Gimblet wrote out a short description of the missing ladies, togetherwith the promise of a reward to whosoever should bring news of either ofthem, and this he gave into Sidney's keeping, charging him to have itinserted in the evening papers, of which the early editions were alreadyappearing in the streets.