Mrs. Vanderstein's jewels

by Mrs. Charles Bryce

  CHAPTER XV

  "Drive to the Inanity," said the detective as he got into the cab; andwhen the man stopped before the theatre: "Do you know Carolina Road,North West?" he asked him, leaning out of the window to do so.

  "Yes," the driver said. "The other side of Regent's Park, isn't it?"

  "Then go there." Gimblet drew his head back and sat down as the man letin the clutch and the taxi started again. It was almost seven o'clockand the roads were comparatively clear of traffic, while the pavementseemed still more deserted, the few people who were to be seen walkingquickly to get out of the rain; but it appeared that for the most partthe world was within doors, resting after the day's work, or preparingfor the entertainments of the evening.

  The taxi went swiftly, and in a short time had drawn near to itsdestination. As they left the more fashionable streets behind and passednorthward into semi-suburban districts, Gimblet leant eagerly forward,noting every characteristic of the neighbourhood with an observant eyeand an expectant alertness.

  They soon came upon tree-lined roadways, bordered by houses that boastedsmall plots of ground before their doors. Railings enclosed these plots,and in many cases a minute carriage drive circled from the pavement tothe entrance of the house; but as they turned corner after corner andthe same scene, with slight variations, continually repeated itself,Gimblet's hopes gave way to an incredulous disappointment, for of allthese dwellings not one answered to the description given by MissFinner. She had mentioned particularly that the house he was looking forstood alone in its little garden; but in all the streets traversed bythe detective not so much as a cottage was to be seen of the kind knowntechnically as "detached."

  They turned at length into Carolina Road and the driver slowed up,looking round as he did so for instructions.

  Again Gimblet's head went out of the window.

  "Go back towards the theatre," he said, "but go another way," and aftermuch noise and backing--for the street was a narrow one--the cab turned,and off they started again.

  Rain was falling heavily by this time in a cold, persistent downpour.The wind blew chill from the west, and the detective, all a-shiver onthis summer's evening, told himself, as he drew up the windward pane,that there must be icebergs sailing down the North Atlantic. He wrappedhis coat closer around him, and hugged himself in a corner of the taxi.Again they splashed and bumped over the muddy, streaming macadam; thewater swished from the wheels; the driver cowered under his shiningwaterproof screen; and the car skidded unpleasantly as they swung roundcorners and narrowly avoided collision with other vehicles in the sameplight.

  Gimblet kept a look-out no less sharp than before, but with no betterresult. Here were houses, indeed, in plenty, here were gardens andcarriage gates, and dripping trees; but here was no single detachedbuilding of any shape or kind whatsoever. Another drive Gimblet took,following devious ways. He felt inclined to ring at Miss Finner's doorand reproach her with inaccuracy; but she had not told him the numberin Carolina Road of the house she lived in. Besides, at this hour shewould be at the theatre preparing to remove the apple which young Tellwas undauntedly balancing.

  For an unpleasant moment the detective wondered if she had merely madea mistake, or whether the whole tale were a fabrication. He remembereduneasily the readiness with which he had accepted it and his urgentpressing upon the voluble lady of the reward offered in the papers. Nodoubt she was laughing at his gullibility, and regaling her friends withan embellished account of how easily she had taken in the well-knowndetective. Gimblet's lips tightened as he thought of it. Was he becomingunduly credulous in his old age? There was the story Sidney had toldhim, too. He had assured himself that he had kept an open mind as tothe truth of it, and had reserved his opinion till proofs were offeredhim; but, as a matter of fact, as he now acknowledged sardonically, hehad believed every word spoken by the young man, and allowed himselfto be absurdly influenced by an honest face and an appearance of franktrustfulness.

  "A nice sort of detective you are!" said Gimblet to his reflection inthe little slip of looking-glass that adorned the cab; and he cried tothe driver to go back to Whitehall.

  Higgs was waiting for him, and reported that he had taken a secondadvertisement to the advertising agents, and that he had also been tomost of the principal taxi garages, where he had made inquiries andposted notices.

  "The man is sure to turn up to-morrow morning, sir," he said.

  In the morning there was no news. Gimblet telephoned to Grosvenor Streetand was himself called up by Sidney. To him he replied coldly thatso far he had nothing to report. Directly after breakfast Sir Gregoryarrived, panting. "I couldn't get you on the telephone," he said. "Haveyou heard nothing?"

  "I had an answer to my advertisement," replied Gimblet, "but I am afraidthe information brought me was quite unreliable."

  He told Sir Gregory in a few words of Miss Finner's visit.

  "I tested her story pretty severely yesterday," he said, "but therestill remains a chance that the man who drove her may appear, and beable to remember the exact route by which he took her on Monday night.There is no doubt her own account is so inaccurate as to be worthless;and it is possible," he added, owning the secret dread he could not keepfrom his thoughts, "that she was only indulging in a kind of practicaljoke."

  Sir Gregory was beginning to show the effect of his days of anxiety.Though his face was still pink, the lines on it seemed to have becomedeeper and more numerous, and he had the weary, listless air of one towhom sleep has denied herself. Gimblet was not anxious for his company,but Sir Gregory would not be shaken off. The detective said he hadletters to write and business that must be attended to; but was met by apleading request to be allowed to remain, in case the taxi driver shouldmake his appearance.

  "I don't know what to do with myself if I go away," said Sir Gregorymiserably. "If I am here I feel that, if any news does come, I shan'thave to wait longer than is necessary for it. Nothing like being atheadquarters."

  Finally Gimblet consented to his staying, and himself withdrew intoanother room with a bundle of papers that needed his attention. When hewent back after an hour's work to the library, where he had left SirGregory surrounded by newspapers and books, he found these cast aside orstrewn on the floor and the baronet himself standing by the telephone,in the act of hanging up the receiver.

  "I got tired of reading," he explained; "nothing of interest in thepapers, or I can't take any interest in them, whichever it is; so Ijust thought I'd call up young Sidney, and tell him about the ladieshaving been seen by that young woman. Relieve his anxiety, poor chap, tohave some one to talk about it to." On the incidental relief to his ownfeelings afforded by having a listener into whose ears to pour them, SirGregory did not think it necessary to expatiate.

  Gimblet showed his vexation.

  "Really, Sir Gregory, you might have known better than to put him on hisguard in that way! Supposing there's anything in Chark's suspicions,don't you see that the more complete Sidney thinks our ignorance andmystification, the better? While, as soon as he knows us to be on thetrack, we lose any advantage we may have?"

  "But--but you said you didn't suspect him!" stammered Sir Gregory,dumfounded.

  "I didn't say so. I said there was no reason to take a tragic view orto suspect anyone at all at first. I certainly do not accuse anyonenow. But day after day is passing, and the matter looks very much moreserious with each succeeding hour. It seems impossible, if all werewell, that the ladies should not have communicated with their friendsbefore now. This is Thursday. They vanished on Monday. I have beenanxious to spare you, Sir Gregory. I know you have been only too readyto imagine the worst, and I did not wish to add to your fears; but thisis the third day without news, and it is impossible to disguise anylonger that you have grave reason for them."

  Poor Sir Gregory's last hopes flickered and were extinguished.

  "You think--you think----" he murmured.

  "I think there is cause for grave anxiety, but that is not to say thatI am wit
hout hope. Far from it. Still, it is necessary to act withcaution; and it was most imprudent of you to tell Sidney that we hadheard anything. It is true that what we have heard is probably a mare'snest, but in any case there is no need to go blurting things out likethat."

  Sir Gregory paid little attention to what Gimblet was saying. "So youdo think Sidney may know more of this business than he admits," herepeated, half to himself. "Well, perhaps it was a pity I spoke to himjust now, though I don't see what harm it can do either. The questionis, what do you think he's done with her? Do you think"--Sir Gregory'svoice seemed to fail him but he cleared his throat and continued with agulp--"he's killed her?"

  The words came with a rush, and the question was plainer than Gimbletcared to answer. "I don't think anything," he replied, still rathertestily, "but I must consider everything and anything possible. Atpresent it is all mere suspicion, but things look rather black, thoughnot only against Sidney. As a matter of personal opinion I incline tothe idea that that young man is innocent; still, I can't admit hischaracter cleared on that account. I've no evidence worth mentioning oneway or the other."

  "Who else are you thinking of, when you say things look black againstothers than Sidney?" asked Sir Gregory eagerly. "I have thought myself,that, perhaps, the servants----"

  "Mrs. Vanderstein's servants? I don't think they can have anything todo with it. It would have been impossible for one of them to have gotrid of the two ladies, while they were at home, without the knowledgeof the others. And we can hardly contemplate the possibility of anorganised conspiracy at present. The chauffeur and footman, you think,may have disposed of them by some means when they were supposed to bedriving to the opera? But the chauffeur is an old and trusted servant,and, moreover, the box opener says that the ladies occupied theirbox. There is also the night watchman, who is an ex-corporal of theFoot-guards, and whose character is of the best. Suppose that, on theirlate return to the house, he let them in quietly, as it was his businessto do, and then killed them both in order to possess himself of Mrs.Vanderstein's jewels. The difficulties that would then confront himbefore he could dispose of the bodies would be well nigh insurmountable,even if it were possible for him to silence two women simultaneously soeffectively as to prevent anyone in the house from being aroused. Theprobabilities are strongly against the night watchman's having anythingto do with it; and, indeed, I think all the servants may safely be leftout of the reckoning."

  "Then who can have harmed them?" Sir Gregory asked.

  "I hesitate to mention anything more to you, Sir Gregory, after yourrecent injudicious conduct. However, I don't think you'd be able to warnthe other person upon whom suspicion may fall. It is odd that it shouldnot have occurred to our friend Chark that Sidney is not the only onewho would benefit by Mrs. Vanderstein's death," said Gimblet.

  "Why, what do you mean; who would benefit?"

  "Surely you know. It was you that told me."

  "I told you?" Sir Gregory looked the picture of bewilderment. "I don'tknow anyone, except, of course, Miss Turner, who would be a penny thebetter if my dear friend should die."

  "Exactly." Gimblet, his chin on his hand, gazed over Sir Gregory's headat his newly-discovered Teniers, which he had found time to hang up in acentral position. "A little further to the right, and it would be stillbetter," he thought.

  But Sir Gregory was bounding in his chair. "Miss Turner! Impossible! Ayoung girl, sir! You don't know what you are saying."

  "I thought you disliked her." Gimblet was very calm, almost indifferent.

  "That's a very different thing from thinking her capable ... surely it'simpossible.... What makes you suspect her?" Sir Gregory finished byasking, his curiosity getting the better of his incredulity.

  "I don't say I suspect her," Gimblet answered patiently. "I say thatsuspicion might possibly fall on her more reasonably than on Mr. Sidney,with whom, by the way, I think she is in love."

  "Really, how do you know that?"

  "I have evidence that she sympathised very deeply with his troubles, andcarried her sympathy to a length unusual in young ladies for men to whomthey are not attached. I saw him last Sunday in the company of a girl,who I think must have been she. If it was, there is no doubt about thething. Anyone could see it in her face at a glance."

  "Still, if that were so, I don't see why she should injure Mrs.Vanderstein."

  "Love is a very common prompter of crime. I don't say it is likely, butit is not impossible that this young woman, knowing Sidney to be interrible straits for want of money, his career threatened, heaven knowswhat other threats on his tongue, should be prepared to go to desperatelengths to procure him what he needs. You never can tell what they willdo in such cases; and the one piece of real evidence that I have showsthat she did not mean to sit by idle while her lover went to his ruin."

  Gimblet took Barbara's telegraph form from his notebook, and spread iton the table before him. "Look at this," he said; and Sir Gregory got upand peered eagerly over his shoulder, eyeglasses on nose.

  "Luck is coming your way at last expect to have good news by Wednesday removing all difficulties."

  "There's no signature. Who is it from?" he asked.

  "It is from Miss Turner. I was able to get this form from the postoffice and to compare it with a specimen of her handwriting," saidGimblet. "The absence of signature alone looks as if a good deal ofintimacy exists between her and Sidney, though the name may possiblyhave been omitted accidentally."

  "But what could she mean?"

  "Her meaning is plain enough. She promises Sidney that the money hewants shall be forthcoming. I do not know how much he requires, but hetold me that the sum is a large one. Now, how was she going to get alarge sum by Wednesday?"

  "She might raise something on the legacy from old Vanderstein, in whichhis widow has a life interest," suggested the baronet.

  "I don't know the exact conditions of the will; but, supposing she diesbefore Mrs. Vanderstein, what happens?"

  "I don't know," Sir Gregory confessed.

  "If it reverts to Mrs. Vanderstein, there wouldn't be much security toborrow money on. In any case, there is little difference between theages of the two ladies, and rates would be very high. She might not beable to raise nearly enough, even if she could get any at all," saidGimblet.

  "It would be too terrible if a girl like that so much as lifted a fingeragainst one who has been the soul of kindness to her," Sir Gregoryrepeated.

  "Ah, Sir Gregory, terrible indeed! But terrible things happen every day.Let a crisis arise, and you never know who may not surprise and horrifyyou by showing the cloven hoof. I hope that Miss Turner is entirelyinnocent of all knowledge of this affair, but there are two points whichare against her."

  "And what are they?"

  "One is her parentage. I have been making inquiries about her father,and find that William Turner was a most unholy scoundrel, a man whowould shrink at nothing to gain his ends, always escaping the penaltiesof the law by the skin of his teeth. He slipped from beneath the handof justice over and over again, and finally bolted to South America,where he is reported to have died. Suppose that there was no truth inthat rumour? Suppose he should in reality have returned to Europe, thathe is even now in England, in London, his presence unknown to anyonebut his daughter? With such a man to instigate her to crime, who cansay what the girl might not venture? In any case she has bad blood inher; and there is much truth, Sir Gregory, in the old saying that 'bloodwill tell,' despite the socialistic opinions to the contrary which nowprevail."

  "True enough," murmured the baronet. He was leaning forward listeningintently to Gimblet's every word. "But you said there were two pointsagainst her."

  "Yes. The second is what may have prevented you from suspecting herbefore. It is the fact that she appears to have been spirited awayas well as Mrs. Vanderstein. Well, if there has been foul play--whichheaven forbid, but we must consider all the possibilities now--if,I say, the vanishing of these ladies has its origin in crime, thedisappearance of M
iss Turner is the most suspicious part of the wholeaffair. For why in the world should she share with Mrs. Vandersteinthe attentions of any hypothetical criminal? She had no diamonds to berobbed of; she did not go about covered with jewels, having none ofany value to display. She could only be an additional danger, and onethat no ordinary robber would willingly burden himself with, since herpresence could be no possible source of profit.

  "No, it seems clear that if Mrs. Vanderstein were to be decoyed awayand murdered for her jewels it would be on an occasion when she wasunattended by her companion. So far, Sir Gregory, you may take thatas an encouragement to think that she is uninjured. It is indeed amost hopeful sign, and one of the reasons why I have refused, untilto-day, to take a gloomy view of the business. Still, why has the girldisappeared? We are driven back on the supposition that she did so ofher own free will; and, if that was the case, what was her purpose?Remember, all this is the merest theory, which it would be ridiculous toaccept before we obtain further facts by which to test it. At presentwe have a very insufficient acquaintance with anything that does notinvolve these wild conjectures." As he finished speaking, Gimblet tookout his watch and gazed at it long and significantly.

  With a sigh, Sir Gregory was at last obliged to take the hint. It wasluncheon time: the footsteps of Higgs as he journeyed between thekitchen and the dining-room; the clatter of the dishes as he placed themupon the table or sideboard; the delicious smell of pie that was waftedin whenever the door was opened--all these proclaimed that the hourhad sounded on the stroke of which it was Gimblet's custom to take hisplace before the dining table, full of the pleasantest anticipations.He was an eccentric gourmet, devising for himself meals in whichstrange dishes appeared in the menu, and he had an excellent cook, whowas content to humour his taste and to labour secretly to prevent hispoisoning himself altogether; so that, when he ordered fried oystersand Schwalbach _souffle_ for luncheon, or lobster and chocolate ice fordinner, she would intersperse what she considered more wholesome dishes,such as legs of mutton and rice puddings, among those he had chosen forhimself, in the vain hope that they might tempt him from his dangerouscombinations. He gave up remonstrating with her after a while, althoughhe refused to be coerced into eating what he did not like, and hispersistent neglect to partake of the rice puddings caused such distressin the kitchen that Higgs fell into the habit of removing a spoonfulfrom them before he cleared them away, and consumed it himself ratherthan that the cook should what he called "take on."

  To tell the truth, Sir Gregory was not without hope that Gimblet wouldhave asked him to stay to lunch; but it was plain to the most sanguinethat the detective had no such intention, and with hesitating reluctancethe baronet was obliged to depart. He turned in the doorway, however, tosay firmly: "I shall come back this afternoon," and then hurried awaybefore Gimblet had time to put into words the objection his lips werestruggling to form.

  Sir Gregory walked to his club, and regaled himself on cold lamb and aglass of claret. He had no appetite, and soon pushed away his plate andwandered into the smoking-room, where he fidgeted about, disconsolateand dejected. Several members whom he knew, aware of his friendship withthe ladies whose mysterious disappearance was by now arousing generalinterest and, as a topic, shared the favour of the newspapers with thepreparations for the Royal function that was to take place during thefollowing week, came up to him and tried to get him to talk about it.But if they hoped to glean from him some grains of gossip beyond thereach of common knowledge, too scandalous possibly for a decorous press,wherewith they should proceed to acquire a libellous popularity amongtheir acquaintances, these gentlemen were to know the leaden flavourof disappointment. Sir Gregory, with the sting of Gimblet's reproachesfresh in his mind, shut his mouth like a vice at any attempt to turnthe conversation in the forbidden direction, and scowled as horriblyat his friends as his naturally amiable cast of countenance renderedpracticable; so that they soon moved off, telling each other that oldJones was becoming a cantankerous old fool and seemed likely to go offhis head altogether, as far as they could judge.

  It happened in this way that the baronet found himself more and moreneglected and alone; till, after standing it for a couple of hours, hecould at last bear no longer a state of things as disastrous to hisnerves as it was wearing to his temper. About half-past four he put hispride in his pocket, and leaving the smoking-room caught up his hat andhastened from the building. Ten minutes later he was again ringing atGimblet's door.

  Scarcely had he been ushered into the detective's presence than the bellrang again, and Higgs came in to say that a taxi driver had arrived inanswer to an advertisement, and asked to see Mr. Gimblet.

  To Sir Gregory's despair Gimblet at once left him, and called the maninto the little waiting-room.

  "Good afternoon," he said to the taxi man, an intelligent looking fellowwith a clean-shaven face, who returned his greeting civilly as hefollowed him into the room; "are you the man who drove a lady from theInanity on Monday night to a house in Carolina Road?"

  "That's me, sir," answered the man, "leastways, as you may say, I droveone of them there."

  "What?" said Gimblet. "Was there more than one?"

  "Yes, sir, there was two young ladies when I took them up, but only oneof them went to Carolina Road."

  "What happened to the other?"

  "I took her to another address first, sir," said the driver; "I forgetthe exact number, but somewhere about half-way down Hilliard Streetit was, and on the right hand side as I went. That's Maida Vale way,Hilliard Street is."

  "And you went there first," cried the detective, "why then, of courseI see it all now; the lady only told me she went from the theatre toCarolina Road, and my not knowing of the detour you made on the way hasled me to some wrong conclusions."

  "To Hilliard Street first. Those were the orders they give me," repeatedthe man.

  "Yes, of course," said Gimblet. "Now, as you drove on from there toCarolina Road, do you by any chance remember seeing two ladies, veryrichly dressed, standing in front of the open door of a house, which hada small garden or yard between it and the street?"

  "Now you're asking me a riddle," said the taxi man. "I may have seen twoladies, or again I may have seen a hundred of them, or I mayn't haveseen none at all. That's more than I could tell you."

  "You didn't happen to notice any particular two?"

  "No, sir, I did not. If I was to go driving about the streets a-lookingat all the pretty ladies I see about, I'd be troubling the insurancepeople a bit too often. I keep my eyes on what's in the roadway and thattakes me all my time, I don't think."

  "Quite so," said Gimblet. "Of course you are perfectly right not tolook about you. Well now, perhaps you could tell me this. In going fromHilliard Street to Carolina Road, would you pass through a row of singledetached houses on the way? Houses all standing in their own gardenssome little way apart from each other?"

  The man considered, mumbling to himself the names of the streets, ashe made a mental journey along the route the detective indicated. In aminute he looked up.

  "There's Scholefield Avenue," he suggested, "that's all little placeslike what you say."

  "Did you go by it on Monday?" asked Gimblet.

  "I did, sir. It's about half-way. There isn't no other street on theroad with the houses all separate like that, so far's I can recollect.I've got me cab down at the door, sir; why don't you jump in and let metake you along to see for yourself?"

  "I think that's exactly what I will do," said Gimblet. "You go down andI'll follow in a moment."

  Gimblet was all eagerness. Here at last he seemed to be off on adefinite scent, and he leapt to it all the more keenly for last night'scheck. The door had not closed upon the driver of the taxi before thedetective had decided in his mind more than one question requiring ananswer. First, he would take Higgs, secondly, he would not take SirGregory. He tiptoed along the passage, and noiselessly turned the handleof the pantry door.

  "Higgs," he said, "I am going out to have a
look at a certain house. Imay want you. Get ready to come. I give you three minutes."

  As quietly, he repaired to his own bedroom, and going to a cupboardmade a rapid selection of various small articles, which he stuffed inhis pockets. Then, opening a drawer, he took out a Browning pistol, andthat also was stowed away. He stood an instant in the middle of the roomwith his head on one side, tugging absently at his ear. Had he forgottenanything? Ah, he knew what it was, and springing back to a shelf heseized and added to his collection a box of chocolates. "One never knowswhen one will get back from these sort of jaunts," he said to himself,"and I have been very hungry before now on my hunting trips."

  One more look round satisfied him that he had everything he couldimaginably need, and he returned to the hall, where Higgs was waiting bythe door.

  A minute more and they would have got clear away, but at the veryinstant that Gimblet, hurrying quietly towards his servant, snatchedat his hat and lifted it to his head, the library door opened, and SirGregory's pink and anxious countenance peered out on him.

  "Mr. Gimblet," he cried, "where are you off to? The taxi man broughtnews then; and you would go without telling me! No, don't let me delayyou," as Gimblet paused, hesitating, "I will come with you wherever youare going, and you shall tell me on the way," and grasping his hat andstick, the baronet prepared to accompany the others.

  There was no help for it, and the detective surrendered at once. Indeed,the anxious face reproached him, and he knew he had been patently alittle less willing to endure Sir Gregory's society than was, under thecircumstances, altogether charitable. The poor man's distress, though itmade him rather a depressing companion, bore witness to the kindnessof his heart and was if anything a circumstance entirely to his credit;and the accident that he bored Gimblet ought not really to be allowed toprevent him from participating in the rescue of his friends, if rescuethere were to be.

  "Come along, Sir Gregory," said Gimblet.