The Four Faces: A Mystery

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XIX

  "IN THE PAPERS"

  Dick was sleeping so heavily that he hardly stirred when I picked himup, carried him into my bedroom, laid him on my bed and loosened hisclothes; I had decided to sleep on the settee in the room adjoining.Soon after seven next morning I was awakened by hearing him movingabout. He had made himself quite at home, I found, for he had had a bathand used my towels and hair-brushes and found his way into a pair ofmy slippers.

  "I hope you don't mind," he said apologetically, after telling me whathe had done. "And now shall I tell you how I come to be here, Mike?" headded, clambering up on to my bed and lying down beside me.

  I told him I wanted to know everything, and at once, and, speaking inhis rapid, vivacious way, he went on to explain exactly whathad occurred.

  It seemed that when he went and stood by Doris Lorrimer under the clockat Paddington station, she had, as I had told him she probably would,asked him if he were Dick Challoner. Upon his telling her that he was,she said that she had been sent to meet him, and asked him to come withher. She had not told him where they were going, but when she got out atBaker Street station and he got out after her, a man had suddenly comeup to her and said he wished to speak to her privately. She had toldDick to wait, and had then walked a little way away with the man, andfor about ten minutes they had stood together, conversing in undertones.

  "What was the man like?" I interrupted.

  Dick described him rather minutely--he said he had taken special noticeof his appearance "because he was such a hairy man"--and before he haddone I felt practically certain the man who had met Doris Lorrimer wasthe foreign-looking man who had shadowed Preston, Jack, and myself thenight before.

  "I think," Dick went on, "the lady altered her plans after meeting thatman; because for some moments after he had gone she seemed undecidedwhat to do. Finally she went out of the station, hailed a taxi in BakerStreet, told me to get into it, and then said something to the driverthat I couldn't hear. We went straight down Baker Street, down OrchardStreet--I noticed the names of both streets--then turned to the rightand stopped at a house in Cumberland Place. As you had disappeared, Iwas beginning to feel a bit frightened, Mike,--I didn't much like thewoman, who had spoken hardly a word to me all the time,--so just as shegot out of the taxi on the left side, I quickly opened the door on theright side, popped out while her back was still turned, and ran away ashard as I could, leaving my suit-case in the taxi. It was very dark, andI believe that until after she had paid the driver she can't have missedme, as nobody came after me."

  "Well, and what did you do then?"

  "As soon as I had got well away, I went up to a policeman and asked himthe way to South Molton Street. He explained clearly, and I camestraight on here and asked for you. Your man, Simon, said you weren'tin, and that he didn't know when you would be, so I asked if I mightcome in and wait, as I said I had something important to say to you. Ofcourse he knew me by sight from seeing me with you sometimes, so he said'Certainly,' and put me into your sitting-room. It was past eight when Igot here. I was awfully hungry, so I ate all the cake and all thebiscuits I found in the sideboard in your dining-room, and then I satdown in your big chair to wait for you--and I suppose I thenfell asleep."

  This report interested me a good deal, and I was still pondering it whenmy man came in with my letters and the newspaper, which he alwaysbrought to me before I got up. After reading my letters I picked up thenewspaper, telling Dick to lie still and not disturb me until I hadglanced through it. I had read the principal items of news, whensuddenly my attention became centred upon an article which was headed:

  AMAZING SERIES OF ROBBERIESPOLICE COMPLETELY BAFFLED

  The article made up nearly a column of closely set type, and ran asfollows:

  Within a brief period of three months, that is to say since thebeginning of December last, no less than eleven great robberies havebeen committed in various parts of Great Britain. Up to the present,however, no clue of any sort has been obtained that seems likely to leadto the discovery of the perpetrators of any one of these crimes. Thevictims of these robberies are the following:

  Here followed a list of names of eleven well-known rich people; thenames of the houses where the robberies had been committed; a briefdescription of the method employed by the thieves; and the value,approximately, of the property stolen in each case. The houses were forthe most part large country mansions situated in counties far apart, and"Holt Manor, Sir Roland Challoner's seat in Berkshire," figured in thelist. The article then continued:

  When eleven such serious robberies, as we may rightly term them, arecommitted in comparatively rapid succession, and our police anddetective force, in spite of their vaunted ability, prove themselvesunable to effect a single arrest, what, we have a right to ask, is amisswith our police, or with their methods, or with both?

  Questioned upon the subject, a well-known Scotland Yard Inspectoryesterday informed our representative that official opinion inclines tothe belief that the crimes mentioned have one and all been effected by agroup of amazingly clever criminals working in combination. "How manymembers the gang consists of," he said, "how they obtained the specialinformation they must have possessed to enable them to locate soaccurately the exact whereabouts of the valuables they seized, and howthey succeeded in securing those valuables in broad daylight, we havenot the remotest notion. The theory held at present," he continued, "isthat a number of expert thieves have by some means succeeded in becomingintimate with the owners of the houses that have been robbed. Werepudiate entirely the theory that servants in the different houses musthave been accomplices in the robberies either directly or indirectly."

  The article then proceeded to advance a number of apparently plausibletheories to account for the non-discovery of the thieves, and finallyended as follows:

  If, then, our police and detectives would retain, or rather regain,their prestige, it is incumbent upon them at once to take steps toprevent any further outrages of this kind. Otherwise the police of GreatBritain will run a grave risk of becoming the laughing-stock ofContinental countries, where, we make bold to state, such a series ofrobberies, all more or less of the same nature, and involving a loss of,in the aggregate, approximately L50,000, would not thus have beencommitted with impunity.

  I handed Dick the paper. When he had carefully read the article rightthrough, he looked up abruptly.

  "By Jove," he exclaimed, "I have an idea!"

  I waited. For some moments he was silent. Then he continued:

  "Do you remember the account of the robbery at Thatched Court, nearBridport? It's one of the robberies mentioned in this list."

  "I can't say I do," I answered. "I don't read the newspapers verycarefully. Why?"

  "I happened to read that account, and remember it rather well. Therobbery took place about five weeks ago--the house was entered whileeverybody, including some of the servants, was at a race-meeting. Amongthe things stolen was a pair of shot-guns made by Holland and Holland."

  "But what on earth has that to do with anything? Where does the 'idea'come in?"

  "It doesn't come in--there. It comes in later. You know that everyshot-gun has a number on it, and so can be identified. Now, if thesethieves are people who are pretending to be gentlemen--how do you putit? There's a word you use for that, but I've forgotten it."

  "Do you mean masquerading as gentlemen?"

  "Masquerading--that's the word I was thinking of; if they aremasquerading as gentlemen they'll probably keep good guns like that toshoot with--they can do that, or think they can, without running muchrisk, whereas if they sold them they'd run rather a big risk of beingcaught, because I happen to remember that the numbers of the stolen gunswere mentioned in the newspaper account of the robbery. They said theguns were in a case, and almost new. Now, this is where my idea 'comesin,' as you put it. I heard you tell Dulcie only the other day that youwanted a pair of guns by a tip-top maker. Just afterwards I happened tohear her talking to Mrs. Stapleton about her
wedding--by the way, Mike,have you fixed the date yet?"

  "Not yet. But what about Mrs. Stapleton?"

  "Well, Dulcie spoke about wedding presents, just casually in course ofconversation, and I heard her tell Mrs. Stapleton that you had said youhoped among your wedding presents there would be a good gun, 'or, betterstill, a pair,' I heard her say that you said. Mrs. Stapleton didn'tanswer at once, but I noticed a queer sort of expression come on to herface, as if she'd just thought of something, and presently she said: 'Ihave a good mind, darling, to give him a pair of guns that belonged tomy poor husband. They are quite new--he can't have used them more thanonce or twice, if that. They were made by a Bond Street gun-maker healways went to, one of the best in London.' Mike, is Holland andHolland's shop in Bond Street?"

  "Yes," I answered, "at the top of Bond Street. Oh, but there are severalgood gun-makers in Bond Street. Besides, why should Mrs. Stapleton giveme such a present as that? I really hardly know her."

  "Wait until I've finished, Mike, you always jump at conclusions so.Dulcie said almost at once: 'Oh, don't do that, Connie. Mike wouldn'texpect such a present as that from you. He mightn't like to take it; yousee, you hardly know him really'--just what you have this moment said.Then Dulcie said: 'I tell you what I wish you would do, Connie--let mebuy them from you to give to him. What shall I give you for them?' Ibelieve that was what Mrs. Stapleton had been driving at all thetime--she wanted to sell the guns without running any risk, for ofcourse you would never think of noticing the numbers on them, and nobodywould ever suppose that guns given to you by Dulcie, apparently newguns, were guns that had been stolen. In the end Dulcie said she wouldgive Mrs. Stapleton eighty pounds for the pair, and that was agreedupon, so that Dulcie has practically bought them for you, in fact shemay have paid Mrs. Stapleton for them already. Now look here, I'll gethold of that newspaper that gave the numbers of the guns, and I bet youwhen Dulcie gives you those guns you'll find they're marked with thenumbers of the stolen guns."

  "Dick," I said thoughtfully, after a moment's pause, "were youeavesdropping when you heard all this?"

  "Why, no, of course not!" he exclaimed indignantly. "I was in the room,reading a book, and I couldn't help hearing all they said, though theywere talking in undertones."

  I turned over in my bed, and looked into his eyes for an instant or two.

  "Would you be surprised to hear, Dick," I said slowly, watching to seewhat effect my words would have upon him, "would you be surprised tohear that Dulcie gave me a pair of guns, as her wedding present, onlylast week?"

  Dick sprang up in the bed.

  "Did she?" he cried out, clapping his hands. "Oh--Mike, tell me, arethey Holland guns?"

  I nodded.

  Dick jumped off the bed and began to caper about the room.

  "Have you got them here?" he exclaimed at last, as his excitement beganto subside.

  "They are in the next room. You shall see them after breakfast."

  I had difficulty in calming Dick's excitement and inducing him to eathis breakfast, and directly breakfast was over I took him into the nextroom, produced the gun-case, pulled out the two pairs of barrels, andtogether we examined the numbers stamped upon them. Dick wrote thenumbers down in the little notebook he always carried in his trouserspocket, and a little later we drove down to Fleet Street to look up thefile of the newspaper in which Dick had, he declared, read the report ofthe robbery at Thatched Court, near Bridport.

  I confess that I had not placed much faith in Dick's theory about thenumbers. I had taken him down to Fleet Street chiefly because he had soearnestly entreated me to. When, therefore, after turning up the report,Dick discovered, with a shout of triumph, that the numbers on my gunswere actually identical with the numbers mentioned in the newspaper asthose of the stolen guns, I was not merely greatly astonished, but alsoconsiderably perturbed.

  "Dick," I said thoughtfully, when I had to some extent recovered from mysurprise, "I really think we shall have to make a private detective ofyou. Would you like me to take you now to one of the most famousdetectives in London--a man who was connected with Scotland Yard fortwenty years, who is helping Mr. Osborne to try to discover who thethieves are who robbed Holt Manor, and who it was who killed poorChurchill?"

  "Do you mean Mr. Preston?" the boy asked quickly, peering up at me outof his intelligent brown eyes.

  "Yes. I suppose you have heard Mr. Osborne and me speak of him."

  "Of course I have, and I should love to see him. Are you going to seehim now?"

  "I am going straight to him to tell him of your discovery of thesenumbers. He already knows all about your having deciphered the newspapercyphers; in fact, he has the cuttings at this moment, and yourtranslation of them. He told me the other day that he would like tomeet you."

  Preston was at home at his house in Warwick Street, off Recent Street.In a few words I had explained everything to him, and at once hegrew serious.

  "The unfortunate part," he said at last, "is that in spite of this youngman's sharpness in making this discovery, it really leaves us almostwhere we were, unless--"

  "Unless what?" I asked, as he paused, considering.

  "Well, Mr. Berrington, it's like this," he said bluntly. "You areengaged to be married to Miss Challoner, and she gives you a weddingpresent--a pair of new guns; at least they are to all intents new, andnaturally she expects you to think they are, and might be vexed if shethought you had found out that she picked them up as a bargain. Now, itall turns on this: Have you the moral courage to tell your _fiancee_that you believe the wedding present she has given you is part of theplunder secured in a recent robbery, indeed that you know it is, andthat therefore you and she are unwittingly receivers of stolen goods? Ihave never myself been in love, so far as I can recollect, but if I wereplaced as you are I think I should hardly have the courage todisillusion the young lady."

  I am bound to admit that until he put this problem to me it had notoccurred to me to look at the matter in that light, and now I felt muchas Preston declared he would feel if he were in my place. Dulcie mightnot mind my having discovered that she had picked up the guns as abargain--indeed, why should she? But when it came to hinting--as Ishould have to do if I broached the matter at all--that I believed thather great friend Connie Stapleton knew, when she sold the guns to her,that they had been stolen--Connie Stapleton, who was about to become herstepmother--

  No, I shouldn't have the pluck to do it. I shouldn't have the pluck toface the storm of indignation that I knew my words would stir up inher--women are logical enough, in spite of all that the ignorant andunthinking urge to the contrary, but in this particular case Dulciewould, I felt perfectly certain, "round" upon me, and, in the face ofevidence, no matter how damning, declare that I was, to say the least,mistaken. She would go at once to Connie Stapleton and tell hereverything, and immediately Connie Stapleton would invent some plausiblestory which would entirely clear her of all responsibility, and fromthat moment onward I should probably be her bitterest enemy. No, Ithought; better, far better, say nothing--perhaps some day circumstancesmight arise which would of themselves lead to Mrs. Stapleton's, so tospeak, "giving herself away." Indeed, in face of the discovery, I nowdecided not to make certain statements to Sir Roland that I had fullyintended to make. After all, he was old enough to be my father, and if aman old enough to be my father could be so foolish as to fall in lovewith an adventuress, let him take the consequences. I should not so muchhave minded incurring Sir Roland's wrath, but, knowing him as well as Idid, I felt positive that anything I might say would only strengthen histrust in and attachment to this woman he had decided to wed. He mighteven turn upon me and tell me to my face that I was striving to opposehis marriage because his marrying must, of course, affect my pecuniaryposition--an old man who falls in love becomes for the time, I havealways maintained, mentally deranged.

  Preston conversed at considerable length with Dick Challoner, and, bythe time I rose to leave--for I had to call at Willow Street for Dulcieat noon--the two ap
peared to have become great friends.

  "I shall take you with me to call for Dulcie," I said to Dick as we wentout. "Then we shall drive you to Paddington, put you in the train forWindsor, and leave you to your own devices."

  "I wish I hadn't lost my suit-case," Dick observed ruefully. "I betanything it's in that house in Cumberland Place where the taxistopped--unless the woman who met me at Paddington intentionally left itin the taxi when she found I had jumped out and run away. We ought toinquire at Scotland Yard, oughtn't we?"

  We arrived at Willow Road, Hampstead, at ten minutes to twelve. TellingDick to remain in the taxi, I got out and rang the bell. The door wasopened by a maid I had not seen before, and when I inquired for MissChalloner she stared at me blankly--indeed, as I thought, suspiciously.

  "Nobody of that name lives here," she said curtly. Quickly I glanced upat the number on the door. No, I had not mistaken the house.

  "She is staying here," I said, "staying with Mrs. Stapleton."

  "With Mrs. who?"

  "Mrs. Stapleton."

  "You have mistaken the house. There's nobody of that name here."

  "Well, Mr. Gastrell, then," I said irritably. "Ask Mr. Gastrell if I cansee him."

  "I tell you, sir, you've come to the wrong house," the maid saidsharply.

  "Then who does live here?" I exclaimed, beginning to lose my temper.

  The maid looked me up and down.

  "I'm not going to tell you," she answered; and, before I could speakagain, she had shut the door in my face.