by Robert Barr
Produced by David Starner, Sankar Viswanathan, and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
The Attribution and the Table of Contents are not part of the original book.
_The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont_
By
Robert Barr
* * * * *
CONTENTS
1. _The Mystery of the Five Hundred Diamonds_
2. _The Siamese Twin of a Bomb-Thrower_
3. _The Clue of the Silver Spoons_
4. _Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune_
5. _The Absent-Minded Coterie_
6. _The Ghost with the Club-Foot_
7. _The Liberation of Wyoming Ed_
8. _Lady Alicia's Emeralds_
APPENDIX: TWO SHERLOCK HOLMES PARODIES
1. The Adventures of Sherlaw Kombs
2. The Adventure of the Second Swag
* * * * *
1. _The Mystery of the Five Hundred Diamonds_
When I say I am called Valmont, the name will convey no impression tothe reader, one way or another. My occupation is that of privatedetective in London, but if you ask any policeman in Paris who Valmontwas he will likely be able to tell you, unless he is a recent recruit.If you ask him where Valmont is now, he may not know, yet I have agood deal to do with the Parisian police.
For a period of seven years I was chief detective to the Government ofFrance, and if I am unable to prove myself a great crime hunter, it isbecause the record of my career is in the secret archives of Paris.
I may admit at the outset that I have no grievances to air. The FrenchGovernment considered itself justified in dismissing me, and it didso. In this action it was quite within its right, and I should be thelast to dispute that right; but, on the other hand, I consider myselfjustified in publishing the following account of what actuallyoccurred, especially as so many false rumours have been put abroadconcerning the case. However, as I said at the beginning, I hold nogrievance, because my worldly affairs are now much more prosperousthan they were in Paris, my intimate knowledge of that city and thecountry of which it is the capital bringing to me many cases withwhich I have dealt more or less successfully since I establishedmyself in London.
Without further preliminary I shall at once plunge into an account ofthe case which riveted the attention of the whole world a little morethan a decade ago.
The year 1893 was a prosperous twelve months for France. The weatherwas good, the harvest excellent, and the wine of that vintage iscelebrated to this day. Everyone was well off and reasonably happy, amarked contrast to the state of things a few years later, whendissension over the Dreyfus case rent the country in twain.
Newspaper readers may remember that in 1893 the Government of Francefell heir to an unexpected treasure which set the civilised worldagog, especially those inhabitants of it who are interested inhistorical relics. This was the finding of the diamond necklace inthe Chateau de Chaumont, where it had rested undiscovered for acentury in a rubbish heap of an attic. I believe it has not beenquestioned that this was the veritable necklace which the courtjeweller, Boehmer, hoped to sell to Marie Antoinette, although how itcame to be in the Chateau de Chaumont no one has been able to formeven a conjecture. For a hundred years it was supposed that thenecklace had been broken up in London, and its half a thousand stones,great and small, sold separately. It has always seemed strange to methat the Countess de Lamotte-Valois, who was thought to have profitedby the sale of these jewels, should not have abandoned France if shepossessed money to leave that country, for exposure was inevitable ifshe remained. Indeed, the unfortunate woman was branded andimprisoned, and afterwards was dashed to death from the third storeyof a London house, when, in the direst poverty, she sought escape fromthe consequences of the debts she had incurred.
I am not superstitious in the least, yet this celebrated piece oftreasure-trove seems actually to have exerted a malign influence overeveryone who had the misfortune to be connected with it. Indeed, in asmall way, I who write these words suffered dismissal and disgrace,though I caught but one glimpse of this dazzling scintillation ofjewels. The jeweller who made the necklace met financial ruin; theQueen for whom it was constructed was beheaded; that high-born PrinceLouis Rene Edouard, Cardinal de Rohan, who purchased it, was flunginto prison; the unfortunate Countess, who said she acted asgo-between until the transfer was concluded, clung for five awfulminutes to a London window-sill before dropping to her death to theflags below; and now, a hundred and eight years later, up comes thisdevil's display of fireworks to the light again!
Droulliard, the working man who found the ancient box, seems to haveprised it open, and ignorant though he was--he had probably never seena diamond in his life before--realised that a fortune was in hisgrasp. The baleful glitter from the combination must have sent madnessinto his brain, working havoc therein as though the shafts ofbrightness were those mysterious rays which scientists have recentlydiscovered. He might quite easily have walked through the main gate ofthe Chateau unsuspected and unquestioned with the diamonds concealedabout his person, but instead of this he crept from the attic windowon to the steep roof, slipped to the eaves, fell to the ground, andlay dead with a broken neck, while the necklace, intact, shimmered inthe sunlight beside his body. No matter where these jewels had beenfound the Government would have insisted that they belonged to theTreasury of the Republic; but as the Chateau de Chaumont was ahistorical monument, and the property of France, there could be noquestion regarding the ownership of the necklace. The Government atonce claimed it, and ordered it to be sent by a trustworthy militaryman to Paris. It was carried safely and delivered promptly to theauthorities by Alfred Dreyfus, a young captain of artillery, to whomits custody had been entrusted.
In spite of its fall from the tall tower neither case nor jewels wereperceptibly damaged. The lock of the box had apparently been forced byDroulliard's hatchet, or perhaps by the clasp knife found on his body.On reaching the ground the lid had flown open, and the necklace wasthrown out.
I believe there was some discussion in the Cabinet regarding the fateof this ill-omened trophy, one section wishing it to be placed in amuseum on account of its historical interest, another advocating thebreaking up of the necklace and the selling of the diamonds for whatthey would fetch. But a third party maintained that the method to getthe most money into the coffers of the country was to sell thenecklace as it stood, for as the world now contains so many richamateurs who collect undoubted rarities, regardless of expense, thehistoric associations of the jewelled collar would enhance theintrinsic value of the stones; and, this view prevailing, it wasannounced that the necklace would be sold by auction a month later inthe rooms of Meyer, Renault and Co., in the Boulevard des Italians,near the Bank of the Credit-Lyonnais.
This announcement elicited much comment from the newspapers of allcountries, and it seemed that, from a financial point of view atleast, the decision of the Government had been wise, for it speedilybecame evident that a notable coterie of wealthy buyers would becongregated in Paris on the thirteenth (unlucky day for me!) when thesale was to take place. But we of the inner circle were made aware ofanother result somewhat more disquieting, which was that the mostexpert criminals in the world were also gathering like vultures uponthe fair city. The honour of France was at stake. Whoever bought thatnecklace must be assured of a safe conduct out of the country. Wemight view with equanimity whatever happened afterwards, but while hewas a resident of France his life and property must
not be endangered.Thus it came about that I was given full authority to ensure thatneither murder nor theft nor both combined should be committed whilethe purchaser of the necklace remained within our boundaries, and forthis purpose the police resources of France were placed unreservedlyat my disposal. If I failed there should be no one to blame butmyself; consequently, as I have remarked before, I do not complain ofmy dismissal by the Government.
The broken lock of the jewel-case had been very deftly repaired by anexpert locksmith, who in executing his task was so unfortunate as toscratch a finger on the broken metal, whereupon blood poisoning setin, and although his life was saved, he was dismissed from thehospital with his right arm gone and his usefulness destroyed.
When the jeweller Boehmer made the necklace he asked a hundred andsixty thousand pounds for it, but after years of disappointment he wascontent to sell it to Cardinal de Rohan for sixty-four thousandpounds, to be liquidated in three instalments, not one of which wasever paid. This latter amount was probably somewhere near the value ofthe five hundred and sixteen separate stones, one of which was oftremendous size, a very monarch of diamonds, holding its court amongseventeen brilliants each as large as a filbert. This iridescentconcentration of wealth was, as one might say, placed in my care, andI had to see to it that no harm came to the necklace or to itsprospective owner until they were safely across the boundaries ofFrance.
The four weeks previous to the thirteenth proved a busy and anxioustime for me. Thousands, most of whom were actuated by mere curiosity,wished to view the diamonds. We were compelled to discriminate, andsometimes discriminated against the wrong person, which causedunpleasantness. Three distinct attempts were made to rob the safe, butluckily these criminal efforts were frustrated, and so we cameunscathed to the eventful thirteenth of the month.
The sale was to begin at two o'clock, and on the morning of that day Itook the somewhat tyrannical precaution of having the more dangerousof our own malefactors, and as many of the foreign thieves as I couldtrump up charges against, laid by the heels, yet I knew very well itwas not these rascals I had most to fear, but the suave, well-groomedgentlemen, amply supplied with unimpeachable credentials, stopping atour fine hotels and living like princes. Many of these were foreignersagainst whom we could prove nothing, and whose arrest might land usinto temporary international difficulties. Nevertheless, I had each ofthem shadowed, and on the morning of the thirteenth if one of them hadeven disputed a cab fare I should have had him in prison half an hourlater, and taken the consequences, but these gentlemen are very shrewdand do not commit mistakes.
I made up a list of all the men in the world who were able or likelyto purchase the necklace. Many of them would not be present in personat the auction rooms; their bidding would be done by agents. Thissimplified matters a good deal, for the agents kept me duly informedof their purposes, and, besides, an agent who handles treasure everyweek is an adept at the business, and does not need the protectionwhich must surround an amateur, who in nine cases out of ten has butscant idea of the dangers that threaten him, beyond knowing that if hegoes down a dark street in a dangerous quarter he is likely to bemaltreated and robbed.
There were no less than sixteen clients all told, whom we learned wereto attend personally on the day of the sale, any one of whom mightwell have made the purchase. The Marquis of Warlingham and Lord Oxteadfrom England were well-known jewel fanciers, while at least half adozen millionaires were expected from the United States, with asmattering from Germany, Austria, and Russia, and one each from Italy,Belgium, and Holland.
Admission to the auction rooms was allowed by ticket only, to beapplied for at least a week in advance, applications to be accompaniedby satisfactory testimonials. It would possibly have surprised many ofthe rich men collected there to know that they sat cheek by jowl withsome of the most noted thieves of England and America, but I allowedthis for two reasons: first, I wished to keep these sharpers under myown eye until I knew who had bought the necklace; and, secondly, I wasdesirous that they should not know they were suspected.
I stationed trusty men outside on the Boulevard des Italians, each ofwhom knew by sight most of the probable purchasers of the necklace. Itwas arranged that when the sale was over I should walk out to theboulevard alongside the man who was the new owner of the diamonds, andfrom that moment until he quitted France my men were not to lose sightof him if he took personal custody of the stones, instead of doing thesensible and proper thing of having them insured and forwarded to hisresidence by some responsible transit company, or depositing them inthe bank. In fact, I took every precaution that occurred to me. Allpolice Paris was on the _qui vive_, and felt itself pitted against thescoundrelism of the world.
For one reason or another it was nearly half-past two before the salebegan. There had been considerable delay because of forged tickets,and, indeed, each order for admittance was so closely scrutinised thatthis in itself took a good deal more time than we anticipated. Everychair was occupied, and still a number of the visitors were compelledto stand. I stationed myself by the swinging doors at the entrance endof the hall, where I could command a view of the entire assemblage.Some of my men were placed with backs against the wall, whilst otherswere distributed amongst the chairs, all in plain clothes. During thesale the diamonds themselves were not displayed, but the boxcontaining them rested in front of the auctioneer and three policemenin uniform stood guard on either side.
* * * * *
Very quietly the auctioneer began by saying that there was no need forhim to expatiate on the notable character of the treasure he wasprivileged to offer for sale, and with this preliminary, he requestedthose present to bid. Someone offered twenty thousand francs, whichwas received with much laughter; then the bidding went steadily onuntil it reached nine hundred thousand francs, which I knew to be lessthan half the reserve the Government had placed upon the necklace. Thecontest advanced more slowly until the million and a half was touched,and there it hung fire for a time, while the auctioneer remarked thatthis sum did not equal that which the maker of the necklace had beenfinally forced to accept for it. After another pause he added that, asthe reserve was not exceeded, the necklace would be withdrawn, andprobably never again offered for sale. He therefore urged those whowere holding back to make their bids now. At this the contest liveneduntil the sum of two million three hundred thousand francs had beenoffered, and now I knew the necklace would be sold. Nearing the threemillion mark the competition thinned down to a few dealers fromHamburg and the Marquis of Warlingham, from England, when a voice thathad not yet been heard in the auction room was lifted in a tone ofsome impatience:--
'One million dollars!'
There was an instant hush, followed by the scribbling of pencils, aseach person present reduced the sum to its equivalent in his owncurrency--pounds for the English, francs for the French, marks for theGerman, and so on. The aggressive tone and the clear-cut face of thebidder proclaimed him an American, not less than the financialdenomination he had used. In a moment it was realised that his bid wasa clear leap of more than two million francs, and a sigh went up fromthe audience as if this settled it, and the great sale was done.Nevertheless the auctioneer's hammer hovered over the lid of his desk,and he looked up and down the long line of faces turned towards him.He seemed reluctant to tap the board, but no one ventured to competeagainst this tremendous sum, and with a sharp click the mallet fell.
'What name?' he asked, bending over towards the customer.
'Cash,' replied the American; 'here's a cheque for the amount. I'lltake the diamonds with me.'
'Your request is somewhat unusual,' protested the auctioneer mildly.
'I know what you mean,' interrupted the American; 'you think thecheque may not be cashed. You will notice it is drawn on theCredit-Lyonnais, which is practically next door. I must have thejewels with me. Send round your messenger with the cheque; it willtake only a few minutes to find out whether or not the money is thereto meet it. The necklace is
mine, and I insist on having it.'
The auctioneer with some demur handed the cheque to the representativeof the French Government who was present, and this official himselfwent to the bank. There were some other things to be sold and theauctioneer endeavoured to go on through the list, but no one paid theslightest attention to him.
Meanwhile I was studying the countenance of the man who had made theastounding bid, when I should instead have adjusted my preparations tomeet the new conditions now confronting me. Here was a man about whomwe knew nothing whatever. I had come to the instant conclusion that hewas a prince of criminals, and that a sinister design, not at thatmoment fathomed by me, was on foot to get possession of the jewels.The handing up of the cheque was clearly a trick of some sort, and Ifully expected the official to return and say the draft was good. Idetermined to prevent this man from getting the jewel box until I knewmore of his game. Quickly I removed from my place near the door tothe auctioneer's desk, having two objects in view; first, to warn theauctioneer not to part with the treasure too easily; and, second, tostudy the suspected man at closer range. Of all evil-doers theAmerican is most to be feared; he uses more ingenuity in the planningof his projects, and will take greater risks in carrying them out thanany other malefactor on earth.
From my new station I saw there were two men to deal with. Thebidder's face was keen and intellectual; his hands refined, lady-like,clean and white, showing they were long divorced from manual labour,if indeed they had ever done any useful work. Coolness andimperturbability were his beyond a doubt. The companion who sat at hisright was of an entirely different stamp. His hands were hairy andsun-tanned; his face bore the stamp of grim determination andunflinching bravery. I knew that these two types usually hunted incouples--the one to scheme, the other to execute, and they alwaysformed a combination dangerous to encounter and difficult tocircumvent.
There was a buzz of conversation up and down the hall as these two mentalked together in low tones. I knew now that I was face to face withthe most hazardous problem of my life.
I whispered to the auctioneer, who bent his head to listen. He knewvery well who I was, of course.
'You must not give up the necklace,' I began.
He shrugged his shoulders.
'I am under the orders of the official from the Ministry of theInterior. You must speak to him.'
'I shall not fail to do so,' I replied. 'Nevertheless, do not give upthe box too readily.'
'I am helpless,' he protested with another shrug. 'I obey the ordersof the Government.'
Seeing it was useless to parley further with the auctioneer, I set mywits to work to meet the new emergency. I felt convinced that thecheque would prove to be genuine, and that the fraud, wherever it lay,might not be disclosed in time to aid the authorities. My duty,therefore, was to make sure we lost sight neither of the buyer nor thething bought. Of course I could not arrest the purchaser merely onsuspicion; besides, it would make the Government the laughing-stock ofthe world if they sold a case of jewels and immediately placed thebuyer in custody when they themselves had handed over his goods tohim. Ridicule kills in France. A breath of laughter may blow aGovernment out of existence in Paris much more effectually than will awhiff of cannon smoke. My duty then was to give the Government fullwarning, and never lose sight of my man until he was clear of France;then my responsibility ended.
I took aside one of my own men in plain clothes and said to him,--
'You have seen the American who has bought the necklace?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well. Go outside quietly, and station yourself there. He islikely to emerge presently with the jewels in his possession. You arenot to lose sight of either the man or the casket. I shall follow himand be close behind him as he emerges, and you are to shadow us. If heparts with the case you must be ready at a sign from me to followeither the man or the jewels. Do you understand?' 'Yes, sir,' heanswered, and left the room.
It is ever the unforeseen that baffles us; it is easy to be wise afterthe event. I should have sent two men, and I have often thought sincehow admirable is the regulation of the Italian Government which sendsout its policemen in pairs. Or I should have given my man power tocall for help, but even as it was he did only half as well as I had aright to expect of him, and the blunder he committed by a moment'sdull-witted hesitation--ah, well! there is no use of scolding. Afterall the result might have been the same.
Just as my man disappeared between the two folding doors the officialfrom the Ministry of the Interior entered. I intercepted him abouthalf-way on his journey from the door to the auctioneer.
'Possibly the cheque appears to be genuine,' I whispered to him.
'But certainly,' he replied pompously. He was an individual greatlyimpressed with his own importance; a kind of character with which itis always difficult to deal. Afterwards the Government asserted thatthis official had warned me, and the utterances of an empty-headed assdressed in a little brief authority, as the English poet says, werelooked upon as the epitome of wisdom.
'I advise you strongly not to hand over the necklace as has beenrequested,' I went on.
'Why?' he asked.
'Because I am convinced the bidder is a criminal.'
'If you have proof of that, arrest him.'
'I have no proof at the present moment, but I request you to delay thedelivery of the goods.'
'That is absurd,' he cried impatiently. 'The necklace is his, notours. The money has already been transferred to the account of theGovernment; we cannot retain the five million francs, and refuse tohand over to him what he has bought with them,' and so the man left mestanding there, nonplussed and anxious. The eyes of everyone in theroom had been turned on us during our brief conversation, and now theofficial proceeded ostentatiously up the room with a grand air ofimportance; then, with a bow and a flourish of the hand, he said,dramatically,--
'The jewels belong to Monsieur.'
The two Americans rose simultaneously, the taller holding out his handwhile the auctioneer passed to him the case he had apparently paid sohighly for. The American nonchalantly opened the box and for the firsttime the electric radiance of the jewels burst upon that audience,each member of which craned his neck to behold it. It seemed to me amost reckless thing to do. He examined the jewels minutely for a fewmoments, then snapped the lid shut again, and calmly put the box inhis outside pocket, and I could not help noticing that the lightovercoat he wore possessed pockets made extraordinarily large, as ifon purpose for this very case. And now this amazing man walkedserenely down the room past miscreants who joyfully would have cut histhroat for even the smallest diamond in that conglomeration; yet hedid not take the trouble to put his hand on the pocket which containedthe case, or in any way attempt to protect it. The assemblage seemedstricken dumb by his audacity. His friend followed closely at hisheels, and the tall man disappeared through the folding doors. Not sothe other. He turned quickly, and whipped two revolvers out of hispockets, which he presented at the astonished crowd. There had been amovement on the part of every one to leave the room, but the sight ofthese deadly weapons confronting them made each one shrink into hisplace again.
The man with his back to the door spoke in a loud and domineeringvoice, asking the auctioneer to translate what he had to say intoFrench and German; he spoke in English.
'These here shiners are valuable; they belong to my friend who hasjust gone out. Casting no reflections on the generality of people inthis room, there are, nevertheless, half a dozen "crooks" among uswhom my friend wishes to avoid. Now, no honest man here will object togiving the buyer of that there trinket five clear minutes in which toget away. It's only the "crooks" that can kick. I ask these fiveminutes as a favour, but if they are not granted I am going to takethem as a right. Any man who moves will get shot.'
'I am an honest man,' I cried, 'and I object. I am chief detective ofthe French Government. Stand aside; the police will protect yourfriend.'
'Hold on, my son,' warned the American, turning o
ne weapon directlyupon me, while the other held a sort of roving commission, pointingall over the room. 'My friend is from New York and he distrusts thepolice as much as he does the grafters. You may be twenty detectives,but if you move before that clock strikes three, I'll bring you down,and don't you forget it.'
It is one thing to face death in a fierce struggle, but quite anotherto advance coldly upon it toward the muzzle of a pistol held sosteadily that there could be no chance of escape. The gleam ofdetermination in the man's eyes convinced me he meant what he said. Idid not consider then, nor have I considered since, that the next fiveminutes, precious as they were, would be worth paying my life for.Apparently everyone else was of my opinion, for none moved hand orfoot until the clock slowly struck three.
'Thank you, gentlemen,' said the American, as he vanished between thespring-doors. When I say vanished, I mean that word and no other,because my men outside saw nothing of this individual then or later.He vanished as if he had never existed, and it was some hours beforewe found how this had been accomplished.
I rushed out almost on his heels, as one might say, and hurriedlyquestioned my waiting men. They had all seen the tall American comeout with the greatest leisure and stroll towards the west. As he wasnot the man any of them were looking for they paid no furtherattention to him, as, indeed, is the custom with our Parisian force.They have eyes for nothing but what they are sent to look for, andthis trait has its drawbacks for their superiors.
I ran up the boulevard, my whole thought intent on the diamonds andtheir owner. I knew my subordinate in command of the men inside thehall would look after the scoundrel with the pistols. A short distanceup I found the stupid fellow I had sent out, standing in a dazedmanner at the corner of the Rue Michodiere, gazing alternately downthat short street and towards the Place de l'Opera. The very fact thathe was there furnished proof that he had failed.
'Where is the American?' I demanded.
'He went down this street, sir.'
'Then why are you standing here like a fool?'
'I followed him this far, when a man came up the Rue Michodiere, andwithout a word the American handed him the jewel-box, turninginstantly down the street up which the other had come. The otherjumped into a cab, and drove towards the Place de l'Opera.'
'And what did you do? Stood here like a post, I suppose?'
'I didn't know what to do, sir. It all happened in a moment.'
'Why didn't you follow the cab?'
'I didn't know which to follow, sir, and the cab was gone instantlywhile I watched the American.'
'What was its number?'
'I don't know, sir.'
'You clod! Why didn't you call one of our men, whoever was nearest,and leave him to shadow the American while you followed the cab?'
'I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you told him to staythere and watch the English lord, and even before he had spoken bothAmerican and cabman were out of sight.'
'Was the man to whom he gave the box an American also?'
'No, sir, he was French.'
'How do you know?'
'By his appearance and the words he spoke.'
'I thought you said he didn't speak.'
'He did not speak to the American, sir, but he said to the cabman,"Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you can."'
'Describe the man.'
'He was a head shorter than the American, wore a black beard andmoustache rather neatly trimmed, and seemed to be a superior sort ofartisan.'
'You did not take the number of the cab. Should you know the cabman ifyou saw him again?'
'Yes, sir, I think so.'
Taking this fellow with me I returned to the now nearly empty auctionroom and there gathered all my men about me. Each in his notebooktook down particulars of the cabman and his passenger from the lips ofmy incompetent spy; next I dictated a full description of the twoAmericans, then scattered my men to the various railway stations ofthe lines leading out of Paris, with orders to make inquiries of thepolice on duty there, and to arrest one or more of the four personsdescribed should they be so fortunate as to find any of them.
I now learned how the rogue with the pistols vanished so completely ashe did. My subordinate in the auction room had speedily solved themystery. To the left of the main entrance of the auction room was adoor that gave private access to the rear of the premises. As theattendant in charge confessed when questioned, he had been bribed bythe American earlier in the day to leave this side door open and toallow the man to escape by the goods entrance. Thus the ruffian didnot appear on the boulevard at all, and so had not been observed byany of my men.
Taking my futile spy with me I returned to my own office, and sent anorder throughout the city that every cabman who had been in theBoulevard des Italiens between half-past two and half-past three thatafternoon, should report immediately to me. The examination of thesemen proved a very tedious business indeed, but whatever othercountries may say of us, we French are patient, and if the haystack issearched long enough, the needle will be found. I did not discover theneedle I was looking for, but I came upon one quite as important, ifnot more so.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when a cabman answered myoft-repeated questions in the affirmative.
'Did you take up a passenger a few minutes past three o'clock on theBoulevard des Italiens, near the Credit-Lyonnais? Had he a short blackbeard? Did he carry a small box in his hand and order you to drive tothe Madeleine?'
The cabman seemed puzzled.
'He wore a short black beard when he got out of the cab,' he replied.
'What do you mean by that?'
'I drive a closed cab, sir. When he got in he was a smooth-facedgentleman; when he got out he wore a short black beard.'
'Was he a Frenchman?'
'No, sir; he was a foreigner, either English or American.'
'Was he carrying a box?'
'No, sir; he held in his hand a small leather bag.'
'Where did he tell you to drive?'
'He told me to follow the cab in front, which had just driven off veryrapidly towards the Madeleine. In fact, I heard the man, such as youdescribe, order the other cabman to drive to the Madeleine. I had comealongside the curb when this man held up his hand for a cab, but theopen cab cut in ahead of me. Just then my passenger stepped up andsaid in French, but with a foreign accent: "Follow that cab whereverit goes."'
I turned with some indignation to my inefficient spy.
'You told me,' I said, 'that the American had gone down a side street.Yet he evidently met a second man, obtained from him the handbag,turned back, and got into the closed cab directly behind you.'
'Well, sir,' stammered the spy, 'I could not look in two directions atthe same time. The American certainly went down the side street, butof course I watched the cab which contained the jewels.'
'And you saw nothing of the closed cab right at your elbow?'
'The boulevard was full of cabs, sir, and the pavement crowded withpassers-by, as it always is at that hour of the day, and I have onlytwo eyes in my head.'
'I am glad to know you had that many, for I was beginning to think youwere blind.'
Although I said this, I knew in my heart it was useless to censure thepoor wretch, for the fault was entirely my own in not sending two men,and in failing to guess the possibility of the jewels and their ownerbeing separated. Besides, here was a clue to my hand at last, and notime must be lost in following it up. So I continued my interrogationof the cabman.
'The other cab was an open vehicle, you say?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You succeeded in following it?'
'Oh, yes, sir. At the Madeleine the man in front redirected thecoachman, who turned to the left and drove to the Place de laConcorde, then up the Champs-Elysees to the Arch and so down theAvenue de la Grande Armee, and the Avenue de Neuilly, to the Pont deNeuilly, where it came to a standstill. My fare got out, and I saw henow wore a short black beard, which he had evidently put on inside thecab. He gave m
e a ten-franc piece, which was very satisfactory.
'And the fare you were following? What did he do?'
'He also stepped out, paid the cabman, went down the bank of the riverand got on board a steam launch that seemed to be waiting for him.'
'Did he look behind, or appear to know that he was being followed?'
'No, sir.'
'And your fare?'
'He ran after the first man, and also went aboard the steam launch,which instantly started down the river.'
'And that was the last you saw of them?'
'Yes, sir.'
'At what time did you reach the Pont de Neuilly?'
'I do not know, sir; I was compelled to drive rather fast, but thedistance is seven to eight kilometres.'
'You would do it under the hour?'
'But certainly, under the hour.'
'Then you must have reached Neuilly bridge about four o'clock?'
'It is very likely, sir.'
The plan of the tall American was now perfectly clear to me, and itcomprised nothing that was contrary to law. He had evidently placedhis luggage on board the steam launch in the morning. The handbag hadcontained various materials which would enable him to disguisehimself, and this bag he had probably left in some shop down the sidestreet, or else someone was waiting with it for him. The giving of thetreasure to another man was not so risky as it had at first appeared,because he instantly followed that man, who was probably hisconfidential servant. Despite the windings of the river there wasample time for the launch to reach Havre before the American steamersailed on Saturday morning. I surmised it was his intention to comealongside the steamer before she left her berth in Havre harbour, andthus transfer himself and his belongings unperceived by anyone onwatch at the land side of the liner.
All this, of course, was perfectly justifiable, and seemed, in truth,merely a well-laid scheme for escaping observation. His only danger ofbeing tracked was when he got into the cab. Once away from theneighbourhood of the Boulevard des Italiens he was reasonably sure toevade pursuit, and the five minutes which his friend with the pistolshad won for him afforded just the time he needed to get so far as thePlace Madeleine, and after that everything was easy. Yet, if it hadnot been for those five minutes secured by coercion, I should not havefound the slightest excuse for arresting him. But he was accessoryafter the act in that piece of illegality--in fact, it was absolutelycertain that he had been accessory before the act, and guilty ofconspiracy with the man who had presented firearms to the auctioneer'saudience, and who had interfered with an officer in the discharge ofhis duty by threatening me and my men. So I was now legally in theright if I arrested every person on board that steam launch.
* * * * *
With a map of the river before me I proceeded to make somecalculations. It was now nearly ten o'clock at night. The launch hadhad six hours in which to travel at its utmost speed. It was doubtfulif so small a vessel could make ten miles an hour, even with thecurrent in its favour, which is rather sluggish because of the locksand the level country. Sixty miles would place her beyond Meulan,which is fifty-eight miles from the Pont Royal, and, of course, alesser distance from the Pont de Neuilly. But the navigation of theriver is difficult at all times, and almost impossible after dark.There were chances of the boat running aground, and then there was theinevitable delay at the locks. So I estimated that the launch couldnot yet have reached Meulan, which was less than twenty-five milesfrom Paris by rail. Looking up the timetable I saw there were stilltwo trains to Meulan, the next at 10.25, which reached Meulan at11.40. I therefore had time to reach St. Lazare station, and accomplishsome telegraphing before the train left.
With three of my assistants I got into a cab and drove to the station.On arrival I sent one of my men to hold the train while I went intothe telegraph office, cleared the wires, and got into communicationwith the lock master at Meulan. He replied that no steam launch hadpassed down since an hour before sunset. I then instructed him toallow the yacht to enter the lock, close the upper gate, let half ofthe water out, and hold the vessel there until I came. I also orderedthe local Meulan police to send enough men to the lock to enforce thiscommand. Lastly, I sent messages all along the river asking the policeto report to me on the train the passage of the steam launch.
The 10.25 is a slow train, stopping at every station. However, everydrawback has its compensation, and these stoppages enabled me toreceive and to send telegraphic messages. I was quite well aware thatI might be on a fool's errand in going to Meulan. The yacht could haveput about before it had steamed a mile, and so returned back to Paris.There had been no time to learn whether this was so or not if I was tocatch the 10.25. Also, it might have landed its passengers anywherealong the river. I may say at once that neither of these two thingshappened, and my calculations regarding her movements were accurate tothe letter. But a trap most carefully set may be prematurely sprung byinadvertence, or more often by the over-zeal of some stupid ass whofails to understand his instructions, or oversteps them if they areunderstood. I received a most annoying telegram from Denouval, a lockabout thirteen miles above that of Meulan. The local policeman,arriving at the lock, found that the yacht had just cleared. The foolshouted to the captain to return, threatening him with all the painsand penalties of the law if he refused. The captain did refuse, rungon full speed ahead, and disappeared in the darkness. Through thiswell-meant blunder of an understrapper those on board the launch hadreceived warning that we were on their track. I telegraphed to thelock-keeper at Denouval to allow no craft to pass toward Paris untilfurther orders. We thus held the launch in a thirteen-mile stretch ofwater, but the night was pitch dark, and passengers might be landed oneither bank with all France before them, over which to effect theirescape in any direction.
It was midnight when I reached the lock at Meulan, and, as was to beexpected, nothing had been seen or heard of the launch. It gave mesome satisfaction to telegraph to that dunderhead at Denouval to walkalong the river bank to Meulan, and report if he learnt the launch'swhereabouts. We took up our quarters in the lodgekeeper's house andwaited. There was little sense in sending men to scour the country atthis time of night, for the pursued were on the alert, and veryunlikely to allow themselves to be caught if they had gone ashore. Onthe other hand, there was every chance that the captain would refuseto let them land, because he must know his vessel was in a trap fromwhich it could not escape, and although the demand of the policeman atDenouval was quite unauthorised, nevertheless the captain could notknow that, while he must be well aware of his danger in refusing toobey a command from the authorities. Even if he got away for themoment he must know that arrest was certain, and that his punishmentwould be severe. His only plea could be that he had not heard andunderstood the order to return. But this plea would be invalidated ifhe aided in the escape of two men, whom he must know were wanted bythe police. I was therefore very confident that if his passengersasked to be set ashore, the captain would refuse when he had had timeto think about his own danger. My estimate proved accurate, fortowards one o'clock the lock-keeper came in and said the green and redlights of an approaching craft were visible, and as he spoke the yachtwhistled for the opening of the lock. I stood by the lock-keeper whilehe opened the gates; my men and the local police were concealed oneach side of the lock. The launch came slowly in, and as soon as ithad done so I asked the captain to step ashore, which he did.
'I wish a word with you,' I said. 'Follow me.'
I took him into the lock-keeper's house and closed the door.
'Where are you going?'
'To Havre.'
'Where did you come from?'
'Paris.'
'From what quay?'
'From the Pont de Neuilly.'
'When did you leave there?'
'At five minutes to four o'clock this afternoon.'
'Yesterday afternoon, you mean?'
'Yesterday afternoon.'
'Who engaged you to make this voyage?'
&
nbsp; 'An American; I do not know his name.'
'He paid you well, I suppose?'
'He paid me what I asked.'
'Have you received the money?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I may inform you, captain, that I am Eugene Valmont, chief detectiveof the French Government, and that all the police of France at thismoment are under my control. I ask you, therefore, to be careful ofyour answers. You were ordered by a policeman at Denouval to return.Why did you not do so?'
'The lock-keeper ordered me to return, but as he had no right to orderme, I went on.'
'You knew very well it was the police who ordered you, and you ignoredthe command. Again I ask you why you did so.'
'I did not know it was the police.'
'I thought you would say that. You knew very well, but were paid totake the risk, and it is likely to cost you dear. You had twopassengers aboard?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Did you put them ashore between here and Denouval?'
'No, sir; but one of them went overboard, and we couldn't find himagain.'
'Which one?'
'The short man.'
'Then the American is still aboard?'
'What American, sir?'
'Captain, you must not trifle with me. The man who engaged you isstill aboard?'
'Oh, no, sir; he has never been aboard.'
'Do you mean to tell me that the second man who came on your launch atthe Pont de Neuilly is not the American who engaged you?'
'No, sir; the American was a smooth-faced man; this man wore a blackbeard.'
'Yes, a false beard.'
'I did not know that, sir. I understood from the American that I wasto take but one passenger. One came aboard with a small box in hishand; the other with a small bag. Each declared himself to be thepassenger in question. I did not know what to do, so I left Paris withboth of them on board.'
'Then the tall man with the black beard is still with you?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, captain, is there anything else you have to tell me? I thinkyou will find it better in the end to make a clean breast of it.'
The captain hesitated, turning his cap about in his hands for a fewmoments, then he said,--
'I am not sure that the first passenger went overboard of his ownaccord. When the police hailed us at Denouval--'
'Ah, you knew it was the police, then?'
'I was afraid after I left it might have been. You see, when thebargain was made with me the American said that if I reached Havre ata certain time a thousand francs extra would be paid to me, so I wasanxious to get along as quickly as I could. I told him it wasdangerous to navigate the Seine at night, but he paid me well forattempting it. After the policeman called to us at Denouval the manwith the small box became very much excited, and asked me to put himashore, which I refused to do. The tall man appeared to be watchinghim, never letting him get far away. When I heard the splash in thewater I ran aft, and I saw the tall man putting the box which theother had held into his handbag, although I said nothing of it at thetime. We cruised back and forward about the spot where the other manhad gone overboard, but saw nothing more of him. Then I came on toMeulan, intending to give information about what I had seen. That isall I know of the matter, sir.'
'Was the man who had the jewels a Frenchman?'
'What jewels, sir?'
'The man with the small box.'
'Oh, yes, sir; he was French.'
'You have hinted that the foreigner threw him overboard. What groundshave you for such a belief if you did not see the struggle?'
'The night is very dark, sir, and I did not see what happened. I wasat the wheel in the forward part of the launch, with my back turned tothese two. I heard a scream, then a splash. If the man had jumpedoverboard as the other said he did, he would not have screamed.Besides, as I told you, when I ran aft I saw the foreigner put thelittle box in his handbag, which he shut up quickly as if he did notwish me to notice.'
'Very good, captain. If you have told the truth it will go easier withyou in the investigation that is to follow.'
I now turned the captain over to one of my men, and ordered in theforeigner with his bag and bogus black whiskers. Before questioninghim I ordered him to open the handbag, which he did with evidentreluctance. It was filled with false whiskers, false moustaches, andvarious bottles, but on top of them all lay the jewel case. I raisedthe lid and displayed that accursed necklace. I looked up at the man,who stood there calmly enough, saying nothing in spite of theoverwhelming evidence against him.
'Will you oblige me by removing your false beard?'
He did so at once, throwing it into the open bag. I knew the moment Isaw him that he was not the American, and thus my theory had brokendown, in one very important part at least. Informing him who I was,and cautioning him to speak the truth, I asked how he came inpossession of the jewels.
'Am I under arrest?' he asked.
'But certainly,' I replied.
'Of what am I accused?'
'You are accused, in the first place, of being in possession ofproperty which does not belong to you.'
'I plead guilty to that. What in the second place?'
'In the second place, you may find yourself accused of murder.'
'I am innocent of the second charge. The man jumped overboard.'
'If that is true, why did he scream as he went over?'
'Because, too late to recover his balance, I seized this box and heldit.'
'He was in rightful possession of the box; the owner gave it to him.'
'I admit that; I saw the owner give it to him.'
'Then why should he jump overboard?'
'I do not know. He seemed to become panic-stricken when the police atthe last lock ordered us to return. He implored the captain to put himashore, and from that moment I watched him keenly, expecting that ifwe drew near to the land he would attempt to escape, as the captainhad refused to beach the launch. He remained quiet for about half anhour, seated on a camp chair by the rail, with his eyes turned towardthe shore, trying, as I imagined, to penetrate the darkness andestimate the distance. Then suddenly he sprung up and made his dash. Iwas prepared for this, and instantly caught the box from his hand. Hegave a half turn, trying either to save himself or to retain the box;then with a scream went down shoulders first into the water. It allhappened within a second after he leaped from his chair.'
'You admit yourself, then, indirectly responsible for his drowning, atleast?'
'I see no reason to suppose that the man was drowned. If able to swimhe could easily have reached the river bank. If unable to swim, whyshould he attempt it encumbered by the box?'
'You believe he escaped, then?'
'I think so.'
'It will be lucky for you should that prove to be the case.'
'Certainly.'
'How did you come to be in the yacht at all?' 'I shall give you afull account of the affair, concealing nothing. I am a privatedetective, with an office in London. I was certain that some attemptwould be made, probably by the most expert criminals at large, to robthe possessor of this necklace. I came over to Paris, anticipatingtrouble, determined to keep an eye upon the jewel case if this provedpossible. If the jewels were stolen the crime was bound to be one ofthe most celebrated in legal annals. I was present during the sale,and saw the buyer of the necklace. I followed the official who went tothe bank, and thus learned that the money was behind the cheque. Ithen stopped outside and waited for the buyer to appear. He held thecase in his hand.'
'In his pocket, you mean?' I interrupted.
'He had it in his hand when I saw him. Then the man who afterwardsjumped overboard approached him, took the case without a word, held uphis hand for a cab, and when an open vehicle approached the curb hestepped in, saying, "The Madeleine." I hailed a closed cab, instructedthe cabman to follow the first, disguising myself with whiskers asnear like those the man in front wore as I had in my collection.'
'Why did you do that?'
'As a detective you should know why I did it. I wished as nearly aspossible to resemble the man in front, so that if necessity arose Icould pretend that I was the person commissioned to carry the jewelcase. As a matter of fact, the crisis arose when we came to the end ofour cab journey. The captain did not know which was his truepassenger, and so let us both remain aboard the launch. And now youhave the whole story.'
'An extremely improbable one, sir. Even by your own account you had noright to interfere in this business at all.'
'I quite agree with you there,' he replied, with great nonchalance,taking a card from his pocket-book, which he handed to me.
'That is my London address; you may make inquiries, and you will findI am exactly what I represent myself to be.'
The first train for Paris left Meulan at eleven minutes past four inthe morning. It was now a quarter after two. I left the captain, crew,and launch in charge of two of my men, with orders to proceed to Parisas soon as it was daylight. I, supported by the third man, waited atthe station with our English prisoner, and reached Paris at half-pastfive in the morning.
The English prisoner, though severely interrogated by the judge, stoodby his story. Inquiry by the police in London proved that what he saidof himself was true. His case, however, began to look very seriouswhen two of the men from the launch asserted that they had seen himpush the Frenchman overboard, and their statement could not be shaken.All our energies were bent for the next two weeks on trying to findsomething of the identity of the missing man, or to get any trace ofthe two Americans. If the tall American were alive, it seemedincredible that he should not have made application for the valuableproperty he had lost. All attempts to trace him by means of the chequeon the Credit-Lyonnais proved futile. The bank pretended to give meevery assistance, but I sometimes doubt if it actually did so. It hadevidently been well paid for its services, and evinced no impetuousdesire to betray so good a customer.
We made inquiries about every missing man in Paris, but also withoutresult.
The case had excited much attention throughout the world, anddoubtless was published in full in the American papers. The Englishmanhad been in custody three weeks when the chief of police in Parisreceived the following letter:--
'DEAR SIR,--On my arrival in New York by the English steamer_Lucania_, I was much amused to read in the papers accounts of theexploits of detectives, French and English. I am sorry that only oneof them seems to be in prison; I think his French _confrere_ ought tobe there also. I regret exceedingly, however, that there is the rumourof the death by drowning of my friend Martin Dubois, of 375 Rue auxJuifs, Rouen. If this is indeed the case he has met his death throughthe blunders of the police. Nevertheless, I wish you would communicatewith his family at the address I have given, and assure them that Iwill make arrangements for their future support.
'I beg to inform you that I am a manufacturer of imitation diamonds,and through extensive advertising succeeded in accumulating a fortuneof many millions. I was in Europe when the necklace was found, and hadin my possession over a thousand imitation diamonds of my ownmanufacture. It occurred to me that here was the opportunity of themost magnificent advertisement in the world. I saw the necklace,received its measurements, and also obtained photographs of it takenby the French Government. Then I set my expert friend Martin Dubois atwork, and, with the artificial stones I gave him, he made an imitationnecklace so closely resembling the original that you apparently do notknow it is the unreal you have in your possession. I did not fear thevillainy of the crooks as much as the blundering of the police, whowould have protected me with brass-band vehemence if I could not eludethem. I knew that the detectives would overlook the obvious, but wouldat once follow a clue if I provided one for them. Consequently, I laidmy plans, just as you have discovered, and got Martin Dubois up fromRouen to carry the case I gave him down to Havre. I had had anotherbox prepared and wrapped in brown paper, with my address in New Yorkwritten thereon. The moment I emerged from the auction room, while myfriend the cowboy was holding up the audience, I turned my face to thedoor, took out the genuine diamonds from the case and slipped it intothe box I had prepared for mailing. Into the genuine case I put thebogus diamonds. After handing the box to Dubois, I turned down a sidestreet, and then into another whose name I do not know, and there in ashop with sealing wax and string did up the real diamonds for posting.I labelled the package "Books", went to the nearest post office, paidletter postage, and handed it over unregistered as if it were of noparticular value. After this I went to my rooms in the Grand Hotelwhere I had been staying under my own name for more than a month. Nextmorning I took train for London, and the day after sailed fromLiverpool on the _Lucania_. I arrived before the _Gascoigne_, whichsailed from Havre on Saturday, met my box at the Customs house, paidduty, and it now reposes in my safe. I intend to construct animitation necklace which will be so like the genuine one that nobodycan tell the two apart; then I shall come to Europe and exhibit thepair, for the publication of the truth of this matter will give me thegreatest advertisement that ever was.
'Yours truly,
'JOHN P HAZARD.'
I at once communicated with Rouen and found Martin Dubois alive andwell. His first words were:--'I swear I did not steal the jewels.'
He had swum ashore, tramped to Rouen, and kept quiet in great fearwhile I was fruitlessly searching Paris for him. It took Mr. Hazardlonger to make his imitation necklace than he supposed, and severalyears later he booked his passage with the two necklaces on theill-fated steamer _Burgoyne_, and now rests beside them at the bottomof the Atlantic.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.