Hagar put away the pistol, and took up the figure. Now that she knew about the diamonds, and had forced Bill to admit, as he had done indirectly, that they had been stolen from Lady Deacey, she thought it possible that the Chinese toy might belong to the same owner. In spite of her fearlessness, Hagar was not altogether happy in her mind as regards the burglar. If he did not find the diamonds, he was quite capable of returning to murder her. On the whole, Hagar concluded that it would be just as well for society at large, and herself in particular, if Mr. Smith were restored to the prison whence he had lately emerged. After some consideration she resolved to see Vark, the lawyer, and tell him the episode of the mandarin, taking the image with her as evidence. Vark, if anyone, would be able to deal with the intricacies of the affair.
In the meantime, Bill Smith had repaired to the public-house which guarded the narrow entrance to Carby’s Crescent, and there was drowning his regrets in strong drink. As he drained his tankard of ale, he fell into conversation with the fat landlord—a brutal-looking prize-fighter, who looked as though he had been in jail—quite a bird of Mr. Smith’s feather. These two congenial spirits recognized each other, and became friendly—so friendly, indeed, that Bill thought it a good opportunity to extract information regarding the whereabouts of Bolker. He was too wise to explain his reason for making these inquiries.
“That’s a fine gal in the pawn-shop, hay!” said he, with a leer.
“Wot—’Agar? She’s a plum, ain’t she?—but not for every man’s pickin’; oh, no; not she! ’Agar kin look arter herself proper!” said the landlord.
“Does she mind that shorp all alone?”
“Jus’ now she does,” replied mine host. “She ’ad a boy, a wicked little ’unchback devil; Bolker’s ’is name. But he’s hoff; gitting a wage in West-end, as I do ’ear.”
“Wes’-end?” said Bill, reflectively. “An’ where might ’e ’ang out there?”
“Ho, in a swell, slap-up book-shop. Juppins, Son an’ Juppins, Les’er Square way. ’Is parients live down ’ere, but Bolker’s that set up with ’is good luck as ’e looks down on ’em.”
“Do he now!” said Bill, amiably. “I’d twist ’is neck if he wos my kid. No more booze, thankee. I’m orf t’ see a pal o’ mine.”
The result of this conversation was that Mr. Smith repaired to Leicester Square and loafed up and down the pavement before the book-shop. He saw Bolker several times during the day; for, having been told by the landlord that the lad was a hunchback, he had no difficulty recognizing him. Up till the evening he kept a close watch, and when Bolker had put up the shutters and was walking home towards Lambeth, Bill followed him stealthily. All unknowing that he was followed by a black shadow of crime and danger, Bolker paused on Westminster Bridge to admire the red glories of the sunset; then plunged into the network of alleys which make up Lambeth. In a quiet lane by the river he was gripped from behind; a large hand was clapped over his mouth to prevent his crying out, and he was dragged down on to a ruined wharf which ran out through green slime into the turbid waters of the stream.
“Now, then, I’ve got ye!” said his captor in a savage tone—“an’ I’ve got a knife too, y’ bloomin’ thief! Jes’ y’ answer me strife, or I’ll cut yer ’ead orf!”
Bolker gasped with alarm; but, not recognizing the threatening face of the man before him, he recovered a little of his native impudence, and began to bluster.
“Here, now, what do you mean by this? What have I done?”
“Done, y’ whelp! Opened that doll an’ prigged them dimins!”
“Larky Bill!” cried Bolker, at once recognizing his peril. “Here, let me go!”
“Not till y’ give up my property—my dimins.”
“What property? What diamonds?”
“Oh, y’ know what ’m drivin’ at, cuss you! Y’re the ’unchback as wos in the shorp kep’ by that foine gal ’Agar. I popped that doll, with dimins in ’is innards, an’ you stole ’m.”
“I did nothing of the sort. I—”
“ ’Ere! drop yer lies, y’ imp! Y’ know moy naime, y’ did, so y’ knows more! Jes’ look et this knoif! S’elp me but I’ll slip it int’ ye, ef y’ don’t tell!”
He threw the terrified boy across his knee, and placed the cold steel at his throat. The rose-red sky spun overhead in the eyes of Bolker, and he thought that his last hour had come. To save himself there was nothing for it but confession.
“What! Wait! I’ll tell you!” he gasped. “I did take the diamonds.”
“Y’ young cuss!” growled Bill, setting the lad on his feet again with a jerk. “An’ ’ow did y’ know they was inside that himage?”
“Monkey told me.”
Bill started to his feet with an oath, but still kept his grip on Bolker’s shoulder to prevent him getting away. “Monkey,” he said, fiercely. “Wot did ’e tell y’?”
“Why, that Lady Deacey’s diamonds were inside the mandarin.”
“How did Monkey come to find that doll?”
“He got the office from a girl called Eliza, who saw you pawning the toy.”
“Liz sold me,” muttered Bill. “I thought as I sawr ’er on that doy. She’ mus’ ha’ twigged that doll under m’ arm, and guessed as I popped it. Gord! I’ll deal with ’er laiter, I will! Garn, y’ dorg and tell me th’ rest!” he added, shaking the boy.
“There is no more to tell,” whimpered Bolker, his teeth chattering. “Monkey couldn’t get the mandarin, ’cause he had not the ticket. He made friends with me, and asked me to steal it. I wouldn’t, until he told me why he wanted it. Then he said that you had stolen twenty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds from Lady Deacey’s house in Curzon Street, and had hidden them in the mandarin. He said we’d go whacks if I’d steal them for him. I couldn’t get the mandarin, as Hagar’s so sharp she would have missed it, and put me in jail for stealing it; so I opened the doll, and took out the diamonds which were in a leather bag.”
“Moy bag, moy dimins!” said Bill, savagely. “What did y’ do with ’em?”
“I gave them to Monkey, and he cleared out with them. He never gave me a single one; and I don’t know where to find him.”
“I does,” growled Mr. Smith, releasing Bolker, “an’ I’ll fin’ ’im and slit his bloomin’ throat. ’Ere! I say, y’ come back!” for, taking advantage of his release, Bolker was racing up the wharf.
Bill gave chase, as he wanted to obtain further information from the lad; but Bolker knew the neighborhood better than the burglar, and soon eluded him in the winding alleys.
“It don’t matter!” said Bill, giving up the chase and wiping his brow. “Monkey’s got the swag. Might ha’ guessed as he’d round on me. I’ll jest see ’im and Liz, and if I don’t make ’m paiy fur this, maiy I——!” Then he clinched his resolve with an oath, which it is unnecessary to repeat here. After relieving his feelings thus, he went in search of his perfidious friend, with murderous thoughts in his heart.
At first he thought that it would be difficult to find Monkey. No doubt the man on obtaining the diamonds had gone off to America, North or South, so as to escape the vengeance of his pal—Bill had always been Monkey’s pal—and to live comfortably on the fruits of his villainy. Later on the burglar learnt, rather to his surprise, that Monkey was still in London, and still was haunting the thieves’ quarter in Whitechapel. Bill wondered at this choice of a residence when the man had so much money in his possession; but he ascribed this longing to Monkey’s love for his old haunts and associates. Nevertheless, knowing that Bill was out of prison, it was strange that the man did not look after his skin.
“ ’E knows wot I am when I’m riz!” said Bill to himself, as he continued his search, “so he ought to get orf while ’is throat ain’t cut! Blimme; but I’ll ’ave a drop of ’is ’eart’s blood fur every one of them bloomin’ dimins!”
One evening he found Monk
ey in the parlor of a low public-house called the Three Kings, and kept by a Jew of ill-fame, who was rather a fence than a landlord.
His traitorous friend, more wizened and shriveled up than ever, was seated in a dark corner, with an unlighted pipe in his mouth, a half-drained tankard of bitter before him, and his hands thrust moodily into his pockets. If Monkey had the diamonds, his appearance belied their possession, for he looked anything but prosperous. There was no appearance of wealth in his looks or manner or choice of abode.
“Wot, Bill, ole pal!” he said, looking up when Mr. Smith hurled himself into the room. “Y’ve got h’out of quod!”
“Yus! I’ve got hout to slit yer throat!”
“Lor!” whined Monkey, uncomfortably. “Wot’s you accusin’ me fur? I ain’t done nuffin’, s’elp me!”
Bill drew a chair before that of Monkey, and taking out his knife played with it in a significant manner. Monkey shrank back before the glitter of the blade and the ugly look in his pal’s eyes, but he did not dare to cry out for assistance, lest the burglar should pounce on him.
“Now, look ’ee ’ere, Monkey,” said Bill, with grim deliberation, “I don’t want none of yer bloomin’ lip, ner his eiather! D’ y’ see? I’ve seen that beast of a kid as you put up to steal my dimins, and—”
“Yah! that kid!” cried Monkey, with sudden ferocity. “Wish I’d ’im ’ere; I’d squeeze the ’eart out o’ him!”
“Wot fur? Didn’t ’e git y’ the swag—moy swag—cuss y’?”
“No, ’e didn’t; an’ ef ’e ses ’e did, ’e’s a liar—a bloomin’ busted liar, s’elp me! I tell you, Bill, ’e kep’ them shiners to ’imself, cuss ’im!”
“Thet’s a d——d lie, y’ sneakin’ dorg!” said Bill, politely.
“M’ I die if ’tain’t gorspel truth!” yelped Monkey. “Look ’ee ’ere, ole pal——”
“Don’t y’ call me pal!” interrupted Bill, savagely. “I ain’t no pal of yourn, y’ terbaccer-faiced son of a bloomin’ ’angman! Liz blew the gaff on me poppin’ that himage, and y’ tried to git m’ swag when I was doin’ time. An’ y’ did get it, y’——!”
“I didn’t!” snapped Monkey, interrupting in his turn. “The kid stuck to the swag, I tell y’. ’Course I knowed of them dimins!”
“ ’Course y’ did!” growled William, ironically. “Didn’t I tell y’ ’ow I cracked that crib in Curzon Street, an’ prigged th’ dimins an’ th’ himage? Yah! y’ cuss!”
“I knows y’ did, Bill. An’ you tole me ’ow y’ stowed the swag inside the doll. My heye! that was sharp of y’; but y’ moight ’ev trusted a pal! I didn’t know y’ popped the doll till Liz told me. She sawr y’ goin’ in t’ that popshorp with the Chiner thing under yer arm; an’——”
“And you’d set ’er arter me!” cried Bill! savagely. “She didn’t git int’ Lambeth on the chance!”
“Yus,” said Monkey, doggedly, “I did put ’er on yer trail. Y’ hid the dimins in that image, and cleared out with it. I couldn’t foller meself, so I set Liz ont’ ye. She tole me as ’ow y’d popped th’ thing; so when y’ wos doin’ time I tried to git it again, tho’ that young cuss ’es sold me.”
“Blimme! but I’ve a moind to slit yer throat!” said Bill, furiously. “Wot d’ y’ mean tryin’ to coller my swag?”
“Why, fur yer own sake, Bill, s’elp me. I thort the gal might fin’ out. But y’ needn’t git up, Bill; I didn’t git them dimins. The boy hes them.”
“That’s a lie. I tell y’!”
“ ’Tain’t! When I tole the kid about the dimins he stole ’em sure, an’ lef’ th’ doll so es the pawn-shop gal wouldn’t fin’ out. But I never saw ’im agin, though I watched the shorp like a bloomin’ tyke. The boy cleared out with them dimins. I wish I’d ’im ’ere! I’d choke the little d——l!”
Bill reflected, and slipped the knife into his pocket. Without doubt Monkey was speaking the truth; he was too savagely in earnest to be telling a falsehood. Moreover, if he really possessed the diamonds, he would not remain hard up and miserable in the thieves’ quarter of dingy Whitechapel. No; Bolker had kept the jewels, and had deceived Monkey; more than that, in the interview on the ruined wharf he had deceived Bill himself. Priding himself on his astuteness, Mr. Smith felt savage at having been sold by a mere boy.
“If I kin on’y git ’im agin!” he thought, when leaving the Three Kings, “I’ll take the ’ead orf ’m, and chuck ’is crooked karkuss int’ the river mud!”
But he found it difficult to lay hands on Bolker, although for more than a week he haunted the shop in Leicester Square. Warned by his one experience that Bill was a dangerous person to meddle with, Bolker had given notice to his employers, and at present was in hiding. Also, he was arranging a little scheme whereby to rid himself of Larky Bill’s inopportunities. Vark was the man who undertook to carry out the details of the scheme; and Hagar was consulted also with regard to its completion. These three people, Vark, Hagar, and Bolker, laid an ingenious trap for unsuspecting Bill, into which he walked without a thought of danger. He had been betrayed by Monkey, by Bolker, by Liz; now he was going to be sold by Vark, the lawyer. Truly, the fates were against Bill at this juncture.
Vark was a thieves’ lawyer, and had something in him of a latter-day Fagin; for he not only made use of criminals when he could do so with safety, but also he sold them to justice when they became dangerous. As he saw a chance of making money out of Bill Smith, he resolved to do so, and sent for the man to visit him at once. As Vark had often done business with the burglar, Bill had no idea that it was in the lawyer’s mind to betray him, and duly presented himself at the spider’s office in Lambeth, like a silly fly. The first thing he saw on entering the room was the mandarin swaying on the table.
“You are astonished to see that,” said Vark, noticing his surprise. “I daresay; but you see, Bill, I know all about your theft of the Deacey diamonds.”
“Who tole you?” growled Bill, throwing himself into a chair.
“Hagar of the pawn-shop,” replied Vark, slowly and with significance.
Bill’s eyes lighted up fiercely, in precisely the way Vark wished. The lawyer had not forgiven Hagar for refusing to marry him, and for curtailing his pickings in the Dix estate. For these reasons he wished her evil; and if he could inoculate the burglar’s heart with a spite towards her he was bent on doing so. It appeared from Bill’s next speech that he had succeeded.
“Oh, ’twas that gal, wos it?” said Mr. Smith, quietly. “I might ha’ guessed it, by seein’ that himage. Well, I owe ’er one, I do, and I guess I’ll owe ’er another. But that’s my biz; ’tain’t yourn. Wot d’ye want, y’ measly dorg?” he added, looking at the lean form of Vark in a surly manner.
“I want to see you about the Deacey diamonds. Why did you not bring them to me when you stole them?”
“Whoy? ’Cause I didn’t b’lieve in ye!” retorted Bill. “I know’d I wos in fur toime when I prigged them apples, an’ I wasn’t going to trust my swag to y’ or Monkey. Y’d ha’ sold me.”
“Well, Monkey did sell you.”
“Yah! ’e didn’t get much on th’ deal!”
“No; but Bolker did.”
“Bolker!” echoed Bill, grinding his teeth: “d’ y’ know that crooked cuss? Y’ do! Well, see ’ere!”—Bill drew his clasp-knife out of his pocket and opened it—“I’m goin’ to slip that int’ ’im fust toime as I claps eyes on ’is ugly mug!”
“You’d better not, unless you want to be hanged.”
“Wot d’ I care?” growled Bill, sulkily; “scragged, or time with skilly an’ hoakum. It’s all th’ saime t’ me.”
“I suppose you wonder where the diamonds are?”
“Yus. I want ’em!”
“That’s a pity,” said Vark, with irony—“because I am afraid you won’t get them.”
“Where is them d
imins?” asked Bill, laying his open knife on the table.
Vark passed over the question. “I suppose you know that the police are after you for the Deacey robbery?” he said, slipping his hand idly across the table till it was within reach of the knife. “Oh, yes; Lord Deacey offered a reward for the recovery of the jewels. That has been paid, but as you are still at large, the police want you, my friend!”
“Oh, I ain’t afraid of y’ givin’ me up; I’m too useful t’ y’, I am, and I knows too much about y’. The pealers shawn’t put me in quod this toime. Who got the reward?” he asked suddenly.
“Bolker got it.”
“D——n him! Bolker!”
“Yes. Monkey made a mistake when he trusted the lad. Bolker thought that he would make more out of honesty than by going shares with Monkey. When he found the jewels, he went off with them to Scotland Yard. Lady Deacey has them now, and Bolker,” added Vark, smiling, “has money in the bank.”
“Cuss ’im; whoy didn’t I cut ’is bloomin’ throat down by the river?”
“That is best known to yourself,” replied Vark, who was now playing with the knife. “You are in a tight place, my friend, and may get some years for this robbery.”
“Yah! No one knows I did it!”
“There is the evidence against you,” said Vark, pointing to the mandarin. “You stole that out of Lord Deacey’s drawing-room along with the diamonds. You pawned it, and Hagar can swear that you did so. Bolker can swear that the stolen diamonds were inside. With these two witnesses, my poor Bill, I’m afraid you’d get six years or more!”
“Not me!” said Bill, rising. “Y’ won’t give me up; and I ain’t feared of anyone else.”
“Why not? There is a reward offered for your apprehension.”
“What d’ I care? Who’ll git it?”
“I will!” replied Vark, coolly, rising.
“You?” Bill recoiled for a moment, and sprang forward. “Cuss you! Y’d sell me, y’ shark! Gimme my knife!”
The Big Book of Female Detectives Page 14