No. 17

by J. Jefferson Farjeon

  ‘No, no—your part of the bargain first!’ she gasped tumultuously.

  He seized her again, more firmly.

  ‘Oh, you beauty!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t need to make terms with you—I can get all I want for nothing!’

  ‘You beast, you beast!’ she sobbed.

  He kissed her passionately, then let her go suddenly.

  ‘Beast, am I?’ he cried. ‘No, wait a minute. I’ll show you—I’ll show you, Nora! What would you say if I were to put a diamond necklace round that pretty throat of yours? A diamond necklace, my girl, worth forty thousand pounds? Ah, that’ll make you change your tune—that’ll buy your kisses! Look, Nora—look—!’

  He put his hand into his pocket, and as he did so, a change spread over his face. A new passion enveloped it—an agony of amazement and wrathful disappointment. For a few seconds he stared at Nora, dazed, while she, dishevelled, stared back at him. Then, in a hoarse whisper, he gasped:

  ‘Gone!’

  The word awoke him to action. With an oath, he rushed to the wall and worked the lever with trembling hands. Slowly the door to the dark passage swung open, and, as it did so, two figures leapt into the room.

  ‘On him, Ben!’ cried one.

  ‘Git ’is legs!’ yelled the other.

  Nora fell back with a sob, and clasped her hands. The figures swung and swayed around the room. Then, in a lightning flash, the smallest hit the biggest with a piece of broken iron, the stricken man clutched the air, toppled—and fell down the yawning hole into the smoky blackness.

  26

  The Necklace Turns Up

  Fordyce, recovering from a nasty blow, found Nora bending over him. For the moment she was all he saw, and the relief in her eyes was no greater than the relief in his.

  As soon as Smith had fallen down into the tunnel she had run to the wall and closed the trap-door, following a blind impulse to place one further barrier between her and the terror Smith had stood for. Her distraught condition was reflected by this action, since Smith was obviously in no condition to do her any more harm. Then she had closed the door.

  Now, as Fordyce looked up at her, her mind swung to happier but still anxious thoughts.

  ‘Are you badly hurt?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ replied Fordyce. ‘We managed to get loose upstairs—tell you about that later—whew! that chap winded me!’

  ‘Don’t talk, if—’

  ‘Oh, I’m all right … Then we got outside that door there, and were wondering how on earth to get in when it kindly opened, all of its little self. The way that relic of the Merchant Service jumped on Smith!… By the way, where is Ben?’

  ‘’Ere,’ replied Ben, from the floor.

  Fordyce turned and stared at him.

  ‘What on earth are you supposed to be doing?’ he inquired.

  ‘Sitting on the plice where ’e went dahn, in case ’e pops hup agin,’ answered Ben.

  ‘Small fear of that, old son,’ remarked Fordyce gravely.

  ‘P’r’aps, but I ain’t takin’ no charnces,’ retorted the sailor. ‘And, wot’s more, I ain’t messin’ hup me pocket-’ankerchiff fer ’im.’ He chuckled. ‘Best bit o’ manslaughter, guv’nor, I hever seed!’

  ‘I second that,’ nodded Fordyce. ‘Didn’t I say you’d come up to scratch when the moment arrived?’

  ‘Yus. Ye’r’ always right, guv’nor, if yer waits long enuff. Yer’ve been tryin’ ter mike me hout a murderer orl the hafternoon, and now, blimy, yer’ve done it!’

  ‘Well, don’t worry, old chap,’ smiled Fordyce. ‘You won’t be hanged for it. Hallo!’ he exclaimed. ‘Who closed that door?’

  ‘I—I’m afraid I did,’ answered Nora.

  ‘Oh! Any special reason, Miss Brant?’

  She shook her head a little dazedly. ‘No. I don’t really know. I just pushed it to—after closing the trap—’

  ‘Quite right, miss,’ interposed Ben. ‘Keep the spooks hout. I’d ’a’ done the sime meself in a minit.’

  ‘H’m,’ murmured Fordyce. ‘It’s one of those secret trick doors, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I think so,’ answered Nora.

  ‘Know how to open it?’

  She shook her head again. ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

  ‘Well, what about the trap-door? Do you know how to open that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Lummy!’ gasped Ben shakily. ‘Are we locked in, guv’nor?’

  ‘Looks rather like it, old son,’ replied Fordyce, and, rising, walked across to examine the complicated mechanism. ‘I expect it works by some secret combination,’ he said.

  They watched him, while he tried unsuccessfully to discover the solution.

  ‘P’r’aps I could do it, guv’nor?’ suggested Ben. ‘A sailor knows abart knots.’

  ‘Go ahead, then,’ answered Fordyce, and turned to Nora. ‘Thank the Lord, you’re safe, anyway, Miss Brant.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he retorted. ‘I say, that wine looks rather good! Would you like a glass?’

  ‘No, thank you. But perhaps you would?’

  ‘I would,’ he admitted, and she ran to the table to pour it out for him.

  ‘Wot’s that—wine?’ exclaimed Ben, coming away from the wall. But then he hesitated. ‘No, better not, guv’nor—not on a hempty stummick. ’Unk o’ bread ’d be more in my line.’

  ‘Well, I’ll give you a whole baker’s shop one day,’ responded Fordyce.

  ‘That’ll be in ’Eving,’ muttered Ben, ‘if we don’t find the way hout o’ this blinkin’ room. I’ll never go in a room agin, I won’t. As soon as yer gits in, they claws yer, and it tikes yer hours ter git hout agin. I—’ Suddenly he leapt in the air. He had been walking by the curtain, and had put his hand against it. ‘Oi! Oi!’ he shouted.

  ‘What is it now?’ exclaimed Fordyce.

  ‘Corpse!’ reported Ben sepulchrally. ‘Another of ’em!’

  ‘Good Lord—’

  ‘My Gawd, guv’nor,’ said Ben seriously, ‘someone sows ’em in this ’ouse, and they comes hup like buttercups and daisies!’

  ‘He’s a detective,’ interposed Nora quickly, and Fordyce paused abruptly on his way to the curtain. ‘He’s not dead. They bound him.’

  ‘Detective, eh?’ frowned Fordyce.

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Please release him. They fixed him with his own handcuffs. Look—there’s the key on the table.’

  Fordyce picked up the key, but still he hesitated.

  ‘I suppose it’s the fellow who was with you—the one called Henry?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes. But that was only a pose. He was found out, and they tied him up.’

  ‘But, surely,’ said Fordyce, ‘you don’t want me to release a detective?’

  ‘Yes—of course.’

  ‘Before you’ve had a chance to slip away?’ She nodded. ‘You know what that’ll mean to you?’

  ‘Yes. But I’m cornered anyway, aren’t I?’

  ‘Not if you make your dash for freedom first?’

  ‘Freedom!’ She spoke the word bitterly. ‘You were right. There’s no freedom for my sort.’

  He shook his head gently.

  ‘No, I didn’t say quite that, if you’ll remember, Miss Brant.’

  ‘Oi,’ whispered Ben.

  ‘One moment, Ben. Look here, Miss Brant, I haven’t quite got the hang of this yet. Where’s your uncle?’

  ‘He’s gone,’ she told him.

  ‘Why didn’t you go with him?’

  ‘I preferred to stay behind.’

  ‘Yes, but why?’ he insisted.

  ‘Oh—does it matter?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m beginning to think, Miss Brant, it matters very much,’ murmured Fordyce.

  ‘Oi! ’Ow much longer are yer goin’ ter stand there jawin’, while this ’ere bloke sufferkates! Don’t that matter?’ demanded Ben.

  ‘Right!’ sighed Fordyce. ‘Carry on, my rough diamo
nd.’

  ‘Wot’s that—di’mond?’ exclaimed Ben, starting.

  ‘I said, carry on—and let’s hope we’re assisting in the cause of humanity!’

  ‘You’d hassist in any cause,’ mumbled Ben. ‘Yer was marked fer it!’

  They pulled the curtain aside, and quickly unbound and ungagged the gasping man. He was not seriously hurt, but he took several minutes to recover. The wine assisted him. When he was in a fit condition to speak, Fordyce asked:

  ‘Feeling better?’

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ he nodded.

  ‘They tied you up properly, didn’t they? What happened?’

  ‘They got wise to me—found out who I was … Yes, I should like another drop, please … They did me in, just as I thought I’d got my net over them.’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Fordyce.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you now,’ he replied. ‘I’m police department.’

  ‘Good Lord!’

  ‘As a matter of fact—I happen to be Barton.’

  Fordyce whistled.

  ‘I say! You’re not really—Barton himself?’ he exclaimed, with a glance at Nora.

  ‘Yes, himself. I’ve been tracking Sheldrake and the Suffolk diamonds ever since we let the rascal break prison.’ He frowned. ‘And now he’s—’

  ‘Dahn the well, guv’nor,’ interposed Ben. ‘Dahn the well, with a crack on ’is cokernut!’

  ‘Poor devil! Brant had better luck. He got away. But I don’t expect he’ll get far. I’ve got my men posted. And, meanwhile, I see, we’ve got the girl.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got me, Mr Barton,’ she answered quietly.

  ‘But perhaps the law might be lenient in her case, eh?’ suggested Fordyce. ‘She needn’t have stayed behind, inspector!’

  ‘No, she needn’t, but she did,’ he responded dryly. ‘And, as a matter of fact, sir, I happen to guess pretty shrewdly why she stayed behind.’

  ‘Really,’ said Fordyce. ‘Why?’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell us, Miss Brant.’ Nora was silent. ‘Come, why was it?’

  ‘If—if you really want to know,’ she answered, ‘I stayed behind because I—I mistrusted Sheldrake.’

  ‘Interesting. In what way did you mistrust him?’

  ‘I thought he might be up to some fresh game, dangerous to you—and to Mr Fordyce.’

  ‘The pose of virtue hardly suits you, Miss Brant,’ came the icy response. ‘How did you propose to stop this fresh game, as you call it?’

  Nora bit her lip. ‘Oh, I don’t mind what you think,’ she muttered. ‘You can think what you like.’

  Fordyce approached her. ‘Please,’ he said quietly. ‘We’d like to hear.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ she answered, turning to him. ‘I offered to become Sheldrake’s—working partner, if he’d undertake to let you get safely away.’

  Fordyce regarded her fixedly for a moment. ‘I call that rather sporting.’ An ironic laugh swung him round. ‘You know, she doesn’t sound at all like a crook to me, inspector!’

  ‘That’s because you haven’t my experience of crooks,’ he retorted. ‘You don’t understand their tricks, as I do.’

  ‘I dare say not,’ murmured Fordyce. ‘But I’ve a theory that some of the crooks are crooks by nature, and others by circumstance.’

  ‘All the same, believe me. Why, that was a typical crook story. Sob stuff. Just moonshine!’

  ‘Yes, but look here,’ exclaimed Fordyce testily. ‘What other reason could she have had? Let’s hear your suggestion. I may not know much about crooks, but I know enough about police to know that they always have a theory—and it’s nearly always the wrong one. Now then, inspector, trot out your suggestion!’

  ‘I suggest to you, Miss Brant,’ he said, turning to the girl, ‘that you stayed behind because you knew that Sheldrake was certain not to be far from the diamond necklace formerly worn by the Duchess of Suffolk.’

  ‘Eh? Wot’s that?’ jerked Ben suddenly. Despite his resolution, he had fallen to the temptation of the wine, and was just finishing his second glass.

  ‘The suggestion is not true, Mr Barton,’ replied Nora.

  ‘Nevertheless, I still suggest it,’ he returned, regarding her searchingly. ‘I suggest that it was quite worth while making up to Sheldrake, Miss Brant. And I will go even further, and suggest that Sheldrake actually showed you the necklace here, in this very room, and placed it round your neck?’

  ‘Wot’s that?’ exclaimed Ben, his eyes popping.

  ‘That’s not true, either,’ said Nora quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have the evidence of my own ears—’

  ‘I tell you, it’s not true, Mr Barton,’ she repeated. ‘If I had the necklace here, I’d give it to you.’

  ‘’Ear, ’ear,’ nodded Ben vigorously. ‘’Ere’s ’ow!’

  ‘Steady, Ben,’ murmured Fordyce warningly. ‘Inspector, I feel sure Miss Brant is telling the truth—’

  ‘Unfortunately, I don’t share that view,’ he interposed, ‘and, in the present circumstances, my views go. I’m afraid we’ll have to search you, Miss Brant, if you’ve no objection?’

  ‘I have—a very strong objection,’ answered Nora.

  Fordyce’s frown deepened.

  ‘I say—look here,’ he exclaimed. ‘Don’t let’s be too hasty over this, inspector.’

  ‘I don’t want to seem rude,’ came the sharp response, ‘but aren’t you rather exceeding your rights? Kindly let me handle this in my own way!’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to seem rude, either,’ responded Fordyce, ‘but if your way means any unpleasantness to Miss Brant—well, I’m damned if I will!’

  The official voice controlled itself with difficulty.

  ‘I wonder if you realise—Mr Fordyce?—that you’re on rather delicate ground yourself, and that, from an official point of view, your interference is unwarrantable. There is such an offence, you know, as interference with the police in the performance of their duty. Of course, if you persist in wilfully misunderstanding me—’

  ‘No, inspector, I’m not wilfully misunderstanding you,’ interrupted Fordyce, ‘but I’m just trying to give a girl a fair chance, and the whole of Scotland Yard wouldn’t convince me that I’m wrong.’ He turned to Nora. ‘Miss Brant—you say you haven’t got the necklace?’

  ‘I’ll swear it, if you like.’

  ‘No, your word’s good enough for me. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Yes, but very little more than Mr Barton knows himself. Sheldrake came back to this house to get the necklace—I’ve learned that—and I believe he did get it, because he offered to put it round my neck. But when he felt in his pocket, it was gone. He’d lost it—yes, it’s true, Mr Barton,’ she insisted, as he made an impatient gesture. ‘He was rushing out of the room when—’

  ‘Well, what do you think of that?’ he interposed. ‘Quite the thinnest story I’ve ever heard, Miss Brant! I actually heard Sheldrake say he would put the necklace on you, while I was behind that curtain.’

  ‘If you heard that, Mr Barton, then you must also have heard the terms I made with Sheldrake—yet you’re trying to make out that my one thought was the necklace.’

  ‘Bah! I knew what was behind those terms. Come along. I’m going to search you!’

  He advanced towards her, and suddenly found Fordyce in between. Fordyce’s fists were clenched, and they looked quite useful fists.

  ‘Sorry it’s got to come to this, Mr Barton,’ murmured Fordyce.

  ‘Well, it hasn’t—quite,’ returned the other fiercely. ‘And at least you’ll admit, Mr Fordyce, that I’m doing all I can, and exercising a good deal of self-control, to prevent it! Perhaps the police will accept your testimony as to the prisoner’s spotless character,’ he added dryly, as he walked away towards the desk in the alcove. ‘I’ll make a note of that in my report. Miss Brant, you’ve got a couple of minutes still. Produce the necklace before I’ve finished my notes, and I give you my
word you can go free.’

  Saying which, he sat down at the desk, his back to them, and began to write.

  Nora looked at Fordyce helplessly, flushed, and lowered her head. Then Fordyce, watching her, felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. Ben, with a queer look in his eyes, was trying to attract his attention.

  ‘Think ’e means it, guv’nor?’ queried the sailor unsteadily.

  ‘Well, he said so,’ replied Fordyce.

  ‘Wot—let ’er go, if them sparklers turns hup?’

  ‘That was his observation.’

  Ben passed his hand across his forehead. ‘Is this room goin’ rahnd?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it’s quite stationary,’ smiled Fordyce. ‘I expect it’s that Burgundy on an empty stomach, old son.’ He paused, but as Ben’s mind seemed to be going round as well as the room, he turned back to Nora. ‘Don’t be down-hearted, Miss Brant,’ he said. ‘Detectives aren’t trustful, you know—it’s their business not to be.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t blame him,’ she returned, in a low voice. ‘Why should he believe me? Why—do you?’

  He reflected a moment.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ he said. ‘I believe you because I believe in instinct even more than in logic. And instinct, after all, is simply the deeper logic we can’t explain. I trusted you the moment I saw you. And, by the way—here’s a little surprise for you. Today isn’t the first time I’ve seen you.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she replied, puzzled.

  ‘Ah, the greatest things in life are those we understand the least, Miss Brant. For instance, do you understand why you refused to make your dash for liberty?’

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘You gave me the words. But can you explain the impulse? There you are! And here’s another thing. Can you explain why you and I are chatting together like old friends while your liberty’s ticking away in that corner over there?’

  She looked at him quickly, and her flush deepened.

  ‘Do you really feel as though we were old friends?’ she asked.

  ‘By Jove, I do,’ he replied. ‘And I’ve got an idea we’re going to be better friends. I say, Miss Brant—look here.’ He took his case out of his pocket, and scribbled something on a piece of paper. ‘I’ve got rather a decent old aunt. She lives in Normandy. She’s perfectly sane, excepting in two particulars—she hates the conventions, and she’s rather fond of me.’ He handed her the paper. ‘There’s her address. If you win through to the Continent—no, when you win through to the Continent—don’t let’s be pessimistic!—look her up.’ She stared at him. ‘She’ll expect you. I’ve rather a funny habit of looking ahead.’