“Are you being funny?” said Diana.
“Not on your life,” said I. “I’d very much like him to have it. But not just yet.”
Three hours and a half had gone by, and Mansel was up and dressed and was smoking a pipe in my bedroom, while I was brushing my hair.
We had had two hours’ sleep and could have done with eight: but appearances had to be saved.
“I think you’re right,” said Mansel: “they’ll have to go into the car. That secret locker has never yet been found. We can’t take them out that way, for the risk is too great. But until we take them out, I think they must lie in the Rolls.”
“Can we get them all in?” I said.
“Oh, yes. They don’t take up much room. But you must see them, William, for they are beyond all price. The size and glory of the stones, and the fabulous workmanship… Each one is worth a fortune – intrinsically. When you add to them their history, imagination boggles at what the world will say.”
I laughed, and picked up a tie.
“I’ll see them in England,” I said. “I assume we transfer them tonight.”
“This morning,” said Mansel. “A suitcase goes into the car, and we go for a run. About eleven, I think. We lunch abroad and get back in time for tea.”
“You know best,” said I; “but why not in time for lunch?”
“Suggestio falsi, William. The transfer will take half an hour; but where we lay up our treasure is going to be our affair. Not even the Ferrers will know. John is content, and Olivia is greatly relieved. As nobody knows of the locker, Palin and they will assume that we’ve either buried the gems or shoved them into some Bank.”
“Very good,” said I. “And what about the suitcase? Supposing a servant sees it go into the car…”
“It’s Palin’s suitcase, and Carson will put it in. Palin has need of some clothes which he left at the inn. And as we shall go by that way, we have offered to bring them along. And now about Diana Revoke.”
I think,” I said, “I think she’s told me the truth. If she hasn’t, she’s a beautiful liar. But I’m not entirely sure of that baby stare.”
“If she is honest,” said Mansel, “provided she’s willing to play, I think we may very well use her to string Friar along.”
“I hinted at that, and she seemed to jump at the chance.” I picked up a coat. “But she mustn’t go too far: I mean double-crossing Friar is not a game for a girl.”
“She mustn’t do it in person. I had a letter in mind. And now let’s go down to breakfast – and hope that the Boche doesn’t come till we’re out of the way.”
Though I think our night’s work must have been in everyone’s mind, it was not referred to at table by look or word. For all that, Diana was thoughtful; and when Mansel announced that, if we might be excused, he and I would drive over to Villach, I saw a look of relief come into Olivia’s face.
This was natural enough. So long as no man suspected that treasure was lying within her husband’s gates, its existence could be ignored; but once the secret was out, she could not put out of her mind the shocking scene she had witnessed five years before. All for the sake of those gems, she and John and Palin had been condemned to death – and had seen the sentence fulfilled on those that issued it. And now other rogues had arisen, determined to have their way. One man was dead already, and the Boche was waiting to pounce.
“Villach,” said Palin. “That means that you’ll pass my abode. If I were to give you a suitcase, would you be so very good as to get me some clothes? I’ve a very elegant suit in gorilla grey, with a flame-coloured overcheck… Then I’m running short of shirts and other accessories. If I had a word with Carson, I think he could make his selection, before you had finished your beer.”
“With pleasure,” said Mansel: “but give us a note to your landlord, to warrant the rape.”
“It shall be done,” said Palin. “What time shall you start?”
“We thought about eleven,” said Mansel. He returned to Olivia. “May we take some sandwiches with us? I think we’ll be back for tea.”
“Of course,” said Olivia, smiling. “Luncheon for four?”
“If you please, my dear.”
So everything was arranged.
Sharp at eleven o’clock, the Rolls stole out of the coachhouse and up to the castle’s door, and two minutes later we glided over the drawbridge and on to the road of approach. This was, as I have said, some two miles long, and so we had four or five minutes in which to run into the Boche: but that ill luck we were spared and, in fact, we turned into the highway without having seen a soul.
Mansel put down his foot…
Two hours later, perhaps, some thirty miles from Villach, we left the road for a track which ran into a wood.
We did not know the place, but it seemed retired, and we had chosen a time when husbandmen would be eating their midday meal. Still, precautions had to be taken; and Carson and Bell played sentry, while Mansel and I bestowed the precious stones.
Where the locker was, I shall not reveal: but it was well contrived and cleverly hidden away. Had the coachwork of the car been measured, it would, no doubt, have been found: but even the eyes of those who are trained to observe had never suspected its being for several years.
Each of the jewels was wrapped in a fragment of cotton wool. (As I have said, when I had handled them last, each had lain in its jewel-case – a little, old, padded bag: but these had been discarded, for fear of the virulent poison with which they had been in touch.) There was, therefore, no packing to be done, for the wool was padding enough against any vibration or shock. For all that, we lined the locker with layers of more cotton wool, for its burden had to lie snug and must on no account shift, whatever movement the car might happen to make.
I handed the gems to Mansel, who laid them up, and I told them as I did so and found the tale correct.
One hundred and twenty-seven sculptured jewels…
When Mansel received the last one, he loosed its elastic band and, carefully parting the wool, picked out the precious stone and set it in the palm of my hand.
“Look at that, William,” he said.
The jewel was a monstrous ruby.
I never knew that rubies could be carved; but there, before my eyes, was the head of a laughing Bacchante, all done in pigeon’s blood. Had it been wrought in marble, it would have filled the eye, so exquisite was the detail, so vivid the air of abandon, so rare were the parted lips and the tilt of the chin: but this was made of a ruby, fit for an emperor’s crown.
I gazed upon it in silence.
“There’s no deception,” said Mansel. “That is a Burmese ruby – the finest I ever saw.”
“My God,” I said, weakly. And then, “Are they all like that?”
“All,” said Mansel. “The Pope was a connoisseur.”
We put in still more padding – wool and scarves and stockings, until the locker was tight: then Mansel replaced the partition and screwed it home. The screwheads were countersunk, and when they had been re-covered, I do not think that a coach-builder would have looked twice at the panel which hid the recess. This being so, we were, perhaps, foolish not to have driven for the Channel as fast as we could – indeed, the idea was tempting beyond belief: but it must be remembered that, if the risk was slight, the stake was beyond calculation, it was so high. And if the car had been held and the gems had been found, neither Mansel nor I would have been the same men again.
Then we called our sentinels in and we all of us ate our lunch, after which we drove to Villach and had a word with an inn-keeper whom we knew. Then we made for Palin’s inn, to pick up his clothes, and just before five o’clock, we were back at Hohenems.
As we slid into the courtyard—
“End of Act One,” said Mansel. “I wonder how many there’ll be.”
Here, perhaps, I should say that Carson always slept in the harness room. This opened into the coach-house in which the Rolls was lodged. Such procedure was normal, when Mansel
was ‘on the job’. For the Rolls was our magic carpet. More often than I can remember, if Carson or Bell was absent, Mansel or I have slept in the car ourselves.
The Ferrers had nothing to report, and, taking tea on the terrace, surveying as gentle a prospect as ever I saw, I found it hard to believe that Violence, Battle and Murder were, so to speak, in the wings. The valley was floored with meadows, through which a lively stream was making its wanton way: its sides were all of woodland, close and deep and reflecting each whim of the foothills on which it grew. Cows and sheep were making the most of this pleasance, and a colt, shut into a paddock, was standing beside its dam. And the lazy, afternoon sunshine was arraying the scene with splendour, gilding the green of the foliage, printing the shadow of substance upon the sward and turning the water into a ribbon of silver, so that its flash betrayed the course of the torrent after the law of Distance had ruled it out of our sight.
Then the butler appeared upon the terrace, to say that the German had come.
“See him with Palin,” said Mansel; “William and I are not coming on in this scene.”
But, while Ferrers and Palin made for the gallery, Mansel and I passed upstairs and so to the head of the steps down which Diana had come some thirteen hours before.
As we descended quietly, footfalls rang in the passage and then came Ferrers’ voice.
“This is the place, I am told, at which the carpet was found.”
No answer was made, and presently Ferrers went on.
“You asked to see this spot, which Mr Palin tells me you’ve seen before. Now that you’ve seen it again, is there anything else you want?”
“ I am investigating. I desire to be left alone.”
“In a house such as this, no stranger is left alone.”
“I am of the police.”
“That is why you were admitted. What else do you wish to see?”
“You would be obstructive!” spat the Boche.
There was a little silence.
Then—
“I asked you,” said Ferrers, coldly, “what else you wished to see.”
That he should ignore the German’s offensive charge was more than the latter could bear. At least, so it seemed to me, for the fellow burst out in a voice which was shaken with rage.
“Show me the hidden treasure for which these bandits came. They left alone your silver. They never entered a bedroom, in search of jewels. Your private safe was untouched. Why was that, Englishman? Because you know, as I do, they came for none of those things. They came for something greater – something which lies down here. Why did they want that carpet?”
“ If that is your theory,” said Ferrers, “you’d better ask them. I never heard of a treasure lying within these walls – and I don’t believe there is one. I can explain the carpet no more than anyone else. I’ve no idea why they moved it.”
“Because they required a carpet, to bring them to what they sought.”
“So you say,” said Ferrers. “You may be right. The position is simply this – that so far as I am concerned, there is nothing gone. The police were summoned, because a man was found dead – not because the house had been entered, for there had been no theft.”
“Why are you so sure there was no theft? Is your treasure still safe?”
I heard Ferrers expire.
“I have told you,” he said, “that there is no treasure here. If the thieves believed that there was, they made a mistake.”
“And I tell you that thieves make no such mistakes.” This was, of course, perfectly true: and I could not help feeling that the German had scored a point.
“As you please,” said Ferrers. “Perhaps they found the treasure and took it away.”
“Of that there was no indication.”
“So far as I understand, what indications there were are so many signposts pointing to nowhere at all.”
“That is because you are obstructive.”
For the second time Ferrers expired.
“You have,” he said, “been admitted – more than once: you have been allowed–”
“Allowed?”
“–allowed to visit the place you desired to see. I don’t call that obstruction.”
“Yet you refuse to disclose what it was the thieves sought.”
“I have told you,” said Ferrers, “I don’t know what they sought. I don’t know why they came, and I don’t know why they went. I don’t know why one was murdered. I don’t know anything.”
“Yet you withstand assistance. I find that strange.”
“You have offered me no assistance. All you can do is to say that there’s treasure here.”
“Which happens to be the answer to all that you are pretending you do not know.” I heard the man suck in his breath. “The day will come, Englishman, when–”
“I think,” said Ferrers, “that you had better withdraw. This is a private house in Austria – not a prison cell in Germany.”
“You would insult an officer of the Reich!”
“Not at all. I prefer your absence to your presence. I don’t put it higher than that.”
There was another silence.
Then—
“I go,” said the German. “I go, but I do not forget. One day I shall come back – and you will show me the place where the treasure lies.”
As the footfalls receded—
“You must give Friar best,” said Mansel. “We may have bruised his head, but, by God, he’s bruised our heel.”
That night, after dinner, we told Diana the truth. This seemed the best thing to do; for, if she were honest, such trust in her would grapple her to our cause; but, if she were running with Friar – well, we had told her nothing she did not know. Indeed, by my advice, we used her exactly as though she were one of us, concealing nothing at all, except, of course, how we had disposed of the gems.
“So there we are,” said Mansel. “The stable is empty: the stable door is shut: of its having been opened, there is, I think, no sign: all we have to do now is to get the horse out of the country.”
“All,” said Ferrers, and laughed.
“It mayn’t be so bad,” said Mansel. “But I think we should leave the castle on Thursday next.”
“The day after tomorrow?” said Olivia.
“I think so, my lady. Not that we want to go, but Time is not in our favour – he never seems to be. In spite of all the checks upon passports, the Boche may not know that we’re here. You see, at the moment, this isn’t Germany: and Austrian police staff-work is not too good. I’m afraid he’s bound to find out that we have visited you: but I’d very much sooner he watched an empty stable than that he shadowed us wherever we go. So if we could get a short start… Yes, I think we should go on Thursday. Our rooms will be waiting at Villach on Thursday night.”
“And Friar?” said Olivia.
“We shall know when he’s back all right. But, unless I’m much mistaken, it won’t be just yet.” He turned to Diana. “Where were you to address him?”
“C/o the Bank of Austria, Salzburg.”
“Would you like to wire him on Wednesday?”
“If you think it’s wise, Captain Mansel.”
“I think it’s natural. And later, perhaps, you shall write.”
“You’ll tell me what to say.”
“Of course. But I want you to remember, Diana, that if you come in with us, you must do as we say. You can’t play Friar on your own – he’s the very hell of a fish.”
“I swear,” said Diana, quickly.
“Will you stay on here for the present?”
“If Olivia and John will have me.”
“That goes without saying,” said Olivia.
“And what about me?” said Palin. “You must admit that I pull my weight as a clown. I showed the robber chief how to get at the jewels. That’s more than Columbine’s done: so give me another chance to make a fool of myself.”
“Your host was to blame,” said Mansel. “He never warned you that Punter was her
eabouts.”
“I entirely agree,” said John. “ It wasn’t your fault.”
“I must confess,” said Palin, “that if you had told me that, I should have repaired to this mansion, armed the servants and had the drawbridge raised.”
“You can serve us best,” said Mansel, “by going back to your inn and standing by. I’m perfectly sure we shall need you: but when and how we shall need you, I cannot say.”
“It shall be done,” said Palin. “But I shall be very lonely. If Friar should come back for a night…”
“Keep him,” said Mansel, laughing. “And let me know. Our address is The Sickle at Villach, but keep it quiet.”
“And we,” said John Ferrers, “for whom you are doing all this, to save whose property you two are risking your lives, are to sit still here and let you lie out in the rain.”
“John,” said Mansel, “I don’t have to argue with you. The moment you leave the castle, they’ll know that the gems are gone. Though you stay here, they may suspect that they’re gone. But the moment you leave, they’ll know. And I don’t want them to know. I want to keep them guessing right up to the last.”
“And now,” said Olivia, rising, “Andrew shall play us upstairs. Jonah and Richard are abnormal, but Andrew and John are half-dead for want of sleep.”
Palin passed to the piano.
“It’ll have to be ‘Bohème’,” he said. “But that I can play when I’m tight.”
So, to the strains of Puccini, we went to our beds.
This, at a quarter past ten: and I must confess that, despite what Olivia had said, I liked the look of my sheets. I promised myself a good night… But Fortune ruled otherwise.
It was almost half past twelve when Mansel slipped into my room. Weary or no, I am a very light sleeper; and so I was sitting up, ready, before he spoke.
“Mansel speaking, William. Don’t show a light.”
“More trouble?”
“It might be. The Boche has come back.”
I sighed.
“Only a German,” I said, “would do such a brutal thing.”
“And he’s brought a posse with him. They’re searching the castle now.”
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