CHAPTER XXX
NARRATES A STARTLING AFFAIR
I lost no time, but quickly hurried round to Arkwright Road, strollingpast the new, well-kept, red-brick house which, upon its gate, bore thewords in neat white letters, "Merton Lodge."
In several of the windows were lights. What, I wondered, was the natureof the consultation going on within?
While I walked to the corner of Frognal, Benham remained at the FinchleyRoad end, within call.
I watched patiently, when, about half-past eight, the front door openedand Lola, descending the steps, left the house, walking alone in mydirection.
Drawing back quickly, I resolved to follow her, and doing so, went afterher straight up Arkwright Road, and up Fitzjohn's Avenue, till she cameto the Hampstead Tube Station, where, in the entrance, I was astoundedto see Edward Craig awaiting her.
He raised his hat and shook her hand warmly, while she, flushed withpleasure, strolled at his side up the steep hill towards the Heath.
The attitude of the man, who was once supposed to have been dead andburied, was now very different to what it had been when he had watchedher in secret at Boscombe.
I stood watching the pair, puzzled and wondering. What could it mean?
They were both smart and handsome. She, with all the vivaciousmannerisms of the chic Parisienne, was explaining something with muchgesticulation, while he strode at her side, bending to listen.
Behind them, I came on unobserved, following them on the high road overthe dark, windy Heath, past the well-known inn called _Jack Straw'sCastle_--the Mecca of the East-End seeker after fresh air--and on acrossthe long, straight road which led to the ancient Spaniards, one of thelandmarks of suburban London.
Half-way along that wide, open road, at that hour deserted, they sattogether upon a seat, talking earnestly, while I, leaving the road, layhidden in a bush upon the Heath. Lola seemed to be making some longexplanation, and then I distinctly saw him take her hand, and hold itsympathetically, as he looked her full in the face.
Presently they rose, and walked the whole length of the open road, whichled across the top of the Heath, as far as the Spaniards. On eitherside, far below, lay the lights of London, while, above, the rednight-glare was reflected from the lowering sky.
As they walked closely beside each other, with halting steps, as thoughthe moments of their meeting were passing all too rapidly, the man fromthe grave was speaking, low and earnestly, into her ear.
She seemed to be listening to him in silence. And I watched on,half-inclined to the belief that they were lovers.
Nevertheless, such an idea seemed ridiculous after Craig's demeanourwhen he had watched her through the window on that night in Boscombe.
Yes. The friendship between Lola and the man whom every one believed tobe in his grave, was a complete mystery.
I followed them back, past the infrequent street-lamps, to the seatwhereon they had at first sat. Upon it they sank again, and until nearlyten o'clock they remained in deep, earnest conversation.
When they rose, at last, I thought he raised her hand reverently to hislips. But I was so far away that I could not be absolutely certain. Asthey sauntered slowly down the hill to the station, I lounged leisurelyafter them.
They were too occupied with each other to be conscious of mysurveillance.
I saw them descend in the lift to the platform below, and I wascompelled to take the next lift.
Fortunately, the train had not left ere I gained it, and I got in therear carriage, keeping a wary eye upon each platform as we reached it.
At Oxford Street they alighted, and while they ascended by the lift, Itore up the stairs two steps at a time, reaching the street just as theyentered the big, grey, closed motor-car, which was apparently thereawaiting them, and moved off down the street.
In a moment I had hailed a taxi and was speeding after the grey car.
The red light showing the number-plate and the "G.B." plaque, wentswiftly down to Piccadilly Circus, then turning to the right alongPiccadilly, pulled up suddenly before the _Berkeley Hotel_, where bothalighted.
Craig went as far as the door and stood speaking with her for a momentor two; then, raising his hat, re-entered the grey car and drove rapidlyin the direction of Hyde Park Corner.
Having established the fact that Lola was staying at the _Berkeley_, Ire-entered my taxi, and in about half an hour alighted once more at thejunction of Arkwright Road with Finchley Road.
Benham quickly detected my arrival, and approaching me from thedarkness, said--
"I wondered where you'd gone to, sir, all the evening. Nobody has comeout. The three men are in there still."
I was very tired and hungry, therefore we both went into theneighbouring bar and swallowed some sandwiches. Then we went forthagain, and though midnight chimed from a distant church clock, there wasno sign of the interesting trio. Perhaps Vernon and Jeanjean werefatigued after their swift journey from the African coast.
The solution of the mystery at Cromer was still as far off as ever. Thereappearance of the supposed dead man had increased the complications inthe amazing problem which had, long ago, been given up by Frayne of theestimable Norfolk Constabulary as constituting an unsolvable "mystery."Both he and Treeton were, no doubt, busily engaged in trapping motoristswho exceeded "the limit," for to secure a conviction is a far greatercredit to the local police officer than the patient unravelling of amystery of crime. Hence the persistent lack of intelligence amongst toomany of the country police.
It was past one o'clock in the morning when, lurking together in adoorway, we saw the portals of Merton Lodge open, and Vernon with histwo friends, all in evening dress, come out. They buttoned their blackovercoats, pressed their crush-hats upon their heads against the wind,and all three sallied briskly forth in the direction of Fitzjohn'sAvenue.
Bertini was, I noticed, carrying a small leather bag, very strong, likethose used by bankers to convey their coin.
One thing, which struck me as curious, was that they made no noisewhatever as they walked. They were seemingly wearing boots with rubbersoles. Yet, being in evening clothes, they might all be wearingdancing-pumps.
We followed at a respectable distance, and, watching, saw someastounding manoeuvres.
Passing down Fitzjohn's Avenue to Swiss Cottage Station, they separated,Vernon taking a taxi and the others crossing to the station, which stillremained open.
I followed Vernon in another taxi while Benham, unknown to the othertwo, stood upon the kerb in the darkness and lit a cigarette.
Vernon's cab went direct to Tottenham Court Road, where, opposite the_Horse Shoe_, he alighted, and turning to the right, strolled alongOxford Street past the Oxford Music Hall, I dogging his steps all thetime.
Half-way down Oxford Street he paused and, turning into Wells Street,lit a cigar. Then he glanced up and down in expectancy till, some tenminutes later, a taxi-cab pulled up some distance away, and his twofriends alighted from it. Close on their heels came a second taxi, fromwhich I saw Benham jump out.
The trio separated, and neither took any notice of the others.
Jeanjean came out into Oxford Street, where I was standing in theshadow, and walking a few doors down in the direction of Great PortlandStreet, halted suddenly before the door of a large jeweller's shop,swiftly unlocked it with a key he held ready in his hand, and, ere Icould realize his intention, he was inside with the door closed behindhim.
The key had, no doubt, been already prepared from a cast of theoriginal, and the scene of action well prospected. Otherwise he wouldnever have dared to act in that openly defiant manner almost under thevery noses of the police.
I drew back and waited, watching the operations of the most notoriousjewel-thief in Europe, Benham keeping a wary eye upon the other pair.
Vernon, after a few moments, crossed into Poland Street, a narrowthoroughfare nearly opposite, while Bertini, carrying the bag, slippedalong to the jeweller's shop, and also entered by the unlocked door.
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sp; In the heavy iron revolving shutters were gratings, allowing the policeon the beat to see within, but from where I stood I could see no lightinside. All was quite quiet and unsuspicious. It was a marvel to me howsilently and actively both men had slipped from view right under thenoses of the police in Oxford Street, who are ever vigilant at night.
Vernon, watched by Benham, had hidden himself in a doorway with theevident intention of remaining until the _coup_ was successfullyeffected, and to immediately take over the spoils and lock them away inhis safes in Hatton Garden.
Five, ten, fifteen breathless minutes went by.
I saw the constable on the beat, walking with his sergeant, approachingme. Both were blissfully ignorant that within a few yards of them wasthe great Jules Jeanjean, for whose capture the French police had longago offered a vast reward.
I was compelled to shift from my point of vantage, yet I remained in thevicinity unseen by either.
What if the constable were to try the jeweller's door as he passed?
I watched the pair strolling slowly, their shiny capes on theirshoulders, for rain had begun to fall, watched them breathlessly.
Of a sudden the constable halted as he was passing the jeweller's shopdoor, and, stepping aside, tried it.
My heart stood still.
Next second, however, the truth was plain. The door had beenre-fastened, and the constable, reassured, went on, resuming his nightgossip with his sergeant at the point where he had broken off.
Yes. The two thieves were inside, no doubt sacking the place of all thatwas most valuable.
Their daring, swiftness, and expert methods were astounding. Truly JulesJeanjean was a veritable prince among jewel-thieves. Not another man inthe whole of Europe could approach him either for knowledge as towhether a gem were good or bad, for nerve and daring, for impudenteffrontery, or for swift and decisive action. He was a king amongjewel-thieves, and as such acknowledged by the dishonest fraternitywhose special prey was precious stones.
I stood in blank wonder and amazement.
My first impulse was to turn and step along to Oxford Circus, where Iknew another constable would be on point-duty. Indeed, I was about toraise the alarm without arousing old Vernon's suspicions, when I saw thejeweller's door open quickly and both men dashed out wildly and up WellsStreet as fast as their legs could carry them.
In a moment I saw that they had been desperately alarmed and werefleeing without waiting to secure their booty, for next second a man--awatchman who had been sleeping on the premises--staggered out upon thepavement, shouting, "Murder! Help! Thieves!" and then fell on the groundsenseless.
I rushed over to him, and by the light of the street-lamp saw that bloodwas flowing from a great wound in his skull. Then, in a moment, Benhamwas beside me, and the constable and sergeant came running back, beingjoined by a second constable.
Meanwhile Vernon, as well as the two thieves, had disappeared.
The man attacked was senseless. The wound in his head was a terribleone, apparently inflicted by a jemmy or life-preserver; so quickly anambulance was sent for, and the poor fellow was swiftly conveyed,apparently in a dying condition, to the Middlesex Hospital.
At first the police regarded me with some suspicion, but when Benhamexplained who he was, and that our attention had been attracted by"something wrong," they were satisfied. We, however, went round to thepolice-station and there made a statement that, in passing we had seentwo men--whom we described--enter the premises with a key, and as theydid not emerge, we waited, until we saw them escape, followed by theinjured watchman.
Then--it being about half-past three in the morning--we went back to thejeweller's, and there found the place in a state of great disorder. Atthe back of the window pieces of black linen had been suspended, inorder to shut out the light from the small gratings in the shutters,and, in what they had believed to be perfect security, the thieves,wearing gloves, had forced open several show-cases and packed their mostvaluable contents in a cotton bag ready for removal. The big safe, oneby a well-known maker, stood open, and the various valuable articles itcontained had been pulled roughly out, examined, and placed aside readyto be packed up, together with a bag containing about one hundredsovereigns, and a small packet of banknotes.
On the floor lay a beautiful pearl collar, while everywhere empty caseswere strewn about. Yet, as far as could be ascertained from the manager,who had come up hastily in a taxi, nothing had been taken.
Detectives came and began a thorough examination of the premises, andthe damage done.
They were looking for finger-prints, but it was not likely thatpractised experts such as Jules Jeanjean and his companion would riskdetection by leaving any.
I kept my knowledge to myself, and returned, weary and hungry, to myrooms, Benham accompanying me, and there we discussed our plans for themorrow.
The Place of Dragons: A Mystery Page 30