“What else could it be?” I urged.
“The result of a slight push from the top of the stairs,” he remarked placidly, whilst a complicated knot went to join a row of its fellows.
“But Mrs William Yule had left the house before midnight – or, at any rate, someone had. Do you think she had an accomplice?”
“I think,” he said excitedly, “that the mysterious visitor who left the house that night had an instigator whose name was William Bloggs.”
“I don’t understand,” I gasped in amazement.
“Point No. 1,” he shrieked, while the row of knots followed each other in rapid succession. “Young Bloggs swore a lie when he swore that it was Mrs William Yule who called at Dartmoor Terrace that night.”
“What makes you say that?” I retorted.
“One very simple fact,” he replied, “so simple that it was, of course, overlooked. Do you remember that one of the things which Annie overheard was old Mrs Yule’s irate words, ‘Very well, you may sleep here; but, remember, I do not wish to see your face again. You can leave my house before I return from church; you can get plenty of trains after seven o’clock.’ Now what do you make of that?” he added triumphantly.
“Nothing in particular,” I rejoined; “it was an awfully wet night, and –”
“And High Street Kensington Station within two minutes’ walk of Dartmoor Terrace, with plenty of trains to West Hampstead, and Sheriff Road within two minutes of this latter station,” he shrieked, getting more and more excited, “and the hour only about ten o’clock, when there are plenty of trains from one part of London to another? Old Mrs Yule, with her irascible temper and obstinate ways, would have said: ‘There’s the station, not two minutes’ walk; get out of my house, and don’t ever let me see your face again.’ Wouldn’t she, now?”
“It certainly seems more likely.”
“Of course it does. She only allowed the woman to stay because the woman had either a very long way to go to get a train, or perhaps had missed her last train – a connection on a branch line presumably – and could not possibly get home at all that night.”
“Yes, that sounds logical,” I admitted.
“Point No. 2,” he shrieked. “Young Bloggs having told a lie, had some object in telling it. That was my starting-point; from there I worked steadily until I had reconstructed the events of that Thursday night – nay, more, until I knew something more about young Bloggs’ immediate future, in order that I might then imagine his past.
“And this is what I found.
“After the tragic death of Mrs Yule, young Bloggs went abroad at the expense of some kind friends, and came home with a wife, whom he is supposed to have met and married in Switzerland. From that point everything became clear to me. Young Bloggs had told a lie when he swore that it was Mrs William Yule who called that night – it was certainly not Mrs William Yule; therefore it was somebody who either represented herself as such, or who believed herself to be Mrs William Yule.
“The first supposition,” continued the funny creature, “I soon dismissed as impossible; young Bloggs knew Mrs William Yule by sight – and since he had lied, he had done so deliberately. Therefore to my mind, the lady who called herself Mrs William Yule did so because she believed that she had a right to that name; that she had married a man, who, for purposes of his own, had chosen to call himself by that name. From this point to that of guessing who that man was was simple enough.”
“Do you mean young Bloggs himself?” I asked in amazement.
“And whom else?” he replied. “Isn’t that sort of thing done every day? Bloggs was a hideous name, and Yule was eventually to be his own. With William Yule’s example before him, he must have known that it would be dangerous to broach the marriage question at all before the old lady, and probably only meant to wait for a favourable opportunity of doing so. But after a while the young wife would naturally become troubled and anxious, and, like most women under the same circumstances, would become jealous and inquisitive as well.
“She soon found out where he lived, and no doubt called there, thinking that old Mrs Yule was her husband’s own fond mother.
“You can picture the rest. Mrs Yule, furious at having been deceived, herself destroys the deed of gift which she meant to present to her adopted son, and from that hour young Bloggs sees himself penniless.
“The false Mrs Yule left the house, and young Bloggs waited for his opportunity on the dark landing of a small London house. One push and the deed was done. With her weak heart, Mrs Yule was sure to die of the shock, if not of the fall.
“Before that, already the desk had been broken open and every appearance of a theft given to it. After the tragedy, then, young Bloggs retired quietly to his room. The whole thing looked so like an accident that, even had the servants heard the fall at once, there would still have been time enough for the young villain to sneak into his room, and then to reappear at his door, as if he, too, had been just awakened by the noise.
“The result turned out just as he expected. The William Yules have been and still are suspected of the theft; and young Bloggs is a hero of romance with whom everyone is in sympathy.”
IV
Who Stole the Black Diamonds?
1
“Do you know who that is?” said the man in the corner, as he pushed a small packet of photos across the table.
The picture on the top represented an entrancingly beautiful woman, with bare arms and neck, and a profusion of pearl and diamond ornaments about her head and throat.
“Surely this is the Queen of –”
“Hush!” he broke in abruptly, with mock dismay; “you must mention no names.”
“Why not?” I asked, laughing, for he looked so droll in his distress.
“Look closely at the photo,” he replied, “and at the necklace and tiara that the lady is wearing.”
“Yes,” I said. “Well?”
“Do you mean to say you don’t recognize them?”
I looked at the picture more closely, and then there suddenly came back to my mind that mysterious story of the Black Diamonds, which had not only bewildered the police of Europe, but also some of its diplomats.
“Ah! I see you do recognize the jewels!” said the funny creature, after a while. “No wonder! for their design is unique, and photographs of that necklace and tiara were circulated practically throughout all the world.
“Of course I am not going to mention names, for you know very well who the royal heroes of this mysterious adventure were. For the purposes of my narrative, suppose I call them the King and Queen of ‘Bohemia’.
“The value of the stones was said to be fabulous, and it was only natural when the King of ‘Bohemia’ found himself somewhat in want of money – a want which has made itself felt before now with even the most powerful European monarchs – that he should decide to sell the precious trinkets, worth a small kingdom in themselves. In order to be in closer touch with the most likely customers, Their Majesties of ‘Bohemia’ came over to England during the season of 1902 – a season memorable alike for its deep sorrow and its great joy.
“After the sad postponement of the Coronation festivities, they rented Eton Chase, a beautiful mansion just outside Chislehurst, for the summer months. There they entertained right royally, for the queen was very gracious and the king a real sportsman – there also the rumour first got about that His Majesty had decided to sell the world-famous parure of Black Diamonds.
“Needless to say, they were not long in the market: quite a host of American millionaires had already coveted them for their wives, and brisk and sensational offers were made to His Majesty’s business man both by letter and telegram.
“At last, however, Mr Wilson, the multimillionaire, was understood to have made an offer, for the necklace and tiara, of £500,000, which had been accepted.
“But a very few days later, that is to say, on the Sunday and Monday, 6th and 7th July, there appeared in the papers the short, but deeply sensation
al announcement that a burglary had occurred at Eton Chase, Chislehurst, the mansion inhabited by Their Majesties the King and Queen of ‘Bohemia’, and that among the objects stolen was the famous parure of Black Diamonds, for which a bid of half a million sterling had just been made and accepted.
“The burglary had been one of the most daring and most mysterious ones ever brought under the notice of the police authorities. The mansion was full of guests at the time, among whom were many diplomatic notabilities, and also Mr and Mrs Wilson, the future owners of the gems; there was also a very large staff of servants. The burglary must have occurred between the hours of 10 and 11.30 p.m., though the precise moment could not be ascertained.
“The house itself stands in the midst of a large garden, and has deep French windows opening out upon a terrace at the back. There are ornamental iron balconies to the windows of the upper floors, and it was to one of these, situated immediately above the dining-room, that a rope ladder was found to be attached.
“The burglar must have chosen a moment when the guests were dispersed in the smoking-, billiard-, and drawing-rooms; the servants were having their own meal, and the dining-room was deserted. He must have slung his rope ladder, and entered Her Majesty’s own bedroom by the window which – as the night was very warm – had been left open. The jewels were locked up in a small iron box, which stood upon the dressing-table, and the burglar took the box bodily away with him, and then, no doubt, returned the way he came.
“The wonderful point in this daring attempt was the fact that most of the windows on the ground floor were slightly open that night, that the rooms themselves were filled with guests, and that the dining-room was not empty for more than a few minutes at a time, as the servants were still busy clearing away after dinner.
“At nine o’clock some of the younger guests had strolled out on to the terrace, and the last of these returned to the drawing-room at ten o’clock; at half past eleven one of the servants caught sight of the rope ladder in front of one of the dining-room windows, and the alarm was given.
“All traces of the burglar, however, and of his princely booty had completely disappeared.”
2
“Not only did this daring burglary cause a great deal of excitement,” continued the man in the corner, “but it also roused a good deal of sympathy in the public mind for the King and Queen of ‘Bohemia’, who thus found their hope of raising half a million sterling suddenly dashed to the ground. The loss to them would, of course, be irreparable.
“Matters were, however, practically at a standstill, all enquiries from enterprising journalists only eliciting the vague information that the police ‘held a clue’. We all know what that means. Then all at once a wonderful rumour got about.
“Goodness only knows how these rumours originate – sometimes solely in the imagination of the man in the street. In this instance, certainly, that worthy gentleman had a very sensational theory. It was, namely, rumoured all over London that the clue which the police held pointed to no less a person than Mr Wilson himself.
“What had happened was this: minute enquiries on the part of the most able detectives of Scotland Yard had brought to light the fact that the burglary at Eton Chase must have occurred precisely between ten minutes and a quarter past eleven; at every other moment of the entire evening somebody or other had observed either the terrace or the dining-room windows.
“I told you that until ten o’clock some of Their Majesties’ guests were walking up and down the terrace; between ten and half past servants were clearing away in the dining-room, and here it was positively ascertained beyond any doubt that no burglar could have slung a rope ladder and climbed up it immediately outside those windows, for one or other of the six servants engaged in clearing away the dinner must of necessity have caught sight of him.
At half past ten John Lucas, the head gardener, was walking through the gardens with a dog at his heels, and did not get back to the lodge until just upon eleven. He certainly did not go as far as the terrace, and as that side of the house was in shadow he could not say positively whether the ladder was there or not, but he certainly did assert most emphatically that there was no burglar about the grounds then, for the dog was a good watchdog and would have barked if any stranger was about. Lucas took the dog in with him and gave him a bit of supper, and only fastened him to his kennel outside at a quarter past eleven.
“Surmising, therefore, that at half past ten, when John Lucas started on his round, the deed was not yet done, that quarter of an hour would give the burglar the only possible opportunity of entering the premises from the outside, without being barked at by the dog. Now, during most of that same quarter of an hour, His Majesty the King of ‘Bohemia’ himself had retired into a small library with his private secretary, in order to glance through certain despatches which had arrived earlier in the evening.
“The window of this library was immediately next to the one outside which the ladder was found, and both the secretary and His Majesty himself think that they would have seen something or heard a noise if the rope ladder had been slung while they were in the room. They both, however, returned to the drawing-room at ten minutes past eleven.
“And here,” continued the man in the corner, rubbing his long, bony fingers together, “arose the neatest little complication I have ever come across in a case of this kind. His Majesty had, it appears, privately made up his mind to accept Mr Wilson’s bid, but the transaction had not yet been completed. Mr Wilson and his wife came down to stay at Eton Chase on 29th June, and directly they arrived many of those present noticed that Mr Wilson was obviously repenting of his bargain. This impression had deepened day by day, Mrs Wilson herself often throwing out covert hints about ‘fictitious value’ and ‘fancy prices for merely notorious trinkets’. In fact, it became very obvious that the Wilsons were really seeking a loophole for evading the conclusion of the bargain.
“On the memorable evening of 5th July Mrs Wilson had been forced to retire to her room early in the evening, owing, she said, to a bad headache; her room was in the west wing of the Chase, and opened out on the same corridor as the apartments of Her Majesty the Queen. At half past eleven Mrs Wilson rang for her maid – Mary Pritchard, who, on entering her mistress’ room, met Mr Wilson just coming out of it, and the girl heard him say: ‘Oh, don’t worry! I’ll have the whole reset when we get back.’
“The detectives, on the other hand, had obtained information that two or three days previously Mr Wilson had sustained a very severe loss on the ’Change, and that he had subsequently remarked to two or three business friends that the Black Diamonds had become a luxury which he had no right to afford.
“Be this as it may, certain it is that within a week of the notorious burglary the rumour was current in every club in London that James S. Wilson, the reputed American millionaire, having found himself unable to complete the purchase of the Black Diamonds, had found this other very much less legitimate means of gaining possession of the gems.
“You must admit that the case looked black enough against him – all circumstantial, of course, for there was absolutely nothing to prove that he had the jewels in his possession; in fact no trace of them whatever had been found, but the public argued that Mr Wilson would lie low with them for a while, and then have them reset when he returned to America.
“Of course, ugly rumours of that description don’t become general about a man without his getting some inkling of them. Mr Wilson very soon found his position in London absolutely intolerable: his friends ignored him at the club, ladies ceased to call upon his wife, and one fine day he was openly cut by Lord Barnsdale, an MFH, in the hunting field.
“Then Mr Wilson thought it high time to take action. He placed the whole matter in the hands of an able, if not very scrupulous, solicitor, who promised within a given time to find him a defendant with plenty of means, against whom he could bring a sensational libel suit, with thundering damages.
“The solicitor was as good as his wor
d. He bribed some of the waiters at the Carlton, and so laid his snares that within six months, Lord and Lady Barnsdale had been overheard to say in public what everybody now thought in private, namely, that Mr James S. Wilson, finding himself unable to purchase the celebrated Black Diamonds, had thought it more profitable to steal them.
“Two days later Mr James S. Wilson entered an action in the High Courts for slander against Lord and Lady Barnsdale, claiming damages to the tune of £50,000.”
3
“Still the mystery of the lost jewels was no nearer to its solution. Their Majesties the King and Queen of ‘Bohemia’ had left England soon after the disastrous event which deprived them of what amounted to a small fortune.
“It was expected that the sensational slander case would come on in the autumn, or rather more than sixteen months after the mysterious disappearance of the Black Diamonds.
“This last season was not a very brilliant one, if you remember; the wet weather, I believe, had quite a good deal to do with the fact; nevertheless London, that great world centre, was, as usual, full of distinguished visitors, among whom Mrs Vanderdellen, who arrived the second week in July, was perhaps the most interesting.
“Her enormous wealth spread a positive halo round her, it being generally asserted that she was the richest woman in the world. Add to this that she was young, strikingly handsome, and a widow, and you will easily understand what a furore her appearance during this London season caused in all high social circles.
“Though she was still in slight mourning for her husband, she was asked everywhere, went everywhere, and was courted and admired by everybody, including some of the highest in the land; her dresses and jewellery were the talk of the ladies’ papers, her style and charm the gossip of all the clubs. And no doubt that, although the July evening Court promised to be very brilliant, everyone thought that it would be doubly so, since Mrs Vanderdellen had been honoured with an invitation, and would presumably be present.
The Case of Miss Elliott Page 6