The King of Diamonds: A Tale of Mystery and Adventure

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XVI.

  _The Master Fiend._

  "Come to my chambers," muttered the youngest of the trio. "We are foolsto discuss such things here. It is your fault, Grenier. Why did you dropthis bombshell on me so unexpectedly? You confounded actors are alwayslooking out for a curtain. You should not try the experiment on yourchums in a crowded bar."

  "Now, my dear Langdon, do be reasonable. How could I tell that the merename of Philip Anson would create a scene? You look as sick as a man whohas just been sentenced to be hanged, and my old pal Hunter seems tohave suddenly gone mad."

  Indeed, his words were justified. Mr. James Crichton Langdon wascorpselike in pallor, and Mason, alias Hunter, though his tongue wasstilled, bore every indication of a man enraged almost beyond control.

  "Come away, then," said Langdon, with a horrible attempt to smileindifferently.

  "No, no. There are too many eyes here that we should leave with the airof a set of stage murderers. Sit down. Let us have a nip of brandy. Talkabout racing, women, anything, for a little while, and then go outquietly."

  Grenier was right. A detective had already nudged an acquaintance andwhispered:

  "The pigeon seems to be upset. And one of the hawks is in a raretemper, too. I'll keep an eye on that collection."

  He watched them through a mirror. He saw Grenier exert himself to puthis companions in a better humor. When they went out he followed, andascertained from the commissionaire at the door that they had gonetoward Shaftesbury Avenue.

  By walking rapidly he sighted them again, and saw them turn into adoorway.

  "Grenier's chambers!" he said. "What a splendid nerve that fellow has.Reports himself coolly at Scotland Yard every month, and lives in stylenot half a mile away. How does he manage it? I must make some inquiryabout the others."

  Certainly the methods of the superior scoundrels of London are peculiar.Grenier knew that he was a marked man in the eyes of the police. He knewthat the particular saloon bar he affected was the rendezvous not onlyof others like himself, but of the smartest detective officers of themetropolitan force. Yet this was his favorite hunting ground. Where thecarcass is there are the jackals; he would never dream of honestendeavor in a new land to begin life anew. The feast was spread beforehis eyes, and he could not resist it.

  But Grenier was a careful rogue. After a boyhood of good training andeducation, he drifted into a bad set at the beginning of his adultcareer. Once, indeed, he endeavored to put his great natural abilitiesto some reasonable use by going on the stage. The industrious hardshipof the early years of an actor's striving were not to his liking,however. No sooner had he attained a position of trust as manager of atouring company than he tampered with moneys intrusted to his care.

  He was not actually found out, but suspected and dismissed. Then theregular gradations of crime came naturally to him. Gambling,card-sharping, company frauds, even successful forgery, succeeded eachother in their recognized sequence, until, at last, came detection and aheavy sentence, for the authorities had long waited for him to drop intothe net.

  Now that he was free, he did not intend to revisit any of His Majesty'sconvict settlements if he could help it.

  His wits were sharpened, his cool intellect developed, by prison lifeand associations. He personally would keep clear of the law and makeothers support him.

  He would depend on two classes of contributories--fools, like Langdon,and slow-witted criminals, like Mason. Being a really clever man, itwould be strange if his own middle path were not kept clear of fetters.

  In the mystery surrounding Philip Anson's influence over these two hescented interesting developments. Beginning with a young rake's attemptto ensnare a beautiful girl, he suddenly discovered a situation pregnantwith the potentiality of gain to himself. It did not matter to him whopaid him, whether Anson or Langdon. He would betray one or the other, orboth impartially.

  Mason he liked. The man's rugged strength of character, hissledge-hammer villainy, his dogged acceptance of the leadership of amore skilled rascal, appealed to him. Mason was a tool, and ahard-hitting one. He would use him, safeguard him if he could, but usehim anyhow.

  In the seclusion of Grenier's small flat Langdon poured out his spleen.

  Anson was the bane of his life. His stepfather was Anson's uncle, andthe old idiot recently found out certain facts concerning the life ledby his stepson that caused a family rupture. His mother endeavored topatch matters with ill success, and the baronet was intent on findinghis sister's son, and atoning to him for years of neglect by making himhis heir.

  Lady Louisa concealed nothing of this from her scapegrace son. She hopedto frighten him by the threatened loss of supplies. But neither frightnor hatred could bring him to leave London, and settle down to a quietlife in Devonshire, when, perhaps, the elderly naturalist's fit ofindignation might gradually wear itself out.

  At this crisis came his discovery of Evelyn Atherley, and a mad desireto win her affections. He even dreamed of persuading her to marry him,and by this means succeed in rehabilitating himself with Sir PhilipMorland.

  The girl was well-born. Mrs. Atherley was Lord Vanstone's half-sister,and, although his lordship had ruined himself and his relations by hisextravagance, the match was in every other respect suitable.

  He was not content with the slow formula of seeking an acquaintance inthe ordinary way. Accustomed to speedier conquests, he confided hiswishes to Grenier, and resented the latter's condemnation of hissuggestion of a mock accident, in which Langdon should figure as thegentlemanly rescuer, as a ready means of winning the girl's gratefulregard.

  The result was worse than failure. He was wild with himself, wild withGrenier, and reached a higher pitch of fury when Mason surlily refusedto say what grievance he harbored against Anson.

  "A nice muddle I've made of everything," cried the disappointed youth,"and a precious lot of friends I've discovered. I tell you everything,place myself unreservedly in your power, and you not only let me driftinto a stupid blunder, but decline to share your confidences with me."

  He rose to go, but Grenier firmly pushed him back into a chair.

  "Don't be a bigger fool than you are, Jimmie, and leave those who willhelp you. I told you the cab adventure was a mistake. It might go wrongin twenty ways and right only in one. And you must admit that I neverheard of Anson from you until to-night."

  "I may be to blame," was the sulky admission, "but who is your friendHunter, and why does he not be as outspoken as I?"

  "There are reasons. Hunter was cleaned out in Africa on account ofAnson's manipulation of a diamond mine. He wants to get even with him.That should be enough for you."

  Mason smiled sourly at his leader's ready explanation, and Langdon sawonly the venom in the man's face.

  "He ought to have said so," he muttered. "I am in no mood to be deniedthe confidence of those who act with me in this matter. In any case,what can we do?"

  Grenier procured a decanter of brandy and passed his cigarette case.

  "We can accomplish nothing without money."

  "Money! What avail is money against a millionaire?"

  "None, directly. You would be swamped instantly. But we must know moreabout Anson. He has servants. They can be made to talk. He hassusceptible cooks and housemaids in Park Lane, and at whatever place heowns in the country. I am great with cooks and housemaids. There is amystery, an unfathomable mystery, about his supply of diamonds. It mustbe probed----"

  "No mystery at all," snarled Jocky Mason. "He found a meteor in a slumcalled Johnson's Mews. It was cram full of diamonds. I saw some of 'em."

  "You saw them!"

  His hearers allowed all other emotions to yield to the interest of thisastounding statement.

  "Yes. I don't say much. I act. You'll get no more out of me. I want noneof your girls or property. I want Philip Anson's life, and I'll have itif I swing for it!"

  "My dear Hunter, you are talking wildly. Have another drink?"

  Grenier, cool as an icicle, saw un
expected vistas opening before him. Hemust be wary and collected. Here was the man who would pay, and the manwho would dare all things.

  Mason's truculent determination gave hope even to Langdon. He, too,gifted with a certain power of vicious reasoning, saw that this new allymight prove useful. But he was afraid of such bold utterances, and hopedto achieve his purposes without binding himself even tacitly to thecommission of a crime, for Mason not only looked, but talked murder.

  "I think I had better go," he said, suddenly. "Your brandy is too strongfor my head, Grenier. Call and see me in the morning."

  The astute rogue whom he addressed raised no objection to his departure.He instantly embraced Langdon's attitude in his wider horizon.

  "Yes," he agreed, "let us sleep on it. We will all be better able todiscuss matters more clearly to-morrow."

  Thenceforth the flat in Shaftesbury Avenue became a spider's web intowhich the flies that buzzed around Philip's life were drawn one by one,squeezed dry of their store of information, and cast forth againunconscious of the plot being woven against their master.

  Within a month, Grenier knew Anson's habits, his comings and goings, hisbankers, his brokers, many of his investments, the names of his chiefemployees, the members of his yacht's crew, the topography of his Sussexestate. Nothing was too trivial, no detail too unimportant, to escape anote undecipherable to others and a niche in a retentive memory.

  He made a friend of one of Philip's footmen by standing treat andlistening reverently to his views on the next day's racing. He persuadedone kitchen maid in Park Lane and another at Fairfax Hall that he hadwaited all his life to discover a woman he could love devotedly. It wasa most important discovery when he unearthed in a dingy hotel the manwhom Philip had dismissed for tampering with the locked portmanteau.From this worthy he first heard of the quaint adjunct to the belongingsof the young millionaire, and judicious inquiry soon revealed thatthere was hardly a servant in Philip's employ who did not credit theGladstone bag with being the repository of the millionaire's fortunes.

  Ordinary people will credit any nonsense where diamonds are concerned.Even an educated criminal like Victor Grenier believed there might besome foundation for the absurd theory which found ready credence amongthe domestics.

  He never made the error of planning a burglary or adroit robbery wherebythe bag might come into his possession. If it did contain diamonds, andespecially if it contained unique specimens, it was absolutely uselessto him. But his vitals yearned for Anson's gold, and the question heasked himself in every unoccupied moment was how he might succeed ingetting some portion of it into his own pocket.

  One day a quaint notion entered his mind, and the more he thought of itthe more it dominated him. He was tall and well-made, if slim in figure,and his face had never lost the plasticity given it by his stageexperience.

  He had only heard Philip's voice once, but his features and generalappearance were now quite familiar to him, and he undertook a series ofexperiments with clothing and make-up to ascertain if he could personateAnson sufficiently well to deceive anyone who was not an intimateacquaintance. Soon the idea became a mania, and the mania absorbed theman's intellect. To be Philip Anson for a day, a week! What would he notgive for the power!

  One evening, when Jocky Mason entered Grenier's apartments he startedback with an oath, as a stranger approached him in the dim light andsaid:

  "Well, Mason, and what do you want?"

  The ex-burglar and man-slayer seemed to be so ready to commit instantmurder that Grenier himself was alarmed.

  "Hold hard, old chap," he said, in his natural voice. "I am only tryingan experiment on you."

  "What tomfoolery is this?" shouted the other, gazing at him with thesuspicious side glance of a discomfited dog which has been startled bysome person familiar to it in ordinary guise but masquerading in _outre_garments.

  "A mere pleasantry, I assure you. Good heavens, man, how you must hatethis fellow, Anson, if you are so ready to slay him at sight. From yourown story, he only acted as ninety-nine people out of a hundred wouldhave done in helping the cop."

  "What I want to know is, why you are playing tricks on me. I won't standit. I'm not built that way."

  "Now, Mason, be reasonable. Can I ask anybody else if I resemble PhilipAnson when made up to represent him?"

  "Perhaps not, but you ought to have warned me. Besides, I am worriedto-day."

  "What has happened now?"

  "I went to report myself at Southwark Police Station. Who should I findthere but Bradley, the chap we used to call 'Sailor.' He is an inspectornow, and, of course, he knew me at once."

  "What of that?"

  "He pretended to take an interest in me, and tried to lead me on to talkabout you."

  "The devil he did!"

  "Oh, I know their ways. They can't do anything to me as long as I showup regularly and keep a clean slate."

  "But what about me?"

  "I said you had been a good friend--there was no use in denying that Iwas here pretty often--and that we both thought of emigrating."

  "Good. We will."

  "Not me. I have a score to settle----"

  "Patience, my worthy friend. Your score shall be settled in full. Icannot prevent it, even if I would. Do you think I have been idle, orthat I spend Langdon's money on a wild-goose chase? Not me. Langdon hastaken my advice at last. He has met this charmer with whom he is soinfatuated. She almost recognized him, but he pretended such completeignorance of her, and even of London, that her suspicions were quieted."

  "What good is that to us?"

  "Little, but it gave him the opportunity to try and ingratiate himself.He failed most completely, and why?"

  "How do I know? He is an ass, anyway."

  "Exactly. More than that, the young lady is in love with Philip Anson."

  "I'm not."

  "But he is in love with her. At first, both Mrs. Atherley and the girlkept him at arm's length. She was too poor, he too rich. That difficultywas smoothed over quite recently, and they meet now nearly every day.Langdon hasn't a dog's chance, and if all goes well, the happy pair willsoon be off to Norway or Switzerland for their honeymoon."

  "Oh, indeed. Then where does all your clever scheming come in? Why haveyou held me back? He went to Sussex. You wouldn't let me follow him. Hewas out late several nights on his motor car along the North Road. Iwould have met him and smashed his face in with a life-preserver, butyou held me back. What are you driving at? What's the game?"

  "You shall see."

  Grenier went to a cupboard and took out a small box. From this heproduced a single check, and several slips of paper on which werewritten names and signatures.

  "That is an old check signed by Philip Anson," he said, coolly. "Here ishis signature repeated several times for amusement. It only needs a manof action like you, an accomplished actor like myself, to possess thenecessary nerve--the nerve that risks all on a supreme coup--and we willbe not only rolling in money, but able to enjoy life pleasantly in anypart of the world we select--even in London when the wind changes alittle."

  "You must talk plainly if you want me to understand you," said Mason,doggedly.

  "Very well. You think I am somewhat like Philip Anson at this moment?"

  "His image, confound him!"

  "No, not his image. I would not humbug his friends. I might puzzle themfor a moment, at a distance, but let them speak with me and I am done.It is sufficient that I resemble him. But the handwriting, that isgood?"

  "First-class."

  "There I agree with you. My skill in that direction has been admitted bythree bank clerks and an Old Bailey judge. And now for the coup. If youintend to kill this young gentleman you may as well kill him to ourmutual advantage. There is no gain in being hanged for himunnecessarily, eh?"

  Mason glared at him in silence.

  "I see I must keep to the point. We must, by some means, inveigle him toa place where you can work your sweet pleasure on him. Ah, thatinterests you. It must be known t
hat he is going to that place. It mustbe quite certain that he leaves it."

  "Leaves it!"

  "Yes, I, Philip Anson the second, will leave it. I will lay my plansquite surely. I will even telegraph my movements to his fiancee and tohis agent, Abingdon, who used to be stipendiary magistrate atClerkenwell. Now, don't interrupt. You spoil my train of thought. PhilipAnson will live again for days after you have--er--disposed of him. Bythat time you will have established such an alibi that an archangel'stestimony would not shake it. Then Philip Anson will disappear, vanishinto thin air, and with him a hundred thousand or more of his own money,some in gold, but mostly in notes, which will have been changed so oftenas to defy anyone to trace them. As a precautionary measure, he will goout of his way to annoy or insult the young lady whom he intends to makehis wife, and that alone will supply an explanation, of a sort, for hiswish to conceal his movements. With proper management, Philip Ansonshould leave the map without exciting comment for weeks after he isdead, and when the weeks grow into months, people will class hisdisappearance with the other queer mysteries familiar to everyone whoreads the newspapers. Neat, isn't it?"

  "Too neat. You can't do it."

  "Have you or I evolved the idea? Who runs the greatest risk, the man whostrikes one blow, and hides a disfigured corpse, or he who calmly faceshundreds of men, and says he is Philip Anson?"

  "I don't care about risk, but if it comes to that, I suppose you are themore likely to be found out."

  "Thank you. You see my way at last. In any event, you are safe. Evensuppose I am discovered, will I split on you? Will I add a charge ofmurder to one of forgery? Not much! I tell you the scheme is workable,not by timid bunglers, but by clever men. I admit I haven't the nerve tokill anybody, nor would I care to suggest this present arrangement to anaccomplice merely to make money. But if you are resolved to end PhilipAnson's earthly pilgrimage, I can't prevent you, and I fail to see anyreason why I shouldn't profit by the transaction."

  "What about me when the thing is done?"

  "Oh, you are beginning to appreciate the other side of events. Now, wewill assume that Philip Anson has been dead a couple of months, andVictor Grenier has amassed a fortune by a sheer run of luck on the turf,it is fairly evident that Victor Grenier must divvy with Jocky Mason, orthe latter can make the world too hot to hold him, even if an old friendwere unkind enough to refuse to disgorge unless under pressure."

  Mason's brows wrinkled in thought. The project sounded plausibleenough. Determined as he was to wreak his vengeance on Philip, Grenier'singenious idea not only offered him a reliable means of escape, butpromised a rich harvest of wealth. Certainly it was worth trying. Notonce but many times during the preceding month, Grenier had withheld themurderer's willing hand. When it did fall, what keener satisfactioncould he have than the knowledge that he would be enriched by the deed?

  "I can't see ahead like you," said Mason, at last. "But I will obeyorders. You tell me where and when; I will be there."

  Grenier shifted his feet uneasily.

  "I don't quite mean that," he said. "I will acquaint you with certainfacts on which you may rely absolutely. I will forthwith act myself onthe assumption that the real Philip Anson won't interfere with me. Thatis all."

  The other man guffawed most unpleasantly. This sophistry did not appealto him.

  "Put it any way you like," he said. "You can depend on me for my part ofthe bargain."

  "And you can be quite certain that in a very little while we need nottrouble our active wits any further as to the wherewithal to enjoy life.I have thought this idea out in all its bearings. It simply can't fail.Come, let us drink to a glorious future."

  He reached for a decanter, but a sudden knock at the door jarred thenerves of both men considerably.

  "See who is there," whispered Grenier, whose face showed white throughthe paint and grease it bore.

  "What about you in that rigout?" growled the stronger ruffian.

  "I will slip into my bedroom. Quick! See who it is."

  Langdon entered.

  "Where's Victor?" he said, eagerly.

  "In his room; he will be here in a moment. What's the matter? You lookpretty glum."

  "I've had a piece of wretched luck. I was at Mrs. Atherley's 'At Home'to-day, when Anson turned up. I met him without winking, but he knew meat once. He called me outside and treated me like a dog."

  "He did, eh?"

  "Yes. It was no good trying to bluff him. Only on the guarantee that Iwould never meet Miss Atherley again would he consent not to expose me.I'm done. My last chance is gone. I have wasted my money on Grenier'smad notions, and was fool enough to think you meant what you said whenyou swore to have Anson's life."

  Grenier, who had heard every word, reappeared.

  "Does Philip Anson know that Mr. James Crichton Langdon is Sir PhilipMorland's stepson?" he asked.

  "I can't tell. What does it matter, anyhow?"

  "Think, man, think! Does he even know your name?"

  "He can easily find it out."

  "Not he. This young spark has a fine sense of honor. You promised tokeep away from the lady in future. He will never even mention you. Andyour money is not lost. It has been well spent, every farthing. Takecare Miss Evelyn does not see you until she is heartbroken about PhilipAnson. She will be; you can be quite sure of it. Then your opportunitywill come."