The White Lie Part 9

"Is that the way you speak of her?"

"Every girl who loves a man blindly is, in my estimation, a fool."

"Then your estimation of woman is far poorer than I believed, Ralph,"

responded Carlier. "If a girl loves a man truly and well, as apparently this young lady loves you, then surely she ought not to be sneered at.

We have, all of us, loved at one time or other in our lives."

"You're always a sentimental fool where women are concerned, Adolphe,"

laughed his companion.

"I may be," answered the other. "And I can a.s.sure you that I would never dare to marry while leading the life I do."

"And what better life can you ever hope to lead, pray? Do we not get excitement, adventure, money, pleasure--everything that makes life worth living? Neither you nor I could ever settle down to the humdrum existence of so-called respectability. But are these people who pose as being so highly respectable really any more honest than we are? No, my dear friend. The sharks on the Bourse and the sharp men of business are just as dishonest. They are thieves like ourselves under a more euphonious name."

Carlier smiled at his friend's philosophy. Yet he was thinking of the future of the girl with whom he was, as yet, unacquainted--the girl who had chosen to link her life with that of the merry, careless, but unscrupulous young fellow before him. They were bosom friends, it was true, yet he knew, alas! how utterly callous Ralph Ansell was where women were concerned, and he recollected certain ugly rumours he had heard, even in their own undesirable circle.

They spoke of Jean again, and Ralph told him her name.

"We will dine there to-morrow night," he added. "Then we will come on here, and go forth to Bond Street at half-past eleven. I've watched the police for the past week, and know their exact beat. Better bring round the things you've brought from Paris in a taxi to-morrow morning."

The "things" referred to were an oxy-acetylene gas-jet, and a number of the latest inventions of burglarious tools--indeed, all the equipment of the expert safe-breaker.

That night the pair went forth and dined at the Cafe Royal in Regent Street, and afterwards went to the Palace Theatre, finis.h.i.+ng up at a night club in Wardour Street. Then, on the following morning, Carlier returned, bringing with him the heavy but unsuspicious-looking travelling trunk he had conveyed from Paris.

In the evening Ralph and he went to the Provence Restaurant, but, to their disappointment, Jean was not there. She had been home, but had left half an hour later to go to Balham to visit one of her fellow-a.s.sistants at the Maison Collette who was dangerously ill. She had taken with her some fruit and flowers.

Annoyed at her absence, Ralph had suggested the Trocadero for dinner.

"It's better than in this wretched little hole," he added to Carlier, in an undertone. "And we'll want a good dinner before we get to business,"

he added, with a sinister grin.

So they had wished old Libert a merry _bon soir_, and were driven in a taxi along to the Trocadero grill-room, where, amid the clatter of plates, the chatter, and the accompanying orchestra, they found themselves in their own element.

At half-past ten they ascended to Ansell's flat, and each had a stiff brandy-and-soda and a cigar.

Both men were expert thieves, therefore it was not surprising that, by half-past two o'clock next morning, wearing cotton gloves and dark spectacles to hide the glare from the jet, they stood together before the great safe at the back of Matheson and Wilson's, the well-known jewellers, and while Ansell put up his hand and cleared shelf after shelf of magnificent ornaments, Adolphe expertly packed them away into the small black canvas bag he held open.

Those were breathless, exciting moments. The jet had done its work. It had gone through the hardened steel plates like a knife through b.u.t.ter, and the door, believed to be burglar-proof, stood open, displaying wonderful diamond tiaras in cases, ropes of pearls and paper packets containing uncut gems worth a huge amount.

The haul was a magnificent one, and though they had not yet succeeded in getting clear, both men were gloating over their booty--a triumphant satisfaction that no burglar can repress.

The scene was a weird one. The glaring light thrown by the jet had been extinguished, but the steel still glowed with heat, and Ansell blistered his fingers when they had accidentally touched the edge. The only light now was a small electric torch which threw direct rays in a small zone.

But of a sudden, both men heard a noise--the distinct footsteps of a man crossing the shop!

They straightened their backs, and, for a second, looked at each other in alarm.

Next instant a big, burly night-watchman dashed in upon them, crying:

"What do you fellows want 'ere--eh?"

"Nothing. Take that!" replied Ansell, as he raised his hand and dashed something into the man's face.

But too late. The man raised his revolver and fired.

Though the bullet went wide, the report was deafening in that small inner room, and both intruders knew that the alarm was raised. Not a second was to be lost. The police-constable on duty outside would hear it!

Without hesitation, Ralph Ansell raised his arm and instantly fired, point blank, at the man defending the property of his master.

A second report rang out, and the unfortunate night-watchman fell back into the darkness. There was a sound of m.u.f.fled footsteps.

Then all was silence.

CHAPTER VII.

THE DOWNWARD PATH.

A year had gone by.

Since that memorable night when Ansell and Carlier had so narrowly escaped capture in Bond Street, and had been compelled to fly and leave their booty behind, things had gone badly with both of them.

With Bonnemain executed, and their other companions in penal servitude at Cayenne, a cloud of misfortune seemed to have settled upon them.

Of the tragedy on the Norwich road no more had been heard. The police had relinquished their inquiries, the affair had been placed upon the long list of unsolved mysteries, and it had pa.s.sed out of the public mind. Only to the British Cabinet had the matter caused great suspense and serious consideration, while it had cost the Earl of Bracondale, as Foreign Minister, the greatest efforts of the most delicate diplomacy to hold his own in defiance to the German intentions. For two whole months the Foreign Office had lived in daily expectation of sudden hostilities. In the Wilhelmstra.s.se the advisability of a raid upon our sh.o.r.es had been seriously discussed, and the War Council were nearly unanimous in favour of crossing swords with England.

Only by the clever and ingenious efforts of British secret agents in Berlin, who kept Darnborough informed of all in progress, was Lord Bracondale able to stem the tide and guide the s.h.i.+p of state into the smooth waters of peace.

And of all this the British public had remained in blissful ignorance.

The reader of the morning paper was a.s.sured that never in this decade had the European outlook been so peaceful, and that our relations with our friends in Berlin were of the most cordial nature. Indeed, there was some talk of an _entente_.

The reader was, however, in ignorance that for weeks on end the British fleet had been kept in the vicinity of the North Sea, and that the destroyer flotillas were lying in the East Coast harbours with steam up, ready to proceed to sea at a moment's notice.

Nevertheless, the peril had pa.s.sed once again, thanks to the firm, fearless att.i.tude adopted by Lord Bracondale, and though the secret of England's weakness was known and freely commented upon in Government circles in Berlin, yet the clamorous demands of the war party were not acceded to. The British lion had shown his teeth, and Germany had again hesitated.

Ralph Ansell and Adolphe Carlier, after the failure of their plot to rob Matheson and Wilson's, in Bond Street, had fled next day to Belgium, and thence had returned to France.

Ralph had seen Jean for a few moments before his flight, explaining that his sudden departure was due to the death of his uncle, a landowner near Valence, in whose estate he was interested, and she, of course, believed him.

So cleverly, indeed, did he deceive her that it was not surprising that old Libert and his daughter should meet the young adventurer at the Hotel Terminus at Lyons one day in November, and that three days later Ralph and Jean were married at the Mairie. Then while the old _restaurateur_ returned to London, the happy pair went South to Nice for their honeymoon.

While there Adolphe Carlier called one day at their hotel--a modest one near the station--and was introduced to Jean.

From the first moment they met, Adolphe's heart went forth to her in pity and sympathy. Though a thief bred and born, and the son of a man who had spent the greater part of his life in prison, Carlier was ever chivalrous, even considerate, towards a woman. He was coa.r.s.er, and outwardly more brutal than Ralph Ansell, whose veneer of polish she, in her ignorance of life, found so attractive, yet at heart, though an expert burglar, and utterly unscrupulous towards his fellows, he was, nevertheless, always honourable towards a woman.

When their hands clasped and their eyes met upon their introduction, she instantly lowered hers, for, with a woman's intuition, she knew that in this companion of her husband's she had a true friend. And he, on his part, became filled with admiration of her great beauty, her wonderful eyes, and her soft, musical voice.