The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont Part 17

'Oh, stow that!' cried Hale impolitely. He is a trifle p.r.o.ne to strong and even slangy expressions when puzzled. 'Tell me how you guessed it.'

'It is very simple, _mon ami_. The question on which the American election was fought is the price of silver, which is so low that it has ruined Mr. Bryan, and threatens to ruin all the farmers of the west who possess silver mines on their farms. Silver troubled America, ergo silver troubles Scotland Yard.

'Very well, the natural inference is that someone has stolen bars of silver. But such a theft happened three months ago, when the metal was being unloaded from a German steamer at Southampton, and my dear friend Spenser Hale ran down the thieves very cleverly as they were trying to dissolve the marks off the bars with acid. Now crimes do not run in series, like the numbers in roulette at Monte Carlo. The thieves are men of brains. They say to themselves, "What chance is there successfully to steal bars of silver while Mr. Hale is at Scotland Yard?" Eh, my good friend?'

'Really, Valmont,' said Hale, taking another sip, 'sometimes you almost persuade me that you have reasoning powers.'

'Thanks, comrade. Then it is not a _theft_ of silver we have now to deal with. But the American election was fought on the _price_ of silver. If silver had been high in cost, there would have been no silver question. So the crime that is bothering you arises through the low price of silver, and this suggests that it must be a case of illicit coinage, for there the low price of the metal comes in. You have, perhaps, found a more subtle illegitimate act going forward than heretofore. Someone is making your s.h.i.+llings and your half-crowns from real silver, instead of from baser metal, and yet there is a large profit which has not hitherto been possible through the high price of silver. With the old conditions you were familiar, but this new element sets at nought all your previous formulae. That is how I reasoned the matter out.'

'Well, Valmont, you have hit it. I'll say that for you; you have hit it. There is a gang of expert coiners who are putting out real silver money, and making a clear s.h.i.+lling on the half-crown. We can find no trace of the coiners, but we know the man who is shoving the stuff.'

'That ought to be sufficient,' I suggested.

'Yes, it should, but it hasn't proved so up to date. Now I came tonight to see if you would do one of your French tricks for us, right on the quiet.'

'What French trick, Monsieur Spenser Hale?' I inquired with some asperity, forgetting for the moment that the man invariably became impolite when he grew excited.

'No offence intended,' said this blundering officer, who really is a good-natured fellow, but always puts his foot in it, and then apologises. 'I want someone to go through a man's house without a search warrant, spot the evidence, let me know, and then we'll rush the place before he has time to hide his tracks.'

'Who is this man, and where does he live?'

'His name is Ralph Summertrees, and he lives in a very natty little bijou residence, as the advertis.e.m.e.nts call it, situated in no less a fas.h.i.+onable street than Park Lane.'

'I see. What has aroused your suspicions against him?'

'Well, you know, that's an expensive district to live in; it takes a bit of money to do the trick. This Summertrees has no ostensible business, yet every Friday he goes to the United Capital Bank in Piccadilly, and deposits a bag of swag, usually all silver coin.'

'Yes, and this money?'

'This money, so far as we can learn, contains a good many of these new pieces which never saw the British Mint.'

'It's not all the new coinage, then?'

'Oh, no, he's a bit too artful for that. You see, a man can go round London, his pockets filled with new coinage five-s.h.i.+lling pieces, buy this, that, and the other, and come home with his change in legitimate coins of the realm--half-crowns, florins, s.h.i.+llings, sixpences, and all that.'

'I see. Then why don't you nab him one day when his pockets are stuffed with illegitimate five-s.h.i.+lling pieces?'

'That could be done, of course, and I've thought of it, but you see, we want to land the whole gang. Once we arrested him, without knowing where the money came from, the real coiners would take flight.'

'How do you know he is not the real coiner himself?'

Now poor Hale is as easy to read as a book. He hesitated before answering this question, and looked confused as a culprit caught in some dishonest act.

'You need not be afraid to tell me,' I said soothingly after a pause.

'You have had one of your men in Mr. Summertrees' house, and so learned that he is not the coiner. But your man has not succeeded in getting you evidence to incriminate other people.'

'You've about hit it again, Monsieur Valmont. One of my men has been Summertrees' butler for two weeks, but, as you say, he has found no evidence.'

'Is he still butler?'

'Yes.'

'Now tell me how far you have got. You know that Summertrees deposits a bag of coin every Friday in the Piccadilly bank, and I suppose the bank has allowed you to examine one or two of the bags.'

'Yes, sir, they have, but, you see, banks are very difficult to treat with. They don't like detectives bothering round, and whilst they do not stand out against the law, still they never answer any more questions than they're asked, and Mr. Summertrees has been a good customer at the United Capital for many years.'

'Haven't you found out where the money comes from?'

'Yes, we have; it is brought there night after night by a man who looks like a respectable city clerk, and he puts it into a large safe, of which he holds the key, this safe being on the ground floor, in the dining-room.'

'Haven't you followed the clerk?'

'Yes. He sleeps in the Park Lane house every night, and goes up in the morning to an old curiosity shop in Tottenham Court Road, where he stays all day, returning with his bag of money in the evening.'

'Why don't you arrest and question him?'

'Well, Monsieur Valmont, there is just the same objection to his arrest as to that of Summertrees himself. We could easily arrest both, but we have not the slightest evidence against either of them, and then, although we put the go-betweens in clink, the worst criminals of the lot would escape.'

'Nothing suspicious about the old curiosity shop?'

'No. It appears to be perfectly regular.'

'This game has been going on under your noses for how long?'

'For about six weeks.'

'Is Summertrees a married man?'

'No.'

'Are there any women servants in the house?'

'No, except that three charwomen come in every morning to do up the rooms.'

'Of what is his household comprised?'

'There is the butler, then the valet, and last, the French cook.'

'Ah,' cried I, 'the French cook! This case interests me. So Summertrees has succeeded in completely disconcerting your man? Has he prevented him going from top to bottom of the house?'

'Oh no, he has rather a.s.sisted him than otherwise. On one occasion he went to the safe, took out the money, had Podgers--that's my chap's name--help him to count it, and then actually sent Podgers to the bank with the bag of coin.'

'And Podgers has been all over the place?'

'Yes.'

'Saw no signs of a coining establishment?'

'No. It is absolutely impossible that any coining can be done there.