My Strangest Case Part 13

"So do I," I said. "And now perhaps you can go further and furnish me with a description of the man himself. I shall then be able to tell you whether my gentleman and your customer are one and the same person."

"I can describe him to you perfectly well. He was tall, but somewhat sparely built, very sunburnt--which would be accounted for by his long residence in the East--his hair was streaked with grey, he had dark eyes, and a singularly sharp nose."

"Did he wear a beard?"

"No, only a moustache. The latter was carefully trimmed, and, I think, waxed. Of this, however, I am not quite certain."

"And his name?"

"He would not tell us that. We pressed him to disclose it, but he obstinately refused to do so. He said that if his name became known it might lead to the discovery of his mine, and that he was naturally anxious that such an event should not occur."

"But what guarantee had you that the stones were not stolen?"

"None whatever--but it is most unlikely. In the first place, they are uncut; in the second, we have had them in our possession for some time, and you may be sure have made the closest inquiries. Besides, there are few such stones in Europe, and what there are, are safely in the possession of their owners. Surely you are not going to tell me that they were stolen?"

In the man's voice there was a perceptible note of alarm.

"I don't think you need be afraid," I said. "They were stolen by the man from his two partners, and all they want is to get hold of him in order to make him disgorge their share of what he got for them."

"I am glad indeed to hear that," was the reply. "I was beginning to grow uneasy. And now is there any other way in which I can serve you? If so, I shall be only too pleased to do it."

I informed him that, if I had anything else to ask him I would call upon him again, and then took my departure. While I was in a great measure satisfied with the information I had gained, I was not altogether easy in my mind. The question to be answered was, was the man I was after the same individual who had sold Jacob and Bulenthall the stones? The description given me varied in several particulars to that furnished me by Kit.w.a.ter. My client declared him to possess black hair; the merchant had said grey; the one had declared that Hayle possessed a beard, the other that he had only a waxed moustache. The figure, however, was in both cases identically the same.

Having satisfied myself that he had no more to tell me, I thanked him for his courtesy and left the office. A fresh idea had occurred to me which I thought might lead to something, and I resolved to put it into practice without any further waste of time.

CHAPTER IV

It would be a truism to declare that human nature is about as complicated a piece of machinery as could be found in the human world.

And yet I do not know why it should be considered so. All things and all men do not run in grooves. A man to be a criminal need not be hopelessly bad in every other sense. I have met murderers who did not possess sufficient nerve to kill a rabbit, burglars who would rob a poor man of all his possessions in the world, and yet would not despoil a little child of a halfpenny. The fact of the matter is we all have our better points, our own innate knowledge of good and evil. Hayle had betrayed Kit.w.a.ter and Codd in the cruellest fas.h.i.+on possible, and by so doing had condemned them to the most fiendish torture the mind of man could conceive. Yet it was through his one good point, his weakness, if I might so describe it, that I was enabled to come to my first grip with him.

It was between the hours of two and three that I entered the gates of Brompton Cemetery and commenced my examination of the various graves therein contained. Up one path I wandered and down another in search of the resting-place of the poor crippled sister of whom Gideon Hayle had been so fond. It was a long time before I found it, but at last I was successful. To my astonishment the stone was plainly a new one, and the grave was tastefully decorated with flowers. As a matter of fact it was one of the prettiest in its neighbourhood, and to me this told its own tale. I went in search of the necessary official and put the case to him. He informed me that I was correct in my supposition, and that the stone had only lately been erected, and, what was more to the point, he informed me that the gentleman who had given the order for it, had only the week before paid the necessary sum for insuring the decoration of the grave for many years to come.

"I gather from your words, that the gentleman, who must be a relative of the deceased, has been here lately," I said.

"He was here last Sunday afternoon," the man replied. "He is a most kindly and generous gentleman, and must have been very fond of his sister. The way he stood and looked at that stone the last time he was here was touching to see. He'd been in foreign parts, sir, and is likely to go out there again, so I gathered from what he said. It is a pity there are not more like him."

This was news, indeed, and I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears on hearing it.

Having learnt all I was likely to discover, I thanked the man for his kindness and left the cemetery. If I had done nothing else, I had at least satisfied myself upon one point, and this was the fact that Gideon Hayle had been in London within the week. Under such circ.u.mstances it should not be very difficult to obtain his address. But I knew from experience that when things seemed to be running most smoothly, they are as much liable to a breakdown as at any other time--sometimes even more so. I accordingly hailed a cab and drove back to my office. Once there I entered up my diary according to custom, wrote a note to Kit.w.a.ter, informing him that I had discovered that Gideon Hayle had not left London on the previous Sunday, and also that I believed him to have negotiated certain of the stones in London, after which I returned to my hotel to dine.

Most people who know me would tell you that it might be considered consistent with my character that I still occupied the same apartments in the private hotel, off the Strand, in which I had domiciled myself when I first arrived in England. If I am made comfortable I prefer to stick to my quarters, and the hotel in question was a quiet one; the cooking and the service were excellent, and, as every one did his, or her, best for me, I saw no sort of reason for moving elsewhere. It is something in such matters to know the people with whom one has to deal, and in my case I could not have been better cared for had I been a crowned head. I suppose I am a bit of a faddist in these things. Except when business compels me to break through my rule, I rise at the same hour every morning, breakfast, lunch, and dine at the same time, and as far as possible retire to rest punctually at the usual moment. After dinner in those days, things have changed since then somewhat. I invariably smoked a cigar, and when the evening was fine, went for a stroll, returning between nine and ten and retiring to rest, unless I had anything to attend to, punctually at eleven. On this particular occasion, the night being fine, though rather close, I lit my cigar in the hall and stepped out into the street exactly as the clock was striking eight. I had a lot to think of, and felt just in the humour for a walk. London at all hours is a fascinating study to me, and however much I see of her, I never tire of watching her moods. After I left my hotel I strolled along the Embankment so far as the Houses of Parliament, pa.s.sed the Abbey, made my way down Victoria Street, and then by way of Grosvenor Place to Hyde Park Corner. Opposite Apsley House I paused to look about me. I had my reasons for so doing, for ever since I had left the river-side, I had entertained the notion that I was being followed. When I had crossed the road at the Houses of Parliament, two men, apparently of the loafer cla.s.s, had crossed too. They had followed me up Victoria Street, and now, as I stood outside the Duke of Wellington's residence, I could see them moving about on the other side of the way. What their intentions were I could not say, but that their object was to spy upon my movements, I was quite convinced. In order to a.s.sure myself of this fact I resolved to lay a little trap for them.

Pa.s.sing down Piccadilly at a sharp pace, I turned into Berkeley Street, some twenty yards or so ahead of them. Crossing the road I sheltered myself in a doorway and waited. I had not been there very long, before I observed that they had turned the corner and were coming along in hot pursuit. That they did not notice me in my hiding-place is evident from the fact that they pa.s.sed on the other side of the street, and doubtless thinking that they had missed me, commenced to run. I thereupon quitted my friendly doorway, returned to Piccadilly, hailed a cab, and drove back to my hotel. As I went I turned the matter over in my mind. With the exception of the present case I had nothing important on hand, so that I could think of no one who would be likely to set a watch upon me.

That I did not suspect Hayle would only be natural under the circ.u.mstances, as I did not know then that he had been the witness of Kit.w.a.ter and Codd's visit to my office that afternoon, and I felt convinced in my own mind that he was unaware that they were in England.

It was most natural, therefore, that I should not in any way a.s.sociate him with the plot.

The following day was spent for the greater part in making further inquiries in Hatton Garden, and among the various Dutch merchants then in London. The story the senior partner of Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall had told me had proved to be correct, and there could be no sort of doubt that Hayle had realized a very large sum of money by the transaction. What was more, I discovered that he had been seen in London within the previous twenty-four hours. This was a most important point, and it encouraged me to persevere in my search. One thing, however, was remarkable. One or two of the merchants to whom Hayle had disposed of his stones, had seen more of him than Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall. Two had dined with him at a certain popular restaurant in Regent Street, and had visited a theatre with him afterwards. In neither case, however, had they discovered his name or where he lived. This secret he guarded most religiously, and the fact that he did so, afforded additional food for reflection. If he imagined his old companions to be dead, why should he be so anxious that his own ident.i.ty, and his place of residence, should remain a secret? If they were safely out of the way, no one could possibly know of his connection with them, and in that case he might, if he pleased, purchase a mansion in Park Lane and flourish his wealth before the eyes of the world, for any harm it might do him. Yet here he was, exciting mistrust by his secrecy, and leading a hole-and-corner sort of life when, as I have said, there was not the slightest necessity for it. Little by little I was beginning to derive the impression that the first notion of Mr. Hayle was an erroneous one, and that there was more in him than I supposed. This sentiment was destined to be strengthened and in the very near future, by two remarkable discoveries.

That evening I again went for a walk. Feeling fairly confident, however, that the men who had followed me before would do so again, I took certain precautions before I set out. One of my subordinates, a man remarkable for his strength, was ordered to be at the corner of my street at half-past eight. He was to wait there until I emerged from my hotel, himself remaining as far as possible out of sight. On this occasion I had planned my route deliberately. I made my way in the first place along the Strand as far as Trafalgar Square, down c.o.c.kspur Street by way of the Haymarket to Regent Street, then on by Langham Place to that vast network of streets that lies between Oxford Street and the Euston Road.

I had some time before this found out that I was being followed again.

The two men who had dodged my steps on the previous night were doing so again, though the reason for their action was no more apparent. However, I had laid my plans most carefully, and hoped, if all went well, to be able to satisfy myself upon this point. I had plenty of enemies, I knew, as a man of my profession must of necessity have, but I could not think of one who would pry upon my movements like this. At last the time came for action. Turning into a side street, I slackened my pace in order to give my pursuers time to come up. Apart from ourselves the street was quite deserted, and, if they intended doing me harm, was quite dark enough to favour their plans. I could see as well as hear them approaching. Then, when they were close upon me, I slipped my hand into my coat-pocket, and turned and confronted them. My own man was softly coming up from behind.

"Now, my men," I began, "what's the meaning of this? No, you can keep your distance. It's no use thinking of violence, for I've got you before and behind. Take care that they don't get away, Wilson!"

"Aye, aye, sir," the man replied. "I'll take good care of that."

"Let's 'out him,' Bill," said the taller of the two men, and as he did so took a step towards me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'LET'S OUT HIM, BILL,' SAID THE TALLER OF THE TWO MEN"]

"Do you see this?" I inquired, producing my revolver as I spoke. "I am aware that it is not lawful to carry firearms in the streets of London, but when one has to deal with gentlemen like you, it becomes a necessity. Throw up your hands."

They did as they were ordered without demur. Then turning to the taller man I addressed him more particularly.

"You seem to be the leader," I said, "and for that reason I want to have a little talk with you. Your companion can take himself off as soon as he pleases. If he does not, let me a.s.sure him that he will get into trouble. Your intention to 'out me,' as you call it, has failed, as you can see, and when I have done with you I don't think the attempt will be repeated. Now get off, my man, and thank your stars that I have let you go so easily."

Never were the tables turned so quickly or so completely on a pair of rogues, and the man I addressed seemed to think too. After a whispered conversation with his companion, he walked away at his best pace, and we saw no more of him.

"Now," I said, turning to the fellow who was left behind, "you will come along with me to my office, and we'll have a little talk together."

Our prisoner would have resisted, but certain warnings I was able to give him, induced him to change his mind. When we reached my office I opened the door and conducted him to my sanctum, while Wilson followed close behind and lit the gas. He then pa.s.sed into the outer office, leaving me alone with my prisoner. On closer inspection he proved to be a burly ruffian, and would doubtless have proved an ugly customer to tackle alone. He, in his turn, looked at me in some interest and then at the door, as if he were half inclined to try the effect of a struggle.

"First and foremost, do you know where you are and who I am?" I asked him.

"No," he said, "I can't say as ever I set my eyes on yer afore last night, and I don't know yer bloomin' name or what yer are and I don't want to."

"Politeness is evidently not your strong point," I commented. "Just look at that!"

Taking a sheet of note-paper from the rack upon my table I handed it to him.

He did so, and I saw a look of surprise steal over his face. He looked from it to me and then back again at the paper.

"Fairfax," he said. "The d---- Tec, the same as got poor old Billy Whitelaw scragged last year."

"I certainly believe I had that honour," I returned, "and it's just possible, if you continue in your present career, that I may have the pleasure of doing the same for you. Now, look here, my man, there's some one else at the back of this business, and what I want to know is, who put you up to try your hand upon me? Tell me that, and I will let you go and say no more about it. Refuse, and I must try and find some evidence against you that will rid society of you for some time to come.

Doubtless it will not be very difficult."

He considered a moment before he replied.

"Well," he said, "I don't know as how I won't tell you, a seein' you're who yer are, and I am not likely to get anything out of the job. It was a rare toff who put us on to it. Silk hat, frock-coat, and all as natty as a new pin. He comes across us down in the Dials, stood us a couple of drinks, turfed out a suvring apiece, and then told us he wanted the gentleman at Rickford's Hotel laid by for a time. He told us 'ow yer were in the habit of going about the streets at night for walks, and said as 'ow he would be down near the hotel that evenin' and when yer came out, he would strike a match and light a smoke just ter give us the tip like. We wos to foller yer, and to do the job wherever we could.

Then we was to bring your timepiece to him at the back of St. Martin's Church in the Strand at midnight, and he would pay us our money and let us keep the clock for our trouble. Oh, yes, 'e's a deep un, jost take my tip for it. He knowed that unless we 'outed' yer properly, we'd not be able to get at your fob, and then 'e'd not have paid out."

"I see, and not being successful on your first attempt, you followed me again to-night, of course by his instructions as before?"

"That's so, guvner," the man replied, "but I reckon we ain't agoin' to see any money this trip. If I'd ha' knowed who you was, I wouldn't a taken this job in hand, not for no money."

"That is where so many of you go wrong," I said. "You fail to make sufficient inquiries before you commence business. And I understand you to say that the gentleman who put you up to it, is to be at the back of St. Martin's church to-night?"